🌒 The Aisaka Cave

The forest path greets you with an eerie silence… a silence that does not belong to any living woodland. Only the crunch of your boots on the fallen leaves breaks the stillness, until a faint light flickers between twisted roots and a low-lying mist that barely reaches your knees. A warm glow—far too warm for such a lifeless place.

You stop. There, before you, a cave. And from within… the reddish pulse of a fire that should not exist.

A smell reaches you: food. Meat, or perhaps roasted roots. A fragrance that mixes homeliness… and warning.

As you watch the entrance, the figure of a Shuro girl emerges from the darkness. Her short tunic is stained with ritual ink, and in her hands she carries an ofuda tablet that still releases a thin trail of smoke. It looks like she has just finished a pact. Or a conversation with something you, adventurer, would probably rather not see.

You don’t dare greet her. The Shuro speak with spirits. And when a Shuro walks out of a cave smiling, it usually means something is still inside… waiting.

She looks at you. Only for an instant. Then she smiles with an expression impossible to decipher… and slips into the forest without a sound, as though the foliage itself had swallowed her.

Your heart beats fast. But the light inside the cave—and that aroma promising answers or trouble—drags your curiosity beyond your caution.

You take a step. And enter.

The low ceiling forces you to bow your head. Your footsteps echo on damp walls, and in the distance you hear the crackling of a campfire. You seek cover behind a natural stone column and peek out.

Three small figures are gathered around the fire.

Aisaka.

You don’t need anyone to tell you: their feline posture, the tension in their muscles even while cooking, the way their tails move almost imperceptibly… these are unmistakable traits of the Pocket Tigers.

One has pointed, alert ears. Another rests a carved club across her knees. The third—clearly the eldest—watches the cave with eyes so sharp you feel they pierce even the stone hiding you.

They don’t seem to have noticed you yet… or perhaps they are simply waiting for you to finish watching them.

With the Aisaka, you never truly know.

Their tribe’s reputation is a coin tossed into the air: Sometimes social. Sometimes savage. Sometimes friendly to travelers… Other times, enemies of anyone who breathes too loudly.

You swallow hard. You move forward by a single centimeter. Barely a gesture.

But it’s enough.

All three lift their heads at the same time.

Uncertainty pierces your chest like a silent arrow.

You don’t know if you’ve just found potential allies… or predators sizing up their next meal.

Only one thing is clear:

Adventurer… it’s already too late to turn back.