Konoma

On the day the great rains finally stopped, the fisher-chimps downriver said Konoma never even looked up. They claim Konoma’s intense gaze can read the water's spray as easily as a scroll, and that they barely notice the dampness that clings to everyone in Waterfall City. But the baker near the plaza tells a different story. They speak of a quiet scholar who buys a jam-covered toast every morning, often leaving with a smudge on their cheek, completely lost in thought. Neither of them knows what a temple guard saw last winter: Tora, the Masked Mage, meeting Konoma in the mist. No words were exchanged, only a sealed manuscript. The secrets they share are far heavier than any book.