Hōzuki, Chigetsu

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Hōzuki, Chigetsu Empty Hōzuki, Chigetsu

Post by Chigetsu Hozuki on Sun Jul 07, 2019 12:44 am

Hōzuki, Chigetsu 8fLwx2e

Hōzuki, Chigetsu InKeRB9

Name: Hozuki, Chigetsu
Clan: Hozuki
Age: 24
Birthday: January 3rd
Gender: Genderfluid
Sexual preference: Bisexual

Hōzuki, Chigetsu KCVPpWP

Village: Kirigakure no Sato
Rank: Mizukage

Name: Contracted Summoner
Type: Positive
Description: Those with this trait are gifted in the ways of summoning. Those with this trait receive the Summoning Sub-Spec for free (does not count towards total), as well as their animal contract. Additionally, any summoning jutsu has a 20% reduction in WC requirements.
Name: Chakra Ocean
Type: Positive
Description: Someone with this trait has a naturally larger chakra pool, and has an easy time building that pool. As such they begin with a chakra pool of 60 and receive 1 additional Stat Point each time they rank up that MUST be used for their Chakra.

Name: Frail
Type: Negative
Description: Someone with this trait is naturally brittle and easily tire. As such they receive a passive debuff of -1 Tier to their Constitutions, and their bodies naturally resist damage one rank lower than their Constitution would normally allow.
Name: Weak
Type: Negative
Description: Someone with this trait is naturally Weak, and has a hard time building muscle. As such they receive a passive debuff of -1 Tier to their Strength, thrown objects travel 5m/s slower than their Strength would normally allow.

Hōzuki, Chigetsu BaQM9Gf

Height: 5’4”
Weight: 123 lbs
Hair: Dyed Pink | Naturally White
Eyes: Light Red
General appearance:
To claim a single distinguishing feature is impossible. All of his features are distinguished, and exceptionally so. His hair, naturally white as snow as is common to his clan, has long been dyed pink. An outrageous color, it clashes rather dramatically with his red eyes. The two colors don’t look together, and so the jarring contrast serves as the epitome of his appearance. The thick braids of carefully maintained hair drape down behind his back, or occasionally over his shoulder, and reach down to his waist. It is real, rather than any sort of false extension, and they take care to maintain it to a state of pleasantly silky smoothness. It is not uncommon for accessories, often black bows, to adorn their hair.

This is all dancing around the unfortunate habit that Chigetsu has of dressing like a woman. They fit the part, having a short and demure statue that makes their insistence on wearing female clothing seem natural. Excessively youthful and petite, it seems hard to view Chigetsu as anything but female in all aspects. Together with the use of often excessive levels of fragrances, this leaves a striking first impression. While this is something quick to draw disgust and disdain from others, it should not be confused with fragility.  

Hōzuki, Chigetsu Tp2vyT2

As melancholic as they are mysterious, Chigetsu captures the aesthetic of a failed artist rather spectacularly. Something of a wild card, they rather enjoy playing a role in the events of the day, even if it is merely in the background. In viewing the world as a stage, they reject their own agency and alienate themselves from their own will and desires. In pair with their exceptionally passive personality, they often prefer to act under the perceived will or desire of another instead of their own. As just a set piece, they allow themselves to be directed by the script, although there is often room for improvisation. Whether this is just a method of framing their desires as being the will of another or an unconscious act of apathy is difficult to tell. Indecisive, arbitrary, and at times dismissive of others, the act of taking the lead is something that goes at times fundamentally against their nature. Even so, they are exceptionally vibrant and at times intuitive and wise to others' emotions, a characteristic that meshes well with the atmosphere of their homeland. Of course, others might describe this as being cowardly and avoidant, but the role of shinobi is never direct. Instead, Chigetsu is content to indulge in watching others take the spotlight.

At the same time, despite all signs pointing to the contrary, Chigetsu is not one to act irrationally. They stay on script. Their passive nature allows him to be exceptionally patient, and although not a scheming genius they are able to enact slow burning plans rather methodically.

This is when the emptiness inside their head doesn’t get the better of them. Unfortunately clumsy at times and absent-minded, they can spectacularly fail to see the bigger picture while focusing on the minutiae of the minutiae.

