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Teruki Satou

XXIII:I-III

440 views · located in Tokyo, Japan

a character in “Immortal Ties”, as played by ghosthouse

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TERUKI SATOU.....................................Angel's Charge
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A professor of criminal psychology at the University of Tokyo with a closet full of secrets. When he sleeps he dreams of evil and whispers prayers, and when he wakes he returns to the world as the walking dead.

...ImageAge.......Twenty Eight......................D.O.B........January 19
Origin.. Japan.................................Sexuality....Homosexual

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I. ..A D . H O M I N E M



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        A S P E C T U S
        6'0" | Brown | Brown


        There’s the swell of shadows beneath his eyes and over the soft, tanned skin of his face are freckles and small, dark freckles. His features are sharp and defined by high cheekbones, a slightly offset square jaw, and a nose considered large by some. Teruki sees behind such an unusual face, one that grabs attention with its harsh, masculine features and soft overtime. His large, boyish eyes; his bold, plump lips; his clear skin and long eyelashes soften his overall image, making him appear younger and more innocence. There’s little he can to do avoid standing out, and if it isn’t his face it’s his height that’s drawing attention or it’s the crooked bends near his knuckles or, sometimes, it's the pale lines of scars stretched over his palms.

        His taste in clothes veers away from the flamboyant and trendy and more often than not could be considered business-casual. The colors of his clothes are soft, earthy, if not monochrome and are simple in design, lacking patterns and words in favor for solid color or the occasional flannel. It's on the days when he stays home that what he wears best suits his personality; warm sweatpants and pullover hoodies, his contacts traded for thick framed glasses, his hair curly, and disheveled. There is only one permanent image of who his is on the inside - the tattoo on the inside of his right forearm, horizontal to his elbow, reading ‘XXIII:I-III’. Other than the small, black tattoo, he lets himself fade in attempt to become near unnoticeable, hiding his inner self to maintain his fragile sense of identity.




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        P E R S O N A
        Compassionate | Withdrawn | Scholarly | Melancholic

        The alarm is set for five thirty.

        At the break of dawn he eases himself into reality. His sheets are damp, he puts them in the wash; he prepares breakfast, sliced tuna, rice and greens; he reads the news, watching the world from a two bedroom apartment, in which he lives alone.

        He prays before he eats, and he washes his dishes before leaving for work. He won’t return until the late, it’s likely he’ll either buy dinner near the subway station. At one point he used to live up to his name, but he lost his strong, golden heart on the wheel on time. The idealist he once was in university had eroded and if he hadn’t whittled it into a very specific, manageable shape, then it would have destroyed himself. Who would have thought that a career in the PSIA was the wrong path towards changing the world for the better? He should have stopped once carrying a gun had become a normal part of his daily life.

        These days his colleagues at Todai call him a pragmatic flower child, though he doesn’t suppose they’re wrong (although it’d be nice if they stopped buying him fruity drinks at the bar for it). Teruki’s life feels like a slow moving stream; he watches the koi swim by like memories, and he sees the world reflected in curved, subtle distortions. He’s kind, clever, and peaceful, and it may or may not make up for the whiskey in his morning coffee or the lives he harmed in the past. Before he returned to academia he was a bleeding heart with poor trigger control, now he’s a humanitarian who tip-toes carefully across grass. He too is the fragile type, so it’s only right for him to soften himself, and become gentle.

        He bruises easily and is known for crying, and he carries a first-aid kit in his back pocket and is known to stay awake until the latest hours of the night. There’s no clear objective in his life now, only deadlines and vague curiosity, tethered by the idealistic desire of transforming the world. Now that he’s older he understands the dangers of explosive change, and how overnight revolutions build feeble cities without foundations. He’s more attuned to pulling weeds, maintained by consistency and diligence, and as people around him speeds up Teruki slows down.

        Instead of drowning, he learns how to breath underwater and opposite of both dying and living, he adapts to the gray between separate extremes. That’s how he learned to survive; to stop fighting, to let the bad flood in with the good, and make it his own.




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EXPERIENCED..Accustomed to many of life’s challenges he confident in familiar
situations. He is particularly adept in managing high stress environments, people, and tasks.


TACTILE..His hands are adept to completing difficult, detailed tasks
and have exemplary muscle memory from formal training and the handing of firearms.


PRAGMATIC..His approach to problem solving, while not notably creative or
outstandingly clever, is often thoroughly planned for the most effective, long-term solution.



