[OOC 1: This journal thread will encompass all characters I create on this account. The beginning of each journal will be denoted with a physical description of the journal as it appears IC, and also a delimiter of some sort to signify where one character's journal begins and another ends.]

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Journal of Natsumi Touka Yamauchi


A collection of leather bound pages lay stitched together in neat, symmetrical form. Across the front cover is embroidered "Property of Natsumi Touka Yamauchi" in flowing script. The pages within contain various pieces of information about the author: her past and her thoughts. In general, the journal itself appears crude, but well kept, and the writer is clearly educated well-beyond a simple craftsman's daughter or farming girl.

Introduction:

To any that discover this journal, I encourage you to respect the dead and place it somewhere safe, as I am likely no longer among the living while you read these pages. If I am not dead and have not given you permission to read, then put down the damn book, you who possesses no concept of personal boundaries. Otherwise, continue.
 
As you can tell by the cover, my name is Natsumi Touka Yamauchi. I have written this book as an account of my life. This act is both to help me understand myself and leave behind some record of my life when I am gone. Peruse it with care and know that you are peering into the soul of another being with every page. I hope that you will be respectful toward that truth.
 
Please also note that this chronicle is not, and never will be, in chronological order. I wrote in it whenever whim struck me.
 
Entry 1: The Name
 
Father always used to say that mother was the summer to warm his winter. He was inherently a workaholic from a young age – or so some of my aunts told me – and mother was the only person that seemed capable of keeping him from being perpetually buried under the concerns of his charges. When I was born, that safeguard disappeared without warning. I suppose that's why he was always so cold to me, and why he gave me my name.
 
"Natsumi Yamauchi" was the only name decided on by both of my parents before my birth. It was father who tacked on the middle name out of what I can only assume was spite. "Touka" most nearly means "bitter cold." With that one, arbitrary addition to my name, its meaning went from "summer beauty in the mountains" to "bitter cold in the mountains." I was the bitter cold that had taken away his summer beauty, and so the name must have seemed fitting to him.
 
For me, however, the name developed into a cage as I grew older. I still remember liking the sound of it as a young child. I delighted whenever father referred to me as "Touka" rather than "Natsumi," being too naive to realize he was actually using it as an insult whenever I did anything less than perfectly. I was only seven when what few friends I had took me aside to explain what the name actually meant. That was the first time I started feeling resentment toward father.
 
Entry 2: Professor White

As is most definitely plain to see by the writing proficiency displayed in this journal, I was far from uneducated during my time in Nisshoki. Despite father's distance, he did see to acquiring me tutors as was befitting for my station. Most of the lesson plans he paid for involved politics, business, basic math, history, reading and writing: far more than a village girl would have received but not more than a noble son. Combat and magic, for example, were two subjects sorely lacking in my curriculum; and, while I never pressed the issue vehemently, I'm fairly certain father would never have allowed those additions no matter how old I became. For reasons that are still unknown to me, he became frightening whenever I even hinted at the possibility of expanding my lessons to at least include magic. The answer had always been an emphatic "No," and my curiosity for these schools was not great enough to join the Shadoka just to get around his blockade.
 
That doesn't mean, however, that I gave up entirely on expanding my education. While my tutors were afraid of speaking out of turn while father was around, his neglectful attitude made such occasions rare. With enough time and persuasion, I eventually convinced Professor Kai to introduce me to one of his foreign colleagues from the Wyllmochvar Mage Academy. The man's name was Aaron White, and he was a specialist who had spent his entire life researching magical artifacts.
 
I only met Professor White once, for he was a busy man that traveled all over Revaliir; but there is no denying that he helped me immensely in my "off the record" studies. Most of my correspondence with him was done via letter beyond the first meeting. He would send me books from his personal collection based on subjects I requested in my letters to him, and I would return those tomes once I had finished reading them so I could move onto the next book. I couldn't have too many of his research materials on hand at a time, or father would have noticed the sudden increase in available literature. As it stands, I don't think father ever discovered that I disobeyed his wishes. If he did, he certainly never expressed open disapproval during the two years I had been communicating with Mr. White.
 
