_____________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________
RELATIONS
OOC NOTE - This character is relatively new, therefore relations will be updated quite regularly, stay tuned!
[HEAVY WIP]
_____________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________
Immediate Family
The following are Miosa’s closest relatives, consisting of her parents and siblings.
. . .
Sho Hirobayashi
[Father]
"My father is a man of courage. Who’s conviction for the good of this town has never once waned. He committed himself fully to his role and I admire this greatly. He taught me that I had the strength to fight the demons in my life no matter the state I find myself in. Dear father, they see your strength and the many great feats you have accomplished, but they do not realize the great resilience you have built from many difficult days. I love you dearly, thank you for showing me what it means to be true to myself.”
Koizumi Saiky
[Mother]
“To my mother I owe a great debt. She cultivated my interests, guided my path, showed me a new perspective, and has continued to give her undivided and genuine love. Although many view her as someone to turn away from, I only wish they would take the time to understand the beauty of her ways. Dear mother, for all you have done and will continue to do, I love you. I hope to one day make you proud by bringing honor to our house of Knowledge. I will follow in your footsteps and make our kami proud.”
Kimura Saiky
[Eldest Brother]
Yet to be written.
Kohaku Saiky
[Younger Brother]
Yet to be written.
Otohiko Saiky
[Younger Brother]
Yet to be written.
Ryumen Saiky
[Younger Brother]
Yet to be written.
_____________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________
Saiky Relations
The following are for those who bare the Saiky surname, but are not among Miosa's immediate family.
. . .
???
[???]
Yet to be written.
_____________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________
Friendships
The following are for those who are considered close non-related friends of Miosa.
. . .
???
[???]
Yet to be written.
_____________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________
Other Relations
The following are for those who do not fit the previous categories.
. . .
???
[???]
Yet to be written.
_____________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________
PETS
_____________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________
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Sayaka
[Pet Moth]
A female Venezuelan poodle moth, shipped from Venezuela to Japan. She’s quite shy to people and often prefers to be secluded. Miosa got her after learning many loved the breed’s appearance, despite disliking other moths. She’s gentle and easy for Miosa to handle.
Ousuke
[Pet Moth]
A male hawk moth, bought from mainland Japan. He was one of three moths obtained during a trip to Kyoto. He’s a rambunctious creature who Miosa often has to attend to, he also resides in the largest cage, due to his tendency to get over-excited to fly too fast into walls.
Mizuki
[Pet Moth]
A female moon moth bought from the mainland, alongside two other moths. Her bright colors make her a favorite when guests meet her. Her personality is also quite flashy, often showing off to the male moths through a series of dance-like movements. She’s a bit sassy, at least what Miosa interprets as such, she’s very particular about her meals.
Emiri
[Pet Moth]
A female luna moth, shipped all the way from North America. Emiri is well loved by most people who Miosa introduces her to. She’s a beautiful specimen who likes to be held, resting on palms as her wings lightly flutter. Miosa chose to adopt her after researching the fascinating characteristics of the specific moth species. Emiri is the moth that Miosa uses to help other people get over their fear of the insects.
Tennō
[Pet Moth]
A male golden emperor moth bought from an African Seller. He was by far the most difficult moth to obtain, however he exhibits some of the most interesting mannerisms. He’s the most aggressive of all the moths and dislikes being handled often. Miosa is very patient with him, but does not introduce him to any other moths due to his territorial personality. She does enjoy educating those with an interest about his unique breeding however.
Yuuto
[Pet Moth]
A male pointed tiger moth, one of three bought from the mainland trip Miosa went on. He was the first of the three she obtained due to his striking similarity to a moth she rescued when she was younger. He’s very calculated and protective of the other moths. Although different species don’t usually mix well, he seems drawn to other moths, regularly sharing his food and cleaning them.
_____________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________
RELATIONS
OOC NOTE - This character is relatively new, therefore relations will be updated quite regularly, stay tuned!
[HEAVY WIP]
_____________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________
Immediate Family
The following are Miosa’s closest relatives, consisting of her parents and siblings.
. . .
Sho Hirobayashi
[Father]
"My father is a man of courage. Who’s conviction for the good of this town has never once waned. He committed himself fully to his role and I admire this greatly. He taught me that I had the strength to fight the demons in my life no matter the state I find myself in. Dear father, they see your strength and the many great feats you have accomplished, but they do not realize the great resilience you have built from many difficult days. I love you dearly, thank you for showing me what it means to be true to myself.”
Koizumi Saiky
[Mother]
“To my mother I owe a great debt. She cultivated my interests, guided my path, showed me a new perspective, and has continued to give her undivided and genuine love. Although many view her as someone to turn away from, I only wish they would take the time to understand the beauty of her ways. Dear mother, for all you have done and will continue to do, I love you. I hope to one day make you proud by bringing honor to our house of Knowledge. I will follow in your footsteps and make our kami proud.”
Kimura Saiky
[Eldest Brother]
Yet to be written.
Kohaku Saiky
[Younger Brother]
Yet to be written.
Otohiko Saiky
[Younger Brother]
Yet to be written.
Ryumen Saiky
[Younger Brother]
Yet to be written.
_____________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________
Saiky Relations
The following are for those who bare the Saiky surname, but are not among Miosa's immediate family.
. . .
???
[???]
Yet to be written.
_____________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________
Friendships
The following are for those who are considered close non-related friends of Miosa.
. . .
???
[???]
Yet to be written.
_____________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________
Other Relations
The following are for those who do not fit the previous categories.
. . .
???
[???]
Yet to be written.
