Achinosuke

What does the river whisper to those who no longer trust its currents? Achinosuke felt the spray from the great falls of Waterfall City settle on their mutton chops, their squinting eyes never leaving the small, bone carving in the merchant's palm. It was supposed to be a guide, a relic that hummed when near submerged treasure. The merchant, a slick-tongued chimp from the lower fishing huts, spoke of riches and forgotten history. But the carving was too light, its edges too sharp for something that had supposedly tumbled in the river for centuries. Achinosuke's thumb brushed the worn hilt of their ancient sabre. They didn’t draw it. They simply turned and walked away, leaving the merchant still spinning their tale by the plaza's fish statue. Some artifacts were real; most stories were not.