Likes and Dislikes:
They enjoy the sea foam that collects at the shoreline, and sandcastles that stretch into the sky. The taste of the sea air, the pleasant aroma of salt, and the shivers that come with swimming in the late June ocean. The seaside is his home, and a certain amount of nostalgic romance seeps into his mind whenever around the ocean. A simple line of twine cast into the sea is enough to leave him serene in the breeze, more than content whether the sea provides for him or not.

In a level of vanity uncharacteristic of shinobi, it was aesthetics that Chigetsu reveled in the most. More so than just mere appearance. Especially for a man, he put an undue amount of attention into the particular aroma that he carried. More so than just learning to mask his scent for practical purposes, he had the skills of a verifiable perfumer. It was an art of mixing chemicals not dissimilar to brewing poisons, although with a much lower fatality rate. Strongly scented oils and aromatic herbs would be dissolved carefully into bottled extracts, each carefully marked and labeled with a series of creatively meaningless words. Something between a hobby and obsession, he often wore his own created scents whenever it wouldn’t be a dangerous liability. While olfactory pleasure was the primary focus of his aesthetic desires, his own appearance was a canvas in which he experimented. The common theme of these paintings could go without being mentioned, an obvious sin which wasn’t the topic of polite conversation. Even if surrounded by disgust, Chigetsu was too particular to compromise.

Despite it being a vice he admittedly partakes in, the stench of alcohol is something he tries to avoid. This is something that should be avoided for purely practical reasons, and his own occasional partaking in the intoxicant, while incredibly foolish, isn’t something that comes from rational thought. Sins are difficult to shake. It allows him to taste a certain flavor of melancholic self-loathing, one that he believes is important to experience every once in a while. Even if just a sip. Often, a sip or two was all he could take. That was what brought the unlikely pairing of him and wine. Fueled by despair, he would mimic the analytical process that he had often seen performed by the Land of Water's nobility. Listening to swish around the glass. Taking in the gentle aroma, letting it waft into his awaiting nostrils. Making some idle commentary about the color, before taking a light sip and revealing the “flavor profile”.

It was all a load of horseshit. The wine in the Land of Water was disgusting. The archipelago's fishmen had some old habit of salting it, for whatever godforsaken reason it caught on as a general trend, and it made the entire experience even more disgusting than it normally would be. Even if it wasn’t literally poison to him, it would have been impossible for him to handle more than a sip or two of the vile liquid anyway. Absolutely disgusting, but it was the aesthetics of drinking that he enjoyed rather than the action itself.

You can either be a coward or a shinobi. One or the other, not both. A true shinobi never looks away and always faces death with defiance. There were very few shinobi who were willing to admit they had ever been afraid or were even capable of facing fear in the first place. The act of becoming a shinobi was to erase your emotions.

Chigetsu, more than anything, was afraid of his mother. She was a particular sort of sea witch, and the terror that she struck into his heart as a child never left. Although avoidant now as an adult, there are still certain encounters that are necessary. Those in her image equally terrify him, although this is something he is much less willing to admit. Aggressive and sadistic women were difficult for him to deal with.

In the back of his mind, he knows that this was luck. The reason that he had been placed up so high was purely by chance, rather than something he deserved. Stupid luck and happenstance. Nepotism at its worst. There were others more competent than him. More capable and more bloodthirsty, who could act and lead, and lacked the baggage. Already isolated, in secrecy, he despaired the day when the truth of his incompetence would come to light.

Ideals and motivations:
Shinobi accomplish crimes while keeping order, and wage war in a peaceful society. As such, a specific set of ideals developed around what it meant to be a shinobi. It was necessary to act in the self-interest of the many, before anything else. For the family, for the clan, for the village. It was necessary to maintain a strong body, with loyalty, bravery, stratagem, skills, and belief. To remember obligations, to be eloquent, to be wise enough not to be cheated, to know your providence. Respect the ancient, be a good man, have a tidy family, know the customs of all lands, have a talent for literature and military affairs. There was a long list of ideals that came with the job, each more irrelevant than the last. Then came the list of ideals that were natural to the Land of Water, and then the ideals of Kirigakure, and then the ideals of his clan, and then the ideals of his family. A stack of scrolls and paperwork that outweighed the largest of elephants, balanced delicately on his shoulders.