_____________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________
PETS
_____________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________
_____________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________
Sayaka
[Pet Moth]
A female Venezuelan poodle moth, shipped from Venezuela to Japan. She’s quite shy to people and often prefers to be secluded. Miosa got her after learning many loved the breed’s appearance, despite disliking other moths. She’s gentle and easy for Miosa to handle.
Ousuke
[Pet Moth]
A male hawk moth, bought from mainland Japan. He was one of three moths obtained during a trip to Kyoto. He’s a rambunctious creature who Miosa often has to attend to, he also resides in the largest cage, due to his tendency to get over-excited to fly too fast into walls.
Mizuki
[Pet Moth]
A female moon moth bought from the mainland, alongside two other moths. Her bright colors make her a favorite when guests meet her. Her personality is also quite flashy, often showing off to the male moths through a series of dance-like movements. She’s a bit sassy, at least what Miosa interprets as such, she’s very particular about her meals.
Emiri
[Pet Moth]
A female luna moth, shipped all the way from North America. Emiri is well loved by most people who Miosa introduces her to. She’s a beautiful specimen who likes to be held, resting on palms as her wings lightly flutter. Miosa chose to adopt her after researching the fascinating characteristics of the specific moth species. Emiri is the moth that Miosa uses to help other people get over their fear of the insects.
Tennō
[Pet Moth]
A male golden emperor moth bought from an African Seller. He was by far the most difficult moth to obtain, however he exhibits some of the most interesting mannerisms. He’s the most aggressive of all the moths and dislikes being handled often. Miosa is very patient with him, but does not introduce him to any other moths due to his territorial personality. She does enjoy educating those with an interest about his unique breeding however.
Yuuto
[Pet Moth]
A male pointed tiger moth, one of three bought from the mainland trip Miosa went on. He was the first of the three she obtained due to his striking similarity to a moth she rescued when she was younger. He’s very calculated and protective of the other moths. Although different species don’t usually mix well, he seems drawn to other moths, regularly sharing his food and cleaning them.
_____________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________
When The Singed Moth Burns
Language is the bridge between deep connection and genuine understanding. The tongue of ancestors revived with each utterance. A beautiful resurgence of the past, now expressed in the present, to ensure the future. It is not simply a sound, but a form of intentional action. A complexity used in all manner of nature, each being required to live with another. And she realized this early on, whether in standing amongst a crowded plaza or in the natural bliss of a meadow. Each feat of indication washed across her vision, rang against her ears, and she knew it was more impactful than any consciously recognized. But this level of understanding was not brought about from birth, but experience, and as well as experience, an openness to that which differed, both were required to view the idea from an objective lens. But it seems as though this story has gotten ahead of itself entirely, though the last few regards are what came of her. Let us begin from the day she inherently expressed language, such were her cries, as the first breath of air encircled her lungs.
. . .
Miosa Saiky was born of August 4th 2003, to two devout Shinto followers, Koizumi Saiky, the Mitsue-Shiro and Sho Hirobayashi, the Guji of the Shinsei Seinaru Monastery. Both were committed to their customs and were well known by many within the small Japanese Island of Karakura. The birth quickly spread to those who knew the pair well. It seemed yet another had been added to the ranks of the prestigious Itsbyoshi name. Yet unlike many, the action she would take as she grew, in desperation, would stain her reputation forcing a veil to be placed over her.
The younger years of her life were relatively uneventful, filled with attempts to tame the wildness out of the child, with the intent to make a prim and proper lady of her. This pressure was forced on by the Saiky name, instead of the loving parents who raised her. Her impressionable years were spent amongst the shrine and the estate, surrounded by nature. Although the Saiky customs held a tight grip on the girl. Incidentally this fate would be one she would praise down the line, as it pressed her forward to pursue a fluency in Jin. Language is most easily grasped by children at an unfathomable rate of understanding. She was brilliant.
Such a virtuous child was certainly well cared for. Yet none could have protected her from her own curiosity. At the age of six, Miosa had wandered from the watchful gaze of one of the estate keepers. Her excitement had led her towards the deep woods of the Ochiba forest, filled with unrelenting danger. The child was lost for three days, sending a wave of despair over her devoted parents. Yet when the child was finally recovered, an odd, almost eerie picture stood in the wake of joy.
On the third day of the search, an officer wandered into an abandoned cave, the scratch marks lining the walls were characteristic of the large beasts that once inhabited the hollow hole. The office ventured a short distance before finding the young child huddled against the ground, sleeping. To his horror, the child was covered in what could only be described as a blanket of moths. Crowding in the hundreds, nestled against her. The insects quickly swarmed him, as he fumbled to turn off his flashlight. He took up the small girl in his arms and Miosa was finally returned to the gates of the estate. She refused to speak about the ordeal, and for a long while afterward, she exclusively spoke in jin. This incident forced a stricter boundary over her. In retaliation, she bore more aggravated mannerisms, that were uncharacteristic of the lady-like tendencies she had been mentored in. Despite this, some traditions could hardly die from her committed beliefs. She was entirely devoted to the monastery customs and to learning Jin to a fluent degree. Both of which were later achieved.
. . .
When Miosa was seven, another language came to the forefront of her curiosity. Brought on by her mother’s teachings of the beings that inhabited their world. The animals, the plants, the living, the undead, all had their own way of communicating. Whether verbal or not, becoming accustomed to reading such signs would ensure proper treatment and understanding. Koizumi mentored her, beginning with the vipers she held so dearly. The power of body language facincated Miosa. Both animals and humans expressed these often overlooked aspects. The psychology behind it was profound and she could no longer ignore it. She watched from afar the interactions of human and beast, and studied it as though her life were at stake. Often, a knock would be heard upon Koizumi’s door, as her daughter enquired about yet another being. And her mother, the knowledgeable sort, would answer each question diligently. They became very close in this way, especially considering Miosa was her only daughter, one of five children. Miosa deeply respected her mother, at least once she was old enough to take a step back and understand the full picture.
