Takeuchi Hiroto
Something seemed very odd about the orphanage to Takeuchi, like someone had decided to white-wash the world him and muffle the sound, the ring of children gathered about him spoke in slow, deliberate whispers. If he had not heard the chanting on innumerable occasions he would not know what they were saying, but these words cut through the dense atmosphere like the proverbial hot-knife through butter, their venom-dripping resonance echoing throughout the room like a horrid cacophony of hate.
Cripplefreakdimwitworthlessunwantedlilyliverednogoodbadomenbadluckbadfate
They were only words, Takeuchi knew this, but he himself used chants to assist in the culmination of power for his duties as a Meister, yet even a careless word uttered with no intent could shatter a life in moments. Takeuchi highly doubted he could count the fragments of his heart that littered the trail of his lifetime, starting with his abandonment at an orphanage where the most vicious of people might call their home, in a fashion. The adults were not better than the children, maybe they did not snarl in his face, but their biting comments from turned heads were just as distinct, and those icy-glares that could bore holes down into the very depths of your quintessence had made the Meister wary of eye-contact from a young age.
All the child knew to do was sit there and take the punishment, curled up like he was with his head shielded between his arms and legs to hide the sight of his tears from the ravenous horde gathered round. They would not have the pleasure of knowing how they broke him so, which was all they ever wanted of him, even the ones who begged and pleaded for him to play with them when he first arrived.
A rather brusque knock sounded from the door, jolting Takeuchi from his slumbering state, the young Meister quickly brought a sleeve to his eyes to wipe away the tears that had been streaming down his face. Not everyone was cruel, he knew that, but receiving another’s pity seemed no better than their spite in the context of things, he wanted to prove that he was no different than anyone else, and the only way to do so was to work around and hide whatever was inherently flawed about his person. It took only a few moments for Takeuchi to rouse himself from the bed and make his way to the door, waking had never been of much difficulty for him and greatly shortened the time he needed to be exposed to others during his morning rituals.
The mountainous form of the Innkeeper loomed before the disturbed, but visibly amicable, Meister, his composure seemingly easing what may be the man’s worries for rousing a guest in the middle of the night, especially given the circumstances from earlier. “Sorry to bother ya sir, but there’s a missus downstairs requestin’ your assistance with some Exorcist matters. She said there was a young miss possessed and in danger. I wouldn’t have bothered you if it didn’t sound urgent sir.”
Takeuchi’s good hand came up to ruffle the back of his head slightly, trying to unsettle the somewhat squashed hair, and an innocent smile quickly spread across his mouth. “Please, no need to worries. This is what I am supposed to do after all. I will be down in just a minute sir, and please inform the lady I need a few moments to collect my things.” Despite his outward acceptance of this task Takeuchi was anxious to say the least concerning this turn of events. He had never actually performed an unsupervised exorcism before, and with being rattled from earlier he was afraid that he might do something wrong and fail The Order. With a deliberate sigh and determined gleam in his eyes the Meister set about to collect a few essential talismans, only taking a few minutes from when the Innkeeper left, and set about downstairs.