Hisaei

In Waterfall City, a chimp's place is set by the current: you either work the boats downstream or dwell in the grand plazas upstream. Hisaei was once the soul of the lower city, their life defined by the weight of their fishing net and the easy trust of the frog merchants. They were reliable, a part of the city's predictable rhythm. But their line once pulled something from the depths near the pale stone temple—an amulet that hummed with a forgotten, unsettling power. The city that prized tradition recoiled. Deals dried up; old friends turned away. Cast out, their jumper grew ragged. They painted their face in defiant kabuki strokes, a mask for a life they never chose. That new path led them to Takeo, who saw not a curse, but a comrade. The fishing rod remains, a ghost of a simple life they can never reclaim.