Fuhenori Shirokane

[Fuhenori Shirokane]

FUHENORI SHIROKANE

( SINK INTO THE RED OF A DYED SKY - - - THE STARS WERE WAVERING )

Nickname(s): Nori

Nationality: Japanese

Age: 19

Gender: Male

Alliance: Black Order

Job: Exorcist

Appearance:

Still rather young, Fuhenori looks to be in his late teens. His rather tall frame (five foot eleven to be exact) is covered with lean muscle giving him a slender appearance. His oval shaped face is framed by long locks of black hair. Falling to about mid back, Fuhenori keeps his hair tied back in a low ponytail at the nape of his neck. However, his hair seems to like escaping its binds for there are always stray strands hanging around his face. He doesn't like cutting his hair but will often unwilling do so when it gets too hard to handle.

Set into his naturally light skin are a pair of silver eyes. They are calculating, always trying to anticipate an opponent’s next move. Coupled with a pair of thin lips that never seem to smile, it doesn’t take long to figure out that his default emotion is a stoic, almost frowning face.

He has many scars from battles but while most are faint on his pale skin and only noticeable upon close infection, he has an ugly welt from a particularly deep cut stretching from his left shoulder blade, over the junction of his neck and diagonally down half of his back. It’s fully healed now but tends to throb dully when the weather is bad.

Fuhenori specializes in combat with both his hands and weapons. Fairly inventive, his knack for creativity on the battle field has gotten him out of a lot of tight spots. He knows enough about pressure points to be about to immobilize, hurt, or even kill a human enemy.

Considering himself pretty competent with a sword and true, he can hold his own for a long time in battle. Relying on strength and speed, Fuhenori makes a formidable foe in close quarters.

Personality:

At first glance, Fuhenori may seem a little hard to approach. Perhaps his stoic disposition shoos people away, or perhaps it's his default scowling expression. Regardless, Fuhenori considers himself to be a fairly friendly person. Even around strangers, he never really intends to give anyone the cold shoulder. However friendly he might be, though, he is always somewhat of a potty mouth (especially when he's mad).

Fuhenori is always somewhat reserved. He dislikes talking about himself and his past in general, preferring to direct the topic of conversation to other things. Silent and observant, he tries his best not to let little details escape notice. But his tendency to be quiet has nothing to do with not liking a person or being anti-social. Au contraire, Fuhenori just doesn't have that much to say.

Charisma has always been a problem for the young man. A self proclaimed realist (with a bit more pessimism than he'd ever care to admit), Fuhenori would be the last person to expect the sappy "everything is going to be okay" speech from. Fuhenori tends to be too blunt at times. You want the truth? Well here it is, cold and hard without the silver lining. And don't even get him started on comforting people. Fuhenori is just about as good at that as a penguin is at flying.

Versed in all manners of seriousness, Fuhenori can be considered somewhat of a workaholic. He likes it when everything goes without a hitch and is more often than not focused on work. He is fiercely loyal and would back up a close friend without batting an eye.

Fuhenori only really ever acts on impulse when he's extremely angry. And having a long fuse, it takes a lot for him to get that mad. Most of the time, he tries (and fails) to think things over before acting. He has a fairly good hold on his emotions. Being able to keep them off his face and detach them from whatever he's doing, one can never really tell what he's thinking.

Likes:

` sparring
` silence
` autumn
` nighttime
` calm

Dislikes:

` idling (unless it's sleeping)
` creating ties
` loud noises
` alcohol
` winter

Interests/Hobbies:

` reading
` sleeping
` sparring

Strengths:

` focused
` serious
` resourceful
` observant
` kind (when he wants to be)

Weaknesses:

` lets his emotions get the better of him sometimes
` reserved
` liar
` tactless and blunt
` thick

Innocence Name: Orochi

Type: Equiptment

Form:

Orochi is a nodachi measuring at about 42 inches. Despite its length, the sword is surprisingly light (to Fuhenori, anyways. Others tell him it's quite heavy and wonder how he can handle it so easily). The long black blade is always sharp. Since it’s innocence, Orochi only takes a little bit of maintenance to keep it in good condition. The handle is red wrapped in black cloth for a better grip.

While the rest of the blade is rather lacking in ornamentation, the guard (in Fuhenori’s opinion) makes up for it. Carved from a black metal similar to the blade, the guard is made to look like a serpent. It curls around the base of the blade in an almost ouroboros-like fashion. Two red pinpoints mark its eyes and in the right light, they flash almost animatedly.

Special Attacks and Abilities:

BASIC ACTIVATION ` Orochi’s basic form is his sword form. Fuhenori doesn’t usually activate past this basic step.

Yamata no Orochi ` Like its namesake, Orochi can transform into as many as eight snakes. The size of these snakes vary depending on how many snakes he summons -- more snakes also means small snakes. They are synced with his thoughts, allowing him to control them over long distances. Fuhenori doesn't like using this ability because it leaves him without a weapon in his hand.

