arly
he/him
character sheets
© reveriee
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Multiple Settings TROUBLESHOOTING. . . [APPS]
- Thread starter arly
- Start date
arly
he/him
mizton
𝘯𝘦𝘷𝘦𝘳 𝘴𝘢𝘵𝘪𝘴𝘧𝘪𝘦𝘥
name | andô ikue
role | secretary
brief overview | A newbie contractor only recently reassigned to her current secretary position. Veteran contractors may remember the circumstances in which the old secretary was relieved, but Ikue's never bothered in asking. The girl takes to the role as though she's been in it for years & stuns her colleagues when her newness shows, like when she asks where the staples are.
Ikue's assignment to the U.T.C.U. was a complete accident, as she was originally approved to work as an administrative assistant within a criminal investigation division of the government. When her first day came around, she instead mistakenly received the directions of the recently relocated U.T.C.U. When she showed up, all bright-eyed & eager for her new desk job, she was mistaken as a new contractor & underwent a hasty orientation that left her utterly confused. Though she desperately tried to appeal her transfer, she accepted her fate when she eventually heard word of her original position having been filled. She was doomed to troubleshoot.
Top of her class back in school, she felt a little overqualified to be a field dog for this hell division. She took to the field well-enough, but by no means working to strengths she'd studied so hard for. When the secretary position opened up, she didn't even leave the branch leader an option; she just handed them their next mission debrief one day, along with her promotion request in writing. Without hiring externally, there weren't many troubleshooters who'd relegate themselves to a life of pencil pushing.
As a contractor, she was never the most athletic or disciplined when it came to trouble hunting. Talking was always her strong suit; her strengths tended to lie behind the scenes in her memory or administrative tendencies.
In personality, she's a complete, unwavering hardass. Her demeanor belongs to that of a battle-hardened woman in her 40s. After her accidental assignment, she's grown rather comfortable with the office's small group of employees; she's not above treating elders as equals, senior only in address. A natural in working people, Ikue knows exactly when to flatter & when to humble in order to get her way. Though, worry not, her "getting her way" tends to be inoffensive requests, like getting approval in placing orders for cuter office supplies.
If she were the malicious type, her cunning might raise some flags but luckily she's just looking for a cushy office job to get her parents off her back. & fund her reckless spending.
role | secretary
brief overview | A newbie contractor only recently reassigned to her current secretary position. Veteran contractors may remember the circumstances in which the old secretary was relieved, but Ikue's never bothered in asking. The girl takes to the role as though she's been in it for years & stuns her colleagues when her newness shows, like when she asks where the staples are.
Ikue's assignment to the U.T.C.U. was a complete accident, as she was originally approved to work as an administrative assistant within a criminal investigation division of the government. When her first day came around, she instead mistakenly received the directions of the recently relocated U.T.C.U. When she showed up, all bright-eyed & eager for her new desk job, she was mistaken as a new contractor & underwent a hasty orientation that left her utterly confused. Though she desperately tried to appeal her transfer, she accepted her fate when she eventually heard word of her original position having been filled. She was doomed to troubleshoot.
Top of her class back in school, she felt a little overqualified to be a field dog for this hell division. She took to the field well-enough, but by no means working to strengths she'd studied so hard for. When the secretary position opened up, she didn't even leave the branch leader an option; she just handed them their next mission debrief one day, along with her promotion request in writing. Without hiring externally, there weren't many troubleshooters who'd relegate themselves to a life of pencil pushing.
As a contractor, she was never the most athletic or disciplined when it came to trouble hunting. Talking was always her strong suit; her strengths tended to lie behind the scenes in her memory or administrative tendencies.
In personality, she's a complete, unwavering hardass. Her demeanor belongs to that of a battle-hardened woman in her 40s. After her accidental assignment, she's grown rather comfortable with the office's small group of employees; she's not above treating elders as equals, senior only in address. A natural in working people, Ikue knows exactly when to flatter & when to humble in order to get her way. Though, worry not, her "getting her way" tends to be inoffensive requests, like getting approval in placing orders for cuter office supplies.
If she were the malicious type, her cunning might raise some flags but luckily she's just looking for a cushy office job to get her parents off her back. & fund her reckless spending.
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artemis.