Except, faith and ideals can’t really exist for secret-keepers and those who act in the shadows. To look beneath the beneath one had to value and have an appreciation for mystery. Rather than having all the answers, it was important to cast doubt on what was understood.  It is preferable to live in a state of confusion than to bow to what may be untrue. After all, in order for something new to be built, the old, rotting foundation must often be razed.

To say that Chigetsu had no ideals would be untrue. He performed his work to the best of his ability, and what he completed was beautiful in addition to being skillfully executed. It was just that the laissez-faire necessity of being a shinobi meant believing in whatever is convenient, and so it is impossible to understand where he stands on the issues of particular morality. The only constant that remains below the murky depths is his desire of aesthetical actualization, a single brushstroke on a blank canvas.

For his fifth birthday his father gave him a filing knife. He had wanted new sandals, because sometimes the sharpness of the seaside terrain punctured the soles of his old ones and he had not quite yet mastered part-liquid transformation of his feet.

He destroyed the tiny sapling of disappointment, rips it out of his heart by the root, and began with his front teeth.

The most use he gets, at first, from his mouthful of newly-sharpened teeth is for shoring rope. His uncle, the black sheep of the family, made his living by killing fish, not by fishing for kills. Shiosho was sure-footed and nimble, so his uncle sometimes allowed him to tag along on his daily trips.

Shiosho learned very early on not to trust his mother.

At two, she had turned a hug into a trap, pushing his face against her taut abdomen until animal instincts and the need for oxygen took over and he melted into a puddle of tears and water at her feet. Your first transformation, she had clapped, delight splashing across her face. At four, she drowned his innocence alongside his kitten. The cat’s name had been Koishi. This he still remembers decades later.

So, at six, when she insisted on walking with him as left to play with his friends, he had to tense all his muscles to keep from trembling. By the time he reached the others, he is so high on fear that the world seems brighter than normal, the chatter of other children a torrent of noise.

She stopped there, in full view of everyone, and pressed a kiss to his forehead, sweet as poison. Then, she pulled an elegantly curved kunai from the pouch on her thigh.

"If anyone bothers you..." He received the weapon with numb hands. It was full-sized, not like some of the miniature training knives normally given to children his age.

"Careful, baby," his mother croons, lethally maternal. "It's sharp."

He finds out just how sharp when she takes his hand in an iron grip and swipes a finger across the blade. There is no pain, but red runs down his palm.

She hisses in an undertone. "Lick."

He does, not gagging when the coppery taste slides down his throat, and watches as his fear leaks out along with his blood and infects his future classmates instead.

Her hand in his hair does not tug or push as usual. The touch is almost gentle, really, for his mother.

Then she is gone, and he is left with a crowd of equally disgusted and terrified peers. Thus begins a trend that does not ever truly end for the rest of his life.

He learns more violent uses of his teeth, and no biting quickly becomes a sparring rule.

(Two more children lose a finger anyway, because his mother has taught him from birth that rules are for the weak, the sheep, not for sharks.)

His uncle dies, in the eyes of the Hozuki, a truly pathetic death.

Hozuki don't drown, they scoffed, how can water drown?

The story is that his boat had been swept by a riptide current then swallowed by one of the Land of Waters's ravenous waves.

Shiosho can no longer stand the sound of his own name, Riptide, a constant omen and reminder of his loss and how little his family mourned it.

"Don't call me that," his lips curve as dangerously as that kunai from when he was six, and his peers oblige with fear-tinged exasperation.

This exept is taken from the first chapter of Shark Tales, a short fanfiction I enjoy.

At twelve, he finds out what it’s like to watch someone die. It was a poorly kept secret that his father was an alcoholic. Over time, the years of drinking broke down the cells in his body until he was only a mess on the floor, something that could barely be recognized as a human. Still conscious, just without control over his transformation. It took his mother to put the poor man out of his misery.

Afterward, she would hold him close to her chest. Too tight against her, and he was almost afraid that it would be a trap once again. Despite his trembling fear, it would only last a moment. The trembling boy would be released, spilling over the ground again into a puddle of tears and water.

She had been smiling. Too sweet, she would whisper down to him. “Let this be a lesson to you.”

There wasn’t a funeral.

It was around this time that he decided on Chigetsu. A new name for a new start. Getting used to it too a while, but it wasn’t at all uncommon for shinobi to take new names.

