Work Text:
While it could be appreciated, to honor the old traditions of the “cold ores” being used to name a child, it was disappointing that the old tradition of having an Onomancer sit there and name the child and divine their future duty from it wasn’t honored!
But truly, there was nothing that could be said on this matter, after all, the young child’s guardian was the one who elected to forsake an old name and duty to become something else.
Steel. This was never a metal that was claimed by those who sought the duty of the samurai or warrior. A metal that could only be forged through repeated trials but held no true purity to it, a fitting title for the man who felt the desire to claim his own destiny. He picked the name to illustrate that he would become only stronger in his quest, the many trials he has already faced to save his land, and to also save others.
His three apprentices better carried the true ideals, though none of them had taken to reaching out to the Obsidian Onomancer, last of those who practiced the ancient craft, instead picking the name and listened to their master’s closest friends who told stories. Aluminum, a complex metal which naturally existed to be pretty, not useful. The Aluminum Samurai who trained with his master’s war fan to rally and lead and to be able to protect while appearing to be a civilian. It seemed he sought a destiny as the leader for others, similar to his master. Tin, a rare and weak material, but when united with a partner in Copper could create a strong and united pair, bronze being sacred. The Tin Samurai trained with his master’s blade to stand at the side of another, to protect them. It seemed his hope for his own destiny was to find his Copper. Lastly sat Nickel, the one who lost his arm and was given a prosthetic and his master’s spear. Nickel was like Steel, a metal named for what it was found with. The young man lost his arm as a boy to the cruelty of others, the action that led him and his brothers to be trained under their master. The master should have spoken though with the Onomancer, for while the names fit the true ideals of the names, tradition was important.
Truly though, only one of them kept to the ideals and traditions, and the Steel Samurai only followed in the footsteps of an old friend, the first of the generation to throw away his original name and duty.
Evil Magistrate. Being given that title by the one who tempted him and broke his hope. To accept the title of Evil from his master, who specifically sought a scapegoat in his own plans to control all of the lands of Olde Tokyo. It was not his fault, any Onomancer worth their salt could admit that the one who ruled from the shadows was a crueler evil that could find even the smallest of cracks to infect through a man’s armor.
Did he even remember his old name, the Magistrate? Did he remember what officials were given for their names? Well, no matter, he left behind that name when he exiled himself, becoming a Nameless. His son at least was left in the hands of his closest friend, the one who chased after him all those years.
Iron Infant. It was close enough to the traditions, and was one that truly spoke of a destiny that was being put on a child’s shoulders before he could even speak. To be of Iron meant to be a weapon, destined to battle. For the child of a Nameless who was before the Evil Magistrate, did they want the child’s destiny to be to avenge what tragedies his father suffered? Truly a painful future to divine.
Adopted son of the Pink Princess, from Little Olde Tokyo, her name was from the traditions of the nobles and royals, to have the name to denote their court and leadership. To be the Pink Princess meant she was to have the name for only a short time, a fate destined to fall, but to inspire still. It was a cruel name, but a necessary one, one to remind everyone that fate was not always kind. The few times she had been seen in her own journey, she seemed to carry that name well, always helping and inspiring others, even being the one who helped to inspire her closest friend in his own times of need.
What should be his name? Adopted son of a princess and of a samurai, biological son of an official, a magistrate. These questions were why the Onomancer existed, to discover the truest fate to the boy’s life, and to grant a name for him that would guide him along it. The elder only could pause, before taking a deep breath.
Maybe it was time to find an apprentice and maybe even find a new perspective. Traditions can change if the world is willing to.
