Post by Yuu Honda on Sept 23, 2010 17:00:15 GMT -6
[/s]YUU HONDACHUUSEI TEKINA
--HIROSHIMA PREFECTURE, JAPAN--
~*~
Name: Yuu Honda/Chuusei Tekina
Nickname: Deadly Nightshade
Origin: Southern Japan
Gender: Too androgynous to tell.
Age: Nineteen.
Occupation: Assassin
Former Occupation: Student
Rank: None
Ship: Merchant ship.
Current Whereabouts: "Che, I wouldn't tell you if you strung me up."
Orientation:BicuriousAsexual. Damn it.
Birthday: June 12
Personality:
Reserved and closed off, Hiroshima can almost be described as shy. This isn't the best word to use, though, as he can be blunt, outspoken, and even a bit snarky when the time comes to behave in such a way. Having worked as an assassin for years, he finds that it's hard to trust people completely, and gives off a sharp, almost prickly front as a defense mechanism.
He can be sharp-tongued and hot-tempered, liable to snap at any given point in time. It's always a wild card, how he's going to act, but generally (under the female guise, that is) he behaves calmly, quietly, and speaks as little as possible.
Appearance:
Androgynous, lithe, and slim, it's easy to see for what "she" was named. Yuu has long, black hair, that falls to just a little past his shoulderblades. Thick, straight bangs fall over his forehead, obscuring eyes the colour of dark chocolate. He has pale skin (as befitting an Asian), though it carries the slight tan of constant outdoor living. "She" is also rather petite, standing at a mere five feet and four inches tall. This takes many victims by surprise; they are left flabbergasted that what just cut them down is not, truly, of the fairer sex.
Those dark eyes often hold a slightly irritated expression; often interpreted as a fiery spark, this is an early warning of "her" hot temper. Hiroshima's eyes seem to always have a spark to them, however, regardless of temperament at the time.
Feminine as he appears, Yuu often masquerades as a woman (and has done so aboard Wang Yao's ship for years) in order to get close to people that need to be... er, taken care of. When he does this, Hiroshima dresses simply, usually in dark colours with little to no patterns. Whatever gender "she" appears to be, modesty and camouflage are always the best policies.
Strengths:
- Swords--er-- "woman"ship.
CrossdressingDisguise- Speed
- Stamina
- Snark
Weaknesses:
- Firearms
- Distance combat
- Heights
- Temper
History:
Before he was an assassin (and a "woman", while we're at it), Yuu studied at Hiroshima Jogakuin College. He lived as much of a quiet, normal life as he possibly could have; staying out of trouble, being a good student for the most part.
Money was short, though, and he would work whatever jobs he could to keep himself in university. One day, however, an unnamed organization approached him with an offer. Kill, and we'll pay you, they said. You won't have to worry about your funds.
He hedged about it for a few months; throwing it all to hell, he took the job. Yuu found that, after a while, women were more trusted by those on the proverbial shit list. They were often allowed closer than a man ever would be. Making the decision, he found a living as Chuusei Tekina, a false woman. The disguise seemed to attract Wang Yao's attention; he soon boarded THE SHIP. A merchant ship, to be exact, and he's worked there for two years.
Relationships:
China:
"Her" main boss, the person that "she" answers to. He isn't aware that Chuusei isn't what "she" says "she" is. They're on good terms, one could say, and thesmugglermerchant provides Yuu with good, steady work; it keeps him from being on the street, to say the least.
Japan:
Yuu's older brother. He knows that Yuu poses as a woman, but does not plan on divulging that information any time soon. He is as protective of "her" as she is of Kiku; it goes without saying that messing with either brother will incur the other's bloody, acerbic wrath. Just... don't do it, people.
(more relationships to be added through roleplay)
Weapons:
- "Her" faithful katana.
- Tons of knives, well hidden on "her" person.
- Femininity
[/li][/ul]
Likes:
- Japan
- The sea
- Cats
- China
- Thunderstorms
- Dark colours
Dislikes:
- Pirates (Russia in particular... He's a nuisance)
- Heights (has a phobia).
- Sweet things
- China's various... disguised weapons. (Gun-blankets come to mind.)
- People who can't keep their mouths shut
- Overly feminine things (Hell, the crossdresser has standards!)
Hobbies:
- Gardening (when on land >>)
- Meditation
- Swordplay (of-fucking-course. It's good to keep the skill up, ne?)
- Studying (again, to keep the skill up.)
Random Quirks:
- Often ineffectual, "she" will often give a simple "Tch." or "Che." in response to something that "she" doesn't wish to answer.
- Is very good and careful about hiding "her" true gender; will often find "her"self holding a towel to "her" chest in order to disguise what isn't there, even in private.
- Has a very slight southern Japanese dialect; thus can sometimes be hard to understand. (Not as thick as an Osakan accent, though.)
Roleplay Sample
[ from the other board. >3]
SEPTEMBER 8, 1951
WAR MEMORIAL OPERA HOUSE
Hiroshima stumbled, catching himself on a railing. He clutched at the sleek guide rail almost desperately; knuckles white thanks to his deathgrip. He shivered raggedly, the tremors wracking down his spine. Honestly, he was a mess these past few years.
