Amaya Nishimuraya

Amaya simply strives to better herself constantly, believing that there is no such thing as perfection, but rather that the journey of continual self improvement is what matters. With her current assessment of her abilities and personality, she has come to believe that her inability to acknowledge and place an inherent value on the emotional state of other individuals needs development, As such, she is attempting to value the hearts of others in a way that she has previously never thought about them in.

Amaya wears a constantly stern expression on her face, preferring not to display how she feels publicly. She holds her hair away from her forehead just slightly with her headband, and her neck is shrouded in a scarf. Normally she wears a cloak to cover the majority of her armor, as it's appearance isn't necessarily appropriate for any occasion. However, she lets her armor bear where appropriate, and doesn't try to disguise her love for the blade. Her face is bereft of makeup in nearly every scenario, believing the powders and concoctions both impractical and stifling.

Her body is short in comparison to most, but muscular enough to compete with those larger than herself. Her small frame has lead her to carry herself with an upright posture in almost every scenario, perhaps in an attempt to feign extra height, or perhaps in a simple attempt to communicate that she is indeed an equal.

Amaya was born to a set of parents whose names are not the focus of this tale, nor are they truly remembered by Amaya. Traveling home across the great planes, their caravan was ambushed, and while no casualties were sustained, Amaya’s family found the danger to be too great for a child of her age. After a very long period of arrangements and disheartening rejections from her mother’s side of the family, her uncle took her in as a favor to her father. An honest man who worked hard for his earnings, Gamamori Nishimuraya instructed those who desired to learn in martial arts, ranging from basic self defense to more advanced fighting with weapons. Her interest was piqued through the constant exposure her day to day life provided her, and she began studying in secret, poorly replicating the techniques she had seen her uncle's student's perform.

Amaya spent much of her initial time with her uncle cultivating a small garden that she used to help provide traditional herbal remedies to help students who unintentionally injured themselves. It was through this creation and study of medicine that she was introduced to neurotoxins, and discovered that in very very trace amounts that they could function as gentle anesthetics, pain-killers, and various other practical functions. Amaya's pushed herself to learn more of the power that plants held, seeking new combinations that could increase or reduce the potency of effects she already knew, or create new functions entirely,

Amaya began to mix her studies of plants and organic poisons with studies of martial arts, Joining her uncle’s school as an entry level student. Initially, she progressed quickly in technique, knowing what mistakes to avoid simply because she had had to treat their ramifications. However, the physical stamina and control required to become truly effective was something she lacked. She put extra effort of her own time into making her body stronger so it could keep up with the high standards her uncle set for his students.

Ultimately, her efforts made progress, but not enough. Gamamori decided that his style of martial arts did not suit her physique and stature, and instead recommended she take up the style of a school in another city. Far away from the confines of the small town she had grown up in, Amaya set foot into the world on her own, pressing towards the school her uncle had recommended. Amaya’s studies taught her a new way of fighting, in which the momentum of the opponent was used to strengthen one’s own moves, where tools and weapons were just as commonplace as bare knuckle fighting. A style that capitalized on Amaya’s rather cerebral and analytical nature, she adapted to the change very quickly, and excelled.

Amaya’s journey was not without hardship, however. She was poor, and did not have immediate access to food or shelter. She slept where she could, and pushed herself to do what she had to to make sure she could still eat and train. Despite her analytical nature, The most obvious option escaped Amaya, and she turned to theft. This cycle continued for months: The woman would steal what she needed to get by, then disappear until she was required to train. Perhaps it was a stroke of luck, or just simple happenstance, but the cycle ended when another student broke his arm. While Amaya didn’t possess the knowledge of how to set a bone, or perform any sort of procedure to fix the limb, her knowledge of plants and medicines led her to make a painkiller from supplies on hand until a professional could arrive. Amaya then realized the choice she should have made in the first place, and offered her services to the doctor in exchange for room and board. Amaya would only learn the basics of medicine: How to bandage a wound. How to set a bone, and how to draw poison from a bite. Her desire got the better of her, and her practices eventually switched in importance. Amaya believed medicine to be a practical extension of martial arts, rather than its opposite, and sought to study an aspect of her passion she had yet to learn. Amaya’s journey begins as she sets out to learn more of both martial arts, and of medicine.

The street was awash with the fragrance of winter's chill, and the gentle waxing of the shroud of cold that hinted gently at spring's imminent approach. Of course, none of these things mattered to Amaya, or rather, none of them mattered at the moment. There were times and places for such feelings, but the period she dedicated to practice was not one of them. With a practiced motion her hand slipped into the ring ornamenting the end of her scarf, the soft clinking of the segmented metal core whispering past her ears as the weapon slowly spiraled from her neck, pulled taught between her hands and her shoulder blades as she sank gently into the stance.

The line of daggers that seemed to drip from her wingspan spun like silver feathers against the dull wood of the practice hall, the swirl of motion deftly catching the practice dummy by the neck as another twist of her body sent her inanimate partner plummeting to the ground. With a soft twitch on impact her scarf released it's grip, returning to rest against her back once more, wings at the ready.

Her hair had been dyed yesterday, and the promise to herself that she would one day be as free as the sky still rang in her ears. She would fly, and she would fly with the wings she had made for herself.