Her father, on the other hand, provided an entirely different sort of understanding. Of martial protection and spiritual connection. The samurai guji was resourceful in these ways of knowledge, of which he was quite insistent to pass onto his children. Although Miosa was not the most graceful in the beginning, and lacked the confidence her father excelled in, he never became frustrated. He worked kindly beside her, to his success later on, when she became a skilled fighter. A graceful bird of prey, that seemed dainty from afar, yet whose talons were yet to be noticed. And these talons would appear, striking her prey, perhaps in a way not even her father would have expected.
. . .
At the age of twelve she could no longer remain a prim and proper lady. She had built up frustration and when she chose to strike, it was with all her might. She heard his taunt from across the hall, hurled at a child Miosa had befriended for his “unusual and captivating hand language.” The insults flung, consisted of “freak” and “mute” and “ugly!” The insults were carried across the air by an incessant laughter that made the hairs on the back of Miosa’s neck stand on end. She heard a fist make an impact with the wall, beside the mute child. The aggressive boy in particular was of troubled origins. The behavioral problems he possessed were of little understanding to Miosa however in a fit of rage a new language was expressed towards him. One the troubled child knew well, violence, which was universal to all.
When her blood-stained hands were pried from the bruised face of the boy, she spat across him as he curled to the side, a broken nose quite apparent. An adult took a hold of her shoulders and began to lecture her, though the words hardly registered as she fought the urge to pull away, back towards the aching form against the floor. As she was led away she screamed at the troubled child in mockery.
“Stop groveling, shut up and speak Japanese you freak. Sobbing is such an ugly way to talk.”
Her parents were in disbelief, though this sudden outburst was the first she had ever shown, it planted a seed for the years that would follow. Such a precious child turned monstrous if provoked in the right fashion. Miosa was suspended for the rest of the year, as she grappled with this unusual feeling of regret and anger, of which she would spend much time attempting to revise. During this contemplation, despite still being a child, she took on more mature ways of coping. She often practiced meditation and prayer to steady her senses and relieve the thoughts that began to cave in her consciousness. She secluded herself to a degree, until she was able to regularly manage herself, and overall it seemed a healthy way of being had formed.
Yet the work she had displayed would be tested sooner than she would have liked. As she wandered the woods, following the path towards the monastery steps, a shrill cry broke through the stillness of the breeze. Even to the untrained ear, it was apparent this sound was not one of natural origin, but something quite concerning. Out of the corner of her eye, a splash of orange crowded her vision, followed soon after by the rush of garments and stones. One stone nearly collided with the head of the fox, grazing the tip of its pelt. The shouting of older children sounded just a bit behind the poor creature.
She spun around with a quick and witty intent. Before she had a moment to think over the stupidity running through her mind, she dashed forward, knocking her entire body against one of the four boys. His face became deformed, it painted a sense of fear, unsure of what sort of obstacle he had found himself struck by. He let out a painful screech and his colleagues stopped in their tracks, turning to view the scene at hand. She stood over him, as they both attempted to regain their balance. He quickly pushed her back, and she just barely caught herself, her arms outstretched. They stared at one another for a moment before he screamed out.
“What the fuck were you trying to do kid?”
She bared her teeth, seething at him. Her? Her? What was SHE trying to do? She stood to her feet, brushing off her kimono before retorting back.
“Me? Are you kidding me? Could you not hear the terror that poor fox was expressing, or are you deaf and dumb?”
He suddenly rose to his feet, gripping her by the shoulders. “You’re really going to insult me after you just assaulted me? You’re asking for trouble!” He shoved her down against the floor, kicking her side with the largest force he could muster. She pulled herself inward from the blow, but the anger had already passed a boiling point. She leaped from the floor, as punches on both sides were thrown. It was unbearably long in the moment, yet over quite quickly once the other three boys had regained enough sense to aid their fallen comrade. Eventually ending with her slumped against a tree as the group took off howling. The one she had tackled, rubbing his jaw which she had injured quite badly. Though Miosa was in a far worse state, two broken ribs and a black eye that would not shrink away in time for dinner. Strike two. This outburst showed a distinct side of the girl, who was once portrayed as a saint, now turned part yokai in mannerism.
After this incident, Miosa exclusively avoided conflict. It was afterall in the best interest of her family, who she knew were beyond hurt to see her both experiencing and partaking in such violence. She wished to set a good example for her three younger brothers and make her eldest, Kimura, proud of her. Although maintaining a level head was far from an easy task when she was faced with such strong injustice. She remained dedicated to her studies, venting the aggression in a productive manner. Instead of being consumed by anger, she put her entire self into developing a great understanding of the world. The Saiky library became a place she would continuously frequent as well as Karakura’s highschool, as by this point in her life she was fourteen. Although this more secluded lifestyle was more lonesome, it allowed her to focus her attention on what truly mattered to her. Her love for language appeared this time in the most unlikely of places.
. . .
