Chifuri

Every morning, Chifuri prepares for war. They meticulously apply the fierce crimson streaks of their war paint, eyes narrowed in concentration, every line a promise of conflict. Their childhood friend, Mototoshi, knows better. They always find Chifuri not on a battlefield, but by a shimmering stream in The Crystal Highlands of Armaria, carved cane in hand, staring down their sworn enemy: the impossibly wily, thumb-sized crystal minnow. “That’s one of Horoguramu’s scrying pools,” Mototoshi will say, without fail. “You’ll give the Oracle a headache.” Chifuri just waves a dismissive hand, insisting this is a critical mission. The fish bait on their head dips precariously close to the water, a silent, smelly offering to the foe.