Banzaburou

Banzaburou remembered the taste of river-mist on their tongue the first time they saw the other carver. Before then, Banzaburou’s life was as smooth as the stones they shaped into placid dragons, their days following the steady roar of the great falls. But the rival arrived with a block of driftwood that smelled of salt and ambition, carving jagged krakens that felt like a challenge. Their unspoken competition began in the central plaza, but these days it lives around a small campfire by the docks. Banzaburou will tell a tale, voice weaving harmony, and the rival will counter with a story sharp enough to cut. The suspicious squint is how they listen, always trying to anticipate the next twist. To others, it looks like animosity, but when their rival was away for a month, Banzaburou felt the city go silent.