Post by suyami on Dec 29, 2008 17:45:17 GMT -5
Name:Suyami Katou
Age:20
Gender: Female
Group: Fire Nation Citizen
Nation: Fire Nation
Bender?: Hopefully not.
Physical Appearance:Suyami stands at the tall height of five foot six; unusually tall since her parents were both around five foot three. She resembles a mischievous sprite, with her lean, willowy form and small shoulders. Her chest isn’t especially big; rather, it’s on the smaller side. At one time she fretted over this, but, when she realized it helped to have a smaller bust while she worked, she stopped. Mostly. Muscles line her thin body; souvenirs from a childhood filled with hard work. Only a thin layer of fat covers her body, just enough to keep her from looking like a complete skeleton. Her legs are long and thin, but marred by multiple scars from stray branches, and knife wounds, as well. Her knees show the stress of work, slightly reddened and bumpy as they are. Her feet are bigger than the ideal small size, but by no means are they oversized. The bottoms are darkened substantially from barefoot work in the fields, and dotted with multiple calluses, like her hands. Those thin, seemingly delicate hands suffer the rough patches from her strenuous work in the rice paddies her family kept, cultivated, and harvested. She used to worry that the rough spots would impair her playing, but indeed, they helped when she began to play, especially with the shamisen.
Her face is pleasing to the eye, at least, more so from far away. From a distance, she might appear to look like one of the Fire Nation’s many female flowers, pale, beautiful, and delicate. However, at a close-up, you can see that though she is pale –a miracle, since she spends so much time in the sun—the skin under her eyes is much darker; a side-effect of her late-hours. She usually sports a vivid sunburn when she travels, but she covers that up with powder when she performs. Her nose, once straight and short, has been broken twice – once, due to her own folly, and the second time, in a fight. Now, it is slightly crooked, and a bump rests on its bridge. Her eyebrows –a vanity of hers—are thin, and arch neatly. Of course, on the road, it gets harder to take care of them, and they lose some of their thinness. Short, faded eyelashes adorn her satin sheen gold eyes, tempered a bit by the faint, lighter gold lining near the outer rim of her iris. They are set maybe a tad bit farther apart than the normal individual’s, but it is almost impossible to notice. Her eyes are bigger than the norm for the Fire Nation, and expressive. One might think they were the eyes of someone who cried often, but on the contrary, Suyami’s eyes only water when she gets angry, which, sadly, is quite often. Her eyebrows furrow deeply when she is in a volatile mood, crinkling her eyes into tiny slits. When she is in a reckless, fighting mood, they narrow as well, but they glint considerably with an almost madness. A half grin will adorn her face, and for a moment, she looks… not beautiful, but rather, striking. Her cheekbones are not high, rather, they are regularly placed, and not highly noticeable. In her family, the cheekbones go hand in hand with the hereditary oval face, ending in a pointed chin, though in her face, it is less pronounced. Thankfully, she did not inherit her father’s neck; squat and thick as it is. Suyami’s neck is long, and much thinner than her fathers. Her lips are a bit thin, and though they are in reality a mix between a lighter amaranth and a darker salmon, when she is angry, they tighten into a firm line, and pale drastically. When she is happy, which is usually when she is playing music, or singing, her lips curve upward in a pleasing smile, and a small dimple near the right corner of her lip is visible. Of course, that’s only if you can see past the curtain of hair that usually falls in her face, especially when she plays the shamisen.
Speaking of her hair, it is quite long. Well, not long by the Fire Nation standards, but long compared to what it used to be when she was younger. Her father always used to crop her hair short, right below the earlobe. He would say with a chuckle that it was so she would be able to see the ground better. Now, though, free of her father and the rice paddies, it has grown down to her shoulder blades, a rich and shining black that she is proud of. She likes the feel of it when she tosses her head, normally in indignation or anger. It isn’t very thick, and is as straight as a pin, with no waves whatsoever. This is coupled with bangs that fall straight down to her eyebrows, covering her forehead completely. She sometimes tucks her hair behind her medium-size ears, but only rarely does she actually put it up. When she does, it’s with only half of her hair in a traditional top-knot, and with the rest hanging loose over her shoulders.
Clothing/Armor: When she was younger, Suyami loved the sky. Thus, Suyami’s favorite color was blue, but, of course, her parents immediately tried to drill that out of her. They taught her that the traditional colors of the Fire Nation were red, maybe a mahogany or burgundy, possibly violet, at times. Suyami yielded to the wishes of her parents, donning the red clothes they forced on her. However, now that she lives on her own, she wears the reddish-purples that are the closest to her favorite colors she can get without being traitorous to her country.
Her normal clothes vary between two main outfits: her day-to-day outfit, for when she is traveling on the road, and the one she wears in large cities, and when she performs. Underneath both she wears linen chest bindings. They’re wound tightly, but due to her lack of major cleavage, they don’t have to be too tight. When they were newer, they were much whiter, but now, after prolonged use, they have taken on a more dingy color. They vary in length, as well: The bindings she wears with her casual outfit is much longer than the very short bindings she uses underneath her performance clothes. The performance bindings have to be shorter, for the top she wears is shorter, as well. She also wears the same material wrapped around her nether region, as underwear.
When she plays for large groups, or wanders in large towns or cities, she wears an outfit consisting of artfully draped cloth, varying in shades of purple and magenta. This outfit is made up of several different pieces. The first is an undershirt, dioxazine purple in color and form fitting. It reaches about an inch above her bellybutton, leaving the rest of her flat stomach bare. This undershirt is sleeveless and strapless, and is made of a stretchy, flexible material that allows her to move, and breathe. It lies smooth over her chest, and no lines from the chest bindings show through. Faint gold embroidery can be seen near the hem, consisting of decorative loops and swirls, continuing all the way around the garment. On top of the undershirt she wears a cloak-like, Grecian-style, off the shoulder wrap. It is pinned to her right shoulder by a large brooch, bearing the Fire Nation insignia and encircled by a border of small, golden flames. This leaves her left shoulder and arm free, while the pin keeps the material from going over her right arm. The pin itself is tarnished silver, and the item is the only heirloom she deigned to keep when she left home, and one of the few keepsakes from her parents. The brooch is rather large, about a little less than an inch in diameter. It is flat, and polished to a high sheen that only loving care can achieve. The material of this cloak-like wrap falls like a waterfall from where it is pinned to where it gathers and bunches an inch above her hips. The material is an eggplant color, and when the hem is visible, it is seen that the same embroidery that adorns the undershirt graces this one, as well.
She wears a skirt with the outfit as well, a draped thing the same shade of purple as the undershirt. It hangs down to her knees, and splits up the middle in the front, coming together at about mid-thigh. The entire material falls in neat folds from where it rides on her hips. It is made of the same material as the off-the-shoulder wrap/cloak. This is all cinched together with a simple cloth belt, the ends hanging down in the front of the skirt. The skirt itself is bordered in eggplant, a hem about ½ inch in width. The skirt makes a sound when she walks, but it is gentle. The soft, slipper-like shoes that she wears make almost no sound on the cobbled city streets. They are a deep burgundy, and match the arm band on her right upper arm, made of the same satin over a leather strap.
Her other outfit is simple compared to the other one. Instead of slippers, she wears sturdy, black leather boots. They were custom-made, a very expensive gift she bought for herself. They cling to the exact shape of her calf, and come to the very bottom of her knee. The bottoms are a bit muddy from wear, and the leather’s a bit frayed at the top, but all in all, they’ve lasted well. She probably should wear the traditional, upturned shoes of the Fire Nation, but she prefers the boots. They show less wear, and are more practical. Her pants are silken and soft, a rich burgundy in color. She tucks them into her boots, usually, to hide the fraying hems. A few mud spots adorn the knees, and the fabric there has become a bit bleached, but other than that, they have stayed in good shape. She wears a tunic for a top in the same burgundy color, the hem a light amaranth. She wears it in the traditional “Y” draping, kimono style. It is cinched at the waist with a cloth belt of the same light amaranth color. The rest of the tunic falls down below the belt. The hem falls nicely at about mid-thigh. The sleeves of the tunic are short, hemmed as well. Also, two hilts peek out above the cloth of the belt; she tucks her sai in there. The spare is tucked completely vertically, in between the other blades, where they cross. When she wears her performance outfit, she only carries two of them, one tucked in her chest binding, and one tucked into her skirt on her left side, so the wrap’s drape covers it. The third is safely tucked away in her pack. Her pack carries her supplies, and both of her instruments; the shinobue and the shamisen. It’s made out of old, tanned leather, worn to a deep shade of burnt umber. There’s one main compartment, with a small pouch on the outside. The main compartment is covered by a flap that is fastened by a button attached to the pack.
Suyami carries two main instruments at all times, besides her voice: a horizontal flute called a “shinobue”, and a plucked string instrument called a “shamisen”. The shinobue is played by blowing across the embouchure. Suyami’s in particular has seven holes, and is in B. It is made out of bamboo, and is painted in a glossy black. No fingerprints are ever visible, since she always polishes it before and after use. There are some chips in the lacquer, but they are mostly near the end. It’s about a foot in length. She normally plays it in crowded places, where she can’t take out her much larger shamisen.
The afore-mentioned shamisen is rather bulky, and though Suyami would say the quality was worth the unwieldy-ness, her back disagrees. The weight isn’t much, but the shamisen was not built to be ergonomic in a pack. Let’s leave it at that. The shamisen resembles a banjo, with a rectangular body covered in skin and a long, thin neck. The measurements of Suyami’s shamisen are that of a regular, but high-quality shamisen. The body is 7 ¾ inches long by 7 inches broad, by 3 inches deep, the neck being 2 feet 5 inches long, tapering from 1 inch broad to 6/10 inch, the pegs 3 inches long apiece (3 pegs for 3 strings), the bachi 8 ¼ inches long, rather less than an inch square at the top, and 3 ½ inches long at the striking edge. The bachi is the plectrum (pick) used to play the instrument, though sometimes Suyami plays it with her fingernails. The strings are made out of high quality silk. If you look closely at the stretched skin covering the body, you can see the faint remnants of the cat’s nipples. The body and the neck are both made out of high quality rosewood, polished to a brilliant sheen. The silk is a bit worn down where Suyami strikes it with the bachi, or, her fingernails. However, in case they do snap, or fray terribly, she carries extras of each in her pack.
