Nickname: Most of his 'nicknames', if one can call them that, revolve around his job or, at times, lack there of such as 'Man Hunter', 'Mercenary', 'Vagrant', 'Ronin' (which he isn't, but people tend to pay more if they think he used to belong to the warrior caste and who is he to deny them that right?) and other... less than pleasant names.
Age: 28
Gender: Male
Species: Human
Height: 5'11
Weight: 181 lbs
Hair Color: Black
Eye Color: Sterling Gray
Physical Description: Brutish, hard and rugged. There are, perhaps, no better words in which to better describe Matsuo. He is not an elegant, refined noble who has grown fat and soft in his position or one of those 'willowy tough' member of the warrior caste, no, Matsuo has a laborer's body. His lightly haired chest is broad with thick corded muscles that flex and bend with every movement, his skin is darkened from the sun, his hands are deeply calloused and his grip is stone crushing. His arms are large and powerful and his legs are akin to tree trunks, coupled with his large size, especially for his time and location, and Matsuo has a very intimidating appearance. He has often been referred to as a 'brute' by his employers or those facing down his spear, and they are right, but it is hardly his fault that others are soft or, as he often finds amusing, claiming to be 'lanky but strong', but if they had only faced other 'lanky but strong' brats then he can hardly be faulted when they run into people who have truly labored and have true bodily strength.
Besides his large, well, bulk, the first thing people tend to notice is the array of scars littering his body, especially, those on his face. He has two large scars that span his forehead and bridge of his nose that are connected by one that runs down his right eye. While he still has a right eye, it is hard for people to look at as his eye has turned white in its blindness. He makes no effort to hide his eye, and some of his past employers have attempted to purchase eye patches or silk clothe for him to cover his eye with, as his eye defines who he is. It is his constant reminder of his failure, a warning to others and it forces the weak-stomached to leave him in peace. It tends to be rather useful in negotiating payment as most assume he got it in battle and why would he ever correct as most are willing to pay more for a man who can take such wounds and still cling, almost pitifully so, to life? His face, however, is not the only thing that is scarred. His arms and legs are littered with small scars almost as if he had stuck his limbs into a giant blender. On his chest, is a large X that has been carved in, the scars are deep and, at the center of the X is a large brand, ć, marking him to all as a prisoner. His back is, perhaps, the worst of all as numerous lash marks mar its surface in layers as if his skin had started to heal only to be laid open once again by a new whip.
In another life, Matsuo could have passed as a 'ruggedly handsome', but not in this life. While his eye is a remarkable sterling gray, like the cloudy sky on a rainy day, and his jaw is proud and strong, they are undercut by his long nose that is slightly off center from having been broken and reset more times then he cares to remember, thin lips that are often pursed together in a grimace or frown hiding his clean, white teeth that give him a hard, unforgiving visage. His long black hair is, often, pulled back into a long ponytail, but much to his frustration, his bangs always seem to slip out to hang above his eyes, obscuring his thick arching eyebrows. While his hair is a lovely shade of black, almost onyx, it tends to be jaggedly cut, as he tends to do that with his dagger when it starts to irk him, and unkempt. As he often doesn't have the time, or inclination, he will have a thin, shadow of stubble stretching across his jaw. Matsuo has a earthy scent that seems to follow him around, some of likened it to burning hickory which is a very pleasant smell which he has always found amusing.
His kimonos tend to be in bad shape as he sees no point in buying new kimonos simply because his are getting worn, well, worn is a nice way to say it as 'patched' or 'mismatched' could be better as he will often stich and sow other fabrics into it, especially, those he has looted or 'acquired' elsewhere to make the kimono last longer. He does tend to favor more earthy tones such as browns, dark greens and grays. Due to having to travel often, in the hot sun more often then not, Matsuo is very fond of his conical hat that he made himself a long, long time ago, and he is rather protective and, almost, sentimental about it. While he doesn't always have it on him, he does enjoy using a pipe, while he doesn't smoke as he doesn't enjoy the taste or the feeling in his lungs, he has a fondness for 'gnawing' on the end, enjoying how it feels on his teeth. When he doesn't want to pull it out of his pack, he will pluck a piece of straw or grass to gnaw on when walking. Brutish, hard and rugged... that is Matsuo. Even if he were to try and keep up with his appearance, it would do little to alleviate that, and more importantly, he has no desire to try.