'Mess' didn't even begin to cover it, though, if you asked the prefecture personally. He had become terribly paranoid, more cowardly than a small, timid kitten. Planes absolutely terrified him now (though again, if you asked him, he would pridefully deny such things as though they were myth or rumour). Poor health was something he'd grown almost accustomed to, these days. Everything ached, and migraine headaches were the norm. (As was feeling the world spin out of his control, as well as the wonderful thing called radiation poisoning.)
So, he asked himself, why the bloody fucking hell was he here?
There were the obvious reasons: he had to be there to support his brother, yes? That was a matter of honour as well as one of a family nature. All of that meant sitting quietly, listening as each of the Allied powers said their piece against Japan(it seemed like the whole world was there; did his brother have a real friend in this wide world?) . It was enough to make Yuu want to leap across the table at them, if he'd had the strength to. Instead, though, he sat perfectly still beside his elder brother, running purple-blue Shinto meditation beads through his palm. It kept his temper, although honestly he knew he could not take any of these nations on; to each and every one, he was their junior by at least a century or more. He would be an easy target, far too easy to take down. Little, bony, lithe Hiroshima; weakened by war and radiation sickness.
“Che,” He spat aloud, holding himself up as well as he could on both tremoring arms. It hurt, really. Everything hurt. Even his pride was severely battered by this whole ‘total warfare’ thing the Japanese prime minister had spoken of. It was useless, anyway. War was a horrid, brutal thing. Always repeating itself, and taking with it its casualties. Reflecting bitterly on these thoughts, the young prefecture tugged agitatedly at his foreshortened hair, growling as it barely reached the edge of his jaw. Not as though he cared for such shallow things, but he had always been accustomed to hair being at least the length of his shoulders. Longer, if he let it grow.
Letting go of the strands, a sharp gasp escaped Yuu as he felt himself waver again. Oh, what fun was walking down a flight of stairs. Dizzily, he clutched the railing again, gritting his teeth; determined not to tumble to certain injury and unconsciousness. He was probably a spectacle, he thought, half-mocking himself. A frail, thin Asian boy, clutching to something so simple as a railing as though it was his one and only lifeline. Trembling as if very, very afraid. Almost as if he had seen a ghost. Letting out a soft ragged sigh, the Japanese teenager continued carefully down the flight of stairs, intent on reaching the bottom without any more dizziness or (heavens forbid) fainting. Che, he wasn’t that weak, no matter what anyone in this damn Conference may have thought about him.
SEPTEMBER 8, 1951
WAR MEMORIAL OPERA HOUSE
Hiroshima stumbled, catching himself on a railing. He clutched at the sleek guide rail almost desperately; knuckles white thanks to his deathgrip. He shivered raggedly, the tremors wracking down his spine. Honestly, he was a mess these past few years.
'Mess' didn't even begin to cover it, though, if you asked the prefecture personally. He had become terribly paranoid, more cowardly than a small, timid kitten. Planes absolutely terrified him now (though again, if you asked him, he would pridefully deny such things as though they were myth or rumour). Poor health was something he'd grown almost accustomed to, these days. Everything ached, and migraine headaches were the norm. (As was feeling the world spin out of his control, as well as the wonderful thing called radiation poisoning.)
So, he asked himself, why the bloody fucking hell was he here?
There were the obvious reasons: he had to be there to support his brother, yes? That was a matter of honour as well as one of a family nature. All of that meant sitting quietly, listening as each of the Allied powers said their piece against Japan(it seemed like the whole world was there; did his brother have a real friend in this wide world?) . It was enough to make Yuu want to leap across the table at them, if he'd had the strength to. Instead, though, he sat perfectly still beside his elder brother, running purple-blue Shinto meditation beads through his palm. It kept his temper, although honestly he knew he could not take any of these nations on; to each and every one, he was their junior by at least a century or more. He would be an easy target, far too easy to take down. Little, bony, lithe Hiroshima; weakened by war and radiation sickness.
“Che,” He spat aloud, holding himself up as well as he could on both tremoring arms. It hurt, really. Everything hurt. Even his pride was severely battered by this whole ‘total warfare’ thing the Japanese prime minister had spoken of. It was useless, anyway. War was a horrid, brutal thing. Always repeating itself, and taking with it its casualties. Reflecting bitterly on these thoughts, the young prefecture tugged agitatedly at his foreshortened hair, growling as it barely reached the edge of his jaw. Not as though he cared for such shallow things, but he had always been accustomed to hair being at least the length of his shoulders. Longer, if he let it grow.
Letting go of the strands, a sharp gasp escaped Yuu as he felt himself waver again. Oh, what fun was walking down a flight of stairs. Dizzily, he clutched the railing again, gritting his teeth; determined not to tumble to certain injury and unconsciousness. He was probably a spectacle, he thought, half-mocking himself. A frail, thin Asian boy, clutching to something so simple as a railing as though it was his one and only lifeline. Trembling as if very, very afraid. Almost as if he had seen a ghost. Letting out a soft ragged sigh, the Japanese teenager continued carefully down the flight of stairs, intent on reaching the bottom without any more dizziness or (heavens forbid) fainting. Che, he wasn’t that weak, no matter what anyone in this damn Conference may have thought about him.
Roleplayer: Hirolove!
Password: The sea is my only Hetalia. *flipskirt*
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