☆
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Kloudy
The Lore Savant
The Clandestine Rookie | Alastair "Al" Emilio
-[PERSONAL DETAILS]-
Psych Evaluation :
Al is an acute individual; not one to make too many friends on the job. He likes to get things done quickly, simply and by the book. Acting more the veteran than some of his older colleagues, his attitude certainly doesn't reflect his age. Practical, straight-forward and loyal-to-a-fault, he tends to think with his head more than his heart and is prone to throwing himself head-first into danger so long as it means doing his duty. If nothing else, he is reliable and brave in the face of a grim fate. He has seen horror already, and there is little of the human world that will phase him now.
Historical Records :
His early life was fairly typical - he'd go to school, play with his friends and study, come home to his family and live as peaceful a life as one could hope for. The threat of Troubles had never been a frequent problem in his area, their neighbours used to the occasional evacuation. One day, Al's family home was attacked by a violent group of chimeras led by a sinister changeling. They stood no chance. Bloody, wounded and in shock from having witnessed the murders of his family, Al's last memory of his home was the inhuman grin that stretched across the face of the changeling slowly approaching him...
Years passed. Al had recently become an adult, but the dull ache of his past had not eased with time. Embering with a tempered hatred for the monsters that invaded Earth, Al officially joined the U.T.C.U. to make a difference in the safeguarding of humanity. No more would innocent children go through the hell he had experienced that day.
Al would make them all pay - that he promised.
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MangoGoGo
Kings Do Not Get Free Thrones So Keep Trying
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Archie.
Archie, but not the Riverdale one.
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Remembrance
Nothing is louder than overthinking after midnight
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Kailani Takahashi ִ . ࣪✮ ‧₊˚
gender: she/her ; ethnicity: half japanese, half hawaiian
age: 22 ; height: 5'4"
body type: pear ; mbti: esfp
role: secretary
Kailani has always had a taste for passion and pleasure, often throwing her responsibilities to the wayside in lieu of partying with her friends, smoking pakalolo, and drinking green bottles. Spending her hanabata days in Hawaii, she was well known in her town for her troublesome but carefree behavior, which garnered cautious vigilance from her elders and a mixed bag of popularity from her peers. In fact, it was in her later days of teenagehood where her rebellious behavior grew precedence before anything else in her life, which eventually forced her parents to relocate her family to Japan in an effort to set her behavior straight.
Kailani graduated (by a miracle, and a lot of parental advising) at the bottom of her senior class, but her hyperactive streak didn't end there. Well throughout college, she had also stuck to her party animal tendencies. Dancing on bar tops, screaming at the top of her lungs, and jumping over rooftops to escape the authorities— it was impossible for her to fly under the radar. At some point, her bad habit would have to die hard when a Changeling Calamity snuck into one of her friend's raves, charming people left and right before feasting upon their flesh in private rooms. Kailani, the host, and a couple of their mutual friends were busted by the cops at the underground rave, and she was finally sentenced with 10,000 hours of community service for illicit drug use, evading the authorities, and being an accomplice for setting up the illegal rave in a restricted area. The Calamity tragedy eventually broke up Kailani's old friend group, forcing her to reevaluate what she should really do with her life.
In court, the judge advised Kailani to finish her community service hours under government organizations as to "not sully her reputation any further". Reluctantly agreeing to her fate, she hopped from libraries, to post offices, to cafeterias, and eventually landed herself with the U.T.C.U when she realized her community service could also be done under office labor. She applied for the position, knowing she wouldn't be paid, but she preferred the possible position over serving ungrateful teenagers at highschools, or cleaning god awful public restrooms. Thankfully, she was accepted into the U.T.C.U unit with open arms (and a lot of NDAs). Here's to hoping she doesn't wreak more havoc and fall back into her old ways.
gender: she/her ; ethnicity: half japanese, half hawaiian
age: 22 ; height: 5'4"
body type: pear ; mbti: esfp
role: secretary
.𖥔 ݁ ˖𖤐♱𖤐.𖥔 ݁ ˖
Kailani has always had a taste for passion and pleasure, often throwing her responsibilities to the wayside in lieu of partying with her friends, smoking pakalolo, and drinking green bottles. Spending her hanabata days in Hawaii, she was well known in her town for her troublesome but carefree behavior, which garnered cautious vigilance from her elders and a mixed bag of popularity from her peers. In fact, it was in her later days of teenagehood where her rebellious behavior grew precedence before anything else in her life, which eventually forced her parents to relocate her family to Japan in an effort to set her behavior straight.
