John V. Hitori
May 20, 2013 19:37:17 GMT -6
Post by John on May 20, 2013 19:37:17 GMT -6
John Hitori
“Eat a sandwich, skinny!”
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Name: John Hitori
Age: 16
Sex: Male
Occupation: None
Weapons:
[*]A single-edged wooden sword, carved by John himself, sheathed in red cloth, and hung on his shoulder when not in use.
[*] A Boy Scout pocket knife, for emergency use, which is kept in John’s right pocket.
Father: Unknown
Mother: Unknown
Siblings: Kireah Hitori (sister)
Height: 6 feet exactly.
Hair Color: Dark Blonde, looks light brown.
Eye Color: Green
Overall Appearance: John has always thought of himself as very plain. He has eyes the color of grass, and dark blonde hair, that goes down to his ears (though there is a slight cowlick just behind the crown, and slightly to the right). His hair is shaggy on all sides except the front, where it goes halfway down his forehead, in a straight manner. On his upper lip lies the beginnings of a moustache, though it isn’t very visible. Now, John’s right canine tooth is a bit longer than it should be. While not long enough to cause any form of speech impediment, it looks a lot like a fang when John smiles.
As for clothes, John wears a plain white T-shirt, and a plain black hoodie, along with dark blue jeans, and black sneakers. On his neck is a necklace, with a small wooden charm, in the shape of an X. Around his waist is a seatbelt (yes, as in a seat belt from a car, repurposed to hold up his pants), which is entirely black, save for the buckle, which is silver, and reads “JC” in cloister black font. He wears red, fingerless climbing gloves, which can be easily seen in comparison to the black theme that most of his other clothes take. To top it all off, shattering the barrier between worlds gave him black cat-ears, with white tips.
John is a VERY skinny fellow, though he is quite tall, standing at an even 6 feet. He has a good amount of muscle on his legs, from climbing so much, though there isn’t very much on his arms, just enough to hold himself up on a ledge comfortably for about half a minute. His skin is very pale, to the point where most of his veins can be easily seen. Also, due to immense skinniness, the outlines of most of his bones can be seen, as well.
Likes and Dislikes:
Likes:
[*] High Places
[*] Eating
[*] Writing
[*] Dreaming
[*] Games
[*] Laughter
Dislikes:
[*] Coffee
[*] Alcohol
[*] Being wrong
[*] Being shown up
[*] Feeling helpless
[*] Being thought of as ‘normal’
Strengths and Weaknesses:
Strengths:
[*] Climbing
[*] Melee Combat
[*] Adapting to situations
[*] Good Reflexes
[*] Operating machinery
[*] Smart
[*] Masochistic
Weaknesses:
[*] Long-range combat
[*] Remembering things
[*] Terrible Handwriting
[*] Multitasking
[*] Has Attention Deficit Disorder, and Obsessive Compulsive Disorder (to a small degree).
[*] Not very strong
[*] Asthma
John, above all, HATES fighting. He feels somewhat helpless while watching others in conflict, and will generally attempt to intervene, and resolve the conflict. He has a tendency to hide, when he feels something is ‘out of his league’, which, in this case, is pretty much everything in the Yokai world. Also, John uses humor as a defense mechanism, and generally tends to joke when in trouble, or put on the spot. John’s most prominent characteristic is his shyness, however. He isn’t easy to associate with, until he really gets used to someone. When in contact with someone new (especially a girl. He’s TERRIBLE at talking to girls), he generally tends to clam up, and begin to stutter, as his brain goes into a sort of ‘no-thinking’ mode.
John, not being very strong, enjoys less exerting activities, such as reading, or video games. Occasionally, when he can bring himself to go outside, he enjoys climbing things, and enjoying the view from a high place. He can hold his own in a game of chess, though he’s generally terrible at…. Well, almost every other game there is. John doesn’t mind losing, though, being something of a masochist, although it kind of irritates him when he continues to lose repeatedly, as he hates feeling helpless.
John is a submissive by nature. Unless he’s already committed himself to one ideal, he’ll generally just quietly agree with the opposing person, should they speak with enough authority in their voice. While this is true, being in Boy Scouts has given him a sense of loyalty, as well as a sense of duty, and a certain resourcefulness. One of his most prominent qualities (that sometimes overrides his other negative traits) is his ability to be inspired by little things, gaining a new resolve. Especially when promised a reward, John can quite stubborn when it comes to accomplishing things. When he says he’s going to do something, you can bet that he’s going to do just that.
History:
John Hitori was born into a wealthy family, who lived in a three-story house on a hill. With red oak floors, solar heating, and even a hot spring, it was all anyone could ever ask for. In fact, one could say that John had it made… that is, until one fateful day, at 3 years old, the house that they lived in was raided by a large crime syndicate from a nearby city (Los Angeles, to be exact). They came in large waves of black suits, searching every nook and cranny for things of value. They found many such items, and thus, kept looking. After having extracted everything they could find, they brought every member of John’s family into the living room. His father, realizing the threat of imminent death, covered the escape of John and his mother, but was shot in the process. He did not make it outside.