WAYWARD..Alternatively recalcitrant. He resists working in teams
and strongly prefers his independence, and often acts on his own.


MACHIAVELLIAN..Willfully engages in underhanded tactics such as manipulation
in threatening situations and for solution fulfillment, although he is restricted by his morality.


VULNERABLE..Subject of trauma, Teruki is emotionally fragile. His reactions
to certain stimulus can be tumultuous, and he avoids interpersonal relationships.





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II. ... I M M O R T A L I S . M O R T A L E





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        A C T U M .T E M P U S


        When he was young his family moved to Tokyo, before he could learn how to miss the silence of the countryside or the bright canopies of stars. Their decision was an investment, and his father and mother took factory jobs so their children could thrive in better schools, even if it meant missing out on their childhood. Teruki, the first child of three, grew up underneath the shade of skyscrapers hidden from universe watching above. They were poor – they were ‘wake up tired’ poor – but he adapted to cruelty and protected his inner fire with hope, and undisclosed wrath. While his younger siblings became jaded from living in the dark, soaking in pollution of the air and mind, he strived to keep his soul clean as he suffered, because at the time nothing could take his gaze away from utopia.

        The world was a beautiful place; he just hadn’t seen any of it. The macabre visions he saw in Tokyo was a symptom to an illness, of sin drawn from desperation, and he wanted to cure the peoples’ sins like they were welts and cuts without killing the host first.

        When he was accepted into Todai he celebrated by packing his suitcase. As much as he wished he hadn’t, Teruki lost his love for his parents in maturity. This wasn’t because they were unusually cruel people, it was because they always trapped him in a vigil of silence, not wanting to hear the truth of his whole, hidden self. He was always passionate but never loud, and university days were spent in mountains of textbooks while he spent his nights searching for something, or someone, to show him the way. He stretched his arms out to catch what he could, and his open heart came through with lesions and scars. His degree in psychology, complimented by forensic sciences, was only earned with a billion gallons of coffee and several dozens of hangovers. At this point in time he thought he was approaching the light, and the goals he had set, when he was still naïve and believed unquestionably in the good of humankind.

        Learning to shoot a gun was a practice in protection and a requirement to becoming an agent, and he learned to sooth his shaking hands in the case of taking a life. When he was younger he had hated guns for the needless pain and destruction they unleash but then, when he became an analyst and agent for the PSIA, it felt like it was a piece of the puzzle to saving the world. He hadn’t understood how easily it is for a human heart to swell with corruption.

        The four years he spent at the PSIA felt like a lifetime: he worked himself halfway towards death, earned the respect of his peers and superiors alike for his sharp mind and clever charisma. He thought of his partner like a blood relative and because of this, despite the secrets he had sworn to keep and the isolation of the job, his loneliness waned. Yuko Yokoyama kept him sane throughout those years, as he did for her. They thought they were servicing the world, and they thought they were saving people. The first time he shot someone, it felt like a good deed, not an act of violence.

        The last time he fired a gun a piece of him was dragged deep beneath the earth. The mistake was rationalized by a board of his superiors and licensed psychologists, but the idea of forgiving himself for killing Yuko reminded him of sin. He had been sick with adrenaline and paranoia and she was too young, when he killed her with one pull of the trigger, he swore he saw something evil flicker in his soul.

        Teruki could have kept his job, but the life he had lived began to give him nightmares and nausea. He resigned and returned to school for a doctorate in criminal psychology, and after graduation he stayed at Todai, having taken a job as a professor. He lost his faith in himself, and he had lost faith in the world. There’s no more adventure or danger in his life, there’s just slow methodical process and controlled, sterile research. He had caged himself, binding his wings, and he does so without realizing the true harm he’s done to his soul by clipping his wings.




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                  ( OOC )

                  FACE CLAIM: Sakaguchi Kentaro
                  HEX CODE: #3e633d
                  PORTRAYED BY: ghosthouse
                  CS CREATED BY: Epimetheus
                  TIME ZONE: EST

                  DISCLAIMER: This sheet uses
                  code written by Epimetheus, with
                  portions of her work inspired by
                  Verix. All credit goes to them.
                  _( ASSOCIATED )
                  ..words and phrases

                  Capricorn & Aquarius cusp.
                  Has bird feeders on his balcony.
                  Owns dozens of potted plants.
                  Grows herbs, hot peppers, & some vegetables.
                  Heavy drinker. Prefers whiskey.
                  Smokes cigarettes.
                  Previously diagnosed with PTSD.
                  Owns a revolver. Unregistered.
                  English is his second language.
                  Is a practicing Christian.
                  _( MISC )


━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

So begins...