Weapons: Suyami, though she appears to be a simple, wandering musician, is in fact, a near expert in the use of sai. She normally carries three; two accessible at all times, and a spare tucked farther away. She used to use her father’s antique sai; rusty and old as they were. However, after her training with Akaya, she left taking three of the weapons’ master’s best sai. Made of the finest crafted steel, they were tempered with care, and have a sheen to them that cannot be dulled by mere dust and wear. Suyami has only had them for a year, but still, a few scratches adorn each one. The sai resembles a pointed baton, rod-shaped and adorned by two symmetrical projections. These are known as tsuba, and are attached to the handle. The very end of the handle is known as the knuckle. Suyami’s sai are constructed in the traditional way, with a round central prong. It tapers off at the end to a point. (That center prong is the end of the “baton”, it is surrounded by the two tsuba) There is an area between the tsuba and the main shaft, which is often used to either trap blades, or is a centrifugal point when the bearer switches the position of the sai. This would bring the knuckle end up, which is good for punches, while the other side is good for blocks, or even a stab like a common dagger. Suyami’s sai weigh a moderate amount, and are about the length of her forearm. They are balanced beautifully, so when she switches positions, it is not awkward or difficult. The handles are wrapped in red silk, which she finds chafes much less than traditional leather. The knuckles of the sai are adorned with the Fire Nation “flame insignia”. This creates an interesting affect when she punches someone’s bare skin with it. A nice flame indent is left on that spot. The sai themselves, other than that, have only one other adornment: the characters of their maker near the knuckle. Suyami carries no other weapons except a common eating knife, sharpened to the point of exhaustion, made out of cheap steel and sheathed in a common wrapping of leather. It has a dull coloring to it, and every time she uses it, she worries it will shatter. Perhaps it is time to get a new one.
Personality: Suyami led a difficult childhood. Between drunken outbursts from her mother, and long hours in the fields, she never had any time for herself. However, instead of developing a fear of women, she developed self confidence, and pride in herself. Of course, she started out with major dependency on her father, and fear of her mother. But, when her brother was born, she had someone to protect, and it made her uncurl from her innate shyness. Training with her father developed her self-confidence, and, instead of shrinking away from her mother, she began to grow angry, instead. So now, though she does trust men more than women, and her friends are mostly male, she does have a few close, female friends. Now, she is a self confident and prideful woman; albeit angry, and perhaps a bit conceited.
On a normal day in a largish town, Suyami would usually be performing. She would be seen either playing her shamisen, with her head bent over the instruments and hair in her face, or playing the shinobue as she walked. A twinkle in her eye and a slight curving of the lips both indicate her mood. She’ll normally sway to the tune, her eyes half-lidded in happiness, and harmony. Music is one of the things that really make her happy.
Another time she can relax is when she is around children. She radiates warmth and love when she is among them, and has been known to give almost all of her money to orphans she sees. In each, she sees the forever perfect face of her little brother, the only person she loved more than her father. She has often longed for a child of her own, but never has she found a man who would suffice as a father.
When she isn’t performing, however, she is usually in a state of seemingly relaxed tension. She is always on the alert, even when joking, looking for a hint of danger. It isn’t entirely unfounded, either. With her highly prized instruments, and the fair amount of gold she earns from her playing, she seems an easy target. But in reality, she isn’t looking for the men in the shadows, she’s looking for a different type of wraith, one she left in her past a long time ago, but was never really free from. Though she looks in the shadows for someone she fears, it is backed with a great anger, and she takes pride in the fact that she did not break under her childhood ordeals. She has the stubbornness of an ox.
Though she may be considered peaceful when she plays her music, she is far from easy-going. Her temper is quite volatile, and she has been known to start a few fights. Normally, these fights are started from a seemingly simple insult. A comment over alcoholism or insensitivity over people with disabilities, or deformities will usually set her off. She takes offense over the littlest things, bristling up like a hedgehog. She takes thrill in the fight, getting a high off of the danger. The sensation of playing music gives her a different euphoria, but both are related.
Of course, all this self-righteous anger and self-confidence leads to a bit of arrogance, as well. She takes pride in the person she is. She knows she isn’t the prettiest woman alive, but also is aware that when she smiles that reckless grin, she does exude charisma, and has a certain presence.
Perhaps, if her brother had never born, she would have ended up broken, a mere shell of the woman she could have been. Instead, she fights everyday to overcome her mother’s shadow, with a glint of fervent stubbornness in her eyes, and a set of her jaw. His memory keeps her fighting, and even though she has no clue where he and her father went, she still fights against being sad in his name. It is hard to live without sadness all the time, though. When she does get sad, it is a deep sadness, one that reaches far and causes her to brood at times. However, those sullen moods rarely grip her, and she fights to keep them from controlling her. She lives a fierce, determined life. Though she does still have a mistrust of women, it is backed with an iron will, and her strength is not to be tested. Instead of breaking underneath the yoke of her mother’s anger, she learned to be angrier, to be stronger, and to be better. In more ways than one, the childhood has made her stronger than she ever could have been.
Background: Suyami was born to nothing, fated to earn nothing, eat nothing, and live only to harvest rice and make babies. She was born somewhere north of the Capital, and east of nowhere in a small little Fire Nation town. Well, not exactly a town, more like a small little cottage in the middle of a plethora of rice paddies. Small, dirty, and cramped. Her father had inherited the rice paddies from his father, and his father had inherited it from his father, and so on, and so forth. He had met her mother in an inn, and had been awed by her charisma, and presence. At first, she only saw a simple farmer, but when he approached her, she began to see him as a way to get out of her tight, over-protective family life. She learned to like him, even as he loved her with a fiery passion. Their social classes differed greatly, but he obviously didn’t care, and she mostly cared about getting away from her family. Even though she was older than him, he loved her so much that he didn’t care. Her wealthy family disowned her, leaving her nothing except a few things she managed to take with her.
They lived a moderately happy life, or, at least Suyami’s father did. A year after their marriage, they gave birth to Suyami, the first of two children. It was a difficult birth, and one of the standard procedures of the midwife’s was to give the mother a bit of diluted sake to ease the pain afterwards. Later on, her mother would remember the drink as something that brought a brief respite from pain. She began to drink sake regularly, but back then, it was only once or twice a week. However, it grew worse as Suyami grew older. This was the beginning of a horrible, addictive relationship between Suyami’s mother, and alcohol.
Unnoticed by Suyami’s mother, who was lying prone on the bed in their small house, tiny, premature Suyami laid still, crying huskily. Her father picked her up, and from the moment their eyes met, it was clear that he had found another love, which would grow stronger than his love for his wife, which faded a bit later on in their relationship.
For the first few years of Suyami’s life, her mother played an active role in her development. She taught her how to count, and do simple mathematics. She knew that when Suyami grew older, it was a possibility that she would be in charge of the paddies if they didn’t have a son. She let Suyami play with the bamboo flute, but not with the shamisen. It was too delicate for baby fingers, or so she said. She always used to smile, and laugh when Suyami clambered onto her lap. The entire family would sit near the fire at nights in the winter, and outside during the summer. Either way; Suyami’s mother would play one of her instruments softly while her husband taught tiny Suyami about all different types of rice knowledge.
When Suyami turned five, she not only had a plethora of rice wisdom, but a sense of haughtiness, as well. Her father tried to tone that down a bit, and it worked to an extent, but her mother still instilled the belief in her daughter that she was nobility. This led to a bit of early spoiled behavior, but the work in the rice paddies drilled that out on its own.
Her mother also arranged play dates for her with the children of her childhood friends; friends that had never worked a day in their lives before. Suyami tolerated the haughty noble children, but she only had a real friendship with one: a boy named Rin. Their friendship lasted a while, and, on top of that, he was one of the only children who actually lived remotely near her. Slowly, the other children stopped coming, but Rin still came. Her mother adored him, and her father liked that he deigned to help out in the fields. Suyami liked him because he was Rin, her best friend. He liked her because she was Suyami. It was that simple.
Later, when Suyami was seven, tragedy struck her mother. Her parents had died; ironically enough –her father was a firebender—in a fire. Their entire bit of land had burned down. Her sister had been visiting Suyami’s grandparents, and had been badly burned in the fire. She had come down to tell her sibling of the news. Suyami was too young to understand what happened. She knew someone had died, but she had never met her grandparents, and her mother never spoke of them. How was she supposed to grieve for them?
It was as if an enormous rain cloud covered the Katou household. From that time on, it seemed the only music heard from Suyami’s mother was sad. This was the time when she turned to the sake for that familiar feeling of pain-relief. The pain of losing both parents is shocking, especially at the same time. She kept going back to the drink, over and over again. It seemed that now, it took even more of the rice wine to dull the pain. A normal farmer’s wife wouldn’t have had the money to buy all the wine; but she had money from her parents: money she had taken with her, and the money her sister had given her after their parents’ death. Even though Suyami’s mother was disowned, her sister still felt, if not familial bonds, guilt.
Now, she began to ignore her husband and recede into herself, turning to the few things she had taken with her from her old house for solace: the old family instruments. Her mother had taught her to play them both, the horizontal flute, and the prized rosewood shamisen, as well. Their haunting music comforted her, more than her (now) barely tolerated husband ever could. He simply reminded her of family, and family reminded her of her parents. Seeing him play with Suyami only made her reminisce about her father, and that hurt too much for her to bear.
Suyami lived a short childhood. It was too difficult to be called fun, and too unpredictable to be called safe. Her relationship with her father was clear: it was loving and caring. However, her interactions with her mother were not so clear-cut. Where her mother had once been happy and loving, now, she was cold and distant. Suyami distinctively remembers a time when she stepped on the shards of a broken bottle, and though she cried and screamed, her mother did not come. Suyami learned to see the small cup and ceramic bottle as a sign of a bad day. Her mother’s good days turned shorter, as her involvement with the drink grew deeper. Her mother still had those good days, of course, and Suyami would sit in her lap and play with her hair like always. However, they weren’t as good as they had been, and they were always tempered with a thread of doubt: was it going to turn ugly?
Her father gradually began to crumple from the inside when he refused to acknowledge what was happening to his wife. He knew it inside, but as Suyami grew, he only did the bare minimum to keep her away from her mercurial mother. He did what he could, but his adoring love for the woman kept him from completely seeing what was happening. When ignoring her daughter turned to harming her, all that changed was Suyami’s time in the rice fields. Now, she spent almost all of her time working, at the mere, tender age of eight. She’d harness the ostrich horses to the simple plows, and lead them across the fields. Then, she’d fertilize the large paddies with dung and sewage. Her father would be there as well, but most of the time he’d be on their other fields. He’d come over every so often to muss her short black hair, and give her a big grin, telling her what a great job she was doing. They would eat lunch together, while his wife sat in the cottage, switching between drinking sake and playing haunting music. She barely stopped to eat anything, on the really bad days. After the smoothing of the fields was done, they would wait for the seedlings in their little beds to grow. After a while, normally in the span of 1 to 2 months, they would transfer the little seedlings by hand to the fields, which, by then had been flooded by water from the river nearby. She had the job of carefully measuring the length and spacing of the plants, which was a grueling and painstaking task. After that, they would hand water the fields, and then, allow them to drain before cutting. And start all over again.
Other children that she’d seen before became faceless blurs. Now, she rarely had time to talk to any of them, and she didn’t feel like it, either. The only person she saw regularly outside of her family was Rin. He still came by, and for a time, it would be like the old days. She always knew that he would be there for her, and she trusted that implicitly. But of course, Rin couldn’t be there all the time.
Rice was her life, interspersed by yelling from her mother, and occasional blows. Her father would comfort her afterwards, and since by that time, he and his wife both slept separately, Suyami would spend the night with him instead of alone. Sometimes Rin would be by, and life would be hopeful.