Miosa had been well loved by the estate keepers who had resided with her as she grew up. One woman in particular, who was deaf, had taken up residency recently, and despite being a dutiful servant, was avoided by most Saiky, who were unsure how to converse with her. Yet Miosa could not overlook Nayuta Oshizu, who despite communicating differently certainly had a unique perspective to share. The girl was hardly scared off, in fact, the idea attracted her to the servant like a moth to a flame. It was not the first time Miosa had been exposed to JSL, yet it seemed far more personal in the sense she dedicated more time and awareness to understanding it. She at first watched Ms. Oshizu from afar, as she conversed with those well equipped in the language. Miosa was very intelligent with communicating, she had been since she had first learned Jin. Yet this proved an interesting challenge, considering the vast difference of hand signing to spoken word. It only furthered her belief that language was more than vocalizations, but an intentional action. Miosa did not approach Ms. Oshizu for a long period of time, not until she was confident she had mastered a few simple sentences.
On the day she approached her, Ms. Oshizu was sorting out tea in the servants kitchen when Miosa approached. The servant bowed kindly, staring at her, more than likely in an attempt to read her lips. However, to the women’s shock, Miosa began to recite the pre practiced gestures, though sloppy, they were executed well enough to elicit understanding from Ms. Oshizu. The Saiky child’s grin had not been so wide in a long while. She had simply signed a greeting and a request. A request that if she was not too busy, it would be a pleasure to learn JSL from the women. It was agreed upon, and Miosa devoted her extra time to studying under Ms. Oshizu. This ritual became one both became fond of, it perhaps gave the old woman the drive she needed to continue her work (she was around the age of 60). Although Ms. Oshizu later retired due to health related issues, Miosa never forgot her teachings. Going on to use the fluency to connect further with those who resided within Karakura. That was what language was to Miosa, a form of true connection that could never be rivaled.
. . .
There were several things that drew Miosa in and took grasp of her so tightly she could not escape. Not that she particularly wanted to escape her love of linguistics, her Shintoist values, the traditional Saiky family, nor her less common interest in moths. Perhaps it was subconsciously ingrained into her during the days she had become lost in the woods. However Miosa was never frightened or disgusted by the insects. On the contrary she loved them, finding it hard to understand why other children favored butterflies and despised their furrier counterparts. Miosa was a teenager when her love for them was reconciled. The sixteen years of her prim and proper life had molded her into a fine lady, yet her small quarts could not be worked out of her system.
“No no! Stay away, Mama help!” A small girl, not older than five cried as she swatted at the air with a paper fan. Her mother simply rolled her eyes, tugging her frightened daughter away, as they ventured further down the sidewalk. Miosa raised a brow at this from afar before continuing her stroll towards the estate. She glanced about, attempting to understand the source of the child’s discomfort, when she noticed, barely visible, beside the light colored markings, a moth positioned against the concrete. Its limbs outstretched and a wing bent awkwardly out of shape. This small moth was what Miosa would later understand to be a small female pointed tiger moth. It had a beautiful pink abdomen and partial wing coloration. She scooped up the dazed insect, holding it gently in her palms before entering the estate. She spent the next few days attempting to create a splint for the wing. However it was of no use, the moth would never fly again. This deeply saddened Miosa, yet it far from discouraged her. She kept the insect safe for the remainder of its life, attentively meeting its needs. And finally holding a funeral appropriate of the beautiful creature, attended to by her mother and two estate keepers.
This moment was a lesson in the fragility of life, which linked perfectly with her respect for nature and understanding of the afterlife. It was soon after Miosa was given several moths as a birthday present. And though they eventually passed on, it did not discourage her from interacting with more. In fact it aided in her resiliency to loss and helped such a prim and proper lady blossom into a strong and capable woman. As of this story being told, Miosa had come to garner some rarer specimens of moth, six in total.
. . .
The young Saiky’s thirst for knowledge could never quite be satisfied. As she searched for understanding, as she grew as a person, her interest and drive fueled her to press forward. Even as some believed she had achieved enough to simmer down, she never took the notion to heart. Miosa’s fourth language was Russian. It wasn’t for any personal or specific reason. However it was offered to her on a golden platter as an elective for her classes. One of the last classes she would take before graduating highschool. She enjoyed it thoroughly and found it quite useful considering the diverse population of Karakurans. Although she knew she could study for her entire life and not learn all the languages spoken within the city. She had accepted this, instead choosing to appreciate when they were spoken in her presence, partaking in conversation when she was able.
By the age of eighteen, as a graduate, she was fully fluent in russian. A wave of pride held firm in her face, she knew exactly where she was headed next, and what passion she was going to pursue. This fascination had led her down an interesting path, one that had brought out an unforeseeable side of herself. It had allowed her to personally connect with many. This useful hobby was eventually going to make her a successful career, she knew it. Yet there was one glaring fact about Miosa Saiky that had not been addressed. The level of ignorance and innocence that enshrouded her. She was unaware, protected by the walls of Saiky and the protection of the shrine. And although her parents had diligently warned her of the dangers within the city, the unrest and the crime, she had never paid it much mind. Until she was face to face with it, or rather face to mask with it.
She had ventured from her usual route back to the estate, and though she was quite aware of her surroundings, she could not avoid the mastered routine of a wayward Karakuran gang. She stopped briefly, glancing into an alley, as she heard an odd racket wash across her. Before she was able to venture in of her own accord, she was yanked inward by a sudden force. As she came back to her senses, she felt the cold, hard compress of a wall against her back. As a horrifying masked figure pressing their cold, gloved hands against her shoulders to keep her in place. From behind, another figure reached over the first’s shoulders, pressing a glossy metal blade to Miosa’s neck. They began to speak, in muffled tones to one another. Not in Japanese, but in a language she was all too familiar with, russian.
“Look at the attire. Clearly she’s got cash.”
“Thank fuck. If we caught another homeless bastard I’d kill someone.”
She struggled against them, glaring daggers despite her situation. She was finding the anger she spent so many years trying to suppress.