A year later he’s sent out to fight. Each island was a world unto itself, and despite being apart of the same nation they refused to view each other as neighbors. There was always one looking to kill another, or steal, or set fire to, or drown. Plenty of work for shinobi. The constant bloodshed in the Land of Water was very profitable. He learned very quickly that he wasn’t a shark. It was something that his mother had always tried to nurture in him but ultimately failed to find. Killing and torture, as exciting as they had been the first few times, eventually numbed his heart. In the Land of Water, it wasn’t enough to be cold and professional. Bloodshed had to be something that you did for its own sake and authentic enjoyment. More than just a job. He reveled in the newfound freedom, but the pleasure of the hunt was something he couldn’t do anything more than mimic. Still a child, she wouldn’t give up on him yet.

There were other things that began to steal his attention away around that age as well.

It was a civilian, around his own age at the time. They were supposed to be the target of an interrogation. Very quickly on his questions had become sloppy, too direct. It was a result of the tight knot that formed in his stomach, something that felt very different than the normal apprehension. Even with important information revealed by mistake, they remained oblivious. It had a certain sort of appeal. There were no threats in their smile or lies hidden on their face. Their teeth were blunted, soft, and unthreatening. Chigetsu had been careless, but it didn’t matter, because they weren’t a shinobi and wouldn’t pounce on anyone mistake to rip him to shreds.

He spent an embarrassingly long amount of time with them, but still not enough. Work took him all throughout the Land of Water’s island. Even if he came back to the river and stood in the same place, the water that rushed around him would never be the same as it had been. The sporadic visits that he made brought great anxiety to their family. He was a shinobi, after all. The house, a little fishing shack near the southern shore of a nameless island, would be found empty and bare one day. Stripped of all possessions. That would be the end of his distractions.

Shortly after sixteen, when he was beginning to learn the necessity of keeping a razor blade with him at all times, he receives an interesting opportunity. Normally missions from the Daimyo were regarded as high-risk high reward. While the Daimyo was supposed to be some sort of big deal apparently, with all the supposed influence they held over the nations, it was more common than not that those in the Land of Water would have lives as long as fruit flies. Some ambitious second or third in line would more often than not get the bright idea to simply assassinate their way to the throne, using shinobi to eliminate the Daimyo and collect the juicy reward that came with eliminating such a high priority target. The Daimyo may have been sitting at the top of his slice of the Land of Water, but everyone bleeds — and whenever a wound threatens to leak ryo, Chigetsu suspected that every other royal in a kilometer radius could smell it. Just like the rest of the ankle biters. Of course, then it wouldn’t be too long until the same happened to the man who would rise to the throne. It was a vicious cycle, but one that was ultimately unsustainable. There were only so many brothers, nephews, and uncles that could be picked off before the family thinned out into something manageable. That was part of the reason that he and two of his clanmates had been hired. Not to assassinate the Daimyo, but rather to discover and ‘remove’ those who planned on assassinating him. The other two that had been contracted with him were much more appropriate in nature for the job — adults.

As it turns out, he was supposed to protect the Daimyo’s daughter instead. For whatever reason, the man felt that having her a bodyguard around her own age would be more appropriate. Upon meeting the girl, he found out that it was very likely something that she demanded herself. She was … The relationship she had with her father was unlike what Chigetsu had ever seen before. With the amount of authority she seemed to hold over the poor man, it made him wonder who exactly the one in charge really way. Anything she desired she would quickly let her father know in rather uncomfortably loud and forceful terms. While something of a brat to her family, she seemed nothing less than exhilarated upon meeting Chigetsu. Her exceptionally pleased demeanor was like a cold ice bath compared to how he watched her speak to the royal family.

This was because she regarded him as something more of a toy than human. He was forced to become well informed on the layout of both her personal room and the layout of the gaudy castle that was her home. The royal family had their own guards, the well-trained samurai that wandered their halls, and so his role was something more complicated than that. Every waking minute he had to be aware of her location. He performed background checks on the people she met, screened and tested the food she ate, watched her while she slept, and a host of other activities that he wasn’t exactly aware of when he signed the contract. This was his “official” work though. In addition to her protection, somehow her entertainment was also something she considered his responsibility. Chigetsu was forced to begrudgingly endure through many “tea parties” and other activities he never would have dreamed of participating in. It was something that he was forced to tolerate, although very quickly it turned from something he begrudgingly accepted into a natural part of his everyday routine. He was steely cold and professional. This was just another part of the job.