Strengths:

` close combat
` lightweight
` long reach
` offensive

Weaknesses:

` ranged combat
` since the blade isn't very heavy, he has to put more strength into his attacks
` mostly offensive/lacks defense

History:

(Errrr…this was originally going to be a long, drawn out narrative but I found some drabbles and rants on my computer and it turned into a…first person angst thing? o.o Meh. >w> just a side note that the numbers don’t really mean anything other than to serve as a sort of ‘transition’. The 'I' is obviously Fuhenori and the 'You' is Kurai.)

One.
Confusion. I don’t understand why they have to take me away from the place called home. I don’t understand why they’re explaining to me about akuma and innocence and noah. I don’t understand why they’re giving adult talk to a little child. But the little green cube they put in my palm is warm. In a fleeting second, it pulses as if in greeting. Hello innocence. Hello Fuhenori.

Two.
Training is hard but it is training. My general is kind and stern but a little ruthless when it comes to teaching so by the end of each day, I’m exhausted and covered in bruises. And though I still don’t understand, I don’t complain. Because this is life from now on.

Three.
My first mission. It’s a little traumatizing, I guess, seeing monsters shoot at you and realizing that, this isn’t training anymore; one wrong move could mean death. The adrenaline kept me going even when fear had numbed my brain and somehow, I got out scathed but alive.

Four.
It’s been a few years. More than a few years; it’s been a lifetime. Comrades have come and gone and I’ve learned the hard way that attaching emotions to this kind of job was not a good thing. But sometimes it can’t be helped.

Five.
The first time I met you was when we were paired for a mission. You were still new, but you fought like an old veteran. It made me wonder what kind of life you led before joining our ranks. Though you had a stony disposition, I could see right through your fragile armour of glass and without knowing it, I tied myself to you the first time your name escaped my lips during our frantic dance with death.

Six.
It’s been a few seasons but I still remember. And I still wonder. And sometimes, at night, when the fighting’s done, I thought about you. And I wondered if you thought about me. Or if you thought about me thinking about you. Though I didn’t realize that – no, I didn’t want to admit – that it’s become personal.

Seven.
Seven seasons. That’s how many I’ve counted since we’ve met and parted and met again. The look on your face is harder, like the world has wronged you yet again and your words are even harder. My general died between these seasons and the air around here is tense as ever. And without knowing it, I’ve become scared for a certain someone left unprotected on the battlefield.

Eight.
That was a hard mission. We were both at our limits by the end of it and the train almost sped away without us. I didn’t know why, but it hurt a little, knowing that you face this kind of thing on a daily basis like the rest of us.

Nine.
You yell at me for neglecting my back while I watched yours. Like always, your words were harsh but I dared to believe that there might be a hint of concern under that callous tone.

Ten.
I knew I shouldn’t have let you into my room that night. I knew I shouldn’t have let you curl up beside me. I knew it was all a lie. But lying felt good. And warm. Very warm.

Eleven.
Maybe it wasn’t right to hope, but I wasn’t wrong when I thought we were getting closer. You tell me things about you that I never knew and I listened.

Twelve.
I didn’t know that you, the one with the stony face and harsh words, has moments of weakness. But I guess everyone does at some point or another. I felt special, because you let me in on your deepest fears. Suddenly, this war seems a lot less important compared to who was crying quietly into my shirt.

Thirteen.
More missions, more time apart. I wonder if we’ll ever truly get to see the light.

Fourteen.
You smiled. The first genuine smile I had seen in a long time. Even though snow was softly falling outside, you tasted like spring rain on my lips.

Fifteen.
More missions, more time apart. I don’t like staying up late at night anymore, thinking about you, because my mind came up with all sorts of morbid thoughts that left me scared and shaky. It hurt and I knew why.

Sixteen.
Things are a little awkward, now that it was personal. There are things that I want to say but I don't say them because my voice dies in my throat every time I lay eyes on you. There are things that you want to say but you don't because your voice dies in your throat every time you glance at me. Things are a little awkward, not that it's personal.

Seventeen.
You were angry again and I regret that we parted on such bad terms on separate missions. But there would be time afterwards, right? We would apologize and reconcile and everything would be alright, right?

Eighteen.
Or that's how I would have liked it to be. My mind didn't register the black box that I tried desperately to believe was empty. It was a hard mission, right? But not so hard that you'd fail. I knew you. You'd never fail. But that coffin said otherwise.

Nineteen.
I'll keep going; not for revenge, not for hate. Because I know that's what you would have wanted. And though it's been a year since then, I still stay up at night, thinking about you and where you might be in the world only to remember that you've moved on to the next. And it hurts, because it's personal now.

Family:

tetsuya SHIROKANE ;; father ;; unknown
suzuka SHIROKANE ;; mother ;; unknown
nachi SHIROKANE ;; younger brother ;; unknown
kurai CHINATSU ;; significant other ;; deceased

Other:

____________________________________________________

Player name: Kura

How would you prefer we contact you?: Msn: [e-mail]

Codeword: Candy

RP Experience: 8-9 years

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[Keera Ufton]

ACCEPTED

And welcome.