Fandom mezzanine ☯

[sharingan]

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❝ night, night of matter,
black flowers blossom,
fearless on my breath,
teardrop on fire
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naruto one on one w honeywood. please don't post !
au plot where peace is dubious between nations.
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[sharingan]

character form - asami ▁▁▁▁▁▁​

 

[milkiifox]

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miyamoto

hayami.

mood

mood here

outfit

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location

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"some fear the fire, others simply become it."

hayami was born into the miyomoto clan that blends into the crowd of the hidden leaf village. on the outside the clan seems nothing more than two parents and their five children making their way through life as honestly as possible. on the inside, the family hides a secret— an ancient power passed down between generations now lingers inside the family’s youngest daughter. her kekkai genkai, the akaigan, is a dojutsu that allows the user to manipulate a target's blood. with this, hayami can then force her target do and act as she desires. however, she can not control the enemy's will and her power is shut down if she becomes trapped in an opposing dojutsu. her mastery with the power is little, and instead she has chosen to focus her skill on common jutsus. her physical skill has allowed her to surpass her peers and be ready for the chunin exams. never has she shown her akaigan to others outside of her family, but she fears soon she may need to unleash the gift to beat those who oppose her.

name hayami miyamoto
age eighteen
gender cisfemale
place of birth hidden leaf village
occupation works part time at her family’s small restaurant if she’s not on a mission
rank genin
height stands around 5'2”
weight weighs roughly 115 lbs

personality

• playful
• tenacious
• independent
• ambitious
• charming
• manipulative (or as she calls it “persuasive”)
• optimistic
• amiable
• confident
• slightly naive

likes

• painting
• going on spontaneous adventures
• eating food
• animals/nature in general
• gardening
• baking
• being around friends
• long hot baths

dislikes

• sleeping in the dark
• being alone
• meat
• large heights
• doing laundry

♡coded by uxie♡

 

[sharingan]

asami - one - everywhen​

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it's late spring when the kudu begin to migrate across the desert.
they follow the withdrawal of the wind, the rain, the shrubs and tumbleweeds. they strip the baobab trees and drink chalky puddles of dark water; lazily devouring the sahara, drifting off to a land that will gorge their hunger and birth their young. the hot sun pursues them, warm on their pelts, beading sweat on their whiskers and greasing their fur.
they occasionally call to eachother, a grunt or sigh that resonates through the herd in one long wheeze. it's nothing more then a passing instinct, divulging the alive and mocking the dead.
remains of their weak lay proof to that.
left behind, flesh and bone are cloaked in yellow sands - baked under daylight and scavenged when the nights grow cold.

known as the country of wind, the breadth of the nation is unforgettably bleak. mounds of sand rise like waves in the sea, strange creatures linger in every curtain of shade, water is veiled deep within its center. ironically enough, sunagakure is the very same: dreary and alien.

asami watches a pair of kudu struggle against the wind, streams of sand crashing against their legs.
she sits from the window of her sensei's house, a modest two bedroom that slowly rots from the inside out. wood beams turn black at the splinters, sandstone floors begin to dip into uneven layers. rugs are gray from years of abuse and the glass windows are pitted from occasional storms. every single quirk resonates with her master, a retired jounin who swears he was once the greatest ninja. but still, those days have long passed, and now he is just seen as sungakures shaman, a brushed away tradition that's slowly disappearing.
to asami, he's just some delusional old man.
she thinks of the way he carries himself, a nonchalant vibe that radiates his sanity in a curvy line. something the hidden village lacked - a wise and sympathetic character, albeit old and religious. and that's what he was, a cold-shouldered man who was unlike the traditonal jounin. thats why the two lived on the outskirts of the village, distant from the rock wall that nestled the heart of the desert. here, her sensei could practice his clerical sermons, and here, she could hide her white shrouded eye.

long ago, she remembers the graduation of the academy students.
everyone was so excited, eager to find their sensei and become a ninja. to fight and die for the village was a great honor - something they were trained and taught from the very first day. she sat near a smaller group of students, more reserved and shy. huddled in on themselves and murmuring their enthusiasm, the rejects among the academy. yet there she sat, the reject among the reject's, evident when the kazekage read off the list of available sensei's. of course, her name fell short. the village dreaded the power she had: the curse of the kogarashi. an ugly gift that can rear men's worst fears; evil. no one wanted to encourage the unnamed scourge she had brought upon the future generation.
that night, her parents were furious. they yelled and screamed about the shame she had brought upon their family. an unwanted gift, an unwanted girl, and most of all, an unwanted reputation. the people in the streets would avoid her parents, her cousins, her uncles and aunts. they would refuse to sell at certain times of the day and distance themselves when the local market would be at its busiest. 'the yumihana name has been ruined,' her mother would say every night, watching asami from the door as she prepared herself for bed.
it left a sour taste in her mouth.
one night, she woke up to her father hushing her awake. he promised her of a man who lived far from the village, someone who offered to train her - to help use her eye for good, to become strong enough to return. they left with nothing but her mothers necklace, a family heirloom that was given to the ninja of the family.
she held the orange jewel in her palm, tight enough to make her knuckles turn white.

