Lady Oyuki, as she is often called by the other villagers, can be decisively called striking at a mere glance. Her skin is as fair and pale as the snow she is named after, while her long, straight hair is a sharply contrasting shade of jet black. Meeting her gaze, one will find large, rounded eyes of a pale, icy blue framed in long, elegant lashes; eyes that peer keenly out from between a high-set brow above and rounded, rosy cheeks below. Her gaze is tranquil, pure, and piercing; it is almost more like looking back at one's reflection in the mirror-like surface of a frozen lake than meeting the eyes of a fellow human being. Serving to offset her eyes' pale color, however, Oyuki's full lips are a lush red, and the narrow, sharp jawline beneath them serves likewise to counterbalance the roundness of her cheeks. Her whole countenance is a synthesis of opposing extremes both physical and chromatic that all somehow exist in an almost perfect balance of harmony with one another, creating a sense of beauty that is wholly her own.

Despite the intensity of her facial features, however, her build is rather lean, and in certain aspects rather petite. She is tall for a woman, but with narrow shoulders, somewhat short arms, and small, dainty hands. Her figure could best be described as shapely but modest, being neither particularly lean nor voluptuous. However, unlike most of the other villagers, she is rather scrawny, having lived a sheltered life with little to no exposure to the sun or to difficult manual labor. As such, she lacks muscle almost entirely, save what little she has accumulated from simple household chores and occasional walks in the woods around the village.

Thus, all these factors combine to create a beautiful woman who, while not exactly diminutive, seems as graceful as a heron, as fragile as glass, and as fleeting and ephemeral as snow.

She favors modest, rather conservative attire, almost all of which is either of her own making, or a hand-me-down from the previous shrine maiden. Almost all her outfits feature multiple layers and show off very little skin, with the long, flowing, curtain-like sleeves of her furisode often hiding even her hands from view, while various hooded gowns, cloaks, and mantles serve to cover her neck and head from the elements, and long skirts trail almost clear down to her sandal-clad feet. Most of her kimonos do not display any ostentatious patterns or eye-catching ornaments, however, and they also lack a clan seal or personal crest of any kind. Pure, simple colors in complimentary hues make up the bulk of her wardrobe. But, of all the colors she wears, blue suits her best - and thus most often finds its way onto her person.

As far as accessories go, she does not often wear them. However, on special occasions, she will occasionally don a small hairpin, decorated with a few colorful stones and an ornament carved in the shape of a lily. It's a cherished possession that formerly belonged to the previous shrine maiden, and she thus takes great care of it. Other such heirlooms make up the bulk of her accoutrements: a roughly-whittled reed flute, and a tall walking staff adorned with a brass head -- a sacred tool donated to the shrine by an itinerant priest said to have entered the valley generations ago, adorned with several rings and consecrated bells attached by strands of braided cord, said to help pacify spirits and ward off evil. This, in particular, was favored by the previous Shrine Maiden, and as her keepsake remains Oyuki's constant companion on her walks, its jingling bells ever and always heralding her arrival.

A mysterious, beautiful young woman who has lived at the Heiseina shrine for as long as most children of the village can remember. Though the older members of the village often respectfully but distantly call her "Lady Oyuki," it's unclear to the village children and adolescents precisely where this respect -- or perhaps fear -- comes from. The adults, however, know better, and often look to the high slopes of the valley when they speak of her, where a ruined manor house sprawls upon a high plateau, overlooking the village from a perch blanketed almost year-round by snow.

The Shirasagi family was once a respected, wealthy house. They had settled upon land blessed by the spirits of the valley, where their flocks and herds could graze and eat their fill upon grasses that grew perpetually. They looked down on the other villagers from the comfort of their manor, and their words carried great weight among the elders of the town. The daughter of this blessed house, rumored to be a great beauty, would surely one day have been the most beloved and sought-after bride in all the village.

But something about her attracted the attention of more than just humans. There was an evil spirit from beyond the valley that longed for a child to call her own, and would stop at nothing to claim one; to raise, to bend to her will, and then, ultimately, to feed upon as she came into maturity, to restore the hag's own lost youth. Catching sight of this beautiful girl as she gazed from her balcony into the woods, the ancient hag's wicked soul was filled with desire. If she could claim such a child's vitality, surely her own aged body could be restored. And so, in the dead of winter, the ancient hag stole into the valley, violating the sanctity of the spirits and cursing the land with her intrusion. A thick, heavy snow began to fall without end, chasing out the spirits who would protect her prey from her, and scourging the once-verdant hill of life.

The great manor was frozen in ice, and the child was snatched from her parents' grasp. Though they struggled and screamed, they could do nothing to stop the ancient hag or her magic - and were at last frozen to lifeless husks where they stood. But before the child could be dragged back beyond the valley and into the realm from whence the evil youkai had come, the spirits she had chased away returned, bringing with them their staunch ally.

The sound of bells ringing amidst the stillness of the snow.

The sight of a proud back, standing between her and the unknown that threatened to devour her very existence.

The feeling of a warm cloak wrapped around her as she was carried from the crumbling halls of her once proud home, and a reassuring, gentle voice telling her that the world had not yet ended.

It was thus that the trembling, confused little girl came to find herself brought to the shrine. She didn't know what had happened, or why she had to lose everything -- but at the very least, she was not yet alone. Her new guardian treated her with the utmost kindness, consoling her for her loss and raising her as if the young Yuki was her own child. And as she grew older and came to understand her circumstances, she did not do so with bitterness, but with gratitude.