“Great a troublesome bitch.” The figure holding her against the wall cleared his throat, speaking in Japanese. “Empty your pockets, doll. And do it quickly before we stain your pretty outfit red.” She slowly began to do as they said, she was at a significant disadvantage, she needed to lower their guard.
“Good girl, hand em here.” The two looked over her belongings, before stopping at her ID. One of them groaned, perhaps in irritation, before flinging it to the floor, lifting the mask just barely above his mouth, to spit on it.
He spoke once again in Russian. “Saiky scum.”
A chill ran down Miosa’s spine. The masked individuals both let out a hardy laughter. Her face began to turn red in anger at the disrespect such lowlifes had expressed towards her family. They lowered their guard, suspecting the Saiky was nothing more than a spoiled brat, all bark and no bite. They couldn’t have been further from correct. The individual with the knife reached forward, lifting a jade charm that was strung around Miosa’s neck. If there were no mask, it would have been obvious he was smirking. Perhaps thinking of the pretty penny the trinket would fetch. A trinket to him, yet a relic that could never be replaced in her eyes. A sign she was of the house of knowledge, a sign she was cherished and loved. Something that she would be buried with when she passed on, not even the afterlife could separate her from it, so certainly this idiotic low life would not touch it with such demented hands.
Feeling the cold press of the knife move from her skin, as the charm was looked over, and the hands of the first figure slipped from their firm grasp, she acted. Miosa using her smaller figure, slipped out from under the blade, as she raised her feet outward, kicking in the man’s feet, sending him toppling back against his colleague in crime. A move her father had taught her. She scrambled about quickly, collecting her belongings scattered at her feet before making a mad dash out of the alley. The anger had subsided for fear of what she had just experienced, though in the heat of adrenaline she screamed out in the most russian accent she could muster.
“Pure blooded and yet I speak the language better than you fools.”
When Miosa found herself safely within the estate’s borders she collapsed. A wave of terror brushing over her. For the first time in her entire life she had felt what it was like to have your life in the hands of another. A horrifying experience that changed her mindset about the town. Though once awed by the diversity, the language, and culture, she was now fearful of that ulterior side of Karakura. A report was filed for the incident, though nothing came of it, and Miosa never ventured from her usual path again. Nor did she express the outbursts she had before, becoming the prim and proper lady everyone had wanted her to become. Yet despite this seclusion, despite this new founded fear, her passion for language never waned, nor did her commitment to Shintoist morals. Miosa quietly aided the keepers of the monastery and the estate, finding solace in gardening and tea ceremonies. The fire that had burned her so many times, her unmanageable outbursts of anger, had been tamed to a hearth for boiling water. It seemed Miosa’s childish antics had dispersed, at least for the present.
. . .
Miosa Saiky declared a major at the age of twenty. She would begin to obtain a major degree in linguistics and a minor degree in social-cultural psychology. This study has been her main focus for the past year. She continues to further her already complex understanding of language and its many forms. She has even gone as in depth as to apply it in a psychological sense, to the society she is intertwined with. Although she has come far, there is so much more to comprehend.
Though she stands at a cross-roads, one thing is certainly clear, the passionate fire she possesses will draw in many moths to her dangerous light, some of which will admire the bright flame, and others of which will be consumed. Which shall it be? How many singed moths will be victims, how many will meet their demise of their own foolishness? Only time will tell, yet this Saiky may just lead more to sanctuary than she will burn those who fly too close. When the singed moth burns, often it did not learn its lesson the first time, now wracked by scars. One can be both the moth and the flame, given the right situation. Will you burn yourself to fuel their fire, or burn others to continue shining?
Language is the bridge between deep connection and genuine understanding. The tongue of ancestors revived with each utterance. A beautiful resurgence of the past, now expressed in the present, to ensure the future. It is not simply a sound, but a form of intentional action. A complexity used in all manner of nature, each being required to live with another. And she realized this early on, whether in standing amongst a crowded plaza or in the natural bliss of a meadow. Each feat of indication washed across her vision, rang against her ears, and she knew it was more impactful than any consciously recognized. But this level of understanding was not brought about from birth, but experience, and as well as experience, an openness to that which differed, both were required to view the idea from an objective lens. But it seems as though this story has gotten ahead of itself entirely, though the last few regards are what came of her. Let us begin from the day she inherently expressed language, such were her cries, as the first breath of air encircled her lungs.
. . .
Miosa Saiky was born of August 4th 2003, to two devout Shinto followers, Koizumi Saiky, the Mitsue-Shiro and Sho Hirobayashi, the Guji of the Shinsei Seinaru Monastery. Both were committed to their customs and were well known by many within the small Japanese Island of Karakura. The birth quickly spread to those who knew the pair well. It seemed yet another had been added to the ranks of the prestigious Itsbyoshi name. Yet unlike many, the action she would take as she grew, in desperation, would stain her reputation forcing a veil to be placed over her.
The younger years of her life were relatively uneventful, filled with attempts to tame the wildness out of the child, with the intent to make a prim and proper lady of her. This pressure was forced on by the Saiky name, instead of the loving parents who raised her. Her impressionable years were spent amongst the shrine and the estate, surrounded by nature. Although the Saiky customs held a tight grip on the girl. Incidentally this fate would be one she would praise down the line, as it pressed her forward to pursue a fluency in Jin. Language is most easily grasped by children at an unfathomable rate of understanding. She was brilliant.
Such a virtuous child was certainly well cared for. Yet none could have protected her from her own curiosity. At the age of six, Miosa had wandered from the watchful gaze of one of the estate keepers. Her excitement had led her towards the deep woods of the Ochiba forest, filled with unrelenting danger. The child was lost for three days, sending a wave of despair over her devoted parents. Yet when the child was finally recovered, an odd, almost eerie picture stood in the wake of joy.