the man they met, through a hour of walking, was named naoyuki. the smile he gave her, a upturning of his eyes that emphasized his wrinkles, was understanding. he took her by the shoulder and lead her away from her father, her past, her life at the village. from then on, she has called him sensei, and from then on, rarely visits the hidden sand.

she remembers first arriving, watching the annual kudu migrations from the roof of his house. she would carry a jar full of cubed fig and eat half of it by the time they had wandered by.
this was her first experience with true death - the true nature of her power.
one morning, she had watched an elderly deer wander by. she had collapsed in the sand and was forgotten by her herd, her children, the other kudu that would accompany her. she was suffering.

asami waited until noon, when the sun was beginning to hide beneath the earth, to approach her. her eyes were closed, her breath was faint, the fur on her back was softly grazed by the wind. she was dying - a faint flare of her nostrils beckoning her fate. she remembers slowly whispering to her, touching the ears and feeling the bones of such a great beast. asami had never felt so determined.
she sat by her until she passed, slowly feeling down her spine until the doe had succumbed to her age.

it was dark by now. the moon outlined the tips of her shoes and the shape of her fingers. if she was to do this, it had to be now.
asami would bring her back, return her to her herd, and let her live another day.
she closes her eyes and breaths deeply, focusing on the image of the kudu. frail, skinny, yet strong and determined. the heart that once beat, now still, active once again. beating faster and faster, harder and harder, pumping the blood through her body while expanding her lungs. her eyes, a glazed white, now a deep shade of brown. her mouth, a dry black, now wet with running through the wild. she feels the familiar pinprick of pain behind her eye, a sting that urges her to continue. it was working.

by the time she's done, a headache has began to worm her way through her body. she's exhausted. her chakra is low and her eye stings.
she watches, nervous, as the kudu begins to breath again. it shakes and trembles, as if a puppet on a string, and asami becomes worried until it stops.
it's quiet. the wind blows and disappears.
then suddenly, a lurch.
the doe stands up, swaying on it's feet.
something wasn't right.
its eyes, which should be a rich brown, are the same shade of white. it's breath, a solid wheeze, are broken and erratic, cursed with a deep sickness. the legs, a thin column, are bent and displaced, as if out of socket. it wasn't right!
asami screams, sharp enough to wake naoyuki - not sharp enough to rouse the kudu.

later that night, naoyuki finds her sitting on the roof.
the clay shingles are old, the tips cracked and dusty. she's crying, a silent enmity towards her eye.
'do you think i'm a monster?' she asks, quiet, staring out at the valley below. the moon is bathing the cactus, the rocks, the burned up weeds in a soft glow. it's hazy through her tears.
'no,' naoyuki says, balancing on his carved walking stick. his back hurts and his feet begin to ache. 'you have a gift to create monsters, not to be one.'
he shifts his gaze from the back of her head to the scenery.
'you must not limit yourself on what you can become, but what you can create. the ability you have can help many, even if it's something they may not understand.'
he smiles. 'one day the village will learn to appreciate the kogarashi. i will help you in the ways that i can.'
she shifts, turning her head to the side.
'i don't want to use it anymore.'
naoyuki laughs. he smiles again and turns away, beginning to leave.
'come to bed asami. my feet hurt. old men cannot stand all day.'


starting from that night, naoyuki has helped her harness the kekkei genkai.
slowly practicing on the incorporeal, he encourages her through a 'spiritual presence.' she really just thinks its an excuse for him to sit and drink tea.

she turns away from the window, taking her eyes off of the kudu that have ascended a dune. a significantly excited day, the chunin exams are lingering around the corner. today they would begin their journey to the hidden leaf, watching the genin graduate into chunin. warriors of their villages, an international challenge would allow strangers to assess their strengths and weaknesses.
(but in all honesty, asami only wanted to go for the food.)

she'd never left the country of wind before, never strayed out of the deserts oppressive heat. it terrified her.
the only reason naoyuki could convince her to come was to promise legions of fried scorpion. guaranteeing that she wouldn't participate, he held a wallet of gold and swung it infront of her face.
that got her attention. she had no interest in graduating, no interest in being a ninja, and definitely no interest in showing the kogarashi infront of a crowd. she genuinely wanted to try the food and maybe, just maybe, see one or two fights.

now she was patiently waiting for her sensei to finish dressing - insistent on wearing his 20 year old robe that was 'given to him by the great emperor.' whoever that was.
"delusional old man," she murmurs as he struts out of his room. he wears a variety of reds and golds and carries his signature stick, beaded in matching color. "trying to get a girlfriend, naoyuki-sensei?" she teases, a light hearted tone that he fakes offense to.
"of course not, leaf village women could never tempt me."
he unconsciously strokes his (freshly shaved) beard.

the two make their way towards the door, asami a step behind.
she pauses, glancing forward, and then back, before letting the door close behind her. she sighs and feels for the kunai in her bag, careful, nervous.
"don't be so worried asami," naoyuki says, hobbling ahead of her despite not looking back.
"enjoy yourself, no one will recognize you. if anyone asks, just tell them you were blinded. that's not too uncommon, is it?" ​