Her parents had been willing to part with their own lives to save her. Her dear, precious grandmother had rushed to her side to save her, and was always there to protect her whenever she was afraid. No matter how much she had lost, she knew above all else that she was loved. Thus, above all else, she desired to return that love. To repay kindness with kindness became her motto, and she worked harder than ever to provide whatever comfort she could in return to the hero who had saved her life. She learned to cook, to sew, to embroider, and many other things, all so that she could provide gift after gift to her cherished grandmother As the only family she had left, and knowing that she could lose that family in an instant, she showered her mentor with all the childish affection and admiration she could, and was doted upon in return, prompting her to redouble her efforts to repay her ever increasing debt of gratitude.

In short, no matter what darkness she had seen, her childhood was happy. Yet, it was also shallow. The hag had been driven away, but was far too powerful to be sealed or slain. In spiriting her away, it had left its mark on her, and would stop at nothing to claim her for its own. If her name was so much as spoken, surely, the hag would reappear -- called by the curse it had left upon her on that winter's night so long ago. And if she left the consecrated grounds of the shrine, then surely, it would find her, and the tragedy of her youth would be repeated. And so, she was kept sequestered within the shrine itself, from the time she was a child all the way up until she came of age, and the hag's claim upon her was broken -- deprived of the company of all save for her guardian.

...Or, at least, so it should have been. But although her dear grandma was unable to tell anyone of her existence, bound to secrecy by the very magic by which she had saved the girl -- that did not prevent a particularly curious village girl from finding her all by herself. Under the alias of Fuyuko, she made her first friend -- a girl bearing the very essence of spring. And, at long last, her wintry heart began to thaw, and joy she had thought she would never again know began to bloom anew, amidst the ashes of what once was.

Perhaps it was not quite the same as the days that had been so cruelly taken from her. But it was family, and she was not alone.

But this all changed when she at last came of age, and shortly thereafter, her mentor and protector passed away, as if the old woman's humble purpose was at long last fulfilled. So it was that the confused Yuki once again took up the name of a family now thought dead for at least a decade, and came to have dealings with the village itself after her long seclusion.

The reactions her appearance garnered were mixed. Some thought she could not have been real -- that it was a ghost rather than a real girl that the old miko had so painstakingly kept hidden, that she was made of ice and would suck the life out of those who got too close to her, or spirit them away as she herself had been taken as a child. Others pitied her for the tragic life she had lived, offering to take her in and grant her sanctuary now that her guardian, too, was gone. Still others admired her for her beauty, and even went so far as to seek after the hand of this fair, mysterious maiden. Yet she, too shy to meet such fervent affections, retreated back to the safety and the familiarity of her shrine, and refused those who sought to court her as well as those who sought to take her in and offer her shelter. After all... she still had a debt to repay.

This shrine was her home. It was the place the person she had cherished more dearly even than her own parents had lived to protect. It was her duty, then, to see it taken care of. She could not leave. She would not betray her savior's memory. She would show her gratitude through her earnest devotion, her prayers, and her hard work. So it is that she has continued to maintain the shrine and follow in her mentor's footsteps, up until the present day.

And so, when one walks in the woods around the village, one often hears the jingling of bells and distant footsteps just a little further ahead. When one goes to market, one can see a hooded young lady buying fabric and selling clothes. And when one approaches the shrine on the edge of town late in the day, one can sometimes hear the mournful sound of a reed flute echoing between the cliffs overhead, like the cries of a bird. So it has always been. So it will always be. As patient as a heron, waiting calmly upon still waters, the mysterious Lady Oyuki continues each day as she always has, living with constancy, with honesty, with duty, and with gratitude.

In that sense, perhaps she isn't so dissimilar from the spirits she seeks to appease - and perhaps that is why they are content to accept her ministrations, inexperienced though she may be.

The Fujiwara Family is one of the more important families in the great valley. While not being descended from the Takamori directly, there is a certain pride in Chiasa’s appearance despite foregoing honorable distinctions and choosing the life of a tinkerer.

Chiasa’s hair reflects the dark moonlight skies and her eyes do not stray far behind, becoming like amethysts that have long since lost their luster. Her hair is well combed, though held together with metal bindings. What could be said most of all is Chiasa’s expression, or well, lack of a smile. She walks heavy and she comes with a heavy sense of entitlement. She’s about average in height as well, though with how she carries herself it is hard to remember. Her fists curl at the first sign of irritation and her brows narrow with even the most minor of irritations. When she isn’t upset she still looks prickly as a thorn. Essentially, a normal Fujiwara.

Chiasa’s grandfather, Fujiwara Ichiro, often tells an old story.

It is a story that Chiasa has heard told throughout her whole life. The Takamori betrayed the Fujiwara and nobody cared. Had it not been for the pacifistic policies passed they would certainly have met the end of a blade. But was the story that Chiasa’s grandfather told the truth or some kind of bitter story told through the generations to breed resentment and stoke the fires of rebellion?

Fortunately Chiasa has never cared for traditions. She spit on the face of her family with marriage arrangement after marriage arrangement and even before that sought to learn about the old world in lieu of anything her family wished for. This was clear since the very first day she asked about the outside world and the weird gadgetry that the tinkerer of the village would haul in to work on some new project. The strange music the tinkerer would play at festivals inspired her even further, though for some reason her family tried to curb her interests in such things. “It’s unladylike” they’d insist before going into expectations of family and tradition. The Fujiwara directed trade, crafted sake and umeshu; they did not mess with the old world.