Kailani graduated (by a miracle, and a lot of parental advising) at the bottom of her senior class, but her hyperactive streak didn't end there. Well throughout college, she had also stuck to her party animal tendencies. Dancing on bar tops, screaming at the top of her lungs, and jumping over rooftops to escape the authorities— it was impossible for her to fly under the radar. At some point, her bad habit would have to die hard when a Changeling Calamity snuck into one of her friend's raves, charming people left and right before feasting upon their flesh in private rooms. Kailani, the host, and a couple of their mutual friends were busted by the cops at the underground rave, and she was finally sentenced with 10,000 hours of community service for illicit drug use, evading the authorities, and being an accomplice for setting up the illegal rave in a restricted area. The Calamity tragedy eventually broke up Kailani's old friend group, forcing her to reevaluate what she should really do with her life.
In court, the judge advised Kailani to finish her community service hours under government organizations as to "not sully her reputation any further". Reluctantly agreeing to her fate, she hopped from libraries, to post offices, to cafeterias, and eventually landed herself with the U.T.C.U when she realized her community service could also be done under office labor. She applied for the position, knowing she wouldn't be paid, but she preferred the possible position over serving ungrateful teenagers at highschools, or cleaning god awful public restrooms. Thankfully, she was accepted into the U.T.C.U unit with open arms (and a lot of NDAs). Here's to hoping she doesn't wreak more havoc and fall back into her old ways.
.𖥔 ݁ ˖𖤐♱𖤐.𖥔 ݁ ˖
coded by archangel_
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Vimi
Special Title
Name: Kei Hino
Role: Branch Leader
Role: Branch Leader
Overview
Simply put, Kei’s mother was not human.
A changeling under the guise of a human.
What many considered supernatural appeared as simply natural to Kei. cockroaches, chimeras, and especially changelings were all a part of her arduous upbringing. On weekends, she received plenty of training to mold her into the peak of humanity; whether that be honing her problem-solving by simply acquiring an item placed in a nest of cockroaches or pushing her body to its limits by simply running through the wild from a chimera. Those never scared her as chameleon training, the act of simply miming any human emotion without fail. Mother-daughter bonding at its finest, they made faces together for hours.
It may be the reason she always knows a changeling from a human, or perhaps it’s simply a part of her inheritance.
Of course, no matter how close she came to death she was never allowed to meet it. If her mother had to bail her out, she received punishment. A common thread in her life.Anything less than a perfect test score she simply received punishment.
Anything less than a first-place trophy she simply received punishment.
Anything less than absolute popularity she simply received punishment.
Showing true emotion received punishment.
Though she never understood why, the sole purpose for her life was made clear to her from day one. To be perfect, to be a superior human. Around her mother, she behaved as meek as a mouse, but around other humans, she felt boundless confidence. Extravagant and gaudy, she never failed to brag upon receiving the chance or manipulate a group to worship here; they were all so simple.By her final year of high school, even the brightest stars seemed dull by comparison. Class president, top grades, and prime athlete, it all seemed simple compared to pleasing her mother. She looked down on humans, struggling to believe she was even the same as them at times and when she finally killed her mother, she never had to look up again.
When U.T.C.U. approached her, and she received an ultimatum. Join them, or join her mother.
Becoming a branch leader was so simple.
Goldie.
<3
Okay I think I am finally done messing with her for now haha~ I revised her rage into something a little different, I think this fits better
All finished!
All finished!
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Naril
Tinker, tailor, lover, thief
Name: Zahia (Zee) SaifRole: The (Very Reluctant) Veteran
------------
Overview
My phone buzzed on the bartop. I looked down at the number, and decided to let it ring. I didn't want to talk to them, and besides, my hands were full. I hefted the case of heavy bottles onto the counter behind the bar, cold glass sweating in the autumn humidity, and pulled the flaps of the cardboard crate open. Outside, secondhand sunlight reflected from the taller buildings on the street and threw shafts of dirty golden light through the street-level windows. Later, the doors would open, and I'd have to let the world in. But for now, I could pretend like I'd found a little serenity. Or I could, until the phone buzzed again.
