Machika

The week the lower houses of Waterfall City flooded, Machika appeared. The fishers working the outskirts will tell you they arrived walking on the water, tapping their carved cane on the surface as if testing its depth. They swear Machika’s gleeful smile brought the schools of fish back to their empty nets. The acolytes at the pale stone temple whisper a different tale. They claim Machika was once a great teacher who abandoned their post, and their endless wandering is a form of penance. They see profound wisdom in the way Machika watches the rushing current. The merchants in the plaza just laugh. To them, Machika is a harmless eccentric in a bright red cap who trades old stories for a warm meal and is gone by morning.