Sasora

The fishers at the bottom of Waterfall City say Sasora arrived with the morning fog, carrying nothing but a bundle of bamboo and a strange, flickering screen where their head should be. They don't trade or socialize in the plaza. Instead, they sit by the rushing water, carving intricate patterns into stalks of bamboo with scarred hands. Each evening, they release one finished piece into the current. The screen on their head glows with frantic symbols that seem to track the carving's path until it disappears from sight. They never look for a response. No one knows if they're sending messages, making an offering, or just waiting for the river to carry away a memory they can no longer bear.