A child’s love for a mother is so strong, though, that it cannot be broken by mere abuse. Bonds are strange things, especially the one between a mother and her child. On good days, Suyami would still sit in her lap, and her mother would braid her short hair, combing it over and over again. On really good days, she would even let Suyami hold the shamisen, and gently press her fingers down on the silken strings, and strike the note with the bachi. Suyami would be thrilled by this, and for a moment, her mother’s face would clear, and she would smile. Sometimes, her mother would whisper to her about how her real home wasn’t here; it was out in the world, somewhere else. Suyami would listen intently to the worlds her mother described to her, the world outside of the rice paddies.
Slowly, every so often, her mother began to teach her how to play, and how to evoke the sweetest sounds, from both the stringed instrument and the shinobue. Every so often, she would even sing with her, Suyami’s young, sweet and clear voice blending with her mother’s frail, breathy one. Suyami learned to love music, and eventually, when a bad day came (they began to lessen, now) she could retreat with one of the instruments that her mother wasn’t using.
Her father, instead of possibly becoming jealous, was happy for them. And so, for a short time, they shared a peaceful, more normal relationship. Suyami was now 10, and knew only some numbers, farming, and music. However, she did know almost everything there was to know about the world she lived in. All the tales her mother had told her were based on the real world; she knew where she lived. She knew she had the right to be proud of her country to the degree of arrogance. She knew the pictures her mother had painted for her with words, pictures of worlds that she remembered with a one-sided view. Her father had taught her all there was to know about farming and rice. Her mother sought to remedy that ignorance, and on her good days, she also began to teach Suyami her characters. She didn’t learn much; only how to read and write simple things. Eventually, she learned to sign her name, Suyami Katou. It was her father’s last name; when her mother was disowned, it was no longer acceptable for her to use that surname. Her father told her about her ancestors, and about her heritage. He told her that farming was nothing to be ashamed of, even though they were not nobles. Her mother, on the other hand, would whisper to her that she should be proud, that her mother used to be a noble.
Now that Suyami’s mother was doing better, Rin came over even more often. At this time, her mother would actually greet Rin, and the atmosphere was visibly lightened. Suyami and Rin would still work in the fields, but she did notice that his clothes steadily got fancier. Once, she even spotted gold thread woven in with the regular material. They never spoke of it, but it was clear even at that young age that there was a social gap. However, that didn’t interfere with their deep friendship. Suyami didn’t really care, and Rin refused to let it affect anything.
Life was going so well, that with time, Suyami’s parents decided to have another child. Suyami was 11 when her baby brother was born. Her parents were both happy, but exhausted to have another baby. The birth was less difficult than Suyami’s, but when the midwife held up Suyami’s new brother, her mother paled, and fainted dead away. Her brother was deformed; born without half of his arm. Smaller dysfunctions were visible, as well: a smaller head circumference, and smaller eye openings. It seemed that though the midwife had told her not to drink during the pregnancy, she had imbibed the sake against that explicit command.
When her mother woke up, she told her husband she did not want to see the child. She would not hold him, or feed him. She simply lay in bed, crying, and drinking profusely from the dreaded bottle of sake. Suyami stood to the side, puzzled and worried by this. She instinctively felt the old fear being dredged up, that horrible uncertainty: was her mother safe, or not? She ran to her father, who was struggling to take care of her baby brother. Together, they raised him, though they tried time and time again to get help from Suyami’s mother. She would simply yell at them through her tears, becoming once again Suyami’s childhood monster. Though the midwife tried to tell Suyami’s mother that it wasn’t completely her fault; she wouldn’t listen. All she could do was recede farther within herself, cry, and drink.
At this time, Rin was no longer allowed to come over. His mother simply would not let him visit Suyami. She seemed to think that he had been indulged long enough, and that it was time for him to come find his proper place in society. He was a year older than Suyami, and it seemed manhood was already approaching, even at twelve. He now went full time to a nearby school. Suyami never went to such a school, though all of the neighboring children did. She was too busy farming, and raising her brother. They met secretly for a while, but when that didn’t work, they slowly stopped seeing each other. This saddened Suyami greatly, but the birth of her brother helped mellow that out quite a bit, though it didn’t erase it.
And so, the happy times disappeared once more. However, there was a bright light at the end of the tunnel this time: Suyami had her brother; Kan. She couldn’t understand why her mother never looked at Kan; to her, he was perfect. She and her father both raised him while her mother sat and drank her life away. This proved troublesome, especially since Kan seemed to learn more slowly than the usual kid. They assumed this was because of her mother’s drinking, but they couldn’t be sure. It proved very difficult to take care of a baby when one was plowing fields, or planting, but they got it done. Suyami didn’t get as much attention from her father anymore. She understood that this was because they were both bent double over raising her brother, of course. But still, sometimes she resented Kan, but only a bit. She occasionally missed the days where it was just the three of them.
The good days almost never came anymore, but sometimes, Suyami would sneak into her mother’s room, and play the shamisen, slowly in the corner. Her mother would stop crying for a little while, and for a moment, an almost peaceful expression would cross her face. But gone were the days when Suyami could crawl into her lap for a lesson. Now, she was usually greeted with a sharp slap, or a bottle, on a truly bad day.
However, her days were filled with Kan. She would bounce him, tickle him, feed him, and change him. In every way she could be, she was his mother. He loved her like one, and she loved him like a son. His lack of a forearm did not bother her; in fact, she found it made him even more endearing.
After relentless prodding from Suyami, her father began to take her aside for more than just the rice farming; now, he began to teach her how to defend herself. He used to say he should have seen it coming, after telling her about ancient times when women fought alongside men. He had shown her the ornamental sai that hung on their wall, and told her that a long time ago, her great-great-great-great many times over grandmother had used them as simple planting tools. However, near the end of her lifetime, she had used them as weapons, alongside other farmers who had done the same. Suyami had been thrilled at the idea of protecting her family, at the… power of it. When he finally agreed, he said it was only for protection against attackers, or bandits, but she knew better. If the time came, that really bad day that they both knew would come; she would need to protect herself against her own mother. Now, at an older age, she can ask herself questions like why her father never left her mother. Looking back, she knows that he never did stop loving her, even when she was at her worst. It was a strength of his, but also, his greatest weakness. She has never blamed her father for any of her childhood troubles, though. He did the best he could, even blinded by love.
At first, it was only a few simple blocks, and a couple punches. However, when she showed promise, he taught her more. She ate it up, seeing it not as a way to defend herself, but moreover, to defend her brother. A part of her seemed to know that her purpose in life is to save her brother from the type of abuse that she got.
With the fighting lessons, her self-confidence began to grow. Her father saw the change in her, and it gave him great joy to see his daughter bursting out of the shell he never broke out of. He began teaching her more and more, till her reflexes began to stump even him. Of course, he wasn’t very good to begin with, so in reality, she was only a prodigy to her father. Her reflexes were, good, though, and she did have an innate feel for fighting.
Fighting practice soon overpowered her lessons, which had petered out by that time, anyway. Her father had taught her all he knew, and her mother didn’t feel like talking anymore, let alone teaching. Now, he taught her the language of self-defense, and the geography of weak spots in the human body.
One evening, Suyami was playing with her brother. Her mother was rocking rapidly in her chair, a cup of sake in her hand. Her father was busy repairing one of the harnesses for the ostrich horses. Her brother toddled away from her, having just barely learned how to walk. He was two; Suyami was 14. He walked over to his mother, arms outstretched. Normally, Suyami would have prevented this, but she was busy trying to repair the toy he had dropped, and did not see him move. The only warning she had was the silence in the room; the creaking of her mother’s chair had abruptly stopped. She looked up, and saw her mother’s hand lift to swat the child away. Unthinkingly, she rushed forward, planting herself in front of Kan and lifting a hand to block the smack. Trained almost too well, she automatically caught her mother’s wrist, her strength from plowing and tending the fields easily overcoming her mother’s almost delicate slap. She met her mother’s eyes, anger boiling in her very gaze. No words were needed; it was clear from Suyami’s look that she wasn’t going to take the violence quietly anymore. Her mother wrenched back her hand, and that was that. Suyami carefully took Kan away, a newfound feeling of triumph surrounding her.
From that day on, things changed. Her mother began to recede even more into her drink, and became more and more incoherent. She no longer played the shamisen; the only music came from Suyami, who played often for her brother, who loved to hear it. Her fingers would fly across the strings in a complex melody, and then in a different song, would dance slowly, drawing out the poignant sounds. It was clear to both her father and her brother that she had great talent, not only with the shamisen, but the shinobue, as well. Her voice was sweet, but it was nothing too special. Her true talent lay in the instruments.
The other major thing that happened to Suyami was the return of an old friend: Rin came back into her life. Finally, he had simply refused to heed his mother. She was ecstatic about seeing her best friend again, and eagerly, they threw themselves back into their old routines. However, some things changed. Besides gaining back her old best friend, Suyami also got something new: her first crush. She hadn’t seen Rin in a while, and in the time they had spent apart, he had done some growing up. She had, too, of course, but she didn’t know that. Or, at least, she didn’t pay attention to the fact. At that point, all she could think about was Rin. For a long time, she never told him how she felt. Instead, they kept meeting, though they never worked in the fields together as they had. Instead, they took walks, or sat and talked. Normally, she would take Kan with them, as well. Thankfully, Rin had nothing against children with disabilities, which was surprising in a noble. Suyami liked him all the better for it. In her eyes, he shone with the light of a thousand suns. In reality, though he was a very tolerant noble, he still had the trademark haughtiness of a noble, and always encouraged her to reach higher than being a farmer. His motives for that weren’t all for her well-being. He was gaining a sense of rank, and knew that if they were going to spend much more time together, she would need to rise above being a peasant.
Unbeknownst to her mother, Suyami also threw herself into learning how to fight; intoxicated by the confidence it gave her. However, fist-fighting was merely a game for her. She wanted something more… Not to learn how to wield a sword; that was for nobles. Instead, she wanted to block against a sword, to be able to defend, and yet… attack. Thus, her father brought down the antique relics that lay on their mantelpiece: twin sai, rusted and old. She loved the idea of being able to take down a swordsman, and the size of the weapons, as well. She was reminded of the woman who had once wielded them; her ancestor. He could only teach her the two different holds: How to block with the center piece by holding the sai flush with the underside of her forearm, and how to trap a blade using both sides. He was only able to explain the other possibilities; not teach them. After all, he was only a farmer.
By the time she had learned all she could from her father, she was a mere 16 and a half. Her brother was four; and called her “Su”. That year held multiple memorable events for her, one of them, the time she finally told Rin how she felt. To her shock and delight, it seemed he had felt the same way, but had been so worried about ruining their friendship that he hadn’t spoken up. They spent even more time together, but it was with a purpose in mind. Now, it was courting he came for, and their relationship was more serious.
Those days, her mother barely fazed her; she had learned how to defend herself, and had gained strength and an awareness of self-worth in the process, along with a man who she loved with all of her heart. A few months later, she found her mother lying prone in her chair, an empty cup in her hand. Shaking her did nothing. It seemed that finally, the drink had killed her.
Torn between rejoicing and sobbing, Suyami stood stock still, shock written over her face. Finally, she found a middle ground, and simply rested her forehead against her mother’s hand, mourning the woman she had been, and the one she had become.
