Aiga

Aiga never sought the life of a shadow. The grand tales of their jet-black kin—silent assassins and masters of stealth—were just stories, as distant as the pale stone temple perched above the falls of Waterfall City. They found their place not in the dark, but in the spray-soaked daylight of the lower docks, beside a loud frog merchant named Kawa. While Kawa haggled over silverfish and argued prices with river captains, Aiga would sit calmly, eating toast. At first, rivals dismissed them. But Kawa soon realized that Aiga’s serene presence was a weapon. Their quiet observation caught the nervous twitch, the hidden dagger, the subtle lie that Kawa’s bluster always missed. Their partnership is an odd one: Kawa provides the chaos, and Aiga provides the calm that sees through it.