Himena

The scent of unlit, fragrant tobacco clings to Himena, a constant promise of a smoke that never comes. They bought the pipe and fake beard in Waterfall City for a simple ruse: to look old enough to avoid a youth travel tax. It worked too well. A merchant, seeing them staring intently at a fish statue—in reality, trying to dislodge a bug from their cap—asked for financial advice. Himena, startled, mumbled, “Go with the flow,” gesturing vaguely at the river. The merchant took this as a sign, invested in a new fleet of fishing boats, and tripled their profits. Word of their uncanny wisdom spread. Even Monku once commended their patience after watching them sit silently for an hour, unaware Himena’s backpack was just caught on the bench.