Unfortunately, while my relationship with the professor was enlightening, our student-teacher interaction came to an abrupt end a few months before I fled from home. I had returned his last book sent to me with another letter requesting a manuscript that had been referenced in the previous work's pages: a request no different from the others that had come before. Yet, this time, I received nothing back. No word came of the professor's current location or what he was doing for a whole month; and the only notice I ever received after that period of time was a letter from the university explaining that Professor White had departed on a field study and was currently out of contact. He would later be declared missing with his last known location being a ship bound for Koschei Isle.
 
If I am to believe my dreams, however, I know Professor White did not simply go missing somewhere in that forsaken land. He was murdered. That gentle soul was killed in cold blood while visiting the land of eternal darkness, and he would never be returning to Parvpora proper.
 
The poor man; even now I still have dreams about the sheer desperation he felt near the end. For some reason, though, I do not feel sad about it. Instead, I have a strange sense of satisfaction that he is no longer in pain. The recurring dreams, it seems, simply reflect my gratitude that the Professor has moved on from that horrible state he was in before death. If that is truly the case, however, I wish they'd stop already. I've enough nightmares of my own without having someone else's.

[OOC: This post is rated R! You have been warned!  Also, no, Natsumi's views on children are not to be assumed as my views.]

Entry 3: Happier Times and Fears

While my relationship with my father was as cold as the waters of Nisshoki in Glaciem, it would be a mistake to assume I was entirely an outcast among my family during the time I was around them.  Many of my siblings were already old enough to either be living in other mansions that our family owned or be serving Nisshoki interests abroad when I was born, true, but a couple of my sisters were still living at home regularly when I was very little. Yoko and Izumi were both older than I and I grew up with them for the first eight or so years of my life. Even though they weren't that distant in age, they always treated me like a little sister. Yoko was kind and sweet while Izumi was colorful and energetic.  We would often play in the courtyard to pass the time, and they were some of the few, treasured friends I ever really possessed.
 
Being highly traditional, my family was not exactly apt to let women of the family wander outside the mansion without protection; and, since father had a major hand in controlling access to that protection, he would quite often force me to stay inside the main, family manor. This limited my interactions to family members and family guests. Rarely did I get to see anything outside of our mansion's borders before the age of 8, and so Yoko and Izumi were the closest friends I had during my early childhood. I can safely say that, despite my cage, the years I spent with them were some of the happiest years of my life.
 
But even happy memories must, one day, come to an end. By my eighth year, Yoko had been matched and married with her childhood friend, Ren Ueda, and gotten pregnant shortly after the union had been finalized. She moved in with her husband's family after the ceremony, as was proper for wives, and rarely came around to see me after that. Izumi left around the same time as well, except she, being the more boyish of the two and not wishing to marry, joined the Shadoka instead. Unlike me, she had learned sufficient skills in combat to be accepted despite father's wishes. I didn't know how lucky she was to escape until after I left, and, even now, I regret how resentful I was toward her for choosing to "abandon" the family: foolish child that I was.
 
Needless to say, with both Izumi and Yoko gone, the mansion became deathly quiet. The only family members left in the house at that point were my father, my eldest brother and I, meaning that social interaction was highly limited. I've already discussed my relationship with my father and how that was not exactly conducive to conversation, but my relationship with my older half-brother, Ichiro, possessed little difference. Ichiro was not neglectful by choice like father was. In truth, he was often just too busy learning the many duties involved with being the head of the family to have time for anything else. He rarely had the luxury of playing with a child like me, so I was largely left to my own devices outside of meals and study time.
 
As one can probably guess, it didn't take long for a small child like I to become bored of that lacking schedule. Father had essentially forced me into exile like a small, painted doll to be locked away and admired by the occasional visitor once my two best friends were gone. I became more rebellious and sneaky after that point – an influence of Izumi, no doubt. Over time, I worked on perfecting my ability to sneak through the manor and go wherever I pleased. This near constant practice entertained the servants when I failed and got me scolded more than once, but it did serve me well when I finally ran away.
 