Capability
Martial Prowess ⊠Matsuo is an experienced warrior and so a very formidable fighter in his own right. While he lacks the 'elegance' and refined fighting style of those of warrior birth, he makes up for it in efficiency and brutality. Despite what some poets like to think, a battle is a brutal and bloody thing, there is no honor there is merely the dead and those that survived, and he intends to be the one that survives, to this end, Matsuo has no qualms in resorting to underhanded tactics to win a fight, deception, a strong kick to the fork of a man's legs or even throwing something to obscure their vision, however he must do it, he will win, no matter the cost.
Matsuo's preferred weaponry is a nice, thick yoroidĆshi for close quarters which he keeps in his sash, and he is a superb knife fighter and his Yari spear as it is far cheaper than a Katana or other blade, is a sturdy weapon and is incredibly effective at killing. While he is a passable swordsmen, something his father always prided his family on, Matsuo is far too cheap to ever consider trying to obtain a Katana as such a blade cost a small fortune, and more than that, there are cheaper, just as effective, weaponry readily available. He does have a ono meant for acquiring firewood, but it works as a weapon in a pinch, and he is very good at throwing it.
Hunter ⊠As a member of the lower class (Although, he will often claim to be a Ronin so others will pay more), and a wandering sellsword, he doesn't always have the luxury of purchasing food, as such, Matsuo is a very skilled hunter out of necessity. Due to the loss of his right eye, and a good sense of his depth perception, Matsuo has to rely on his spear and traps to bring down game. Having spent a good portion of his life in a small mountain community, he feels at home in the deep forest of Nippon and is a very gifted field dresser, often, trying to save the coat to earn a few coins in the next town. Thanks to having to constantly look for tracks and signs to set down traps, Matsuo is an experienced tracker able to chase down an animal, or man, and how to conceal the evidence of his goings.
Investigation/Interrogation ⊠Besides acting as hired muscle, bounty hunting tends to be a very lucrative occupation. People trying to skip out on dept, fathers who want their daughters returned or a family enemy removed, or the local lord trying to chase a fleeing criminal, all present business opportunities if someone has the skill to capitalize on it. With his sharp eye and tracking skills, Matsuo is very skilled at finding small details and signs to where the mark has gone or why they fled in the first place, it lets him read into their character and anticipate their actions, and Matsuo is a hard man to lie to. He has no qualms doing what is necessary to get information, be it with honey or a very large stick, he will get the answers he needs. He has considerable skill in this area as Matsuo has built up a very strong reputation as a Man Hunter having yet to fail to return with his mark, they may not always be alive, but he always finds them.
Mercantile ⊠Few appreciate wealth more then those that don't have it. Matsuo knows what it is like to go without and so is extremely light with his purse, downright cutthroat really. He will negotiate and haggle until the sun goes down just to save, or earn, a few more coins and, to him, it will have been a valuable use of his time. To earn extra coin, Matsuo tends to horde small items he finds or loots from the dead as, he is sure, he will find someone, eventually, who will want it and, as they say, it is better to have it and not need it then need it and not have it. He is a very good judge of value, able to hazard a fairly accurate guess of how much something is really worth and he has no time for frauds or cheats and will go out of his way to make sure everyone around knows it.
Survivalist ⊠As a wandering sellsword, Matsuo has always fended for himself, and his origins from a small mountain village help him considerably in this regard. He knows far more about living off the land and taking care of himself then most other warriors do. Having grown up among mountains and forest, and often being injured, Matsuo has picked up a decent amount of knowledge of the local fauna and herbs. He knows which roots to chew to ease pain, which leaves to grind up into paste to staunch bleeding and prevent infection as well as what fungus and plants are toxic. While he is not, by any means, a master nor can he create a complex poultice, he knows enough to act almost as a 'field surgeon'.
This knowledge of plants helps greatly in his hunting and forging efforts as well as aiding him in making food dishes when in the wilds. He is not an accomplished cook, but he does know how, and where, to find local herbs and grasses that can improve the flavor of rations and basic dishes, as well as, how to dry out and preserve meat and other foods he scrounges up to let him draw out his food supplies (and so not have to pay for more). As someone how hates to leave things behind which can, potentially, be used or sold, Matsuo has a knack for scavenging. He always seems to know where to look for goods, which pockets to search and what items can be of marginal use, and it also helps him maintain his equipment as he can, and has, 'repaired' his own gear with the scavenged and gathered bits and pieces of other people's equipment.
