Watanabe Sorata
10-14-2009, 06:09 AM
Name: Goryu Kuroi
Sex: Male
Age: 103
Appearance:
Height: 187 cm
Weight: 64 kg
He’s a fairly handsome young shinigami with fine black hair that hangs over his eyes obscuring his bright green hues from view. He’s very slender, almost to the point of looking ill, nearly all his body mass is muscle or bone. He’d rather just lounge around, and maybe have a drink. Several alterations have been made to his Shihakusho: The right sleeve has been removed completely, several inches have been added to the left sleeve, and all the stitch work has been replaced with matching yellow thread. Around his waist he sports a long yellow sash in addition to the standard white one. On his right arm he wears a thick black brace that runs all the way down to his wrist. He can often be seen with his right hand resting lazily on the hilt of his Zanpakuto.
[x.x For his Shihakusho you can think of Cloud from FFVll if it helps. I’ve had people tell me that’s what his outfit reminds them of.]
Personality:
He’s an extremely bright but lazy individual who really dislikes fighting for any other reason than to defend himself; his keen analytical mind makes him a valuable asset for any team. His lazy nature, means he rarely ever finds a reason to really argue with someone, he’d rather let time prove them wrong, than waist his time trying to do it himself. Even though his nature is to avoid conflict, when backed into a corner he WILL strike, with amazing speed and precision. In a battle, if he MUST fight, he prefers to let his blade to the talking for him. Over all, he’s a man of few words, but when he does open his mouth, he can be trusted to either give you a deeply insightful gem, or a wise ass remark.
History:
His first memories were of himself, atop the roof of a hospital, on earth. He was only a small boy, no older than fourteen years of age, and he had no idea what was going on. He knew that he wanted to follow around this woman, an older woman; he had the strong urge to follow her, and try to contact her, in some way shape or form. But he was alone now, cut off from everyone around him, why couldn’t any of them see him? He haunted the woman, every hour of every day; until the day came that he found his answers. They came in the form of a huge Hollow, hungering for his soul. He ran, and ran, and tried as hard as he could to escape the beast. But he was saved just then, by a shinigami, who slaughtered the hollow with a wave of her hand.
He passed on shortly after, and came to reside in the 7th district of the West Rukongai. Things weren’t very harsh for them, they had enough food, and there wasn’t A LOT of trouble. His new family, an elderly couple, and an older girl, he was happy there, for the time being. But he still wondered who exactly the shinigami was that had saved him; he had never gotten a proper chance to thank her. He was fueled by an intense desire to see that woman again, his savior; she was his motivation to enter the Daikokubashira Academy.
Division Applying To:
6th Division
Zanpakuto Appearance:
The Zanpakuto is worn on his right side, at his hip, blade side up.
Blade length: 107 cm
Hilt Length: 31 cm
Total Length: 138 cm
A Zanpakuto, which seems more likely to be hung up for display than to be used in combat, the long elegantly curved 107 centimeter blade reflected flawlessly, giving the appearance more of a piece of art than a tool for combat. The tsuba is intricately crafted, a beautiful lightning pattern etched into it. The tsuka, plaited with fine yellow and black silk, measures 31 centimeters in length and leads down to the tarnished gold kashira, where a 5 centimeter long yellow tassel hangs down, a tiny silver bell sewn into it. Finally, it’s sheathed in the most beautiful black seya which is cracked with electric blue and highly polished.
Sample Mission:
A long wavering yawn drifted from his mouth, pinky finger digging around in his ear, eyes half lidded he lay there on the porch, watching the people walk by. Jet black strands moving softly to the side, as the occasional breeze caught them. He was laying there, his laziness on display for all of West Rukon to witness. Then suddenly a broom came down upon his head, dust going all about. Coughing and sneezing he waved his hand before his face, trying to dispel the cloud of dirt around his head. “Get up you lazy bum!” The old woman grunted, shuffling off to continue sweeping.
“Geeze Obaa-san” he grumbled, rubbing the top of his head.
“Don’t you back talk me!” she yelled, waving the broom in a threatening fashion “Go help Toji-san with the rice. He had to go all the way out to the 35th district to get it and hasn’t come back.”