After the preparations were done, and the body had been cremated, her father convinced her to leave, though with obvious trepidation. He told her she had no future in rice farming; and that he and her brother were leaving, as well. He feared telling her the truth: that he had no money anymore, and that he was getting too old to handle the crops. He didn’t want to bog his beloved daughter down in a farming life, when it was obvious she could do so much more. Though his heart broke to push her away, he shoved aside his own feelings and tried to do what was best for her. He knew she had Rin, and that he would follow his daughter where she went. So, though her heart told her to stay and love her brother and father, her body screamed about its freedom, and begged her to explore the world.
However, no pull was strong enough to take her from her brother if he did not wish it. She sat him down, and though he was only four, he seemed to understand. She saw in his eyes that he loved her, and though it broke her heart to leave him, she knew they had to part. With a few whispered goodbyes, she made her decision. She took the prized instruments with her as well, not knowing of their excellence, or of their extreme value. She only knew how to play them beautifully, and how to push them to their musical limit. However, she declined the sai her father offered her, knowing that the antiques would not hold up against anything serious.
She met with Rin once she had packed, dropping by unannounced. She told him all that had happened, and he comforted her in her grief. However, when she met his eyes, they seemed troubled. Soon, he told her what had happened to him, earlier that week: his father had chosen to enlist him in the army. Many tears were shed that night, but at the same time, a kind of peace was reached. They professed their love to each other in the age-old way; Rin told her he had planned to marry her within the month, but now, he did not want to tie her down to a man who could die at any instant. She disagreed, and said she didn’t care, but he would not relent. That night, they began as loving, would-be fiancées. They left as each other’s first lovers, and best friends, as always. Their parting was bittersweet and filled with tears, but he promised he would do his best to find her again, once he came back. She believed him with all of her heart, but feared for him greatly.
Left with remnants of bittersweet partings, promises and money from Rin, she went off into the great unknown, off into the Fire Nation. She went in search of goals to alleviate her sadness. She went in search of someone to teach her how to use the sai; someone who really knew how. She went in search of someone to play her music to; not knowing it would be the world.
Playing music for money only started as a hobby, really. She simply played tunes on the shinobue as she walked, not really thinking about it. However, when someone tossed her a coin, the idea hit her: she could make money out of that. After that incident, it became her job, her life. She played music in every town she went to. Gradually, she became more popular, until in some places, people actually knew her name!
She made friends, as well. By that time, though she missed Rin dearly, she had come to terms with the fact that it was never really meant to be. He had been nobility, she, a peasant. Those things only really worked out in tales. Of course, she still asks after him when she meets a soldier, and asks the spirits to keep him alive, but she has come to terms with the fact that marriage is unlikely. So, some friends started out as lovers, but all ended up as close friends. Whether it was in a bar, or in a street, she had a charisma that drew people to her. All of those friends were male, though. Still, she had no female friends.
A year and a half later, she was in the Capital. She actually had a planned performance that evening, though it was still outside. She had just been making her way over to the designated plaza when something caught her eye. It was a weapons store, just like any other. However, the sign above it was different. A pair of crossed sai… It piqued her dormant interest in the weapon, and drew her inside.
It seemed to be a simple weapon shop, but she felt it to be… different. Finally, after a while of browsing, she asked to see the owner. To her surprise, it was a woman. Immediately suspicious, Suyami thought she made a horrible mistake. She turned to leave, but the woman stopped her. Suyami; feeling the horrible sensation of a female hand on her shoulder, acted by reflex and grabbed her wrist, twisting it behind her back. However, the weapons’ master had been trained as well, and she got out of her simple hold easily. Suyami, eyes blazing, opened her mouth to tear her opponent apart with words. The woman simply held a finger up, and studied her intently. Suyami, quite frightened and angry by this woman, fled from the shop.
After contemplating what had happened, she finally decided to go back. By then, her performance was over, and it was nightfall. She knocked on the door to the dark room, but there was no answer. Though sorely tempted to go back to the inn she was staying at, Suyami stuck around. She played her shamisen to pass the time, softly singing along to a song she herself had made up. A while later, the door cracked open. Suyami looked up, still caught up in the music. The owner stepped out, a strange look on her face. She asked if that had been her, playing the music. Suyami nodded, and carefully tucked the shamisen away. She told the woman that she had been drawn in to her shop by the picture of the sai, and of her search for someone to teach her more about wielding them. Though she said it all through tight lips and gritted teeth, she did, after all, say it. After a moment of silence, the woman hung her head and leaned on the doorsill. She told Suyami her name, Akaya. She told her that she knew how to wield the weapons she spoke of, and that she would teach her, if Suyami would play for her. She said she had been without music for too long. Suyami, elated that she had found a teacher but wary that it was a woman, reluctantly agreed.
Though this alliance was built out of necessity and need, in the year Suyami trained with her, it evolved into a deep friendship. Though for a very long time Suyami deeply distrusted Akaya, the woman’s complete polarity from her mother eventually led to a re-evaluation of the woman. Akaya, younger than Suyami’s mother, but significantly older than Suyami herself, was a nice bridge between the familiar, friend-age woman, and the more frightening, mother-age person. She had a gruff temperament, but underneath, was as warm and soft as butter. For the time that she spent training, Akaya even let Suyami stay at the weapon shop. Later on, Akaya told Suyami the history behind her obscure answer the night of their first meeting. It was revealed that her son had once played the shamisen, before he had gone off to war and died in a skirmish with the Southern Water Tribe. To that day, Akaya had a deep-standing hatred of waterbenders. Suyami understood the anger at something that had taken the one you loved; she held that same deep anger and hate for sake. The two women, young and old, both gained from the relationship. Suyami got a teacher, both in the ways of friendship, and weaponry. Akaya got a companion, music, and a true friend of the soul.
Akaya knew much about the sai, both of their history, and of the many different ways to wield them. Suyami gradually learned things from basic blocks to knuckle jabs, from throws to flips and even punctures, and how to break swords with the seemingly small weapons.
Training was long, and intense. Suyami barely had time to perform during the first part; she was so sore, tired, and busy. Training with the sai took finesse, not so much strength. Sadly, finesse was something Suyami desperately lacked. It didn’t take much elegance or skill to pull along a hitched group of ostrich-horses, or jab a hole in the ground. Her fingers needed work as well; agility did not come easy. Thankfully, her fingers were long, so it wasn’t as hard as it could have been.
Training normally occupied a good part of the morning, and the evening. Akaya spent the day running the shop, and though Suyami occasionally helped her later on, most of that time was spent performing, or running errands. They only had a little down time with each other, and Suyami spent that time playing for Akaya, like she had promised. Akaya would close her eyes, and tell stories of her son to Suyami. Sometimes, Suyami would talk about Kan, when Akaya wasn’t talking. She even told the woman about her mother. Akaya sympathized, and revealed that her father had beat her mother as a child. Finally, her mother had kicked her father out, but it had still been a period of her childhood that she did not like to dwell on. They bonded even further over the sharing of a difficult childhood. Suyami had found another lifelong friend, besides Rin.
She had grown so close to Akaya that when she finished her training, she felt the intense need to stay with her. Leaving the weapons’ shop that she had lived in for such time felt almost wrong. However, the road beckoned, and her traveling feet itched to wander again. She left, but not before receiving a few of Akaya’s best sai, and giving both love and a promise to come back often.
Though she missed Akaya, she was happy to be off again. She never really left the Fire Nation on her travels, for both her clothes, features and music branded her as Fire Nation. But, besides that, she traveled up and down the nation, playing everywhere she went. By that time, she had accumulated enough gold to buy a nice outfit for her performances, and a sturdier one for the road. She never did get to buying an ostrich horse, though. What was the point? She liked walking, and she didn’t have anywhere to go.
Now, she is back in the Capital, playing her music as she wanders the streets. Fights stream in her wake, the fault of her stubbornness, pride, and short fuse. She still checks in on Rin when she can, with the occasional soldier. She doesn’t find out much, but when she does, it cheers her up like nothing else. However, music keeps her happy, as life keeps her passionate, and everything else keeps her angry. Maybe her life wasn’t the one she chose, but she’s going to live this one out, even if it kills her.
Sample RP:
“I’m telling you, I didn’t do anything!”
Suyami growled angrily through her tightly gritted teeth. “Agni, I’ll be back, and next time I’ll kill you!” She punctuated this with an angry flip of her black hair, leaving no possible way for people to miss her blazing golden eyes. “I’m never playing here again,” she muttered to herself, gently cradling the rosewood shamisen in her arms. A few quick strokes of her polishing cloth and the grit from the broken chair was easily removed. “Thank goodness,” she sighed.
She picked herself up off the ground easily, brushing off the dust from her clothes. Thankfully, she hadn’t been in her performance clothes. Those men had been overreacting, anyway. Who knew bar chairs were breakable? She hadn’t meant for them to break, either. The breaking was supposed to come from that idiot’s head.
Suyami grumbled to herself as she checked all over to make sure everything was intact. No breaks, no concussions, pack still there, sai all present, and water flask in the pack. All accounted for. She didn’t have to check her gold; she would know if it was gone. Besides, no thief was stupid enough to assault her. She already knew all the ones here, and they were all cowards, anyway.
The glint of the sun off of the metal cart was blinding. Suyami carefully shielded her eyes, and mentally cursed the owner. Who used metal in their carts? Insensitive idiots, those were who. A glance at the offending sun confirmed the sinking in the pit of her stomach: she was going to be late. Muttering a quick curse, she picked through the crowded plaza with relative ease. She didn’t throw out any apologies to the people she shoved. They’d get over it.
She let out the breath she had been holding when the dais came in sight. “Thank the spirits,” she mumbled, and picked up her speed. She could just barely hear the heralds announcing her. Which, thankfully meant that she wasn’t late. Just as they said “Suyami Katou”, she leapt on stage, a wicked grin on her face. It was a relatively tiny show, really. Outside, not really advertised, and with a very low dais. She wasn’t complaining, though; if it got her a bowl of soup in the evenings and a bit of water in the mornings, that was fine.
She waved to the hordes of people traipsing through the crowded marketplace, ignoring the fact that they probably weren’t there to see her. In her head, she ran over her choices: sing, shamisen, or shinobue. Or seppuku. That started with an “s”, didn’t it? She almost laughed at herself, but caught it before the chuckle could sound. It wouldn’t do to appear mad in front of her audience, would it? She immediately made a decision, and took out the long shamisen. A puff of air flew out of her lungs when she dropped down on the ground. A few turns of the pegs, and her lovely lady was in working order. A quick assessment of the crowd told her they were in need of a jaunty tune, and immediately, she pleased them by playing a crowd favorite.
Most people weren’t watching, but when her music reached their ears, they turned, a smile on their faces. Suyami didn’t notice of course, not really. She was bent over the instrument, busy taking pleasure in one of the things she loved to do the most. Music filled her heart, and music filled her ears. The ringing of coins hitting the small bowl near the stage was not part of her melody; she did this for herself, not for the money. It was as if the crowd could sense her love and passion, they smiled as well, swaying with the music. Suyami’s smile grew, and for a moment, her eyes closed. Mother, I’ve finally found my home.
