Ashurei

Ashurei remembered the taste of charred river-fish shared with a stranger by the lower falls, a meal that marked the quiet start of a decade-long war. The stranger, Kawa, had a knack for being one step ahead. If Ashurei mapped a new tributary, Kawa had already named the rapids. If Ashurei landed a prized crystal-scaled trout, Kawa would return with two. Their unspoken rivalry became a fixture in Waterfall City, a silent competition measured in nautical miles and the weight of their daily catch. But during the Great Flood, when Kawa's raft splintered, it was Ashurei’s simple apple stick that snagged their pack and pulled them from the torrent. The contests continue, but the unamused glances across the plaza now carry the weight of respect. The rivalry is no longer about winning, but about having someone worthy to measure themself against.