Chiasa was not her mother or sisters. She liked the old world. She wanted to know about places beyond the valley. She would do anything she could to know more things. When she was a young girl she asserted herself and demanded the tinkerer make her an apprentice. After much persistence and her own family’s interference complicating things she never thought she’d actually get the chance to learn about machines of the past nor how to make things from them. Her family eternally disappointed, Tinkerer Anayao took in the girl.

She’s still not satisfied all these years later… but that’s just how Chiasa is.

Kenichi, at first, is physically unremarkable. He stands at around 5' 6", and is rather skinny. He lacks any clear muscle mass, though his upper body strength has been improved greatly as he has been unable to rely on his legs as much as he had in the past. He has a crop of blonde hair that is usually somewhat unkempt, and he wears finely crafted warm clothes in layers (since he tends to get cold fairly easily). His striking blue eyes and angular face (helped, in part, by his lean diet) are stunning when you see him up close, but his expressions are often stoic or distant. He is never seen without his trusty wooden cane, painstakingly carved by his father, and often carries a small pouch with his pain medicine for when his nerves start acting up.

Kenichi was born as the older twin of Mako into the prominent Masaki family. Hanako and Akio were pleased to have twins, and hoped that in these two children they could instill their values. Hanako was Heiseina's second physician, serving under her mother-in-law (and therefore Kenichi's grandmother). She wished to instill in her daughter a love for medicine and treating the community's ailments. Akio, an herbalist and outdoorsman who helped to support his wife and mother's practice, was a more adventurous and wild soul at heart. He was excited to have a son he could take out into the valley to find rare medicinal herbs and take in the sights. Perhaps he would even take up an interest in hunting.

Kenichi, however, was far too sickly of a child to go out adventuring and exploring. He spent a lot of his childhood at home, watching his mother work and asking far too many questions. He developed his father's curious spirit, but his curiosity was geared towards why he always felt so feverish and sick. His mother was pleased to have her son take such an interest in her work, given Mako seemed far too interested in what was in the valley and the woods. It even helped to have another set of hands around, as she herself was born with only one arm. Kenichi, by the age of 10, had clearly been marked as the next Apprentice Physician when his grandmother passed away.

He spent 2 years learning the basics of cleaning and tending to wounds, to help take some of the burden off of his mother. He had very steady hands, and had a penchant for stitching or bandaging up wounds. Around the age of 13, Kenichi began to study his first sign: purify. It took him around 20 months to learn his first sign, but was pleased when he had finally gained the ability to help sterilize wounds and sanitize tools. He continued learning the basics of tending to wounds and beginning to develop a better understanding of diagnosing diseases for a few years. When they were 15, Mako finally began to learn the purify sign as well. With Mako studying full time, Akio took this opportunity to try and bond more with his growing son. Akio took Kenichi out on a small hunting trip.

Of course... Kenichi was always the one to try and please those around him. He wasn't a particularly strong or athletic child, having a rather gaunt figure due to his intense studying and rather sickly demeanor for much of his life. When Akio suggested Kenichi finally climb a tree while he was still young, Kenichi obliged without much thought. Kenichi climbed higher and higher, struggling and sweating his way up. His heart was pounding so loud he couldn't really hear his father shouting for him to get down and that he was joking. Of course, Kenichi did hear the squawking of a giant eagle passing nearby, and his feet slipped in his startled state. Kenichi had seen people with broken bones, and people who had injured themselves falling from a decent height. His mother had reminded him, time and time again, what not to do. But in his startled state of fear, Kenichi's right leg locked into place as he fell to the ground. He couldn't really remember what happened after that.

The next week was just fever dreams and pain. His leg had practically been shattered, and setting it appropriately was a great challenge. The weak Kenichi grew a bit weaker over the course of those months he spent at home trying to do his best not to move his leg. The leg healed remarkably well, all things considered. But Kenichi still has to walk around with a crutch and a limp everywhere he goes. He can't carry heavy things, run quickly, or climb well. Granted, this doesn't bother Kenichi too much in the grand scheme, given his implicit fear of the wildlife and yokai of the valley that he associates with the incident.

All the time bedridden and immobile gave Kenichi plenty of time to delve deeper into his studies. Time not spent relearning how to walk with his injury and succumbing to the white hot pain coursing through his leg was spent learning about diagnosing diseases and learning more about how to create his own pain medicine. At the age of 16, Kenichi began studying more signs to aid in his training and development as a physician's apprentice.

Kenichi, a young adult now, is still haunted in part by his own limitations and his desire to surpass people's expectations of him. He is someone who desires to improve himself despite his current condition, and yet finds himself limited severely by chronic pain and a somewhat lame leg. He lives a slightly isolated lifestyle, but wants to learn and grow to be more of a member of the community as a whole than just "Doctor Lame Leg." His isolated lifestyle petrifies him with fright at the thought of conflict, either physical or verbal... which is something he will almost certainly have to confront moving forward if he's going to help cleanse his home.

Examples of Kenichi's Signs (Will expand upon approval):

Purify: Casting Purify will remove dangerous toxins from food and minor infections from wounds

Amplify: Amplifies the effectiveness of an effect, such as making a fire hotter, a light brighter or another Sign more potent.