I glared at the little glass rectangle, and turned away with a groan. With both hands, I pulled dark brown bottles from the crate and started tucking them into the fridge behind me, kneeling to push them to the back. The glass clinked and the cold, smooth feeling felt wonderful against my hands, always fever-hot now, and I admit I took a little more time than strictly necessary arranging the bottles. Maybe I was avoiding looking back at the phone, even though it fell silent again well before I stood up. Call it cowardice, if you like.
I was halfway through checking inventory of the liquor bottles when the phone rang again, and this time I decided not to stop myself. I slapped my hand over the screen, scraped it across the bar, and jabbed the answer button, leaving the call on speaker.
"Fuck off," I spat, then jammed my thumb on the disconnect icon.
On cue, it rang again.
"I don't appreciate the fact that you have this number," I said after stabbing the call open.
"You do run the bar where we all drink," came the voice on the other end of the line, their tone mild.
"And all that means is that I've figured out to keep you guys paying my rent," I said, "What the fuck do you want?"
"What the fuck you do want, Director," this time with more than a little smugness.
"I don't work for you anymore," I said, "So I'll dispense with the honorifics. Now, unless you want to see how much of your precious time can be taken up by pressing the redial button, what, the fuck, do you want?"
"I have someone that makes the calls for me," they said, their voice infuriatingly calm, "I only get notified when you actually pick up."
"So you're just going to keep wasting my time." I left the phone call open, and walked away.
A few minutes later I came back, lifting another pair of crates onto the bar with a clatter of glass. I started taking tall bottles of liquor out, compared them against a stock sheet, and slid them into place behind the bar.
"You're also low on the Yamazaki 18," the voice said, "You know that's my favorite."
"Oh wow, you're right, I hadn't noticed," I said, my voice heavy with sarcasm, "Maybe when I run out, you'll finally stop coming here."
"Don't worry, I've had a case sent over. You'll be fine." I was about to open my mouth when they continued, "Back door. Call it a peace offering."
I clamped down on another rejoinder at the sound of a heavy knock at the delivery entrance. Without another word, I made my way through the building to the rear, shoving the old, bent, back door open with a shoulder check. On the ground lay a white cardboard box, packed carefully with bottles filled with rich, dark amber liquid. They lay on top of something else, a bundle wrapped in dark cloth. I looked up and down the alley, but there seemed to be no one else there, which, truth be told, did not surprise me in the slightest. I sighed, picked the box up, and made my way back inside.
"And what makes you think I'm not going to just dump these down the drain?" I said, taking one of the bottles out after I got back.
"And lose all that profit out of spite? Come on. We both know you're smarter than that. Did you see what else was in the box?" The voice held an almost comical solicitation. I stayed silent.
"We need you back, Zee," they said, a note of seriousness dropping in, "There's something coming. It's getting worse out there every day, you must have noticed."
"You mean the way that every other week there's a new face, and I never see the new faces get old?" I sighed, "Yeah, I noticed. But again, and let me be very clear, fuck you about that."
"Zee-" they started,
"Because the last time worked out so well," I cut them off, "Where your total lack of organization got my girlfriend killed, and I wound up with a monster welded to my soul. Not a goddamn one of us even knows what that even means, and if anyone finds out, I'm just going to be another line item on the kill list. There's a reason I left, and I think there's a reason you didn't try to follow me. So, at the risk of repeating myself, fuck you."
"Things have changed," they said, "There's a full Class-3 on the payroll now. And there's a doctor who's actually trying to answer some questions about them. Maybe they can figure out what happened to you."
"Bullshit," I said. Reflex.
"Talk to them yourself," they said, "We'll be stopping by the bar tonight. Don't worry, I haven't told anyone, let alone the person running the show in Tokyo. They know what you want to tell them. But maybe you could be a little less acerbic; I hear that the newbies tend to be so scared of you that they make someone else order their drinks."
"Until you get them killed," I said, rolling one of the new bottles in my hand.
"Maybe you can help with that," they said.
"I'm still not letting you open a tab," I said.
"Think about it," came the reply, "See you tonight."
I finished putting the bottles away, each feeling heavier than the last. At the end, I looked down into the box, and pulled the parcel out. I tugged at a silk cord, and unwrapped the bundle. Inside, I found a dark suit, and I already knew it would fit perfectly. Tucked into the jacket's inside pocket, a familiar leather bifold, scratched and burned from old adventures. I flipped it open, and recognized the face looking back, although I wasn't sure if I knew the woman anymore. And, at the bottom, heavier than all the rest, a weapon so familiar that it felt like part of my body. I hefted it, thumbed the safety on automatic - engaged, of course - and checked the magazine. Gleaming, familiar, and unnatural - I never knew what they were made of, only that they worked. I slid the magazine home, racked the slide, and set the gun down.