Age:20
Gender: Female
Group: Fire Nation Citizen
Nation: Fire Nation
Bender?: Hopefully not.
Physical Appearance:Suyami stands at the tall height of five foot six; unusually tall since her parents were both around five foot three. She resembles a mischievous sprite, with her lean, willowy form and small shoulders. Her chest isn’t especially big; rather, it’s on the smaller side. At one time she fretted over this, but, when she realized it helped to have a smaller bust while she worked, she stopped. Mostly. Muscles line her thin body; souvenirs from a childhood filled with hard work. Only a thin layer of fat covers her body, just enough to keep her from looking like a complete skeleton. Her legs are long and thin, but marred by multiple scars from stray branches, and knife wounds, as well. Her knees show the stress of work, slightly reddened and bumpy as they are. Her feet are bigger than the ideal small size, but by no means are they oversized. The bottoms are darkened substantially from barefoot work in the fields, and dotted with multiple calluses, like her hands. Those thin, seemingly delicate hands suffer the rough patches from her strenuous work in the rice paddies her family kept, cultivated, and harvested. She used to worry that the rough spots would impair her playing, but indeed, they helped when she began to play, especially with the shamisen.
Her face is pleasing to the eye, at least, more so from far away. From a distance, she might appear to look like one of the Fire Nation’s many female flowers, pale, beautiful, and delicate. However, at a close-up, you can see that though she is pale –a miracle, since she spends so much time in the sun—the skin under her eyes is much darker; a side-effect of her late-hours. She usually sports a vivid sunburn when she travels, but she covers that up with powder when she performs. Her nose, once straight and short, has been broken twice – once, due to her own folly, and the second time, in a fight. Now, it is slightly crooked, and a bump rests on its bridge. Her eyebrows –a vanity of hers—are thin, and arch neatly. Of course, on the road, it gets harder to take care of them, and they lose some of their thinness. Short, faded eyelashes adorn her satin sheen gold eyes, tempered a bit by the faint, lighter gold lining near the outer rim of her iris. They are set maybe a tad bit farther apart than the normal individual’s, but it is almost impossible to notice. Her eyes are bigger than the norm for the Fire Nation, and expressive. One might think they were the eyes of someone who cried often, but on the contrary, Suyami’s eyes only water when she gets angry, which, sadly, is quite often. Her eyebrows furrow deeply when she is in a volatile mood, crinkling her eyes into tiny slits. When she is in a reckless, fighting mood, they narrow as well, but they glint considerably with an almost madness. A half grin will adorn her face, and for a moment, she looks… not beautiful, but rather, striking. Her cheekbones are not high, rather, they are regularly placed, and not highly noticeable. In her family, the cheekbones go hand in hand with the hereditary oval face, ending in a pointed chin, though in her face, it is less pronounced. Thankfully, she did not inherit her father’s neck; squat and thick as it is. Suyami’s neck is long, and much thinner than her fathers. Her lips are a bit thin, and though they are in reality a mix between a lighter amaranth and a darker salmon, when she is angry, they tighten into a firm line, and pale drastically. When she is happy, which is usually when she is playing music, or singing, her lips curve upward in a pleasing smile, and a small dimple near the right corner of her lip is visible. Of course, that’s only if you can see past the curtain of hair that usually falls in her face, especially when she plays the shamisen.
Speaking of her hair, it is quite long. Well, not long by the Fire Nation standards, but long compared to what it used to be when she was younger. Her father always used to crop her hair short, right below the earlobe. He would say with a chuckle that it was so she would be able to see the ground better. Now, though, free of her father and the rice paddies, it has grown down to her shoulder blades, a rich and shining black that she is proud of. She likes the feel of it when she tosses her head, normally in indignation or anger. It isn’t very thick, and is as straight as a pin, with no waves whatsoever. This is coupled with bangs that fall straight down to her eyebrows, covering her forehead completely. She sometimes tucks her hair behind her medium-size ears, but only rarely does she actually put it up. When she does, it’s with only half of her hair in a traditional top-knot, and with the rest hanging loose over her shoulders.
Clothing/Armor: When she was younger, Suyami loved the sky. Thus, Suyami’s favorite color was blue, but, of course, her parents immediately tried to drill that out of her. They taught her that the traditional colors of the Fire Nation were red, maybe a mahogany or burgundy, possibly violet, at times. Suyami yielded to the wishes of her parents, donning the red clothes they forced on her. However, now that she lives on her own, she wears the reddish-purples that are the closest to her favorite colors she can get without being traitorous to her country.
Her normal clothes vary between two main outfits: her day-to-day outfit, for when she is traveling on the road, and the one she wears in large cities, and when she performs. Underneath both she wears linen chest bindings. They’re wound tightly, but due to her lack of major cleavage, they don’t have to be too tight. When they were newer, they were much whiter, but now, after prolonged use, they have taken on a more dingy color. They vary in length, as well: The bindings she wears with her casual outfit is much longer than the very short bindings she uses underneath her performance clothes. The performance bindings have to be shorter, for the top she wears is shorter, as well. She also wears the same material wrapped around her nether region, as underwear.
When she plays for large groups, or wanders in large towns or cities, she wears an outfit consisting of artfully draped cloth, varying in shades of purple and magenta. This outfit is made up of several different pieces. The first is an undershirt, dioxazine purple in color and form fitting. It reaches about an inch above her bellybutton, leaving the rest of her flat stomach bare. This undershirt is sleeveless and strapless, and is made of a stretchy, flexible material that allows her to move, and breathe. It lies smooth over her chest, and no lines from the chest bindings show through. Faint gold embroidery can be seen near the hem, consisting of decorative loops and swirls, continuing all the way around the garment. On top of the undershirt she wears a cloak-like, Grecian-style, off the shoulder wrap. It is pinned to her right shoulder by a large brooch, bearing the Fire Nation insignia and encircled by a border of small, golden flames. This leaves her left shoulder and arm free, while the pin keeps the material from going over her right arm. The pin itself is tarnished silver, and the item is the only heirloom she deigned to keep when she left home, and one of the few keepsakes from her parents. The brooch is rather large, about a little less than an inch in diameter. It is flat, and polished to a high sheen that only loving care can achieve. The material of this cloak-like wrap falls like a waterfall from where it is pinned to where it gathers and bunches an inch above her hips. The material is an eggplant color, and when the hem is visible, it is seen that the same embroidery that adorns the undershirt graces this one, as well.
She wears a skirt with the outfit as well, a draped thing the same shade of purple as the undershirt. It hangs down to her knees, and splits up the middle in the front, coming together at about mid-thigh. The entire material falls in neat folds from where it rides on her hips. It is made of the same material as the off-the-shoulder wrap/cloak. This is all cinched together with a simple cloth belt, the ends hanging down in the front of the skirt. The skirt itself is bordered in eggplant, a hem about ½ inch in width. The skirt makes a sound when she walks, but it is gentle. The soft, slipper-like shoes that she wears make almost no sound on the cobbled city streets. They are a deep burgundy, and match the arm band on her right upper arm, made of the same satin over a leather strap.
Her other outfit is simple compared to the other one. Instead of slippers, she wears sturdy, black leather boots. They were custom-made, a very expensive gift she bought for herself. They cling to the exact shape of her calf, and come to the very bottom of her knee. The bottoms are a bit muddy from wear, and the leather’s a bit frayed at the top, but all in all, they’ve lasted well. She probably should wear the traditional, upturned shoes of the Fire Nation, but she prefers the boots. They show less wear, and are more practical. Her pants are silken and soft, a rich burgundy in color. She tucks them into her boots, usually, to hide the fraying hems. A few mud spots adorn the knees, and the fabric there has become a bit bleached, but other than that, they have stayed in good shape. She wears a tunic for a top in the same burgundy color, the hem a light amaranth. She wears it in the traditional “Y” draping, kimono style. It is cinched at the waist with a cloth belt of the same light amaranth color. The rest of the tunic falls down below the belt. The hem falls nicely at about mid-thigh. The sleeves of the tunic are short, hemmed as well. Also, two hilts peek out above the cloth of the belt; she tucks her sai in there. The spare is tucked completely vertically, in between the other blades, where they cross. When she wears her performance outfit, she only carries two of them, one tucked in her chest binding, and one tucked into her skirt on her left side, so the wrap’s drape covers it. The third is safely tucked away in her pack. Her pack carries her supplies, and both of her instruments; the shinobue and the shamisen. It’s made out of old, tanned leather, worn to a deep shade of burnt umber. There’s one main compartment, with a small pouch on the outside. The main compartment is covered by a flap that is fastened by a button attached to the pack.
Suyami carries two main instruments at all times, besides her voice: a horizontal flute called a “shinobue”, and a plucked string instrument called a “shamisen”. The shinobue is played by blowing across the embouchure. Suyami’s in particular has seven holes, and is in B. It is made out of bamboo, and is painted in a glossy black. No fingerprints are ever visible, since she always polishes it before and after use. There are some chips in the lacquer, but they are mostly near the end. It’s about a foot in length. She normally plays it in crowded places, where she can’t take out her much larger shamisen.
The afore-mentioned shamisen is rather bulky, and though Suyami would say the quality was worth the unwieldy-ness, her back disagrees. The weight isn’t much, but the shamisen was not built to be ergonomic in a pack. Let’s leave it at that. The shamisen resembles a banjo, with a rectangular body covered in skin and a long, thin neck. The measurements of Suyami’s shamisen are that of a regular, but high-quality shamisen. The body is 7 ¾ inches long by 7 inches broad, by 3 inches deep, the neck being 2 feet 5 inches long, tapering from 1 inch broad to 6/10 inch, the pegs 3 inches long apiece (3 pegs for 3 strings), the bachi 8 ¼ inches long, rather less than an inch square at the top, and 3 ½ inches long at the striking edge. The bachi is the plectrum (pick) used to play the instrument, though sometimes Suyami plays it with her fingernails. The strings are made out of high quality silk. If you look closely at the stretched skin covering the body, you can see the faint remnants of the cat’s nipples. The body and the neck are both made out of high quality rosewood, polished to a brilliant sheen. The silk is a bit worn down where Suyami strikes it with the bachi, or, her fingernails. However, in case they do snap, or fray terribly, she carries extras of each in her pack.