On the third day of the search, an officer wandered into an abandoned cave, the scratch marks lining the walls were characteristic of the large beasts that once inhabited the hollow hole. The office ventured a short distance before finding the young child huddled against the ground, sleeping. To his horror, the child was covered in what could only be described as a blanket of moths. Crowding in the hundreds, nestled against her. The insects quickly swarmed him, as he fumbled to turn off his flashlight. He took up the small girl in his arms and Miosa was finally returned to the gates of the estate. She refused to speak about the ordeal, and for a long while afterward, she exclusively spoke in jin. This incident forced a stricter boundary over her. In retaliation, she bore more aggravated mannerisms, that were uncharacteristic of the lady-like tendencies she had been mentored in. Despite this, some traditions could hardly die from her committed beliefs. She was entirely devoted to the monastery customs and to learning Jin to a fluent degree. Both of which were later achieved.
. . .
When Miosa was seven, another language came to the forefront of her curiosity. Brought on by her mother’s teachings of the beings that inhabited their world. The animals, the plants, the living, the undead, all had their own way of communicating. Whether verbal or not, becoming accustomed to reading such signs would ensure proper treatment and understanding. Koizumi mentored her, beginning with the vipers she held so dearly. The power of body language facincated Miosa. Both animals and humans expressed these often overlooked aspects. The psychology behind it was profound and she could no longer ignore it. She watched from afar the interactions of human and beast, and studied it as though her life were at stake. Often, a knock would be heard upon Koizumi’s door, as her daughter enquired about yet another being. And her mother, the knowledgeable sort, would answer each question diligently. They became very close in this way, especially considering Miosa was her only daughter, one of five children. Miosa deeply respected her mother, at least once she was old enough to take a step back and understand the full picture.
Her father, on the other hand, provided an entirely different sort of understanding. Of martial protection and spiritual connection. The samurai guji was resourceful in these ways of knowledge, of which he was quite insistent to pass onto his children. Although Miosa was not the most graceful in the beginning, and lacked the confidence her father excelled in, he never became frustrated. He worked kindly beside her, to his success later on, when she became a skilled fighter. A graceful bird of prey, that seemed dainty from afar, yet whose talons were yet to be noticed. And these talons would appear, striking her prey, perhaps in a way not even her father would have expected.
. . .
At the age of twelve she could no longer remain a prim and proper lady. She had built up frustration and when she chose to strike, it was with all her might. She heard his taunt from across the hall, hurled at a child Miosa had befriended for his “unusual and captivating hand language.” The insults flung, consisted of “freak” and “mute” and “ugly!” The insults were carried across the air by an incessant laughter that made the hairs on the back of Miosa’s neck stand on end. She heard a fist make an impact with the wall, beside the mute child. The aggressive boy in particular was of troubled origins. The behavioral problems he possessed were of little understanding to Miosa however in a fit of rage a new language was expressed towards him. One the troubled child knew well, violence, which was universal to all.
When her blood-stained hands were pried from the bruised face of the boy, she spat across him as he curled to the side, a broken nose quite apparent. An adult took a hold of her shoulders and began to lecture her, though the words hardly registered as she fought the urge to pull away, back towards the aching form against the floor. As she was led away she screamed at the troubled child in mockery.
“Stop groveling, shut up and speak Japanese you freak. Sobbing is such an ugly way to talk.”
Her parents were in disbelief, though this sudden outburst was the first she had ever shown, it planted a seed for the years that would follow. Such a precious child turned monstrous if provoked in the right fashion. Miosa was suspended for the rest of the year, as she grappled with this unusual feeling of regret and anger, of which she would spend much time attempting to revise. During this contemplation, despite still being a child, she took on more mature ways of coping. She often practiced meditation and prayer to steady her senses and relieve the thoughts that began to cave in her consciousness. She secluded herself to a degree, until she was able to regularly manage herself, and overall it seemed a healthy way of being had formed.
Yet the work she had displayed would be tested sooner than she would have liked. As she wandered the woods, following the path towards the monastery steps, a shrill cry broke through the stillness of the breeze. Even to the untrained ear, it was apparent this sound was not one of natural origin, but something quite concerning. Out of the corner of her eye, a splash of orange crowded her vision, followed soon after by the rush of garments and stones. One stone nearly collided with the head of the fox, grazing the tip of its pelt. The shouting of older children sounded just a bit behind the poor creature.
She spun around with a quick and witty intent. Before she had a moment to think over the stupidity running through her mind, she dashed forward, knocking her entire body against one of the four boys. His face became deformed, it painted a sense of fear, unsure of what sort of obstacle he had found himself struck by. He let out a painful screech and his colleagues stopped in their tracks, turning to view the scene at hand. She stood over him, as they both attempted to regain their balance. He quickly pushed her back, and she just barely caught herself, her arms outstretched. They stared at one another for a moment before he screamed out.
“What the fuck were you trying to do kid?”
She bared her teeth, seething at him. Her? Her? What was SHE trying to do? She stood to her feet, brushing off her kimono before retorting back.
“Me? Are you kidding me? Could you not hear the terror that poor fox was expressing, or are you deaf and dumb?”