Reinforce: This Sign protects whatever it is cast upon from harm, such as the force of a blow or degradation from time spent in the elements.

Water: A spell used to conjure the equivalent of a cup of water.

Growth: When applied repeatedly to an animal or plant, Growth speeds up the growing process.

Standing at a height of 5’5, Fumiko is about average height for a girl of her age, but that is around where the scale of being ‘average’ ends for her. With rather striking facial features, Fumiko has always been a sight easy on the eyes. With her face typically being adorned with a dazzling smile that showed even in her eyes, Fumiko is like a ray of sunshine throughout the village. Those very brown eyes were like windows into her soul, as getting lost in them would easily betray all the hope, joy, and whatever other myriads of emotions she might be feeling. Her elegant facial features, mixed with her fair, flawless skin framed by long, curly, brunette hair that flows just past her shoulders all help to create quite the beauty. The kind that is rare in that her beauty is rather effortless to maintain.

With a lean form and sporting elegant curves, Fumiko’s face is not the only striking thing about her appearance. While she is not toned as other villagers might be, the young girl does keep herself in shape through various activities. Though her clothing choices are not ones chosen to showcase her body, the girl favors outfits that are more comfortable for whatever task is at hand that day than ones that are meant to be ‘pretty'. As such, Fumiko is often seen wearing her favorite yukata, one which is pink and embroidered with flowers along the outside edges. Outside of this, the girl tends to favor simplistic clothing choices, a pair of trousers or shorts accompanied by a simple tunic, if she is going to be spending the day doing labor. On the rare occasions where Fumiko is to dress up, the girl will typically wear a kimono of the same colorings and design as her Yukata, accompanied by matching flowers braided into her hair.

Fumiko’s life is one without struggle, the girl having grown up in a loving home that was absent of strife. At least, strife that a young girl would recognize. A home life that she would later learn many would have done just about anything to have themselves.

Fumiko has enjoyed a close relationship with her Great Uncle, Takamori Kenji, or her “Uncle Kenji” as she often refers to him. As a result of their close relationship through the years, Fumiko has taken on quite a few of his own qualities and world views. These show in her unending optimism for their village and their people thriving together, and how eager she is to put every ounce of her being into working to ensure this comes true. Even if her actions are as small as simply going out to the fields to help the farmers with their harvest for that day, Fumiko does this action with pride.

For much of the years spent in schooling, Fumiko managed to stand out among her classmates. In part for the easy way she went about making friends, part for her excellence in her studies, and in part for just who she is related to. In addition to her studies, Fumiko also had a nasty habit of worming her way into arguments between students and trying to mediate to settle their differences. A task that has met with varying success, and certainly affected the opinion of at least some in her class. These years in her schooling are part of what helped build the girl’s reputation as one of the forefront options to take over after her uncle and helped draw his attention to consider her as one of the few serious candidates.

Around the village, Fumiko has taken on the role of a ‘caretaker’ as she describes it. That is, she watches over and cares for both the children and elderly during the days their families must tend to other responsibilities. As such, Fumiko has used her slight aptitude for signs to learn two very basic signs. The first being fire, which she uses to help light a flame when she is preparing meals for those she is caring for, and to help add a dramatic effect to legends or stories she might tell children for entertainment. The other, glow, is used much the same as the latter effect of fire, more entertainment for the children. Fumi spends much of her time not spent taking lessons and acting as her uncle’s assistant filling this role as a caretaker. As such, much of her time is spent with either the youth or elderly of their village. The elderly who she often spends time listening to their stories and eagerly absorbing their tales instead of telling her own.

In what little free time Fumiko can scrape together, she is doing one of a few different things. She likes to spend that free time either dancing, singing, or out exploring to find beautiful scenes to sketch in her sketchbook. Though her sketching skills are rather good, shes nowhere near the level of a professional. Although, exploring might not be the best term. Fumiko very rarely strays beyond the village borders, and even then she does not let her home out of her sight. Unlike her sketching, however, Fumiko is quite adept at both her song and dance. Though she very rarely performs either outside of the privacy of her own chambers, only the children she watches are able to convince her to perform for them.

Despite how pure her life may seem, that does not mean that the girl is without flaws or tragedy in her life. Fumiko lost her mother to illness when she was 14 years old, and despite her firm beliefs to the very end that her mother would recover… Fumi was in the room as she drew her last breath. The girl almost completely shut down and withdrew from the outside world for nearly two months in the wake of this tragedy. Very rarely was she seen outside of her room, and when she was… Fumiko was a skeleton of the girl she used to be. This tragedy haunts her until this very day, with the very concept of death causing Fumiko to quickly retreat back into herself just as she had in the wake of that horrific day. Outside of the tragedy, Fumiko has a few other flaws that mar the image of the perfect young girl she tries to present. She has become so reliant on her perfect memory, that she rarely will listen to the advice of others (save her Uncle) on things she believes to already have knowledge about. Her habit of forcing herself into disagreements between others to try to mediate still persists, and has earned her a few foul points on her reputation.

Though, perhaps her darkest secret is that despite the carefree persona she likes to portray to the world, inside her mind things can get much darker. She battles with a shocking lack of self-confidence, a scar left on her mind from her mother’s passing. Though not a constant companion, when that dark voice raises in the back of her mind, Fumiko has nothing she can do to quiet it. Despite her hopes and beliefs for everybody else in the village, Fumiko’s belief in herself is completely lacking. This shows through the cracks in her facade in the way that Fumiko so wholly dives headfirst into any situation she believes will help others. No matter the cost to herself, a way to subconsciously settle the debt she owes for failing to help her own mother. After all, surely there was something she could have done to save the woman. In addition to this, Fumiko often refrains from giving herself much praise, doubting that she is worth said praise.