Weapons: Suyami, though she appears to be a simple, wandering musician, is in fact, a near expert in the use of sai. She normally carries three; two accessible at all times, and a spare tucked farther away. She used to use her father’s antique sai; rusty and old as they were. However, after her training with Akaya, she left taking three of the weapons’ master’s best sai. Made of the finest crafted steel, they were tempered with care, and have a sheen to them that cannot be dulled by mere dust and wear. Suyami has only had them for a year, but still, a few scratches adorn each one. The sai resembles a pointed baton, rod-shaped and adorned by two symmetrical projections. These are known as tsuba, and are attached to the handle. The very end of the handle is known as the knuckle. Suyami’s sai are constructed in the traditional way, with a round central prong. It tapers off at the end to a point. (That center prong is the end of the “baton”, it is surrounded by the two tsuba) There is an area between the tsuba and the main shaft, which is often used to either trap blades, or is a centrifugal point when the bearer switches the position of the sai. This would bring the knuckle end up, which is good for punches, while the other side is good for blocks, or even a stab like a common dagger. Suyami’s sai weigh a moderate amount, and are about the length of her forearm. They are balanced beautifully, so when she switches positions, it is not awkward or difficult. The handles are wrapped in red silk, which she finds chafes much less than traditional leather. The knuckles of the sai are adorned with the Fire Nation “flame insignia”. This creates an interesting affect when she punches someone’s bare skin with it. A nice flame indent is left on that spot. The sai themselves, other than that, have only one other adornment: the characters of their maker near the knuckle. Suyami carries no other weapons except a common eating knife, sharpened to the point of exhaustion, made out of cheap steel and sheathed in a common wrapping of leather. It has a dull coloring to it, and every time she uses it, she worries it will shatter. Perhaps it is time to get a new one.
Personality: Suyami led a difficult childhood. Between drunken outbursts from her mother, and long hours in the fields, she never had any time for herself. However, instead of developing a fear of women, she developed self confidence, and pride in herself. Of course, she started out with major dependency on her father, and fear of her mother. But, when her brother was born, she had someone to protect, and it made her uncurl from her innate shyness. Training with her father developed her self-confidence, and, instead of shrinking away from her mother, she began to grow angry, instead. So now, though she does trust men more than women, and her friends are mostly male, she does have a few close, female friends. Now, she is a self confident and prideful woman; albeit angry, and perhaps a bit conceited.
On a normal day in a largish town, Suyami would usually be performing. She would be seen either playing her shamisen, with her head bent over the instruments and hair in her face, or playing the shinobue as she walked. A twinkle in her eye and a slight curving of the lips both indicate her mood. She’ll normally sway to the tune, her eyes half-lidded in happiness, and harmony. Music is one of the things that really make her happy.
Another time she can relax is when she is around children. She radiates warmth and love when she is among them, and has been known to give almost all of her money to orphans she sees. In each, she sees the forever perfect face of her little brother, the only person she loved more than her father. She has often longed for a child of her own, but never has she found a man who would suffice as a father.
When she isn’t performing, however, she is usually in a state of seemingly relaxed tension. She is always on the alert, even when joking, looking for a hint of danger. It isn’t entirely unfounded, either. With her highly prized instruments, and the fair amount of gold she earns from her playing, she seems an easy target. But in reality, she isn’t looking for the men in the shadows, she’s looking for a different type of wraith, one she left in her past a long time ago, but was never really free from. Though she looks in the shadows for someone she fears, it is backed with a great anger, and she takes pride in the fact that she did not break under her childhood ordeals. She has the stubbornness of an ox.
Though she may be considered peaceful when she plays her music, she is far from easy-going. Her temper is quite volatile, and she has been known to start a few fights. Normally, these fights are started from a seemingly simple insult. A comment over alcoholism or insensitivity over people with disabilities, or deformities will usually set her off. She takes offense over the littlest things, bristling up like a hedgehog. She takes thrill in the fight, getting a high off of the danger. The sensation of playing music gives her a different euphoria, but both are related.
Of course, all this self-righteous anger and self-confidence leads to a bit of arrogance, as well. She takes pride in the person she is. She knows she isn’t the prettiest woman alive, but also is aware that when she smiles that reckless grin, she does exude charisma, and has a certain presence.
Perhaps, if her brother had never born, she would have ended up broken, a mere shell of the woman she could have been. Instead, she fights everyday to overcome her mother’s shadow, with a glint of fervent stubbornness in her eyes, and a set of her jaw. His memory keeps her fighting, and even though she has no clue where he and her father went, she still fights against being sad in his name. It is hard to live without sadness all the time, though. When she does get sad, it is a deep sadness, one that reaches far and causes her to brood at times. However, those sullen moods rarely grip her, and she fights to keep them from controlling her. She lives a fierce, determined life. Though she does still have a mistrust of women, it is backed with an iron will, and her strength is not to be tested. Instead of breaking underneath the yoke of her mother’s anger, she learned to be angrier, to be stronger, and to be better. In more ways than one, the childhood has made her stronger than she ever could have been.
Background: Suyami was born to nothing, fated to earn nothing, eat nothing, and live only to harvest rice and make babies. She was born somewhere north of the Capital, and east of nowhere in a small little Fire Nation town. Well, not exactly a town, more like a small little cottage in the middle of a plethora of rice paddies. Small, dirty, and cramped. Her father had inherited the rice paddies from his father, and his father had inherited it from his father, and so on, and so forth. He had met her mother in an inn, and had been awed by her charisma, and presence. At first, she only saw a simple farmer, but when he approached her, she began to see him as a way to get out of her tight, over-protective family life. She learned to like him, even as he loved her with a fiery passion. Their social classes differed greatly, but he obviously didn’t care, and she mostly cared about getting away from her family. Even though she was older than him, he loved her so much that he didn’t care. Her wealthy family disowned her, leaving her nothing except a few things she managed to take with her.
They lived a moderately happy life, or, at least Suyami’s father did. A year after their marriage, they gave birth to Suyami, the first of two children. It was a difficult birth, and one of the standard procedures of the midwife’s was to give the mother a bit of diluted sake to ease the pain afterwards. Later on, her mother would remember the drink as something that brought a brief respite from pain. She began to drink sake regularly, but back then, it was only once or twice a week. However, it grew worse as Suyami grew older. This was the beginning of a horrible, addictive relationship between Suyami’s mother, and alcohol.
Unnoticed by Suyami’s mother, who was lying prone on the bed in their small house, tiny, premature Suyami laid still, crying huskily. Her father picked her up, and from the moment their eyes met, it was clear that he had found another love, which would grow stronger than his love for his wife, which faded a bit later on in their relationship.
For the first few years of Suyami’s life, her mother played an active role in her development. She taught her how to count, and do simple mathematics. She knew that when Suyami grew older, it was a possibility that she would be in charge of the paddies if they didn’t have a son. She let Suyami play with the bamboo flute, but not with the shamisen. It was too delicate for baby fingers, or so she said. She always used to smile, and laugh when Suyami clambered onto her lap. The entire family would sit near the fire at nights in the winter, and outside during the summer. Either way; Suyami’s mother would play one of her instruments softly while her husband taught tiny Suyami about all different types of rice knowledge.
When Suyami turned five, she not only had a plethora of rice wisdom, but a sense of haughtiness, as well. Her father tried to tone that down a bit, and it worked to an extent, but her mother still instilled the belief in her daughter that she was nobility. This led to a bit of early spoiled behavior, but the work in the rice paddies drilled that out on its own.
Her mother also arranged play dates for her with the children of her childhood friends; friends that had never worked a day in their lives before. Suyami tolerated the haughty noble children, but she only had a real friendship with one: a boy named Rin. Their friendship lasted a while, and, on top of that, he was one of the only children who actually lived remotely near her. Slowly, the other children stopped coming, but Rin still came. Her mother adored him, and her father liked that he deigned to help out in the fields. Suyami liked him because he was Rin, her best friend. He liked her because she was Suyami. It was that simple.
Later, when Suyami was seven, tragedy struck her mother. Her parents had died; ironically enough –her father was a firebender—in a fire. Their entire bit of land had burned down. Her sister had been visiting Suyami’s grandparents, and had been badly burned in the fire. She had come down to tell her sibling of the news. Suyami was too young to understand what happened. She knew someone had died, but she had never met her grandparents, and her mother never spoke of them. How was she supposed to grieve for them?
It was as if an enormous rain cloud covered the Katou household. From that time on, it seemed the only music heard from Suyami’s mother was sad. This was the time when she turned to the sake for that familiar feeling of pain-relief. The pain of losing both parents is shocking, especially at the same time. She kept going back to the drink, over and over again. It seemed that now, it took even more of the rice wine to dull the pain. A normal farmer’s wife wouldn’t have had the money to buy all the wine; but she had money from her parents: money she had taken with her, and the money her sister had given her after their parents’ death. Even though Suyami’s mother was disowned, her sister still felt, if not familial bonds, guilt.
Now, she began to ignore her husband and recede into herself, turning to the few things she had taken with her from her old house for solace: the old family instruments. Her mother had taught her to play them both, the horizontal flute, and the prized rosewood shamisen, as well. Their haunting music comforted her, more than her (now) barely tolerated husband ever could. He simply reminded her of family, and family reminded her of her parents. Seeing him play with Suyami only made her reminisce about her father, and that hurt too much for her to bear.
Suyami lived a short childhood. It was too difficult to be called fun, and too unpredictable to be called safe. Her relationship with her father was clear: it was loving and caring. However, her interactions with her mother were not so clear-cut. Where her mother had once been happy and loving, now, she was cold and distant. Suyami distinctively remembers a time when she stepped on the shards of a broken bottle, and though she cried and screamed, her mother did not come. Suyami learned to see the small cup and ceramic bottle as a sign of a bad day. Her mother’s good days turned shorter, as her involvement with the drink grew deeper. Her mother still had those good days, of course, and Suyami would sit in her lap and play with her hair like always. However, they weren’t as good as they had been, and they were always tempered with a thread of doubt: was it going to turn ugly?
Her father gradually began to crumple from the inside when he refused to acknowledge what was happening to his wife. He knew it inside, but as Suyami grew, he only did the bare minimum to keep her away from her mercurial mother. He did what he could, but his adoring love for the woman kept him from completely seeing what was happening. When ignoring her daughter turned to harming her, all that changed was Suyami’s time in the rice fields. Now, she spent almost all of her time working, at the mere, tender age of eight. She’d harness the ostrich horses to the simple plows, and lead them across the fields. Then, she’d fertilize the large paddies with dung and sewage. Her father would be there as well, but most of the time he’d be on their other fields. He’d come over every so often to muss her short black hair, and give her a big grin, telling her what a great job she was doing. They would eat lunch together, while his wife sat in the cottage, switching between drinking sake and playing haunting music. She barely stopped to eat anything, on the really bad days. After the smoothing of the fields was done, they would wait for the seedlings in their little beds to grow. After a while, normally in the span of 1 to 2 months, they would transfer the little seedlings by hand to the fields, which, by then had been flooded by water from the river nearby. She had the job of carefully measuring the length and spacing of the plants, which was a grueling and painstaking task. After that, they would hand water the fields, and then, allow them to drain before cutting. And start all over again.
Other children that she’d seen before became faceless blurs. Now, she rarely had time to talk to any of them, and she didn’t feel like it, either. The only person she saw regularly outside of her family was Rin. He still came by, and for a time, it would be like the old days. She always knew that he would be there for her, and she trusted that implicitly. But of course, Rin couldn’t be there all the time.
Rice was her life, interspersed by yelling from her mother, and occasional blows. Her father would comfort her afterwards, and since by that time, he and his wife both slept separately, Suyami would spend the night with him instead of alone. Sometimes Rin would be by, and life would be hopeful.
