Miyuma

Every morning, Miyuma adjusts their shirt and tie using the reflection in a puddle at the bottom of Waterfall City's great stairs. Back in the quieter markets of the Empire, their stall of intricately carved canes saw modest success. But a strange, pale mark resembling a waterfall bloomed on their cheek one season, and they took it as a sign. They packed their finest wares and traveled. Here, the locals need nets and harpoons, not polished wood. They laugh at the beret, but their laughter is warm. Miyuma has yet to sell a single cane, but they've learned the names of every fisher's boat, traded a story for a meal, and found that joy is a currency that spends well everywhere. Their gleeful smile is as much a landmark as the plaza's stone fish.