He suddenly rose to his feet, gripping her by the shoulders. “You’re really going to insult me after you just assaulted me? You’re asking for trouble!” He shoved her down against the floor, kicking her side with the largest force he could muster. She pulled herself inward from the blow, but the anger had already passed a boiling point. She leaped from the floor, as punches on both sides were thrown. It was unbearably long in the moment, yet over quite quickly once the other three boys had regained enough sense to aid their fallen comrade. Eventually ending with her slumped against a tree as the group took off howling. The one she had tackled, rubbing his jaw which she had injured quite badly. Though Miosa was in a far worse state, two broken ribs and a black eye that would not shrink away in time for dinner. Strike two. This outburst showed a distinct side of the girl, who was once portrayed as a saint, now turned part yokai in mannerism.
After this incident, Miosa exclusively avoided conflict. It was afterall in the best interest of her family, who she knew were beyond hurt to see her both experiencing and partaking in such violence. She wished to set a good example for her three younger brothers and make her eldest, Kimura, proud of her. Although maintaining a level head was far from an easy task when she was faced with such strong injustice. She remained dedicated to her studies, venting the aggression in a productive manner. Instead of being consumed by anger, she put her entire self into developing a great understanding of the world. The Saiky library became a place she would continuously frequent as well as Karakura’s highschool, as by this point in her life she was fourteen. Although this more secluded lifestyle was more lonesome, it allowed her to focus her attention on what truly mattered to her. Her love for language appeared this time in the most unlikely of places.
. . .
Miosa had been well loved by the estate keepers who had resided with her as she grew up. One woman in particular, who was deaf, had taken up residency recently, and despite being a dutiful servant, was avoided by most Saiky, who were unsure how to converse with her. Yet Miosa could not overlook Nayuta Oshizu, who despite communicating differently certainly had a unique perspective to share. The girl was hardly scared off, in fact, the idea attracted her to the servant like a moth to a flame. It was not the first time Miosa had been exposed to JSL, yet it seemed far more personal in the sense she dedicated more time and awareness to understanding it. She at first watched Ms. Oshizu from afar, as she conversed with those well equipped in the language. Miosa was very intelligent with communicating, she had been since she had first learned Jin. Yet this proved an interesting challenge, considering the vast difference of hand signing to spoken word. It only furthered her belief that language was more than vocalizations, but an intentional action. Miosa did not approach Ms. Oshizu for a long period of time, not until she was confident she had mastered a few simple sentences.
On the day she approached her, Ms. Oshizu was sorting out tea in the servants kitchen when Miosa approached. The servant bowed kindly, staring at her, more than likely in an attempt to read her lips. However, to the women’s shock, Miosa began to recite the pre practiced gestures, though sloppy, they were executed well enough to elicit understanding from Ms. Oshizu. The Saiky child’s grin had not been so wide in a long while. She had simply signed a greeting and a request. A request that if she was not too busy, it would be a pleasure to learn JSL from the women. It was agreed upon, and Miosa devoted her extra time to studying under Ms. Oshizu. This ritual became one both became fond of, it perhaps gave the old woman the drive she needed to continue her work (she was around the age of 60). Although Ms. Oshizu later retired due to health related issues, Miosa never forgot her teachings. Going on to use the fluency to connect further with those who resided within Karakura. That was what language was to Miosa, a form of true connection that could never be rivaled.
. . .
There were several things that drew Miosa in and took grasp of her so tightly she could not escape. Not that she particularly wanted to escape her love of linguistics, her Shintoist values, the traditional Saiky family, nor her less common interest in moths. Perhaps it was subconsciously ingrained into her during the days she had become lost in the woods. However Miosa was never frightened or disgusted by the insects. On the contrary she loved them, finding it hard to understand why other children favored butterflies and despised their furrier counterparts. Miosa was a teenager when her love for them was reconciled. The sixteen years of her prim and proper life had molded her into a fine lady, yet her small quarts could not be worked out of her system.
“No no! Stay away, Mama help!” A small girl, not older than five cried as she swatted at the air with a paper fan. Her mother simply rolled her eyes, tugging her frightened daughter away, as they ventured further down the sidewalk. Miosa raised a brow at this from afar before continuing her stroll towards the estate. She glanced about, attempting to understand the source of the child’s discomfort, when she noticed, barely visible, beside the light colored markings, a moth positioned against the concrete. Its limbs outstretched and a wing bent awkwardly out of shape. This small moth was what Miosa would later understand to be a small female pointed tiger moth. It had a beautiful pink abdomen and partial wing coloration. She scooped up the dazed insect, holding it gently in her palms before entering the estate. She spent the next few days attempting to create a splint for the wing. However it was of no use, the moth would never fly again. This deeply saddened Miosa, yet it far from discouraged her. She kept the insect safe for the remainder of its life, attentively meeting its needs. And finally holding a funeral appropriate of the beautiful creature, attended to by her mother and two estate keepers.
This moment was a lesson in the fragility of life, which linked perfectly with her respect for nature and understanding of the afterlife. It was soon after Miosa was given several moths as a birthday present. And though they eventually passed on, it did not discourage her from interacting with more. In fact it aided in her resiliency to loss and helped such a prim and proper lady blossom into a strong and capable woman. As of this story being told, Miosa had come to garner some rarer specimens of moth, six in total.
. . .
The young Saiky’s thirst for knowledge could never quite be satisfied. As she searched for understanding, as she grew as a person, her interest and drive fueled her to press forward. Even as some believed she had achieved enough to simmer down, she never took the notion to heart. Miosa’s fourth language was Russian. It wasn’t for any personal or specific reason. However it was offered to her on a golden platter as an elective for her classes. One of the last classes she would take before graduating highschool. She enjoyed it thoroughly and found it quite useful considering the diverse population of Karakurans. Although she knew she could study for her entire life and not learn all the languages spoken within the city. She had accepted this, instead choosing to appreciate when they were spoken in her presence, partaking in conversation when she was able.
