Rifuu

Rifuu slams a chunk of unrefined ore on the counter, and the sharp crack echoes down the bamboo-lined street. The other merchants say they cheat, that Rifuu listens to the stones and coaxes secrets of supply and demand from the earth itself. How else could they know which mines would run dry or when a blizzard would close the mountain pass, cornering the market on winter cloaks every time? The children who buy candied plums from the next stall over whisper a different tale. They say Rifuu dreams with the river, sharing the deep currents of Namazu, and can predict the flow of luck as easily as water. They once told a ferry captain to stay ashore, hours before a freakish gale swept down from the peaks. The wardens just see a rogue—defiant, unpredictable, and always one step ahead of the city’s ancient laws.