Fusayoshi

Fusayoshi remembers the scent of river moss on the driftwood they pulled from the lower pools of Waterfall City, the day they carved the first truth into its surface. Their eyes, sensitive to light others miss, had caught a flicker in the grand statue’s reflection—a lie woven into the city’s perfect harmony. To seek what was real, they learned one must first appear unreal. They donned a kitsune mask, a shape worn by the deceiver Azamuku, but for them it was a shield to observe without being seen. The cane, however, is no deception. Each new carving is a testament to an uncovered secret, a corrected history. The mask hides their face, but the wood in their hand tells their story.