By the age of eighteen, as a graduate, she was fully fluent in russian. A wave of pride held firm in her face, she knew exactly where she was headed next, and what passion she was going to pursue. This fascination had led her down an interesting path, one that had brought out an unforeseeable side of herself. It had allowed her to personally connect with many. This useful hobby was eventually going to make her a successful career, she knew it. Yet there was one glaring fact about Miosa Saiky that had not been addressed. The level of ignorance and innocence that enshrouded her. She was unaware, protected by the walls of Saiky and the protection of the shrine. And although her parents had diligently warned her of the dangers within the city, the unrest and the crime, she had never paid it much mind. Until she was face to face with it, or rather face to mask with it.
She had ventured from her usual route back to the estate, and though she was quite aware of her surroundings, she could not avoid the mastered routine of a wayward Karakuran gang. She stopped briefly, glancing into an alley, as she heard an odd racket wash across her. Before she was able to venture in of her own accord, she was yanked inward by a sudden force. As she came back to her senses, she felt the cold, hard compress of a wall against her back. As a horrifying masked figure pressing their cold, gloved hands against her shoulders to keep her in place. From behind, another figure reached over the first’s shoulders, pressing a glossy metal blade to Miosa’s neck. They began to speak, in muffled tones to one another. Not in Japanese, but in a language she was all too familiar with, russian.
“Look at the attire. Clearly she’s got cash.”
“Thank fuck. If we caught another homeless bastard I’d kill someone.”
She struggled against them, glaring daggers despite her situation. She was finding the anger she spent so many years trying to suppress.
“Great a troublesome bitch.” The figure holding her against the wall cleared his throat, speaking in Japanese. “Empty your pockets, doll. And do it quickly before we stain your pretty outfit red.” She slowly began to do as they said, she was at a significant disadvantage, she needed to lower their guard.
“Good girl, hand em here.” The two looked over her belongings, before stopping at her ID. One of them groaned, perhaps in irritation, before flinging it to the floor, lifting the mask just barely above his mouth, to spit on it.
He spoke once again in Russian. “Saiky scum.”
A chill ran down Miosa’s spine. The masked individuals both let out a hardy laughter. Her face began to turn red in anger at the disrespect such lowlifes had expressed towards her family. They lowered their guard, suspecting the Saiky was nothing more than a spoiled brat, all bark and no bite. They couldn’t have been further from correct. The individual with the knife reached forward, lifting a jade charm that was strung around Miosa’s neck. If there were no mask, it would have been obvious he was smirking. Perhaps thinking of the pretty penny the trinket would fetch. A trinket to him, yet a relic that could never be replaced in her eyes. A sign she was of the house of knowledge, a sign she was cherished and loved. Something that she would be buried with when she passed on, not even the afterlife could separate her from it, so certainly this idiotic low life would not touch it with such demented hands.
Feeling the cold press of the knife move from her skin, as the charm was looked over, and the hands of the first figure slipped from their firm grasp, she acted. Miosa using her smaller figure, slipped out from under the blade, as she raised her feet outward, kicking in the man’s feet, sending him toppling back against his colleague in crime. A move her father had taught her. She scrambled about quickly, collecting her belongings scattered at her feet before making a mad dash out of the alley. The anger had subsided for fear of what she had just experienced, though in the heat of adrenaline she screamed out in the most russian accent she could muster.
“Pure blooded and yet I speak the language better than you fools.”
When Miosa found herself safely within the estate’s borders she collapsed. A wave of terror brushing over her. For the first time in her entire life she had felt what it was like to have your life in the hands of another. A horrifying experience that changed her mindset about the town. Though once awed by the diversity, the language, and culture, she was now fearful of that ulterior side of Karakura. A report was filed for the incident, though nothing came of it, and Miosa never ventured from her usual path again. Nor did she express the outbursts she had before, becoming the prim and proper lady everyone had wanted her to become. Yet despite this seclusion, despite this new founded fear, her passion for language never waned, nor did her commitment to Shintoist morals. Miosa quietly aided the keepers of the monastery and the estate, finding solace in gardening and tea ceremonies. The fire that had burned her so many times, her unmanageable outbursts of anger, had been tamed to a hearth for boiling water. It seemed Miosa’s childish antics had dispersed, at least for the present.
. . .
Miosa Saiky declared a major at the age of twenty. She would begin to obtain a major degree in linguistics and a minor degree in social-cultural psychology. This study has been her main focus for the past year. She continues to further her already complex understanding of language and its many forms. She has even gone as in depth as to apply it in a psychological sense, to the society she is intertwined with. Although she has come far, there is so much more to comprehend.
Though she stands at a cross-roads, one thing is certainly clear, the passionate fire she possesses will draw in many moths to her dangerous light, some of which will admire the bright flame, and others of which will be consumed. Which shall it be? How many singed moths will be victims, how many will meet their demise of their own foolishness? Only time will tell, yet this Saiky may just lead more to sanctuary than she will burn those who fly too close. When the singed moth burns, often it did not learn its lesson the first time, now wracked by scars. One can be both the moth and the flame, given the right situation. Will you burn yourself to fuel their fire, or burn others to continue shining?
Mio's Mantra
(Lore Accurate)
(Lore Accurate)
Author's Note
Thank you for reading this biography! Certain aspects will be updated regularly as this character is rather new and will develop through IC means. Large thanks to Canva for providing a free program that allows for a creative space to create all my biographies.
_____________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________Thank you for reading this biography! Certain aspects will be updated regularly as this character is rather new and will develop through IC means. Large thanks to Canva for providing a free program that allows for a creative space to create all my biographies.
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