Jinpachirou

When the relentless rain finally softened the scorched earth into a swampy mire, Jinpachirou knew their chance was coming. They had sat motionless for three days amidst the skeletal remains of The Dragon Wastelands, the silly-looking fish bait on their head the perfect lure for overconfident scavengers. They were a trainee with a blade, clumsy and slow. But with a fishing line, they were a master of patience and pressure. A shadow detached itself from the fog, drawn to the easy mark. Jinpachirou didn't even look up, just gave the bamboo rod beside them the slightest nudge. The tripwire, a line they'd spent two days burying in the mud, snapped taut. The ambush was not for them, but for their ambusher.