This was also how he ended up spending the better part of three years wearing dresses.

It paid well and was all born out of illegitimate paranoia. There wasn’t a single attempt of anything illicit during his stay either. It was difficult to tell whether this was because the very presence of shinobi guards acted as a deterrent or because nobody truly cared about the daughter of the Daimyo. She was rather irrelevant when it came to succession laws, being both underage and also incapable of ascending to the throne. Whether the other two of his clansmen that were hired ever ran into trouble was information he wasn’t privy to, although as he often saw them whenever the royal family met he could assume whatever came their way they were more than capable of handling.

It wasn’t exactly boring, but one would expect a job guarding high profile targets would involve a bit more action.

Eventually, he would get his wish. Not in the form of an assassination attempt, but the reverse. The Daimyo's daughter eventually reached maturity. Already having long passed the age when marriage traditionally happened between nobility, the Daimyo provided a suitor for her. Someone politically convenient, and the marriage would result in a tidy alliance between families. This was what daughters were for. The man that she had been arranged to marry would unfortunately silently pass away in his sleep shortly after it was arranged. Of course, this was Chigetsu’s doing. While this wasn’t exactly in the original contract that he had signed, Chigetsu relented eventually to her repeated requests. Perhaps it was simple teenage rebelliousness, but she had other ideas for her future than getting married. The song and dance continued over the following months, where each suitor that the father provided would be struck down. The callous and careless hits that Chigetsu carried out fed the atmosphere of paranoia that was already pervasive throughout the Daimyo’s court. The idea was prevalent that the royal family was being targeted specifically, or were being sent some sort of message through these assassinations. The Daimyo, an already paranoid and superstitious man, soon secluded himself out of fear that he would be next. While the shinobi guards had managed to prevent any direct attempts against him or his family there were still assassinations happening successfully in the same palace that he resided, and so this convinced him of his own impending doom.  

At twenty years old, Chigetsu kills the Daimyo and his wife. This too had been the will of their daughter. The paranoia that caused them to seclude themselves away in hiding prevented them from acting as effective governors of their lands. Vassals that were already free-spirited acted in direct defiance of the Daimyo’s rule, emboldened by the royal family’s lack of presence. Rather than spiraling into civil war, as the Land of Water often did, it instead began to quietly fall apart. As such, she was only doing what was necessary.

Next in succession was an infant. Some nephew, or other tenuous connection. While this toddler wouldn’t be any more competent of a ruler, they allowed for a regent to step in. The Daimyo’s daughter would effectively become this regent, surrounded by a circle of advisors. She never communicated to him whether this was her plan or rather just a series of coincidences that propelled her into political significance. To be fair, he never asked. The politics surrounding royalty were beyond his interest.

(He did find it rather silly that she couldn’t inherit the throne because she was a girl, but that didn’t seem to bother her all too much.)

When the roving clans of the Land of Fire collapsed into one singularity of ordered chaos the Land of Water watched closely. The Land of Water, isolated, would hesitate for only a moment. The die had been cast, and despite their secrecy, there would not be the last to act. Clans which had spent generations spilling blood would meet. There was no blade or honeyed words which could unite the archipelago; however, this was an arrangement purely of realpolitik. They were pragmatic about it if nothing else, and so the Land of Water would follow suit.

Kirigakure no Sato. The Village Hidden in the Mist would follow as the second of the hidden shinobi villages. A council system would be formed of prominent clan heads and other figures of importance, and then the nation would be set to work on building bridges.

Despite being comfortable in their oligarchy, the council asks for the Daimyo’s blessing. Replicating the events in Konoha, they desire a shadow to mark the head of their secret village. The Daimyo to be, in his supreme benevolence, babbles. Her Serene Highness, the nation’s regent, puts forward a name for the Mizukage in his place.

Faceclaim: Astolfo [Fate series]
Chigetsu Hozuki
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Hōzuki, Chigetsu Empty Re: Hōzuki, Chigetsu

Post by Midori on Wed Jul 17, 2019 12:58 pm

Hōzuki, Chigetsu TeENJ70

Welcome, Mizukage~


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