Despite her inner demons, Fumiko’s strong desire to serve and help the people of her village still burns just as bright. The girl is vying hard to be chosen to fill her Uncle’s position so that she can play such a helpful role to her home as he had, and without even a second wasted on selfish thoughts of how the position might benefit her. Her innocence to the world also continues to strive onward, as she lacks enough experience to tell her anything outside of her personal tragedy could be remotely commonplace. After all, things had been so ideal and wonderful in their village till now… why would they ever change?

Fumiko knows two signs:

• Fire
• Glow
• Gust

Fumiko is the great-niece of Takamori Kenji.

Mio is imposing, and it stresses her out. She’s taller than most people in the village, even those older than she is, and practically a decade of working with heavy metals has given her a physique of hard muscle and the stamina of a field ox. Wherever she goes, Mio casts a long and intimidating shadow that most people would rather scurry out of than look up at.

If they did though, they wouldn’t find much comfort. Mio isn’t an angry looking person, but being around her, you’re likely to be struck by a disconcerting anxiety. She tries to keep on a warm smile, and on another face, her eyes might be considered safe and comforting. On her though, people swear they see something in them. They hold firelight too long and too easy, and their brightness makes it hard to tell whether she’s happy, or about to do something…bad.

Her hair is a soft sunset color, and goes down to her back. She dresses lightly for the hours spent around roaring fires and scalding metals. There are a fair few burn scars up and down her arms, and across her sides, from the early mistakes all apprentices make, but she makes no effort to hide them.

When Mio was six years old, she smashed a frog’s leg with a rock. She remembers it vividly, and the gut-wrenching horror that rooted in her as it hopped oblongly away even more so. She remembers running to her parents, screaming and crying that the trees were going to eat her for being evil. Of course, when they found out what she’d done, they did their best to comfort her; then, when she’d finally calmed down, they scolded her gently, and brought her out to pray forgiveness for what she’d done. Kneeling there with her head pressed to the dirt, Mio had never felt so scared. Ultimately, it seemed the kami decided to spare her the agony of eternal damnation, or exile, and she went back to being a normal child.

When she was ten it happened again. Sitting on a bench behind her family’s home, a small bird perched itself on her hand. It wasn’t the first time; Mio had a penchant for stillness that most wildlife found amicable, and she often found herself subject to the company of birds, and squirrels, and wild cats. It was pleasant, usually, and there was warmth in being trusted by something so small, so soft. So fragile.

It didn’t move when she slowly closed her hand around it, but when she squeezed it fought back. It shrieked, it thrashed, it pecked at her hand with its sharp little beak and drew blood, but Mio didn’t let go. She just squeezed, until her mom found her and wrenched the poor thing out of her grasp.

This time there was no comforting. Her parents demanded answers that she didn’t have; she knew it was wrong, she felt terrible, and she didn’t know why she did it. They looked at her like a stranger, they treated her like a yokai in the shape of their daughter.

Animals didn’t come to her anymore after that. She felt an eerie discomfort whenever she drew too close to the forest, and soon that anxiousness began to follow her everywhere. The villagers seemed to sense it; there was a wariness about them when she was in their presence, even when she was still little. People stopped talking to her, stopped visiting her house. They averted their eyes like they could see something in her own that upset them. Before long, her company was scarce. Just about the only person who would actually speak to her was the local blacksmith, Tetsu, and he was more disliked than she was.

Her parents didn’t care that she spent so much time around a delinquent; it got her out of the house, away from them. Whether the man was taking pity on her, or just wanted an extra pair of hands to dump his work into, at ten Mio began to work as Tetsu’s apprentice.

The work helped. Smithing gave her a focus, a channel for the feelings she had but didn’t understand. She turned her impulses to the forge, and the crucible, and gave what remained to the flames. She started to smile again, even if she didn’t often have anyone to share it with.

As time went on, Mio grew taller than her mother, then her father, and eventually you’d have been hard-pressed to find an adult in Heisana who could stand at-eyes with her. Combined with her muscled build and the unnerving air she’s been unable to shake even into young adulthood, her regard in the village did not improve, despite her best efforts. In some ways she began to adopt Tetsu’s ill reputation, though she attended few parties and never touched alcohol.

But she doesn’t mind. In ten years, she hasn’t hurt a single breathing thing, intentionally or otherwise. The urges have become a part of her, and each day they pass from head, to heart, to hand, to hammer and finally to metal. Rarely thanked for her work, never welcomed as warmly as the forge, as long as she can keep her peace, Mio is content to be who she is.

It’s better than what she could be.

Mio has only learned a couple of signs to help out around the forge. Reinforce to make handling white-hot metals less dangerous, and Mend for when a project just needs a little touching up.

Standing at 5'4'', Hayashi Takara is picturesque of a country bumpkin.

Whilst her body appears lean, she does have clearly defined muscle, having been acquired through years of physical labor and horseback riding. Her auburn hair is always cut in a messy bob, mostly in part due to Takara's impatience in cutting her own hair if it bothers her in any way. She does happen to have a minor case of facial blemishes across both of her cheeks, but Takara couldn't care less about trying to hide them with creams, powder, or other such make-up.

