Post by Akahara Nobuyuki on Jul 3, 2010 15:20:06 GMT -5
At A Glance
Name:
Akahara Nobuyuki,
Age:
Thirty-Two,
Gender:
Male,
Village:
Sunagakure,
Birthday:
December Thirtieth,
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My Looks
Eye Color
Violet,
Height
6',
Hair Color
Blond,
Special Marks:
None,
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In Depth...
Rank:
Jounin,
Clan:
None,
Pet:
None;
He had a cat...
It didn't last long,
Appearance
Akahara is tall and intimidating. His broad shoulders give way only to muscle, his arms and chest well toned with his active lifestyle. His stomach is a little round, thanks to years of good eating and sake drinking catching up with him. His face is round and innocent, features being his large violet eyes, his even larger nose, and hi set of nice, full lips.
He always wears his long tan coat, which is built to be light an airy to keep him moderately cool and protected from the sun. The clothes underneath are usually just soneblight tee and long pants, sometimes tucked into his boots, depending on the work he's doing, but most often not. Around his neck he always wears his pink scarf, a beloved gift from a muhh loved an missed relative
Personality
Split between two different planes of personality, both opposite, he fluctuates between the two, often switching to his unpleasant self at the onset of a negative emotion, be it anger or sadness, envy or jealousy. In his positive personality, he is more than willing to help that little old lady cross the street. Akahara is polite, turning on his legendary charm, and easy to get along with. He had learned in his childhood it is best to appease your company rather than speak out, though he only listens to that notion until something the other says or does really ticks him off. He can be a gentleman if he wants, but he prefers to be the crude soldier.
It doesn't take too much to set him off, thanks to his already notoriously short fuse. His other quirks, unrelated to his anger, come and go in spells throughout the day. See, one day he could be trying to strangle anyone who triggers his rage, stealing that bracelet off of your wrist the next, and perfectly normal and angelic by the and of the week. On a "normal" moment, though, he can still be that polite and relaxed person, but note that it doesn't last. The transition to becoming officially mentally unstable started with him becomming somewhat of a klepto and later on to become a pyromaniac over the course of a few years. Not much cause for concern until his mentality did break. The people who are wise of his habits are often cautious around him, because it takes very little to snap his normalacy and trigger his outbursts, as noted before.
His ability to turn so irrationally violent is what enables him to fight the enemy without a second thought when others would find themselves to emotionally bound to. Akahara only realizes his changing into his crazed state when it's too late. For him, the world turns into a black-red blindness and he doesn't hear or feel anything. It's a total numbness. It's comforting.
History:
Akahara was born and raised in the village of Sunagakure. the young Nobuyuki was raised by Akane, his mother, and his father, Juuro. Unfortunately, no one else in his family had their sanity snap as he had, so he didn't expect it. Anyways, he had a normal childhood. He played games with the other children of the village, learned his skills, and even had dreams; dreams he can never begin to fulfill. The time spent as both an academy student and a genin had seemed to last it's longest, being quite uneventful. His graduation from the academy was his second-greatest memory, outweighed only by the memory of becoming a Jounin.
When Nobuyuki was twenty-three he had reached the rank of Jounin. He led a squad later that year. The time he spent with the three genin was one of his memorable moments he still clings to in his present state. He was like a father figure to the squad members. At that time, Akahara was an excellent role-model; he listened to his head and did what he had to do, which had made him an excellent leader. He just wouldn't let his emotions get in the way of his goals. He had priorities. Life was good then, even though he developed a case of kleptomania and pyromania in his late twenties. He had money. He had friends. He had a life. He lost it all the night of his Thirty-first birthday.
One fateful December evening Akahara's life was changed forever. Things were going great. Nobuyuki had his life planned out; he was going to start settling down, starting a family. It took only one night, one moment, one second to change everything. His team had treated him to dinner for his thirty-first birthday. Everyone was having a good time; the atmosphere was great. Akahara didn't even feel his urge to burn or steal anything. He was perfectly numb to his negative traits. One of his team members, a former genin of his, was making a joke on Akahara's expense. It was unfortunate in hindsight thta it had to be that young man who made the joke, because that second Akahara's world turned black-red. Akahara's mind had snapped, hands rapped around the Chuunin's neck in a death grip. His hands turned red as he used the Te no Kanetsu (Hand of Heating, B rank) jutsu, the fingers closing off the younger ninja's windpipe also burning the skin. A fellow Jounin quickly intervened by using a jutsu to knock Akahara to the ground and keep him there while the others tended to the shocked and injured jounin. Why this happened, and on this moment in particular, was a mystery to Akahara and remains so. Actually, he wasn't sure if he even knew what had happened. He couldn't ever remember what happened while the world was covered in the black-red blindness, just going off of what the others told him. This was never in his nature to do so; he normally just return a joke like that with wit, not violence. His actions weren't Justified.