"Motherfucker."
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ERode
In The Mirror
Hanafusa Shika
The Dandelion
No signs of bloodlust since their capture.
But why did it matter, whether the craving consumed or was suppressed? It existed nonetheless, the hunger not for soil and sun, but rather for blood that had long become too polluted to be palpable. Humans spoke of religion and of duty, of fate and of destiny. Blessings and curses rain down in equal measure, their fortunes flummoxed by weal and woe. And yet, the Dandelion remained, bearing the perpetual curse to only subsist off a singular substance. Their kin deluded themselves, of course, in the varieties of blood that existed. Some had preferred their blood boiling hot, freshly bursting out from the bodies of great warriors, desperate fighters. Others possessed perverse inclinations towards the most vulnerable, towards the sanguine allure of virginal blood, of newborn life. Some preferred a taste tinged with betrayal, others were just gluttons seeking to drown themselves. But it all tasted the same. And everything else tasted like pain.
They had outgrown their cravings. That was all there was for the Dandelion, that weed of a parasite that could never truly been gotten rid of. It all tasted the same. It never brought contentment. They always starved, always yearned, and that always brought a banality.
They had outgrown their inhumanity. Countless seasons had passed, and the arrogance of the predator faded into a simple envy. Fluctuations of fate, fluctuations of emotion, all enjoyed by those who would be born, live life, and then die, leaving behind others to take on a torch. The Troubles had chosen survival, the Humans have chosen civilization. And while one hunt and was hunted, the other had so much more to do.
Nothing remained but envy mixed with curiosity, nothing remained but a desire to find something to fill the stomach in a way that blood and battle could not.
Samsara persisted, from seed to sprout to bloom to wilt to soil to seed to sprout to bloo-
For their next incarnation, the Dandelion resolved themselves, rising from the stagnation. They would obtain something new, would become something new.
...
Since her capture, Shika had been wholly cooperative with members of the UTCU, wearing an approximation of a friendly face, doing all she can to indicate her desire to work alongside humanity, to betray her own kind, in exchange for just a little freedom in engaging with their society and their civilization.
But they are very right in their distrust of her, no matter how many naive contractors may protest her treatment.
Things don't change so easily. Shika has simply stopped seeing humans as prey.
vielpotato
Je suis jaloux de ceux qui sont jaloux de moi
Full Name:
Takamoto Yori
Role:
Captured Changeling
Age:
Appears to be about 22
Pronouns:
He/Him
mousecreant
they/them
Akari Ishikawa 
Veteran Contractor 
Overview
Akari was born to a caring scientist and his loving wife. Growing up her life was quite great- she did extraordinarily well in school with top marks and plenty of friends and she had a good family life- emphasis on had. At the start of her teens, her parents mysteriously disappeared. Akari doesn't know what happened to her mom, but she did witness a trouble devouring her father. She carries the guilt of having not done anything- instead running before anyone could spot her, and to make matters worse she could never speak of it. Nobody would've believed her.
She was overtaken by despair. Her grades started lowering, she became distant and jaded- until one day she said "fuck it" and dedicated her time to violence. Maybe it was out of a need to foster the skills for revenge, or for survival now that she was alone, or maybe it was nothing more than coping and stress relief. Even she wouldn't be able to tell. Soon she became a troubleshooter when she was on the older end of her teens, and she's now aged 28.
After years of growing accustomed to bloodshed she's surprisingly grown out of her old distant edgy self. She's now quite friendly and non-serious on the outside; trying to be someone others- especially newbies- can trust and confide in. If she has a couple screws loose and a habit for hatred, she's definitely gotten good at hiding it. She's the type of person you'd go to for a laugh and to forget about your worries, as well as someone you can depend upon for her strength and good fighting tactics.
✧༺♥༻✧
Sorry for the lack of bbcode- if I get accepted I'll do her full cs with a full bbcode sheet.
✧༺♥༻✧
Eteri
soothing slumber
Hiromatsu
Touji
coded by reveriee.