Attire-wise, Takara tends to prefer simpler, peasantry-esque clothing that doesn't require much effort to wear. Being a stable hand is dirty, rough work, after all, and fancy kimonos and the like would just get in the way.

Despite this preference, however, Takara is more often than not seen in a pair of her racing leathers opposed to anything else. Purposefully dyed her favorite color, the outfit is well-suited for rugged work or adventure, allowing Takara ample protection from the elements or any other hazard out there. Typically, the attached hood is already slung over her head, with Takara using the inlaid set of goggles to cover her eyes from strong gusts of wind while out riding.

Eighteen years ago, Takara had been born to Hayashi Benjiro and Yua. Together, they had named their newborn daughter Takara; their "treasure" or "jewel".

For the Hayashis, life had been simple and kind to them. With her parents running the local village inn, Takara was allotted a modest lifestyle growing up. She would often bounce between helping her father in the stables and her mother in the inn, desiring to be as helpful as possible to her parents. Sometimes she'd even receive a tip from their customers, who found the little busy bee worker cute enough to throw some coinage her way for a sweet, toy or whatever she might've wanted.

All and all, Takara had a happy childhood. At least, until her life was suddenly turned upside down around her tenth winter.

For reasons still unknown to Takara, her mother had disappeared from the village. It was like she never existed, having left no reason why or note as to where she was going. Both father and daughter felt lost and confused, wondering why Yua would just up and leave them behind. Her father grew grumpy and distant, while Takara became a shut-in, wishing her mother would return from wherever she had gone.

It was during this mopey, depressive slump that Takara had a stupid yet brave idea. Sneaking out of the house one dark night, Takara stole a horse and raced out of the village. She would her find her mother, no matter what it took. Of course, when you're a ten year old out in the wilderness, you have absolutely no idea what you're doing. She wound up lost early on, and would've probably died out there had her father not led a search party out looking for his daughter.

Her father had given Takara a stern talking to that day; that she had been a fool to run off on an equally foolish quest. Regardless of his scolding, however, her father knew he wouldn't be able to shake the idea out of her head. She did have her mother's stubbornness, after all.

Therefore, her father forced Takara to make a promise to him. If she still intended to search for her mother, then she'd have to work for it. She'd have to grow faster. Better. Stronger. Anything that could stand in her way of finding her mother, Takara would train until it wasn't. In the end, it ultimately had been a promise Takara readily accepted without a second thought.

She'd find her mother, no matter what it took.

Ignore the sword in the picture; it doesn't exist.

Signs known: Beckon, Quicken, Water, and Heat

As soon as you look at Haruhi, you know that she lives up to her name, spring sunshine: quite short at 157cm, blonde-haired, tan-skinned from working hard out under the hot sun, and almost always bearing a bright and chipper smile. She isn't exactly what you would typically call a cool beauty; she isn't nearly stately or demure enough for that. What she does have, though, is a strong and striking sense of exuberance about her that seems to light up whatever room she walks into, and even when she isn't smiling, it always somehow seems like her wide warm purple eyes are doing it for her.

The skin on her tough hands is hard and callused from rubbing against tools, and that of her feet is the same from hours in her heavy workboots. Completing the picture is her musculature. She's a farmer, after all, and she has been for pretty much her whole life. That tanned skin lies taut over a physique of hard muscle, bought and paid for with hours upon hours of hard farm labor.

But despite that hard-labor athleticism--or perhaps because of it--when she's not working she's a bit of a klutz, and quite spritely in the way that she moves through the world. Running barefoot, skipping down the road, or laying on long grass staring up at the cloudless blue sky, it would be fair to say that when she's not working she doesn't exactly portray a sense of gravitas, nor really even act her age. And the fact that she's constantly smudged with dirt and mud and sweat from working in the fields doesn't really help matters.

As a rule, she dresses in practical farm clothes, and she takes her beloved straw hat with her EVERYWHERE. Her hair is typically tied up in either a ponytail or a braid to keep it out of her way. Though she has a few pieces of very nice formal attire gifted to her by her best friend Yuki, she doesn't really know when she'd ever wear them, since it's not like she ever goes to formal functions. She doesn't even really know how to put on a proper kimono!

All things considered, Haruhi has had a pretty good life. Born to a pair of successful farmers--Akiyama Akito and Hanako--she grew up with a deep love and appreciation for the outdoors, and as time went on, an equally powerful one taught be her parents: a sense of responsibility for one's actions, and the sweat of one's brow. They were hard workers, and wanted to instill into their rough-and-tumble daughter that she should do the same.

And they succeeded in spectacular fashion! It wasn't long before kiddo Haruhi began to help out in the garden, pulling weeds and snipping beans off of vines. It was looking like she was set up for a wonderful future, despite her propensity to get into everywhere she probably wasn't supposed to go.

Like, say, the Heiseina shrine, where she met a lonely girl who called herself Fuyuko and decided then and there that the two of them would be the best of friends. From the time she was eight and onward, she would go and visit her friend, always bringing her something fun from the outside world; whether a flower crown, or a basket of fresh vegetables and rice that she'd grown and harvested herself.

