Fumuko

The constant spray from the grand cascade left a dampness on everything, making the air in Waterfall City taste of stone and clean water. Fumuko didn't mind; it kept the ink on their scrolls from drying too quickly. They sat by the great fish statue, one mask layered over another, appearing more like a shrine spirit than a simple scholar. A small frog-child, braver than the rest, hopped close. 'Why two faces?' it croaked. Fumuko simply tilted their head, the kitsune mask’s painted smile seeming to widen. Without a word, they drew their apple stick, shaved a perfect, continuous curl from the fruit, and offered it. The child took the sweet-smelling ring and scurried away. The masks were not a challenge; they were a quiet joy, allowing the only judgment to be on a simple kindness.