Teruki Satou's Story

Setting

Characters Present

Character Portrait: Luciana de Silva Character Portrait: Marlon Page Character Portrait: Kohaku Character Portrait: Cassius Dōriēwes Character Portrait: Minako Character Portrait: Seung Character Portrait: Teruki Satou Character Portrait: Alucio Character Portrait: Cara Chung Character Portrait: Ikeda Shiori Character Portrait: Ryan 'Rango' Prosker Character Portrait: Basil Gardner Character Portrait: Jiangyu Bai Character Portrait: Kohta Honda Character Portrait: Aera Lee Character Portrait: Seok Areum Character Portrait: Kaede Shimizu Character Portrait: Wyatt Costanza Character Portrait: La Verne Caron Character Portrait: Paola Millán

0.25 INK

#, as written by Cloud
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CHAPTER ONE: THE BEGINNING
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Date: Evening, 1st April, 2017
Location: Tokyo City, Japan
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xxxOnce, before Tokyo had been given its name, before tall spires of metal dominated the horizon and light polluted the sky, one could see the stars. They say it was the gods who wove constellations into the otherwise blank expanse of night sky; exposing pinpricks of light to tell stories of legends that would transcend time. Yet, as civilisation grew ever skywards, electric lights began to drown out the natural illumination of the night sky. There are still those who remember centuries long gone, whose gaze at the night sky and remember a time when it was only clouds that interrupted their view. The constellations had changed since they were young, shifting across the Earth’s sky as time flowed forward. Yet, more than one could still take comfort in the beauty of it.

xxx “A shame really.” The man commented absently, his gaze fixed upwards, past the canopy of sky-scrapers towards the sliver of cloudless ink visible above. “Once you could have made out millions of stars from anywhere in the prefecture.”

xxxThe surly teenager seated beside him grunted and shifted slightly away, unsure who this stranger was and why he had randomly started talking to him.

xxx “I made it, you know.” The man continued, an almost smug smile on his face as he leaned against the park bench. He didn’t seem to care that the youth was resolutely staring at the screen of his cell phone, attempting to tune out the rambling stranger. “I mean, I made everything really. You’re welcome by the way.” He paused and glanced at the mortal, as if expecting a ‘thank you’, or any other form of gratitude. When none was offered the man merely continued talking, “But, I am particularly proud of the stars. ”

xxxThe man’s dark eyes returned to the small portion of the sky not covered in thick cloud. He held his hand in front of his eyes, stretched out as if he might pluck the very stars from their homes in the sky. Instead, he waved his hand slowly from side to side, as if waving away a particularly bad smell. A satisfied smile lit his face as his hand fell to his side,

xxx “There, you see!” The man said, nodding towards the now cloudless sky. Though the light from numerous skyscrapers still dimmed the brightest of the stars, they seemed stronger now, shimmering happily above the world below. “Much better.”

xxxThe youth merely grunted again, his hands fiddling headphones into his ears as he attempted to tune out the well-dressed man beside him. Unfortunately, the man’s voice continued to blare through the headphones, as if the younger man’s music wasn’t playing at all.

xxx “I fancy myself as a bit of an artist, if I’m being frank.” He continued, a note of pride creeping into his words, “You see that tree there? I designed it, right down to the edges on the leaves.”

xxxThe teenager didn’t even glance up, too busy checking that he had plugged his headphones in properly. Of all the nights for them to stop working, it had to be when he was getting his ear talked off by some mental stranger.

xxxFrom behind the pair a female voice replied, full of barely contained impatience, “I think you’ll find that I was the one to design that tree. If I remember correctly, you were still babbling on about how sludge was going to be the next big thing.” The woman snorted in amusement. “Well, we all know how that went.”

xxx “Excuse me for trying to do something different.” He retorted hotly, even as he slid across the park bench to make space for the new arrival. Beside him, the irritated youth was silently cursing the two adults who had interrupted his brooding and was quickly stuffing his phone into his backpack. Without a word the kid stood, pulled his hood tightly over his head, and walked away.

xxxThe two gods barely seemed to register the departure, more concerned with the back and forth that had begun. “I make one mistake and you never let me forget it. I made flowers, and gave the world bees. Who doesn’t like bees?” His hands made exaggerated movements in the air.

xxx “One mistake? Oh, I can count at least three dozen you’ve made in the last decade alone.” The female retorted, slapping his hands casually away. She opened her mouth to continue, before changing her mind and instead adding, “But I didn’t come to bicker with you.”

