Unkai

The bamboo merchants whisper that Unkai only started wearing fish bait on their head after the last freezing wind scoured the high-altitude city. Before that, they were just another trader in a crisp shirt and tie. Now, they are a walking ritual. A smudge of jam from their morning toast is always on their cheek, a taste of something mundane to tether them. They barter for goods with perpetually upset eyes, as if listening for a sound no one else can hear. It's said they fear a change from within, a schism of the soul like the terrible tales of Taihi's transformation. The whole city watches them cling to these small, absurd anchors against the tide. But what are they so desperately afraid of becoming?