Speaking of, it would seem her parents underestimated how deep into her heart she took the sweat-of-her-own-brow lesson on self-reliance, because when they discussed her learning some Signs to till her soil and grow her crops faster, she staunchly and immovably refused, no matter how they cajoled or convinced. This was when she first showed both one of her great strengths or her greatest weakness, depending on how you looked at it; that streak of mulish stubbornness. They thought she'd grow out of it, but she never did, insisting on doing all of the work herself.

When she was thirteen, they realized that she really wasn't going to budge, and brought home a strong palomino draft horse from the stables to help plough her field in lieu of magic. Haruhi fell in love with him instantly, naming him Asahi and, with her own hands, building him a paddock outside of the barn so he could stay outside and get exercise when the weather was good.

And so her life has gone on from then, and been a good and simple one. One of earth, and water, and plants, and animals, and nature. She loves everything and wants everyone else to love it too. She loves people, and wants people to love her back. She wants to live a good, simple, peaceful life surrounded by the people and places she loves.

You don't always get what you want.

As mentioned, Haruhi has refused to learn any labor-saving Signs, preferring to do the work herself over using magic to do it. Her parents are still alive and happily working on the farm with her, though they gave her a smaller personal plot of land, one that wouldn't be touched by any of the Signs that her parents used themselves.

The one thing most notable about Sengo Tsubasa is his beauty. While tall, he sports fair skin that looks softer than silk. His jet-black locks contrast his skin, tumbling over his shoulders and reaches his waist. He often pulls it up with a red ribbon, though it isn't uncommon for him to keep it loose. His amethyst-hued eyes often seem like they're looking through you, his features soft and his smile always gentle.

Tsubasa is a young man who dreams of creating a forbidden weapon. Some years ago when he was learning signs from the Signkeeper, he stumbled into her collection of books and accidentally knocked over a pile. In his haste in putting them away, one was opened, revealing a page that had caught his interest: a colorful image of a man clad in metal wielding a weapon. He didn't even look at the rest of the book, entranced by the man and his strange equipment.
Despite knowing it was wrong, he tore the page out of the book and took it with him, obsessing over it for some time. One day, he managed to get the materials to make his first attempt at replicating the weapon. While his success varied, he was inevitably caught by his master. Instead of getting in trouble, however, he was strictly told that he should never attempt to do such a thing ever again and was only saved from being outed because no one else had seen it.
Ashes had been thrown onto his obsession, quelling it for the most part.

• His secondary hobby is flower pressing.
• For some reason, Signkeeper Tomo doesn't seem to like him. He hasn't the foggiest clue as to why, either.
• He is always happy to run errands for others. This is often exploited.

Known Signs:
Heat and Water signs for smithery [Amplify, Heat, Water]. Takes offense when its suggested to learn Mend or Reinforce.

Sumiko always stands out in the village due to her taste in clothing: elaborate and stylish. Of course the frames she wears over her eyes are no exception. Even if she didn't dress like that, her shockingly pale hair would make sure that one can always pick her out of a crowd. Her physical appearance is rather plain; her eyes are dull, she isn't the most busty or shapely of women nor is she that tall or short... but she does love to paint herself in varying degrees of make-up. This has the side effect of making her seem more attractive, but the enjoyment of making an art piece of her skin is why she does it in the first place. Although she tries to keep clean its very common to find her with ink stains on her hands, arms, and even her face.

Painting! Poetry! Pottery! Dance! Drawing! Acting! Storytelling!

...stilling working on the music!

Even small towns need entertainment, and Sumiko takes it upon herself to provide that. She's a "jack of all trades" type when it comes to the arts, with the notable exception of song and instrument. Please don't call her tone deaf though, she will vehemently deny it.

She was born in Heiseina, her family the last of the dying Hayashi clan. Hers was an old family, once well respected in the valley, so it came as a shock when each passing year saw their prosperity dwindle. No one really knows what happened to the Hayashi family, though some claim that the family's head offended a spirit so badly that it cursed his line for generations. It would explain the sons' early deaths, the daughters' lack of vitality that presented itself through pallid skin and colorless features. Some subsequent family heads were obsessed with turning their luck around. Sumiko's father was one such person, but he died desperate for a son to carry on his name and ended up with two daughters. The clan's fate was sealed.

His passing was a sad thing, but for his wife and children it was also a freeing experience. There was a certain liberation in knowing they didn't have to toil on behalf of a doomed family name any longer. Sumiko left Heiseina when she was barely old enough to travel on her own, exploring the valley they lived in and the small hamlets that surrounded it. She met many people and heard many stories - in order to commit them to memory she wrote them down. To keep herself occupied during trips she would doodle pictures to go with her writing. It didn't take long for her to fall in love with art. For her freedom came in the form of a song on the wind, or a brushstroke on canvas.

Now, Sumiko is Heiseina's resident artist extraordinaire (self-proclaimed). She's also a decent source of news and gossip, bringing stories and paintings with her all over the valley. She travels very often, taking advantage of not being tied down to one place. When she returns to Heiseina she stays at her family home and mooches off of her more responsible and respectable elder sister. Their mother passed years ago, leaving the large, empty estate to the both of them. She always makes it back in time for festivals, where she insists that she put on the newest play she's written, play a role in local re-tellings of myths and legends, and participates in dance until she can barely move. Though she has a strong passion for all kinds of art, dance and Kabuki are one of her favorite pastimes, so when she can she goes all out.

Lately, life in the valley has been slower than normal. There haven't been as many interesting stories to create art about, so Sumiko has been going out a lot more and pestering others in search of something to spark her creativity.

