Nanashi

What's in a name when a deal is this clean? Nanashi watched the frog merchant’s webbed fingers count out the final gems, the grin on their face never faltering behind dark shades. The transaction, for a crate of polished river stones that caught the light just so, was done. Here in the main plaza of Waterfall City, results were all that mattered. The buyer, a gruff chimper with calloused hands, grunted, “Never heard of you. Where’d you come from?” Nanashi just adjusted their tie. They had no more of an origin than the famous warrior Tamago had a face; they simply were. They pointed a thumb back towards the endless roar of the falls. “Upstream,” they said. “Always upstream.”