Yawning once more, he stretched out, and flicked away what ever had come out of his ear, off into the grass. “Ojii-san can take care of himself.” Kuroi grunted, and the broom came his way again, but he evaded it with a duck and rolled to the side. “Fine fine fine…” he grumbled, slowly climbing to his feet. With an arch of his back, he dusted his rear off, and rubbed his eyes. “35th District right?” he didn’t wait for an answer, but picked up the old bokken that was propped up inside the small house and tucked it inside the worn obi sash around his waist. He started slowly down the street sighing every couple of minutes, and scratching his backside.
He was sidetracked several times, wandering off after a couple girls that had caught his eye, and then stopping for a quick drink, which turned into almost an hour of sipping on sake. He only remembered what he was supposed to be doing, after he saw an elderly man shuffle past, and even then it took a lot of his will power to drag him away from the sake. He passed through the different districts, his unease increasing the further out he walked, until he arrived in the designated district. His Ojii-san was still nowhere to be found.
He heard scuffling, taking it as the usual trouble that took place around there, but he heard a familiar grunt. Trotting over to the alley way, he peaked around the corner. An older man was backed against the wall by three huge men.
“Ojii-san!” He called, running for his grandfather.
One of the men looked, and a large stone connected with his face, then he blacked out, the hilt of Kuroi’s bokken colliding with his stomach. Kuroi, the overly slender boy, now stood between these two mountainous men and his grandfather.
He looked like a cornered animal, his eyes wide open and pupils dilated, bokken clutched tight in his hand, he stood between the two men and his Ojii-san. The sole protector of his elderly family member, the lazy bum had sprung to life. The two laughed, they were almost twice his size, they both had swords, and all he had was the old worn bokken.
“Gyaaaah!” Kuroi growled, his teeth bared, his hair whipped out of his face, the two men staggered back from the force of his reiatsu. Clueless as to why the men had suddenly stumbled off their guard, he seized the opportunity and attacked like a wild beast. He struck one male over the head repeatedly with the bokken, blood spattering on his own face and the bokken finally breaking in half from the force. Kuroi landed in a low crouch, his broken weapon in hand.
“You little pu-!” the remaining man began, but his eyes went blank, mouth hanging open. The broken ends of the bokken were lodged in his groin. In a lazy back hand spring Kuroi snatched up the fallen male’s blade, and drew it quickly, cutting clear up the stunned mans chest, blood spraying outward. In an instant Kuroi was pressing against the man, the deadly tip of the blade sticking out of the males back, blood dripping slowly to the ground at their feet. With that, the man fell, like a mighty oak tree, with a thunderous bang.
Then Kuroi felt light headed and weak, he fell to his hands and knees, coughing and spitting, one hand clutching his head. The entire world was spinning, his vision was narrowing. He felt the warm familiar hand of his Ojii-san on his back, and then everything went black, and he could feel the hard ground beneath him.
As he came to, he was on his back, an oil lamp hanging above him. He could feel others around him, but when he moved to sit up he got dizzy again, and felt a hand force him back down. “You need rest you lazy bum.” A woman said, he smiled a bit, he recognized his Obaa-san’s voice, and apparently they had made it back home safe.
“Is Ojii-san okay?” he asked, closing his eyes, a soft yawn escaping his lips. He didn’t know what he’d do if after all of that something else had happened and he had been powerless to help. Lazy he was, but he wasn’t selfish.
“Ojii-san’s okay. He’s just washing up, he got scraped up.” Another voice said, younger and sweeter than the other “He said you really saved his rear back there Kuroi-kun. But he won’t really say anything else about it, what DID you do back there?”
He laughed a bit, rubbing his head, he was starting to feel a little better, but now he was starting to notice how hungry he was. “I don’t really remember to be honest. Those guys were standing over him, and I just went for it.” He thought back, it really was stupid, what he had done. But, in the end it all seemed to have worked out for the best, Ojii-san was safe, he was safe, and now he was a hero, at least for the rest of the day. Though he knew he’d be open to more of Obaa-san’s broom and table flipping attacks in the morning.