Whether it's Denji or Denki, one can't deny that the Yoshino genes are rich with an aesthetically-pleasing face to behold. Sharply-angled jaws, crisp spikes in the hair, and equally as beautiful eyes to draw you in. In Denki's case, his looks differ just slightly from that of his younger twin's. Denki's hair is spikier and his eyes are golden like the rays of the sun above. Nobody can explain why he and his brother have different colored eyes. It could be due to their difference in personalities. Amber being a friendlier color than red, or it just might be one of those phenomeona that nobody can explain and it just is.

As a hunter, while Denki stands at an average height of 5'8" (just like his brother), it should be assumed, as well as pointed out, that he boisters a signficiantly larger build than most in the village. This is mostly due to the fact that hunters are always on the go and need to remain as agile as their movements need to be. To do this, Denki can't allow himself to fall short of a strict exercise regime...though somehow he does. His skills, as well as his overall physique might be slightly inferior to his twin brothers.

But where Denki might be slacking in the physical refinement of his build and skills, he more than makes up for it in being fashionable, something he personally believes his brother doesn't prioritize as much as he should. It's always "hone your skills, Denki. Stop slacking off, Denki". What about "dress for the job you want, Denji?"

That's what he does. More often than not, he sports a red kimono with a blue bottom part tied together with white cloth. He has a few but that one is his favorite, seeing it as a bold statement. He has other kimono's for casual wear, but he just feels the most line himself in this one. It's very him. Relaxed but bold and vibrant. One might say it chose him rather than him choosing it...if you were to believe in that sort of thing - which Denki absolutely does!

Life for the hunter family of Yoshino hasn't always been the easiest. Dating back a century, in this family of hunters, there's always been something of an emphasis on good luck and bad luck. Maybe it's just thier close relationship with the animals and the respect that one must have for them and life itself and that in itself has prompted the family to prioritize luck and prosperity above all else. It's hard to say, but what is known as a pure fact is that for the current generation of the Yoshino family, they brought good luck and fortune to the family.

For so long, the Yoshino family had viewed twins as a symbol of good luck. To have two children at the same time was seen as the Kami looking down on the Yoshino family in favor and blessing them, but for several decades, the family heads were seen as cursed. Even if that wasn't even close to being true, the fact remains that they weren't blessed with twins for over fifty years until the twins, Denki and Denji were born. Things started to change. The outlook from their parents began to change. Positivity and prosperity was at long last feeling as though it wasn't just a hope but a reality.

On Denki's side of things, no matter how it may have seemed from the outside, at a certain point, he began to feel crushed by the pressure laid on him by his father, the head of the family. His father had a brother, but when both Denki and Denji were five, he died. Denki didn't have many memories of his uncle that he could recall. Honestly, it became a blur after a while. He just remembered a man with chocolate-colored eyes smiling at him. Maybe it was that Denki wasn't as close to the man as he remembered. Not like his brother was.

Denki is the first-born of the two. It's only by a few minutes, so it may not seem like an important deal, but according to their father, Haruto, it was. Even though the better hunter was his brother because Denki wasn't as hard-working as Denji was (or rather he always found himself preferring to nap or relax than put in the work), it always felt like he was pushed harder. Denki always tried to see the positive, though. He maintained it through adolescence and into his young adulthood. He became a respectable hunter in his own right, being able to be proud to be a Yoshino. But at the same time, he still felt the immeasurable weight that came with being the eldest brother of the current generation of hunters.

Really, somedays it seemed like Denji was the older brother with how much of Denki's slack he made up for. Father really must prefer him over Denki. Yeah, that's definitely what it was.

It was okay. Denki was okay with not being seen as the favorite. Whether he had his father's approval or not, honestly, didn't matter to him as much as it did when he was a young kid. What Denki wanted was to have his brother's respect and he liked to think he did. No matter how many headaches his twin got because of how many times he must've found him napping or relaxing when he probably should have been studying, Denki could see it in his brother's crimson-colored eyes. He was his twin brother for a reason. Those kinds of siblings were truly lucky to have each other. Their bond couldn't be tainted, not even by the demons in one's head.

Considering that Denji is a identical twin, he shares a set of features with his older twin that classifies them as pleasing to the eye. The younger twin does attempt to differentiate himself from his brother, keeping his hair semi-straight in comparison to Denki's spiky look, and growing his hair out into a ponytail that reaches his lower back. Physically his body matches Denki almost identically, his muscles being more defined and pronounced due to his rigid training. Notably there is a scar across his left cheek from a failed hunt.

Denji has not had a interesting life up to this point. For years, he was the responsible twin, despite being younger by a few minutes, that had to keep Denki in line. His stalwart and rigid personality being a result of his fear of Yokai; a fear crafted from losing his uncle to a yokai when Denji was 5 years old. This fear is a big part of the reason why he keeps to tradition so fervently, even explaining why he comes down so hard on his older twin so often, the fear of losing someone else swims through his mind every hunt. But also this fear has lead to a fascination with the old world and the relic that Takamori Kenji keeps at his side. Denji would be content with keeping things the way they are but, a part of him remains curious of the past.

Denji constantly has to prepare Denki's meals and remind him to eat
The shoulder pad on his kimono is a reminder of his Uncle Daiki, the same shoulder pad he died wearing
Denji knows the signs purify, heat, and slow
It is a rather known bit of info that Denji is afraid of Yokai but, only Denki knows how much