Awesome Japanese Names Novels & Stories

he said with a lazy grin. "It isn't a hugely popular name either, which means she will have a little difference. We both have unique names. I suggest we give our children the same,” she said. "We are not naming our son after another samurai,” he said. "Agreed,” she said with a smile. "But he also won't be a John or Tim either.” "Okay, I am fine with that,” he said. "You should start making a list, though.” "Let's enjoy Rowan, Mitsuhide,” she said.

[1] -chan: A form of suffix used to address someone familiar or younger than you in Japan, usually a female [2] Baka: Stupid or idiot in Japanese [3] Obaa-san: Aunt or auntie in Japanese, though it can also mean ‘old lady’ [4] Otou-san: A form of address for one’s father in a Japanese family

I was introduced into this world on the eve of my mother's death. Through the many stories of my father, I learned what I could about the woman I loved but would never know. She was called Sakura after the season of the cherry blossoms. She was a petite, delicate woman of pale skin. In her joy and happiness, she would turn the gentle pink of the flowers of the season. My father was named Homura after the blaze one would see during his anger if it ever showed.

sometimes not even then. Amir was a wild card you could never tame. "What's your name pretty?" Amir asks sweetly, and the other looks past him to Nikolai nervous, unsure how to act with him here. Nikolai must encourage him as he quickly nods and his gaze snaps back to Amir quickly, eyes wary. "Akio, my name is Akio Haru," he answers so damn innocently. Names had power, and he gave his so sweetly away, wrapped in a pretty little bow for Amir to unwrap and bring to pieces so damn easily.

“Me too.” The kids soon joined us, and we spent the evening talking about baby names. Mina was determined to suggest names inspired by flowers, while Hibiki preferred names with strong meanings. “What about Sakura if it’s a girl?” Mina offered. Hibiki made a face. “Too common. What about Ren for a boy? It means ‘lotus.’” “That’s a flower name too!” Mina argued. “Well, yeah, but it’s cooler,” Hibiki shot back. “Kids,” Jiro interrupted, laughing. “Why don’t we make a list and let Papa and I decide later?”

I take a deep breath and do my best to calm myself. “What’s your full name?” Aaron questions moving over in a rolling chair to look Hanzo over like he’s inspecting him. “Hanzo Emrys Bushida, just like my mother,” Hanzo answers then nods to a Japanese woman sitting at the table, she instantly goes white. She has long black hair and very similar features to Hanzo just more elegant. “Aiko Bushida?” Aaron questions looking to the woman like it was an accusation. “Hanzo is my son,” she admits watching Hanzo with fear flooding her eyes.

I showed him the list of names I had written before I fell asleep Anjali Chandra Purvi kavita Minal Aarushi Amrita Mandira Divya Meera Kiran Aasmi Ira Amrita Mohini Aarohi Mahi Esha Raj studied the names carefully, before telling me the ones he liked most. "These are all good names, but I prefer Kiran or Aarushi." We will have to decide between Kiran and Aarushi because I loved both the names the most too. ___________________________

“What’s your name?” Tarzan said nothing. She giggled. “Okay, Mr. No-Name. I can give you one. How about Gojo?” Lena, still lost in the music, hadn’t noticed yet. She assumed the voice was just background noise from the other passengers. “Do you like it?” Sakura continued. “It’s super popular in Japan because of all the anime characters—” Tarzan simply closed his eyes again and leaned back, ignoring her completely. Her smile faltered awkwardly. She quickly scanned the faces of nearby passengers, hoping no one had seen the rejection. The three teenage girls opposite them struggled to hold in their laughter.

Still, I will happily flirt with anyone who doesn't seem too embarrassed to talk to me. A little about myself. As I said, my name is Ayumi. I am Japanese-American. Full Japanese by birth, but I've been living in America since I was young. I have embraced the American culture, but work very hard at hanging onto my Japanese roots. Of course, if my mom had even an inkling of what I do for "work", she would make short shrift of putting an end to this lifestyle. Fortunately, she rarely visits. Usually I go to see her, in Kyoto, my old hometown.

It was as if they all had moved to a dark room and her eyes which stared into your soul was the only light so all you could do is stare back. Ayame exhales. “Aka Manto… Amanojaku… Gashadokuro… Jorogumo… Jubokko, Kappa, Kuchisake Onna, Kyokotsu, Nure Onna, Yuki Onna, Obariyon, Onihitokuchi, Shuten Doji, Tamamo-no-Mae, Yamauba, Sutoku Tenno… If its none of then then nod to this… Obake, Tengu, Tsukumogami, Kinataro, Rokurokubi, Yurei. None of these either huh… Then was it a Zashiki- warashi? Or a Tanuki. Don’t tell me perhaps a Ningyo or Amabie or an Iiju or a Kirin…. I’m getting exhausted now. I can’t find an answer…” says Ayame and starts chewing on her finger nails as her eyes started to get