Unfortunately, it was also the source of my most crippling fear. About a year after Yoko left, she had come to visit father while heavily pregnant. By this point, I was only nine, and it had not been explained to me what pregnancy was. I was only ever told that it was one of the duties of a wife to bear children for their husbands. Never once was it explained how babies were made or how they were delivered. For this reason, I was surprised to see Yoko's swollen stomach when she arrived at the manor. It was the size of a watermelon, and I, the naive little girl I was, though that she had simply been eating too much. Only when I had been rushed out of Yoko's room once she started showing signs of pain did I realize that something else was happening.
 
To my detriment, my curiosity got the better of me in this situation. During my escapades around the estate, I had made various peeking holes in different rooms. Once the staff had forced me out of the room where Yoko went into labor, I immediately went to one of those holes. I peeked inside just as the birth began, and managed to get a full view of the entire event. Unlike the adults, however, what I saw was not a miracle to me. I still recall the visceral reaction I had to the whole affair, the taste of vomit in my mouth as I quickly replaced the block in the peeping hole and went to puke in the nearby garden. The sheer amount of pain Yoko had endured during the whole thing, all the screaming and fluids coming from her: it disturbed me to my very core to think that that, of all things, was my expected role in life. To grow a parasite in myself for a whole year and then expel it in great pain: that was what was expected of me.
 
That event and realization were enough for me to develop an extreme fear of pregnancy and a similar fear of marriage. I committed great dishonor against my family when I ran away from my arranged marriage years later, but the alternative that I learned about from Yoko's pregnancy made it worth the irrevocable stain. I do not fault other women for wishing to endure such misery, but I refuse to do so myself or let anyone make that choice for me.
 
Father, if you eventually find this journal, I hope you realize how betrayed I felt when you tried to force me into such a state. My sex should never have been a factor in considering whether or not to condemn me to a prison I have feared for the last 7 years of my life. If you had cared anything about what I wanted during the 15 years I lived with you, you would have seen that. If you knew how scared I was of ending up like my mother, you would have understood that.

Entry 4: The Escape – Catalyst Part

Discussing my departure from Nisshoki is difficult no matter how much time passes. It was my home, after all, no matter how much I hated the direction of my life there; and it took no small amount of courage to leave it behind. I was no fool. I understood perfectly how small my chances of surviving outside the protection of my status were. Yet, I had to try. The opportunity was, for me, too great to ignore.
 
I first began contemplating the idea of escape after father and I got in a heated argument one night. It had been the same night that I found out about a matchmaker assigned to me and the nobleman she had picked out to be my husband. Admittedly, I don't even remember the name of the man they chose to be my fiancé. All I recall is losing my temper at the notion and shouting at father for the first time in my life: an action that was immensely frowned upon within my social class. In Ataiyan nobility, disrespecting one's parents was a highly dishonorable act: no matter how much reason an offender may have had. This cardinal rule was especially true for women.
 
Whatever happened in that argument is irrelevant to the story, because only the ending truly counts when considering what mustered my courage. At the climax of our fight, my own father struck me down to the floor. I hadn't even seen his hand coming, and it found my cheek quite easily because of this trusting attitude. I remember looking up at him from the wooden floor of our mansion, beaten, dazed and confused while holding my sore cheek. Before that point, I thought – or rather hoped – my father still cared for me. Perhaps I still did even through the pain he had inflicted, but his words - and expression - following that point were less than consoling.
 
'Your siblings learned their places long ago. It is time you learned yours.'  Eyes cold, lips stern: father projected the image of a stoic in contrast to his previously violent demeanor. It was the image of a proper, Nisshoki noble; not the compassionate father a young girl needed to make her feel loved again: not what I needed.
 
And so I ran from that wretched man, withdrawing into my room with tears streaming down my face and an aching jaw. My lady-in-waiting at the time tried to stop me, tried to ask me what was wrong, but I just pushed her away before closing the door. She couldn't help me. No human in that household could help me reconcile that night, because none had ever given credence to what I wanted: not since Yoko and Izumi left.  I knew. The only thing they would do was tell me how "wrong" my desires were, and I was tired of being told I didn't understand how the world worked.

Entry 5: Blacklisted

All I wanted to do the night my father struck me was cry myself asleep. I felt hopeless, desperate even. Never before had I felt so unappreciated.
 