Sex: Male
Age: 103
Appearance:
Height: 187 cm
Weight: 64 kg
He’s a fairly handsome young shinigami with fine black hair that hangs over his eyes obscuring his bright green hues from view. He’s very slender, almost to the point of looking ill, nearly all his body mass is muscle or bone. He’d rather just lounge around, and maybe have a drink. Several alterations have been made to his Shihakusho: The right sleeve has been removed completely, several inches have been added to the left sleeve, and all the stitch work has been replaced with matching yellow thread. Around his waist he sports a long yellow sash in addition to the standard white one. On his right arm he wears a thick black brace that runs all the way down to his wrist. He can often be seen with his right hand resting lazily on the hilt of his Zanpakuto.
[x.x For his Shihakusho you can think of Cloud from FFVll if it helps. I’ve had people tell me that’s what his outfit reminds them of.]
Personality:
He’s an extremely bright but lazy individual who really dislikes fighting for any other reason than to defend himself; his keen analytical mind makes him a valuable asset for any team. His lazy nature, means he rarely ever finds a reason to really argue with someone, he’d rather let time prove them wrong, than waist his time trying to do it himself. Even though his nature is to avoid conflict, when backed into a corner he WILL strike, with amazing speed and precision. In a battle, if he MUST fight, he prefers to let his blade to the talking for him. Over all, he’s a man of few words, but when he does open his mouth, he can be trusted to either give you a deeply insightful gem, or a wise ass remark.
History:
His first memories were of himself, atop the roof of a hospital, on earth. He was only a small boy, no older than fourteen years of age, and he had no idea what was going on. He knew that he wanted to follow around this woman, an older woman; he had the strong urge to follow her, and try to contact her, in some way shape or form. But he was alone now, cut off from everyone around him, why couldn’t any of them see him? He haunted the woman, every hour of every day; until the day came that he found his answers. They came in the form of a huge Hollow, hungering for his soul. He ran, and ran, and tried as hard as he could to escape the beast. But he was saved just then, by a shinigami, who slaughtered the hollow with a wave of her hand.
He passed on shortly after, and came to reside in the 7th district of the West Rukongai. Things weren’t very harsh for them, they had enough food, and there wasn’t A LOT of trouble. His new family, an elderly couple, and an older girl, he was happy there, for the time being. But he still wondered who exactly the shinigami was that had saved him; he had never gotten a proper chance to thank her. He was fueled by an intense desire to see that woman again, his savior; she was his motivation to enter the Daikokubashira Academy.
Division Applying To:
6th Division
Zanpakuto Appearance:
The Zanpakuto is worn on his right side, at his hip, blade side up.
Blade length: 107 cm
Hilt Length: 31 cm
Total Length: 138 cm
A Zanpakuto, which seems more likely to be hung up for display than to be used in combat, the long elegantly curved 107 centimeter blade reflected flawlessly, giving the appearance more of a piece of art than a tool for combat. The tsuba is intricately crafted, a beautiful lightning pattern etched into it. The tsuka, plaited with fine yellow and black silk, measures 31 centimeters in length and leads down to the tarnished gold kashira, where a 5 centimeter long yellow tassel hangs down, a tiny silver bell sewn into it. Finally, it’s sheathed in the most beautiful black seya which is cracked with electric blue and highly polished.
Sample Mission:
A long wavering yawn drifted from his mouth, pinky finger digging around in his ear, eyes half lidded he lay there on the porch, watching the people walk by. Jet black strands moving softly to the side, as the occasional breeze caught them. He was laying there, his laziness on display for all of West Rukon to witness. Then suddenly a broom came down upon his head, dust going all about. Coughing and sneezing he waved his hand before his face, trying to dispel the cloud of dirt around his head. “Get up you lazy bum!” The old woman grunted, shuffling off to continue sweeping.
“Geeze Obaa-san” he grumbled, rubbing the top of his head.
“Don’t you back talk me!” she yelled, waving the broom in a threatening fashion “Go help Toji-san with the rice. He had to go all the way out to the 35th district to get it and hasn’t come back.”