Within the week three similar incidents occured, and Akahara still couldn't recall anything that happened. He clearly remembered what happened before and after, but not during the blindness. All he could remember was the numbness; that feeling of nonexistence that he felt while in the state. To keep him from causing anymore trouble, he was placed on a lockdown, kept under a strong bind technique to keep him under control even when in his delusional state. A local medical expert had looked over Akahara to see if there was any physical reason for his insanity. The woman concluded either it were a new disease, or, more likely, a disease of the mind. The latter made more sense, considering his slow transition from normalacy to klepto and pyromania, then to the eventual total cracking. There was nothing anyone could do for him. He'd shattered into peices to small to recover. He was released on the hopes it was just a passing problem, of course under very close supervision. He'd lost his life, his love, and all those close to him. There was nothing more for him. During the early year of his insanity he had frequent outbursts, quickly stopped by the "surveilance". All trust he had earned over his years of loyal service to the village was lost, washed away clean in the rain. All the good he had done was forgotten and he was avoided like the plague. It didn't matter what he did for the people; they didn't care. No one wanted to end up like Akahara's first "victim", who had moderate, temporary, neck injuries. Akahara felt forsaken and forgotten. There were several days where he had tried to just end it all, but those nearby had, for some reason, intervened. It made no sense why they wouldn't just let him end this and take one more task off of their list. Why would they keep him alive? Nobuyuki assumed they just didn't want to live with the guilt of knowingly letting someone die, which only added to the fire and infuriated him more. Those days he had no control, no idea what was going on with him. He didn't like it. He felt useless; a hindrance to the success of Sunagakure.
As he neared his thirty-second brithday he was getting better at controlling the rage tht fueled the sparks of his insanity. He was finally getting some control, having less sessions of his insanity. He was starting to think there might actually be a chance for him; a hope of some sorts. It might have been only a mere year, but things were looking up for him for once. If he could get control over himself fully, he could turn himself into a deadly weapon. His ability to just fight regardless of the emotional binds that might be tied between him and the enemy when in his state of insanity would be a great asset to his career as a ninja. He knew he might never live to see the day when he would manage to have complete control, but it gave him something to live for once more. It might not be much, but it did give him purpose behind his actions; purpose to continue.
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My Strenghts...
Weapons:
Kunai, Shuriken,
Jutsu:
Hand of Heating,
Empty Cicada Shell Technique,
Dal Endan - Great Fireball,
Element:
Fire,
BloodLimit:
None,
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Am I Good Enough?
RP Experience:
Three Years,
RP Sample
So what if people thought it vain to glance into a mirror every so many minutes? The shock was enough to spook the young spark fairy, and he wanted to make sure he hadn't exactly ruined his hair. Not in the feminine sort of worry, the way teenage girls would fret over their appearances in a sort of fashion Taz never could fully understand. Rather, he saw it as the fact that he had put some effort into his appearance, and he wasn't about to let that work go to waste. He just wanted to be something he was not; he wanted to be something original, something nice to look at, not entirely repulsive as were some magical creatures. Fairies didn't exactly have the most accurate rep in the modernized world, AKA "society". It wasn't negative or anything, it just placed a weight on the shoulders of those trying to function alongside humans and other races that didn't typically associate with the fae; they were the ones setting the example, the stereotype of what fairies were like. One bad player can make the team look weak. It wasn't as though he cared. That was just it; he wanted to be something different. He didn't want to be "just a fairy". He was Taz; nothing more, nothing less.
Taz messed with his hair, pulling a few teased locks in their respectful directions. He had a high-maintenance style, after all. He slipped his shard of reflective glass, the edges dulled to prevent being cut, or in general injured, into the backpack. He was easily bored, so it was a good thing his backpack lacked a zipper or clicking latches, seeing as how he would often be rooting through it for something to do, placing something back in, and otherwise almost constantly opening or closing it for one reason or another; it gave him something to do rather than space out and feel so sick when he'd sorted through every possible thought he could have had at least three times, or to simply nap. Speaking of a nap, he could really go for one right now. Curse the insomnia of knowing he has work unfinished, but it was preventable. Preventable if he actually wanted to waste his time doing the work, even though it actually helped him to absorb the lessons. It was just too boring for him. He wondered briefly for a moment if the rest of the fae had such short attention spans like he, or if he was just all alone on his little island. Well, they were all such snobby, huffy little creatures that were such a royal pain to try to get to know sometimes. Hup, hup, there he goes with stereotyping his own species. Sometimes he could be such a hypocrite.
He retied the latch to his backpack and looked up, noticing only now that his friend had left his seat. It seemed his smart little buddy Jason had decided to go and find his own medium. Though he was Jason's friend, Taz wasn't too interested in what the boy's medium was. As surprising, if not amusing, as the shock and connection was, the skeptical side of Taz piped up and told him it was all so easily able to be disproven if he put forth some effort and would actually do some sort of test or experiment, yet how difficult would it be for Taz to replicate what would prove the theories? Just as he'd thought.
He'd paid long enough attention to see that Jason had felt some similar sensation connecting him to some object, Taz didn't get a good view of what it was. Ok, so two "connections" in one day...What's the chance of that...This has to be rigged. Still, it'd be interesting to see how this all turns out. He kept the thought to himself as a simple mental side-note, beginning to grow a mild interest in today's lesson. A skeptic's best friend is the knowledge and understanding of the logic guiding the schools of thought on both sides of the spectrum. He too looked to Azrael, wanting to know what side-story or information she would cook up to explain this whole phenomenon,"So, what's the verdict Miz?"
WORDS; 706
TAG; Azzy et Titan !
MUSE; 85%
MUSIC; give me novacaine by green day
CREDIT; thavron @ caution