A child’s love for a mother is so strong, though, that it cannot be broken by mere abuse. Bonds are strange things, especially the one between a mother and her child. On good days, Suyami would still sit in her lap, and her mother would braid her short hair, combing it over and over again. On really good days, she would even let Suyami hold the shamisen, and gently press her fingers down on the silken strings, and strike the note with the bachi. Suyami would be thrilled by this, and for a moment, her mother’s face would clear, and she would smile. Sometimes, her mother would whisper to her about how her real home wasn’t here; it was out in the world, somewhere else. Suyami would listen intently to the worlds her mother described to her, the world outside of the rice paddies.
Slowly, every so often, her mother began to teach her how to play, and how to evoke the sweetest sounds, from both the stringed instrument and the shinobue. Every so often, she would even sing with her, Suyami’s young, sweet and clear voice blending with her mother’s frail, breathy one. Suyami learned to love music, and eventually, when a bad day came (they began to lessen, now) she could retreat with one of the instruments that her mother wasn’t using.
Her father, instead of possibly becoming jealous, was happy for them. And so, for a short time, they shared a peaceful, more normal relationship. Suyami was now 10, and knew only some numbers, farming, and music. However, she did know almost everything there was to know about the world she lived in. All the tales her mother had told her were based on the real world; she knew where she lived. She knew she had the right to be proud of her country to the degree of arrogance. She knew the pictures her mother had painted for her with words, pictures of worlds that she remembered with a one-sided view. Her father had taught her all there was to know about farming and rice. Her mother sought to remedy that ignorance, and on her good days, she also began to teach Suyami her characters. She didn’t learn much; only how to read and write simple things. Eventually, she learned to sign her name, Suyami Katou. It was her father’s last name; when her mother was disowned, it was no longer acceptable for her to use that surname. Her father told her about her ancestors, and about her heritage. He told her that farming was nothing to be ashamed of, even though they were not nobles. Her mother, on the other hand, would whisper to her that she should be proud, that her mother used to be a noble.
Now that Suyami’s mother was doing better, Rin came over even more often. At this time, her mother would actually greet Rin, and the atmosphere was visibly lightened. Suyami and Rin would still work in the fields, but she did notice that his clothes steadily got fancier. Once, she even spotted gold thread woven in with the regular material. They never spoke of it, but it was clear even at that young age that there was a social gap. However, that didn’t interfere with their deep friendship. Suyami didn’t really care, and Rin refused to let it affect anything.
Life was going so well, that with time, Suyami’s parents decided to have another child. Suyami was 11 when her baby brother was born. Her parents were both happy, but exhausted to have another baby. The birth was less difficult than Suyami’s, but when the midwife held up Suyami’s new brother, her mother paled, and fainted dead away. Her brother was deformed; born without half of his arm. Smaller dysfunctions were visible, as well: a smaller head circumference, and smaller eye openings. It seemed that though the midwife had told her not to drink during the pregnancy, she had imbibed the sake against that explicit command.
When her mother woke up, she told her husband she did not want to see the child. She would not hold him, or feed him. She simply lay in bed, crying, and drinking profusely from the dreaded bottle of sake. Suyami stood to the side, puzzled and worried by this. She instinctively felt the old fear being dredged up, that horrible uncertainty: was her mother safe, or not? She ran to her father, who was struggling to take care of her baby brother. Together, they raised him, though they tried time and time again to get help from Suyami’s mother. She would simply yell at them through her tears, becoming once again Suyami’s childhood monster. Though the midwife tried to tell Suyami’s mother that it wasn’t completely her fault; she wouldn’t listen. All she could do was recede farther within herself, cry, and drink.
At this time, Rin was no longer allowed to come over. His mother simply would not let him visit Suyami. She seemed to think that he had been indulged long enough, and that it was time for him to come find his proper place in society. He was a year older than Suyami, and it seemed manhood was already approaching, even at twelve. He now went full time to a nearby school. Suyami never went to such a school, though all of the neighboring children did. She was too busy farming, and raising her brother. They met secretly for a while, but when that didn’t work, they slowly stopped seeing each other. This saddened Suyami greatly, but the birth of her brother helped mellow that out quite a bit, though it didn’t erase it.
And so, the happy times disappeared once more. However, there was a bright light at the end of the tunnel this time: Suyami had her brother; Kan. She couldn’t understand why her mother never looked at Kan; to her, he was perfect. She and her father both raised him while her mother sat and drank her life away. This proved troublesome, especially since Kan seemed to learn more slowly than the usual kid. They assumed this was because of her mother’s drinking, but they couldn’t be sure. It proved very difficult to take care of a baby when one was plowing fields, or planting, but they got it done. Suyami didn’t get as much attention from her father anymore. She understood that this was because they were both bent double over raising her brother, of course. But still, sometimes she resented Kan, but only a bit. She occasionally missed the days where it was just the three of them.
The good days almost never came anymore, but sometimes, Suyami would sneak into her mother’s room, and play the shamisen, slowly in the corner. Her mother would stop crying for a little while, and for a moment, an almost peaceful expression would cross her face. But gone were the days when Suyami could crawl into her lap for a lesson. Now, she was usually greeted with a sharp slap, or a bottle, on a truly bad day.
However, her days were filled with Kan. She would bounce him, tickle him, feed him, and change him. In every way she could be, she was his mother. He loved her like one, and she loved him like a son. His lack of a forearm did not bother her; in fact, she found it made him even more endearing.
After relentless prodding from Suyami, her father began to take her aside for more than just the rice farming; now, he began to teach her how to defend herself. He used to say he should have seen it coming, after telling her about ancient times when women fought alongside men. He had shown her the ornamental sai that hung on their wall, and told her that a long time ago, her great-great-great-great many times over grandmother had used them as simple planting tools. However, near the end of her lifetime, she had used them as weapons, alongside other farmers who had done the same. Suyami had been thrilled at the idea of protecting her family, at the… power of it. When he finally agreed, he said it was only for protection against attackers, or bandits, but she knew better. If the time came, that really bad day that they both knew would come; she would need to protect herself against her own mother. Now, at an older age, she can ask herself questions like why her father never left her mother. Looking back, she knows that he never did stop loving her, even when she was at her worst. It was a strength of his, but also, his greatest weakness. She has never blamed her father for any of her childhood troubles, though. He did the best he could, even blinded by love.
At first, it was only a few simple blocks, and a couple punches. However, when she showed promise, he taught her more. She ate it up, seeing it not as a way to defend herself, but moreover, to defend her brother. A part of her seemed to know that her purpose in life is to save her brother from the type of abuse that she got.
With the fighting lessons, her self-confidence began to grow. Her father saw the change in her, and it gave him great joy to see his daughter bursting out of the shell he never broke out of. He began teaching her more and more, till her reflexes began to stump even him. Of course, he wasn’t very good to begin with, so in reality, she was only a prodigy to her father. Her reflexes were, good, though, and she did have an innate feel for fighting.
Fighting practice soon overpowered her lessons, which had petered out by that time, anyway. Her father had taught her all he knew, and her mother didn’t feel like talking anymore, let alone teaching. Now, he taught her the language of self-defense, and the geography of weak spots in the human body.
One evening, Suyami was playing with her brother. Her mother was rocking rapidly in her chair, a cup of sake in her hand. Her father was busy repairing one of the harnesses for the ostrich horses. Her brother toddled away from her, having just barely learned how to walk. He was two; Suyami was 14. He walked over to his mother, arms outstretched. Normally, Suyami would have prevented this, but she was busy trying to repair the toy he had dropped, and did not see him move. The only warning she had was the silence in the room; the creaking of her mother’s chair had abruptly stopped. She looked up, and saw her mother’s hand lift to swat the child away. Unthinkingly, she rushed forward, planting herself in front of Kan and lifting a hand to block the smack. Trained almost too well, she automatically caught her mother’s wrist, her strength from plowing and tending the fields easily overcoming her mother’s almost delicate slap. She met her mother’s eyes, anger boiling in her very gaze. No words were needed; it was clear from Suyami’s look that she wasn’t going to take the violence quietly anymore. Her mother wrenched back her hand, and that was that. Suyami carefully took Kan away, a newfound feeling of triumph surrounding her.
From that day on, things changed. Her mother began to recede even more into her drink, and became more and more incoherent. She no longer played the shamisen; the only music came from Suyami, who played often for her brother, who loved to hear it. Her fingers would fly across the strings in a complex melody, and then in a different song, would dance slowly, drawing out the poignant sounds. It was clear to both her father and her brother that she had great talent, not only with the shamisen, but the shinobue, as well. Her voice was sweet, but it was nothing too special. Her true talent lay in the instruments.
The other major thing that happened to Suyami was the return of an old friend: Rin came back into her life. Finally, he had simply refused to heed his mother. She was ecstatic about seeing her best friend again, and eagerly, they threw themselves back into their old routines. However, some things changed. Besides gaining back her old best friend, Suyami also got something new: her first crush. She hadn’t seen Rin in a while, and in the time they had spent apart, he had done some growing up. She had, too, of course, but she didn’t know that. Or, at least, she didn’t pay attention to the fact. At that point, all she could think about was Rin. For a long time, she never told him how she felt. Instead, they kept meeting, though they never worked in the fields together as they had. Instead, they took walks, or sat and talked. Normally, she would take Kan with them, as well. Thankfully, Rin had nothing against children with disabilities, which was surprising in a noble. Suyami liked him all the better for it. In her eyes, he shone with the light of a thousand suns. In reality, though he was a very tolerant noble, he still had the trademark haughtiness of a noble, and always encouraged her to reach higher than being a farmer. His motives for that weren’t all for her well-being. He was gaining a sense of rank, and knew that if they were going to spend much more time together, she would need to rise above being a peasant.
Unbeknownst to her mother, Suyami also threw herself into learning how to fight; intoxicated by the confidence it gave her. However, fist-fighting was merely a game for her. She wanted something more… Not to learn how to wield a sword; that was for nobles. Instead, she wanted to block against a sword, to be able to defend, and yet… attack. Thus, her father brought down the antique relics that lay on their mantelpiece: twin sai, rusted and old. She loved the idea of being able to take down a swordsman, and the size of the weapons, as well. She was reminded of the woman who had once wielded them; her ancestor. He could only teach her the two different holds: How to block with the center piece by holding the sai flush with the underside of her forearm, and how to trap a blade using both sides. He was only able to explain the other possibilities; not teach them. After all, he was only a farmer.
By the time she had learned all she could from her father, she was a mere 16 and a half. Her brother was four; and called her “Su”. That year held multiple memorable events for her, one of them, the time she finally told Rin how she felt. To her shock and delight, it seemed he had felt the same way, but had been so worried about ruining their friendship that he hadn’t spoken up. They spent even more time together, but it was with a purpose in mind. Now, it was courting he came for, and their relationship was more serious.
Those days, her mother barely fazed her; she had learned how to defend herself, and had gained strength and an awareness of self-worth in the process, along with a man who she loved with all of her heart. A few months later, she found her mother lying prone in her chair, an empty cup in her hand. Shaking her did nothing. It seemed that finally, the drink had killed her.
Torn between rejoicing and sobbing, Suyami stood stock still, shock written over her face. Finally, she found a middle ground, and simply rested her forehead against her mother’s hand, mourning the woman she had been, and the one she had become.