But that is a tale for another day. First, something more recent has garnered my attention, and compelled me to take a brief diversion from the tale of my escape. It appears that I have been, for lack of a better word, blacklisted in the city of Wyllmochvar: a feat accomplished entirely by the new head of the magical artifacts department and his lackeys.
 
I have not written of my late mentor since my second entry in this memoir, but, as it turns out, he wasn't fully dead after his encounter with the cursed mirror on Koschei Isle. Part of his soul was imprisoned in a shard of the mirror, leaving him unable to move on. Somehow, he was able to reach out to me in that state and "persuade" me to come to his rescue.
 
By persuade, I mean he disrupted my sleep with terrible nightmares until I actually went to the Haunted Carnival and broke open his glass prison. It was a sequence of events I was not happy with in the slightest, but the end result did gain me a valuable path back to society should I have chosen to use it. Aaron White, professor at the Wyllmochvarian University and expert in the field of magical artifacts, named me as his successor just before passing on. He granted me many supplies, both material and immaterial, that I would need to prove his intent, and implored me to seek out a director, Wyllach, to, at least, start my training.
 
Foolishly, I hadn't thought much of the offer until I got seriously ill, and ignored my teacher's pleas upon leaving the carnival. Only after fever befell me did I seriously begin to reconsider how much I valued my complete isolation. With newfound resolve from that illness - and a significantly altered body – I started on the path to join the university as planned. I travelled north to the ruined city of Tinashe, retrieved an artifact known as K.A.T. as a test of my ability, and then departed for Wyllmochvar as quickly as possible.
 
Unfortunately, that was as far as things went according to plan. Prior to my arrival at the university, Wyllach had retired. He had planned to do so even before White went missing, and pick the professor as his successor. However, with White out of the picture, he was forced to choose the only, other, qualified individual left.
 
Roderick, the eventual successor, had never been on the best of terms with Aaron. They were rivals from the start, and bitter ones at that. When he ascended to the directorship, he took his jealousy with him, and used his political clout to make life difficult for the late Mr. White's friends. I was included in that field of malice, even though the two of us had never met.
 
What awaited me at the university was not a normal application. It was an interrogation.  I was sat down in a guarded room and told to talk to a representative from Roderick. The man didn't even bother to come see me. Instead, he sent a legal advisor from the city along with a letter explaining why my application wouldn't even be considered, regardless of my demonstrated skill and flawless recommendation.
 
And I quote:

"Ms. Natsumi,
 
I have received your tasteless entrance form covered in animal hair, and partially regret to inform you that you will not be part of the primary, screening process. Our Institution is not in the habit of hiring foreign thugs, regardless of how stunning their recommendations from previous faculty are. I truly question Professor White's mental state at the end of his life, especially given the fact that he selected a mutant, of all people, to succeed him as Professor.
 
We know from a reasonably accurate source that you, along with your comrades, are responsible for the death of several hunting parties in the Virens Forest region of Canelux, along with several, unsanctioned pilfering offences on nearby dig sites tied up in international agreements. We are also aware of an incident at Tinashe, a location that is strictly off limits for reasons you are no doubt aware of.
 
Suffice to say that your checkered past is not something the Department of Magical Artifacts wishes to deal with at this time. I suggest you leave town immediately, as we've no desire to host a murdering thief who doesn't have the common decency to chop off her abnormalities.
 
Good day.
Roderick: Department Head of Magical Artifacts at Wyllmochvar University."
 
I would like to consider myself more than capable of managing my anger, but that letter definitely pushed me to the edge. It took everything I had not to smash in the faces of the guards or the legal representative in front of me. Instead, I silently left the room, and departed from the university before I did something I would regret.
 
I thought that was the end of my troubles, but Roderick was not content with leaving things as they were. Even after I vacated his precious college, his lackeys spread slander against my name across Wyllmochvar. Many, prominent businesses in the country began treating me with disdain, and even the smaller ones seemed nervous about talking to me. In the face of insurmountable odds and a lack of supplies, I was, quickly, forced to emigrate from Wyllmochvar entirely, especially after I discovered that someone in Roderick's employ was attempting to frame me for murder.
 