Yawning once more, he stretched out, and flicked away what ever had come out of his ear, off into the grass. “Ojii-san can take care of himself.” Kuroi grunted, and the broom came his way again, but he evaded it with a duck and rolled to the side. “Fine fine fine…” he grumbled, slowly climbing to his feet. With an arch of his back, he dusted his rear off, and rubbed his eyes. “35th District right?” he didn’t wait for an answer, but picked up the old bokken that was propped up inside the small house and tucked it inside the worn obi sash around his waist. He started slowly down the street sighing every couple of minutes, and scratching his backside.
He was sidetracked several times, wandering off after a couple girls that had caught his eye, and then stopping for a quick drink, which turned into almost an hour of sipping on sake. He only remembered what he was supposed to be doing, after he saw an elderly man shuffle past, and even then it took a lot of his will power to drag him away from the sake. He passed through the different districts, his unease increasing the further out he walked, until he arrived in the designated district. His Ojii-san was still nowhere to be found.
He heard scuffling, taking it as the usual trouble that took place around there, but he heard a familiar grunt. Trotting over to the alley way, he peaked around the corner. An older man was backed against the wall by three huge men.
“Ojii-san!” He called, running for his grandfather.
One of the men looked, and a large stone connected with his face, then he blacked out, the hilt of Kuroi’s bokken colliding with his stomach. Kuroi, the overly slender boy, now stood between these two mountainous men and his grandfather.
He looked like a cornered animal, his eyes wide open and pupils dilated, bokken clutched tight in his hand, he stood between the two men and his Ojii-san. The sole protector of his elderly family member, the lazy bum had sprung to life. The two laughed, they were almost twice his size, they both had swords, and all he had was the old worn bokken.
“Gyaaaah!” Kuroi growled, his teeth bared, his hair whipped out of his face, the two men staggered back from the force of his reiatsu. Clueless as to why the men had suddenly stumbled off their guard, he seized the opportunity and attacked like a wild beast. He struck one male over the head repeatedly with the bokken, blood spattering on his own face and the bokken finally breaking in half from the force. Kuroi landed in a low crouch, his broken weapon in hand.
“You little pu-!” the remaining man began, but his eyes went blank, mouth hanging open. The broken ends of the bokken were lodged in his groin. In a lazy back hand spring Kuroi snatched up the fallen male’s blade, and drew it quickly, cutting clear up the stunned mans chest, blood spraying outward. In an instant Kuroi was pressing against the man, the deadly tip of the blade sticking out of the males back, blood dripping slowly to the ground at their feet. With that, the man fell, like a mighty oak tree, with a thunderous bang.
Then Kuroi felt light headed and weak, he fell to his hands and knees, coughing and spitting, one hand clutching his head. The entire world was spinning, his vision was narrowing. He felt the warm familiar hand of his Ojii-san on his back, and then everything went black, and he could feel the hard ground beneath him.
As he came to, he was on his back, an oil lamp hanging above him. He could feel others around him, but when he moved to sit up he got dizzy again, and felt a hand force him back down. “You need rest you lazy bum.” A woman said, he smiled a bit, he recognized his Obaa-san’s voice, and apparently they had made it back home safe.
“Is Ojii-san okay?” he asked, closing his eyes, a soft yawn escaping his lips. He didn’t know what he’d do if after all of that something else had happened and he had been powerless to help. Lazy he was, but he wasn’t selfish.
“Ojii-san’s okay. He’s just washing up, he got scraped up.” Another voice said, younger and sweeter than the other “He said you really saved his rear back there Kuroi-kun. But he won’t really say anything else about it, what DID you do back there?”
He laughed a bit, rubbing his head, he was starting to feel a little better, but now he was starting to notice how hungry he was. “I don’t really remember to be honest. Those guys were standing over him, and I just went for it.” He thought back, it really was stupid, what he had done. But, in the end it all seemed to have worked out for the best, Ojii-san was safe, he was safe, and now he was a hero, at least for the rest of the day. Though he knew he’d be open to more of Obaa-san’s broom and table flipping attacks in the morning.