xxxHe nodded. His partner had come for the same reason he had. He stood up slowly, stretching out his tall frame, before offering a hand to the woman. She took it with a nod, her head tilting slightly in a wordless expression of ‘after you’.

xxxA second later the two figures blinked into existence on the wind-swept top of a sky-scraper. From here they could see the city sprawled out below them; neon, artificial lights marking roads, shop advertisements, and the lit windows of residential apartments. Above them, cleared of the thick layer of clouds, was the night’s blanket of stars.

xxxThough no eyes – mortal or otherwise – happened to glance up at the tip of the building, had someone done so, they would have seen two immortals bathed in moonlight, watching their world with a confidence only the gods know. They were one and the same, and yet separate, two entities burning in a universe of their creation.

xxxHe was tall and pale, his feet rooted solidly in the ground beneath him even while his hands reached heavenward. His cheekbones were chiselled from marble, sharp enough to cut mountains. Dark eyes of endless knowledge inspected his world, while strands of hair the same pitch black were pushed back from his face with lithe fingers. His appearance was similar to natives of this land, albeit almost concentrated, as if he were the original that all others had been moulded by.

xxxShe, on the other hand, had the dark, warm skin of someone who would have been marked a foreigner had she walked amongst Tokyo’s population. Her face was softer; a smooth sculpture of beauty, with thick curls of coal-coloured hair engulfing her head. Pupils that whispered of eons gone by watched the city like a predator of old, her lips held tight in a thin frown as possibilities of the days to come ran through her mind.

xxx “Owari” He spoke her name like a resolution; a finality echoing from his lips; the end.

xxx “Hajimari.” She responded with his name; a beginning; a taste of fresh possibilities, and boundless growth.

xxx “Things are moving.” He stated, his eyes too seeing beyond the crawling traffic below. “Do you think they’re ready?”

xxx “They’ll have to be.” Owari responded, her tone firm.

xxxHajimari nodded, rising his gaze from the streets at his feet to the stars above. His hand rose, fingers splayed above his head as his eyes searched between the digits. “Perhaps a sign then.” He murmured, almost to himself. Though, Owari heard and followed her partner’s gaze to the heavens.

xxx “Many have long since forgotten us.” She reminded him as his fingers began to dance overhead. His hand made a graceful pulling motion, a soft breath left his lips, and then the first star fell across the night’s sky; a streak of pure light momentarily illuminating the heavens. More followed, creating a meteor shower for any who happened to turn their attention to the sky that night.

xxx “Well, perhaps this is for my comfort than.” Hajimari replied, his hands clasped behind his back as he admired his work. Owari let the silence build as she too watched the show above, until a dozen moments had passed.

xxx “They all have demons to face.” Her words rang with a hint of pity, for she knew the dangers that were to come.

xxx “Most are of their own making.” Hakimari responded, “They would have had to face them eventually.”

xxxOwari nodded, her curls shifting as if stirred by a gentle wind, “We can only watch now.”

xxxA look of slight guilt crossed the pale god’s face, his eyes flashing momentarily. His partner turned ever-perceptive eyes on him, her frown deepening as she sensed his intentions, “Hajimari, if I’ve told you once, I’ve told you a million times, stop interfering with their lives!”

xxxAnd just like that, the aura of power and mystery that surrounded the two gods evaporated. Like an old couple, married for too long and all too aware of each other’s faults, they began trading words; barbs, insults, passive aggressive suggestions. A bird soaring above would be wise to avoid the area directly around the snapping deities, a rat might have taken sheltered in a solid pipe well below the pair too. For the less perceptive mortals, they continued their work without contemplating that above them stood two squabbling gods, or that among their number roamed immortals and ghosts. Even as the two gods disappeared, the only witness to their presence a pouting teenage boy, the world continued to move of its own accord.

xxxIn a shoe-box apartment only a few blocks from the building once occupied by the two gods, a Guardian Angel calling himself Kohaku was preparing to leave on work-related business. A short distance further, within the performance hall of one of Tokyo’s learning institutes, a blonde boy studying music gave his hands a shake as he glared at a piano piece. And further away, across vast oceans and mountain ranges carved and painted by the hands of the divines, a goblin’s hand reached for a door knob. Slim fingers curled around the brass head, her eyes shut, mind searching for the pull of her next destination. She opened the door and slid through, her eyes alighting on the clear windows of her Tokyo apartment to see stars decorating the sky.