After the preparations were done, and the body had been cremated, her father convinced her to leave, though with obvious trepidation. He told her she had no future in rice farming; and that he and her brother were leaving, as well. He feared telling her the truth: that he had no money anymore, and that he was getting too old to handle the crops. He didn’t want to bog his beloved daughter down in a farming life, when it was obvious she could do so much more. Though his heart broke to push her away, he shoved aside his own feelings and tried to do what was best for her. He knew she had Rin, and that he would follow his daughter where she went. So, though her heart told her to stay and love her brother and father, her body screamed about its freedom, and begged her to explore the world.
However, no pull was strong enough to take her from her brother if he did not wish it. She sat him down, and though he was only four, he seemed to understand. She saw in his eyes that he loved her, and though it broke her heart to leave him, she knew they had to part. With a few whispered goodbyes, she made her decision. She took the prized instruments with her as well, not knowing of their excellence, or of their extreme value. She only knew how to play them beautifully, and how to push them to their musical limit. However, she declined the sai her father offered her, knowing that the antiques would not hold up against anything serious.
She met with Rin once she had packed, dropping by unannounced. She told him all that had happened, and he comforted her in her grief. However, when she met his eyes, they seemed troubled. Soon, he told her what had happened to him, earlier that week: his father had chosen to enlist him in the army. Many tears were shed that night, but at the same time, a kind of peace was reached. They professed their love to each other in the age-old way; Rin told her he had planned to marry her within the month, but now, he did not want to tie her down to a man who could die at any instant. She disagreed, and said she didn’t care, but he would not relent. That night, they began as loving, would-be fiancées. They left as each other’s first lovers, and best friends, as always. Their parting was bittersweet and filled with tears, but he promised he would do his best to find her again, once he came back. She believed him with all of her heart, but feared for him greatly.
Left with remnants of bittersweet partings, promises and money from Rin, she went off into the great unknown, off into the Fire Nation. She went in search of goals to alleviate her sadness. She went in search of someone to teach her how to use the sai; someone who really knew how. She went in search of someone to play her music to; not knowing it would be the world.
Playing music for money only started as a hobby, really. She simply played tunes on the shinobue as she walked, not really thinking about it. However, when someone tossed her a coin, the idea hit her: she could make money out of that. After that incident, it became her job, her life. She played music in every town she went to. Gradually, she became more popular, until in some places, people actually knew her name!
She made friends, as well. By that time, though she missed Rin dearly, she had come to terms with the fact that it was never really meant to be. He had been nobility, she, a peasant. Those things only really worked out in tales. Of course, she still asks after him when she meets a soldier, and asks the spirits to keep him alive, but she has come to terms with the fact that marriage is unlikely. So, some friends started out as lovers, but all ended up as close friends. Whether it was in a bar, or in a street, she had a charisma that drew people to her. All of those friends were male, though. Still, she had no female friends.
A year and a half later, she was in the Capital. She actually had a planned performance that evening, though it was still outside. She had just been making her way over to the designated plaza when something caught her eye. It was a weapons store, just like any other. However, the sign above it was different. A pair of crossed sai… It piqued her dormant interest in the weapon, and drew her inside.
It seemed to be a simple weapon shop, but she felt it to be… different. Finally, after a while of browsing, she asked to see the owner. To her surprise, it was a woman. Immediately suspicious, Suyami thought she made a horrible mistake. She turned to leave, but the woman stopped her. Suyami; feeling the horrible sensation of a female hand on her shoulder, acted by reflex and grabbed her wrist, twisting it behind her back. However, the weapons’ master had been trained as well, and she got out of her simple hold easily. Suyami, eyes blazing, opened her mouth to tear her opponent apart with words. The woman simply held a finger up, and studied her intently. Suyami, quite frightened and angry by this woman, fled from the shop.
After contemplating what had happened, she finally decided to go back. By then, her performance was over, and it was nightfall. She knocked on the door to the dark room, but there was no answer. Though sorely tempted to go back to the inn she was staying at, Suyami stuck around. She played her shamisen to pass the time, softly singing along to a song she herself had made up. A while later, the door cracked open. Suyami looked up, still caught up in the music. The owner stepped out, a strange look on her face. She asked if that had been her, playing the music. Suyami nodded, and carefully tucked the shamisen away. She told the woman that she had been drawn in to her shop by the picture of the sai, and of her search for someone to teach her more about wielding them. Though she said it all through tight lips and gritted teeth, she did, after all, say it. After a moment of silence, the woman hung her head and leaned on the doorsill. She told Suyami her name, Akaya. She told her that she knew how to wield the weapons she spoke of, and that she would teach her, if Suyami would play for her. She said she had been without music for too long. Suyami, elated that she had found a teacher but wary that it was a woman, reluctantly agreed.
Though this alliance was built out of necessity and need, in the year Suyami trained with her, it evolved into a deep friendship. Though for a very long time Suyami deeply distrusted Akaya, the woman’s complete polarity from her mother eventually led to a re-evaluation of the woman. Akaya, younger than Suyami’s mother, but significantly older than Suyami herself, was a nice bridge between the familiar, friend-age woman, and the more frightening, mother-age person. She had a gruff temperament, but underneath, was as warm and soft as butter. For the time that she spent training, Akaya even let Suyami stay at the weapon shop. Later on, Akaya told Suyami the history behind her obscure answer the night of their first meeting. It was revealed that her son had once played the shamisen, before he had gone off to war and died in a skirmish with the Southern Water Tribe. To that day, Akaya had a deep-standing hatred of waterbenders. Suyami understood the anger at something that had taken the one you loved; she held that same deep anger and hate for sake. The two women, young and old, both gained from the relationship. Suyami got a teacher, both in the ways of friendship, and weaponry. Akaya got a companion, music, and a true friend of the soul.
Akaya knew much about the sai, both of their history, and of the many different ways to wield them. Suyami gradually learned things from basic blocks to knuckle jabs, from throws to flips and even punctures, and how to break swords with the seemingly small weapons.
Training was long, and intense. Suyami barely had time to perform during the first part; she was so sore, tired, and busy. Training with the sai took finesse, not so much strength. Sadly, finesse was something Suyami desperately lacked. It didn’t take much elegance or skill to pull along a hitched group of ostrich-horses, or jab a hole in the ground. Her fingers needed work as well; agility did not come easy. Thankfully, her fingers were long, so it wasn’t as hard as it could have been.
Training normally occupied a good part of the morning, and the evening. Akaya spent the day running the shop, and though Suyami occasionally helped her later on, most of that time was spent performing, or running errands. They only had a little down time with each other, and Suyami spent that time playing for Akaya, like she had promised. Akaya would close her eyes, and tell stories of her son to Suyami. Sometimes, Suyami would talk about Kan, when Akaya wasn’t talking. She even told the woman about her mother. Akaya sympathized, and revealed that her father had beat her mother as a child. Finally, her mother had kicked her father out, but it had still been a period of her childhood that she did not like to dwell on. They bonded even further over the sharing of a difficult childhood. Suyami had found another lifelong friend, besides Rin.
She had grown so close to Akaya that when she finished her training, she felt the intense need to stay with her. Leaving the weapons’ shop that she had lived in for such time felt almost wrong. However, the road beckoned, and her traveling feet itched to wander again. She left, but not before receiving a few of Akaya’s best sai, and giving both love and a promise to come back often.
Though she missed Akaya, she was happy to be off again. She never really left the Fire Nation on her travels, for both her clothes, features and music branded her as Fire Nation. But, besides that, she traveled up and down the nation, playing everywhere she went. By that time, she had accumulated enough gold to buy a nice outfit for her performances, and a sturdier one for the road. She never did get to buying an ostrich horse, though. What was the point? She liked walking, and she didn’t have anywhere to go.
Now, she is back in the Capital, playing her music as she wanders the streets. Fights stream in her wake, the fault of her stubbornness, pride, and short fuse. She still checks in on Rin when she can, with the occasional soldier. She doesn’t find out much, but when she does, it cheers her up like nothing else. However, music keeps her happy, as life keeps her passionate, and everything else keeps her angry. Maybe her life wasn’t the one she chose, but she’s going to live this one out, even if it kills her.
Sample RP:
“I’m telling you, I didn’t do anything!”
Suyami growled angrily through her tightly gritted teeth. “Agni, I’ll be back, and next time I’ll kill you!” She punctuated this with an angry flip of her black hair, leaving no possible way for people to miss her blazing golden eyes. “I’m never playing here again,” she muttered to herself, gently cradling the rosewood shamisen in her arms. A few quick strokes of her polishing cloth and the grit from the broken chair was easily removed. “Thank goodness,” she sighed.
She picked herself up off the ground easily, brushing off the dust from her clothes. Thankfully, she hadn’t been in her performance clothes. Those men had been overreacting, anyway. Who knew bar chairs were breakable? She hadn’t meant for them to break, either. The breaking was supposed to come from that idiot’s head.
Suyami grumbled to herself as she checked all over to make sure everything was intact. No breaks, no concussions, pack still there, sai all present, and water flask in the pack. All accounted for. She didn’t have to check her gold; she would know if it was gone. Besides, no thief was stupid enough to assault her. She already knew all the ones here, and they were all cowards, anyway.
The glint of the sun off of the metal cart was blinding. Suyami carefully shielded her eyes, and mentally cursed the owner. Who used metal in their carts? Insensitive idiots, those were who. A glance at the offending sun confirmed the sinking in the pit of her stomach: she was going to be late. Muttering a quick curse, she picked through the crowded plaza with relative ease. She didn’t throw out any apologies to the people she shoved. They’d get over it.
She let out the breath she had been holding when the dais came in sight. “Thank the spirits,” she mumbled, and picked up her speed. She could just barely hear the heralds announcing her. Which, thankfully meant that she wasn’t late. Just as they said “Suyami Katou”, she leapt on stage, a wicked grin on her face. It was a relatively tiny show, really. Outside, not really advertised, and with a very low dais. She wasn’t complaining, though; if it got her a bowl of soup in the evenings and a bit of water in the mornings, that was fine.
She waved to the hordes of people traipsing through the crowded marketplace, ignoring the fact that they probably weren’t there to see her. In her head, she ran over her choices: sing, shamisen, or shinobue. Or seppuku. That started with an “s”, didn’t it? She almost laughed at herself, but caught it before the chuckle could sound. It wouldn’t do to appear mad in front of her audience, would it? She immediately made a decision, and took out the long shamisen. A puff of air flew out of her lungs when she dropped down on the ground. A few turns of the pegs, and her lovely lady was in working order. A quick assessment of the crowd told her they were in need of a jaunty tune, and immediately, she pleased them by playing a crowd favorite.
Most people weren’t watching, but when her music reached their ears, they turned, a smile on their faces. Suyami didn’t notice of course, not really. She was bent over the instrument, busy taking pleasure in one of the things she loved to do the most. Music filled her heart, and music filled her ears. The ringing of coins hitting the small bowl near the stage was not part of her melody; she did this for herself, not for the money. It was as if the crowd could sense her love and passion, they smiled as well, swaying with the music. Suyami’s smile grew, and for a moment, her eyes closed. Mother, I’ve finally found my home.