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mocca
ꔫ
MISTUGI YURINA
Newbie contractor. w.i.p
The memory feels so distant now, like a dream belonging to somebody else. The night was sighing its first grievances of winter, wearing its bitterness like a white, downy cloak. Yurina stood on the balcony of her parent’s Shibuya apartment, her lungs shivering with every soft inhale. It was placid, drowsy - quiet…
…So quiet, that Yuri felt sure she couldn’t have been the only one to hear that stifled shot.
She looked. A lone figure stood in the harsh glow of a streetlight, the snow glittering violently beneath their feet. One arm outstretched a pistol. It wasn’t as though she wanted to indulge in the morbidity of someone else's demise, and yet, her eyes moved with certain defiance. The sight of it hit her like a freight train, leaving her powerless and frozen in her place. What she saw that night, she knew then, would change her forever.
Newbie contractor. w.i.p
The memory feels so distant now, like a dream belonging to somebody else. The night was sighing its first grievances of winter, wearing its bitterness like a white, downy cloak. Yurina stood on the balcony of her parent’s Shibuya apartment, her lungs shivering with every soft inhale. It was placid, drowsy - quiet…
…So quiet, that Yuri felt sure she couldn’t have been the only one to hear that stifled shot.
She looked. A lone figure stood in the harsh glow of a streetlight, the snow glittering violently beneath their feet. One arm outstretched a pistol. It wasn’t as though she wanted to indulge in the morbidity of someone else's demise, and yet, her eyes moved with certain defiance. The sight of it hit her like a freight train, leaving her powerless and frozen in her place. What she saw that night, she knew then, would change her forever.
During Yurina’s early adolescence, she bore witness to the slaying of some creature, a demon beyond her realm of experience. It was this unknowing that burdened her tirelessly, a private obsession that nearly maddened her with curiosity. Initially, she’d held a naive hope that this elusive figure would show themselves once more, and it’d be then that she’d share with them the scribbles of the monster she had been tirelessly documenting, the drawings that covered her bedroom walls. Establish some credentials of her own. However, with time, and with age, she learnt to take a more proactive approach in her search for answers. Little by little, her life became cluttered with occultism, tinfoil hat-wearing fan clubs, and books of mythology, alien sightings, and technology. She stapled posters on every street corner in pursuit of like-minded people and experiences. She learnt about symbolism and cyphers, endlessly sending encrypted pleas of her own into the online ether.
It was her latest endeavour that finally garnered the attention of U.T.C.U. Her expertise was not in any outstanding craftsmanship but in her misguided, ineffable will. Though she was by this point no stranger to backdoor data breaches, hacking into government classified documents was, admittedly, beyond her capabilities. It was through this feeble attempt that she finally attracted an unknown, but expected visitor to her doorstep. They had decided that at worst, enrolling her would quiet her incessant tampering, but, at best, she could prove to be useful canon fodder for their unit.
Despite her obvious handicap of inexperience, Yurina is desperate to prove herself a worthy recruit within the ranks of U.T.C.U, at any cost. Yurina holds the utmost respect and gratitude towards her unit. This little organisation, this little badge of hers, means more to her than anything else in the world. It's a realisation of all her efforts, proof that she was right all along; we are not alone on this strange planet, there are other dangerous forces at play. Yet, her understanding of the cruelty these 'forces' are capable of remains entirely primitive, an ignorance which sometimes reveals itself in her thoughtless manner of speech. She joins the organisation unscathed by the atrocities many of her peers have endured. Perhaps time spent in the unit will offer her a new perspective.
Outside of training and operations, Yurina is blissfully at ease. It's not uncommon to see her making playful jests, sometimes at the expense of her colleagues. This, however, rarely comes in the way of her devout role as an underling and learner. Whatever may be thrown at her, she is ready to throw herself right back into.
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Sybela
Bear 🐻
Hasegawa Daiki
“
Occupation: Newbie Contractor
Twenty-six | Male |
Brief Overview:
Hasegawa Daiki, a common name held by many others, perhaps cementing how irrelevant his life truly was. He was another name, a face- just a number. Nobody missed numbers and, certainly so, nobody would miss Daiki.
Hasegawa grew up with little schooling, his time was spread thin between working with his father and taking care of his little sister. He had a life better than most, at least there was a roof over his head, no matter how decrepit and mould-ridden it was.