So it seems that I have returned to square one. However, this time, the last semblance of my honor has fallen with my hopes of success. I have attempted to re-enter society, but, if society will not have me, then I will simply have to seek other means to support myself. If Roderick and his ilk want to cast me as a criminal, they will get a criminal. This is survival of the fittest, and I refuse to lose without a fight.

Entry 6: The Escape – Inspiration Part
There are yet more events that have taken place since my last entry. I have a daughter now, for example, which makes this story all the more ironic. Yet, I can no longer delay. It is time to close the first chapter and cut ties with my neglect – or, at the very least, make the attempt.
 
That night, when father's poise submitted to temper, I hid in my room with tears streaming down my face. I remember my lady-in-waiting at the time shouting at the entrance, unable to enter because of a stone wall spell I had used to seal the door. Up until that point, I had been careful to not reveal the nature of my studies, but, now that despair had replaced hoped, I simply didn't care anymore. I couldn't even sleep, and all sounds just vanished as the night wore on.
 
I know not how long I cried on my silken sheets, but I do recall what happened when I finally lifted my head. It was late, and no humans remained around my door. My blood shot eyes wandered to the skylight overhead, spying the full moon of the night along with a shadowy figure at the top. It was a harpy eagle. Rauru, this was the night we met.
 
At the time, he was just staring down at me while pecking at the glass that kept him out. His attempts were far from feeble, and he did eventually enter my room. I know I recoiled from his presence at the time, having been taught that harpy eagles were dangerous. But he didn't do the expected. He gave me no reason to be afraid as he lowered his head and crawled toward me. I closed my eyes, expecting the worst when he brought his beak next to them, but Rauru… he just wiped my tears from my face.
 
And then he was gone. Just as soon as he had arrived, Rauru flew back up to the skylight, looking down at me from the top. He screeched as if beckoning me outside, an inspiration from the heavens. As corny as this may sound, Rauru's actions in that moment, especially his unexpected compassion, gave me the courage to leave that I had lacked thus far. Rather than submit to my destiny, I would fight it. I would leave if that was what it took.
 
Entry 7: The Escape – Exodus Part
Common sense would dictate that I waited until the morning to begin planning my escape, but I, having revealed my magic on the night of Rauru's visit, did not possess such a luxury.  I had no way of knowing how father would react if given time to think of a proper punishment for my disobedience. I, also, had no desire to find out.
 
Rather than wait around, I retrieved a backpack from storage, and loaded it up with materials I would need to survive out in the wilds. I took food, herbs, water, a tinderbox, a compass, an axe, and a change of clothes. I even took my mother's old tanto from her shrine in the gardens – a fact I'm still not proud of. It was enough to get me through a couple of weeks out in the wilderness; three if I rationed properly.
 
When everything was set, I used a secret passage I had discovered during my exploration days of the estate. With its aid, I easily slipped past the guards and into the night. Rauru found me again the streets of Nisshoki, and even guided me away from patrols. I don't even know why I was following him that night if not out of blind optimism. I still didn't possess the ability to talk to animals, after all.
 
Everything went surprisingly well until I reached Menomori Forest. They were waiting for me there, unfortunately – the Shadoka were waiting for me along with Izumi. Till then, I had been under the illusion that my stealth worked, that no guards had seen me leaving. Yet the team of three Shadoka proved me wrong.
 
"Where do you think you're going, Natsumi?" Izumi had asked me that night with a lantern in her hand. I didn't think to answer. I was too afraid. Instead, I frantically darted for the forest, forgetting that it was the Shadoka's home for a brief moment.
 
I should have been caught for my stupidity. By cultural customs, even, I should have been executed that night. Izumi would have tried to stop such an action, but even she could not ignore the unofficial law of traditional nobles. Yet I was not. My fate lay elsewhere.
 
After I had taken no more than two steps into the forest, an earthquake hit the quiet city of Nisshoki. The ground fissured, and I lost my footing. Izumi caught my hand before I tumbled into the chasm, but, still in a state of panic, I stabbed her hand with our mother's tanto the moment after. Her grip loosened out of reflex and I fell into the abyss.
 
The last thing I remember from that night before losing consciousness was my sister screaming out my name. I still feel horrible that it wasn't until months later that I let her know I was still alive.