John’s mother was emotionally destroyed that day. Every day, she could be seen looking over her shoulder, slowly getting more and more paranoid, until finally, it came to an all-time high, when she put John in an orphanage, for fear of being unable to take care of him. Little Angel Orphanage, a place where children would be sure to get a great education, learn to become hard workers, and be fed three square meals a day. Children raised here will never be left in the dust! At least, that’s what the pamphlet said…
John Hitori, age 11, groaned loudly, as he was awoken for yet another day of pain and agony. His bed (one of 400 in a filled-beyond-capacity great hall, converted to a giant lattice of multi-level bunk beds) shook, as kids climbed down past the 20 beds between them and the floor. Complaints could be heard echoing across the hall, as all the children voiced their complaints. “My legs still burn from yesterday” one would say, followed by a “My skin is still peeling!”. You see, this orphanage was sponsored by a variety of companies, and the orphanage, in return, tested their prototype products on the children.
The previous day’s adventure (for ages 10-14) had been two different types of antiperspirant, which were both sprayed on each individual child (one on each armpit and leg), who were then told to run on a treadmill for six hours. They were both failures, and the children involved found their legs peeling the next morning. There were no days of rest, either, and they were lucky if they got TWO square meals a day. Morale was low, and Cruelty was high at the Little Angel Orphanage, and things looked to get worse from here. That is, until John’s 12th birthday, when he joined the Boy Scouts.
He was able to sneak out of the orphanage every Wednesday, and walk three miles to where the Boy Scouts met. Over the next two years, he was able to advance to the rank of 1st class Scout, learn First Aid, learn how to die several different knots, learn how to shoot a bow (and several different guns), learn how to (sort of) sword fight, and perfect his climbing skills (a 15 foot wall separated the orphans from the outside world).
After saving a life at the orphanage (a kid had been choking), John had been allowed out of the orphanage freely, and had promptly gotten a library card. He had loved reading ever since his mother had begun reading to him, at age 2. He loved all kinds of fiction (and the occasional non-fiction), though nothing came close to his love of “Alice in Wonderland”. He felt like he could almost see himself as this girl, falling into some strange place with no direction at all, other than commands of mysterious forces. “Looks like fate has it out for both of us, Alice.” John had once said to himself.
John, now 16 and a Star Scout, walked along a mountain trail in Sierra Nevada, dead last in a troop of Boy scouts. The rest of the scouts (most of them hardcore athletes) happily marched along, about a mile ahead, laughing amongst themselves about nothing at all. John began walking at a faster pace, trying to catch up (even after the exertions that the orphanage gave him, he was still an asthmatic wimp). Ahead, he could see a rickety rope bridge, where the other scouts were waiting for him. The rope bridge had no railing; it was just a few boards tied together, over unforgiving rock, and what appeared to be a boarded-up well. “You’re highest rank, so you have to go last, so that you can help anyone who gets hurt.” one of the younger scouts said. “If anyone gets hurt on that… they aren’t making it out alive, guaranteed.” John remarked, as the first scout dashed across.
The next few went across, running as fast as they could. “Walk slowly, or you’ll damage the boards.” The scoutmaster said, as a particularly large scout lumbered across, the bridge creaking audibly, and even snapping in a few places. “I’m not sure it can take one more... John said. “You can go the long way around…if you’re chicken.” The other scouts remarked. Imbeciles. John took the bait anyway, however, and the bridge appeared to be holding. That is, until it snapped clean in half right under John.
As John fell downward, he noticed that he seemed to be heading straight toward the well. “Well, at least I won’t die thirsty.” John thought to himself, as he crossed his arms in front of his head, to protect his face (he was falling head-down). The wooden covering was no match for a falling teenager, and it shattered right underneath him. For a minute, John could have sworn that he felt some sort of…. Magic, as he fell into the well. It was pitch black, and the well appeared to have sealed itself behind him. Strange. What’s more, he was still falling, long past where one would have expected to have hit water, or even solid ground.
He just kept falling, though he seemed to be slowing down. It was a strange feeling, one that could be best described as “Falling up”. It was like jumping, except being forever stuck right at the apex, with your body perfectly vertical. John couldn’t even tell which way was up anymore, or if, like Alice, he had fallen into a rabbit hole. Eventually, he could begin to see light, shining in thin streams, and heading straight for him. There were many things it could have been, though John could guess what it really was: The other side of the boarded-up well.
John exited the well the same way he came in: By crashing through boards. He flew upward for about 10 feet, arced gracefully, and hit the ground hard. He could see exactly four trees with silver leaves around the well, arranged in a perfect square, and a figure walking towards him to investigate. Darkness ate at his vision, and right before he blacked out, he managed to squeeze out a small sentence.
“I’ve made it to wonderland…”
Excluded, with special permission. Keeping the art, though, because it’s bauce sauce :3
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Name: Tsumi
Gender: Male
Age: I turn 16 in July :3
How you found us: Courtesy of Lindsey.
Any Previous Characters: Not here~