What was a lacklustre schooling soon turned into home tutelage and, eventually, he was indoctrinated into a seedy life of fights, loan collection and theft. Hasegawa truly was unremarkable, just another stain on society waiting to be snuffed out.
But, he didnt want that.
Hasegawa did not want to be just another name in some obituary or a run-down tombstone that only held the wear of time rather than loved flowers. He didn't want to be a friendless dick that soured opinions with his mean stare and brawny appearance. Beneath all that gruff and rough exterior, there was a lad that just wanted to be understood and loved- was it so hard to love someone? To love him?
A mother's love he missed out on. She was too busy laying on a mattress to get her next av out; pandering to the hundreds of fans that sat in front of a screen, hands busy. Hasegawa was sick of it, sick of it all. If he had to choose, at least his father wasnsomewhat present...Until he wasn't.
A rabid fan, one that had the wool pulled over their eyes and ran themselves into a debt, shadowed his mother's route home one day and, when they had spotted his father, a brawl ensured and a death occurred.
Was he supposed to be sad? Feel something other than the cold wind that cruelly bit at his ears at the service? Hasegawa felt nothing, perhaps there really was something wrong with him: Maybe he was broken.
The death of his father brought on a slew of new problems. It came to light that his little stint as a debt collector was duly in place to pay of his own debts, that now fell onto his mother. Even more absent than she already was, Hasegawa took up new jobs, odd ones here and there, no matter the consequences, just to make sure his sister had a full belly before she slept.
His work eventually had him dabbling in things that would make priests weep and, Hasegawa being Hasegawa, just stuck his head down and got to work with no complaints. How else was he supposed to pay off the growing debt that held him in the guillotine?
Years went by and, by some stroke of luck, he was made an offer that he couldn’t turn down.
Gone was his life of crime and unjustness. Hasegawa washed his hands of the blood and muck that weighed him down.
Hello to business suits and lanyards that he could've only dreamed about wearing before. Was this it? Was this his redemption and his chance to secure a future for his sister and self?
Twenty-six | Male |
Brief Overview:
Hasegawa Daiki, a common name held by many others, perhaps cementing how irrelevant his life truly was. He was another name, a face- just a number. Nobody missed numbers and, certainly so, nobody would miss Daiki.
Hasegawa grew up with little schooling, his time was spread thin between working with his father and taking care of his little sister. He had a life better than most, at least there was a roof over his head, no matter how decrepit and mould-ridden it was.
What was a lacklustre schooling soon turned into home tutelage and, eventually, he was indoctrinated into a seedy life of fights, loan collection and theft. Hasegawa truly was unremarkable, just another stain on society waiting to be snuffed out.
But, he didnt want that.
Hasegawa did not want to be just another name in some obituary or a run-down tombstone that only held the wear of time rather than loved flowers. He didn't want to be a friendless dick that soured opinions with his mean stare and brawny appearance. Beneath all that gruff and rough exterior, there was a lad that just wanted to be understood and loved- was it so hard to love someone? To love him?
A mother's love he missed out on. She was too busy laying on a mattress to get her next av out; pandering to the hundreds of fans that sat in front of a screen, hands busy. Hasegawa was sick of it, sick of it all. If he had to choose, at least his father wasnsomewhat present...Until he wasn't.
A rabid fan, one that had the wool pulled over their eyes and ran themselves into a debt, shadowed his mother's route home one day and, when they had spotted his father, a brawl ensured and a death occurred.
Was he supposed to be sad? Feel something other than the cold wind that cruelly bit at his ears at the service? Hasegawa felt nothing, perhaps there really was something wrong with him: Maybe he was broken.
The death of his father brought on a slew of new problems. It came to light that his little stint as a debt collector was duly in place to pay of his own debts, that now fell onto his mother. Even more absent than she already was, Hasegawa took up new jobs, odd ones here and there, no matter the consequences, just to make sure his sister had a full belly before she slept.
His work eventually had him dabbling in things that would make priests weep and, Hasegawa being Hasegawa, just stuck his head down and got to work with no complaints. How else was he supposed to pay off the growing debt that held him in the guillotine?
Years went by and, by some stroke of luck, he was made an offer that he couldn’t turn down.
Gone was his life of crime and unjustness. Hasegawa washed his hands of the blood and muck that weighed him down.
Hello to business suits and lanyards that he could've only dreamed about wearing before. Was this it? Was this his redemption and his chance to secure a future for his sister and self?
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