Natural Aptitude
Eagle Eye ⊠While Matsuo only has one eye left, his remaining eye is extremely acute. While the lack of two does cause him to suffer in the depth perception department, his left eye picks up small details and movements often unseen by the rest of the world. A rustle of a branch, a twitch of the lip, quick fingers; he sees them all. While he doesn't always know what to make of what he has seen, nor does he always correctly interpret what his eye takes in, Matsuo takes immense pride in his sharp eye.
Hunter's Intuition ⊠A man in his occupation has to have good instincts if he wants to survive and that is exactly what Matsuo has. The first impression, to Matsuo, will decide everything from how he treats the person, how willing he is to work for them and if he should be sleeping with a knife under his mat (which he does anyways, but the point remains). While it is far from perfect, and he has been wrong before, it tends to be correct, and his judgement of their intentions and character, more often than not, is spot on. This intuition has saved his life before by acting akin to a '6th' sense, and this sense has helped him avoid an ambush or assassination attempt more than once as the hairs on the back of his neck rise or the back of his hand itches to alert him of the danger. While, many would claim it is likely just his paranoia, and it is, indeed, a strong part of it, Matsuo knows better then to not trust his instincts.
Matsuo is an... acquired taste. The first impressions he leaves on people tend to be rather poor thanks to his quick, and very sharp, tongue. He has no problem with letting his, often dour, humor out or making a mockery of whoever happens to be closest to him giving little thought to things like gender, age or station. As he often muses, after he has crossed some line he didn't know was there, that, perhaps, he should practice a bit of diplomacy, but he has yet to make the effort. This dry, blunt sarcasm makes him especially disliked by nobility or those of a upper class, and he has had to flee a town or city to avoid such men in the past, but when people are willing to pay his fees, they tend to need him more then they can afford to kill him because he hurt their feelings, or, the clever ones, wait until he has done what they needed then attempt to kill him or withhold his payment. It is fair to say his blunt, sardonic. abrasive nature has earned him very few friends and that is exactly how he likes it. When he was younger, he would use sharp and biting comments to hurt the feelings of others to force them to keep their distance, when people are burned by fire, after all, they rarely reach for it again. Better he give them a small amount of pain and embarrassment now then one of them utterly crush and betray each other down the line, and as he got older, it became automatic. He cannot seem to control it anymore, and much of the time, he doesn't realize what he said until after the words have left his mouth making any efforts to control it doomed from the start. While, at the moment, he would have no desire to control his scathing tongue, he isn't sure he would even be able to as it has become ingrained into his very being.
While forcing isolation on oneself can be seen as a lonely existence, which it is, it is also, from Matsuo's perspective, a very pragmatic decision. If he doesn't trust anyone, keeps his guard up and always expects a betrayal or double cross then he can be prepared for it as nothing is worse than being taken by surprise by the people that one trusts or claims to love. When someone makes themselves open, they make themselves vulnerable. The world is a dark, bitter place underneath all the false platitudes and smiles. The only thing a man can trust is the material. Gold, silver, jewels... these things cannot betray a man, a man may become foolish or consumed by their acquisition, but at least, that is a betrayal of the self. Some people find value in their lives by family, Matsuo validates his purpose through his work and payment, to this end, he is loath to give up even a single coin because, in a small way, it means he is becoming less then he was. Less important, less valuable, less... human. It is an odd thing, to place one's self-worth on wealth, especially, when he doesn't, truly, wish to gather a large fortune. If he were ever to do so, it would mean he would no longer have a purpose anymore. An odd, delicate balance. He needs to gather coins to feel like his life has meaning, he loathes to give any away as it feels like he is losing that, but if he were ever to truly succeed in his endeavors he would be left with nothing. Pursuing and hording something that, deep down, he is terrified to obtain.
His sardonic attitude and his pragmatic distrust of others acts like a self-imposed exile. Even in a crowd, Matsuo is alone and that is the way he likes it. He hates relying on others and will, often, refuse to do it even if it puts him in a brutal, hopeless situation because if he has to rely on others it means that, in a way, he was too weak to stand on his own and that is not something he can allow. This intense inability to display his own weakness does not spread to others. While he may mock someone else for a perceived vulnerability, he does not dislike it in them nor does it bother him, it is only his own weakness that he despises. To keep himself from relying on others, to build trust in them; he keeps himself emotionally detached from others. It is a skill he has mastered, he can drink with someone, eat with someone, mock them or laugh with them, but there will always be a barrier, a distance between them, and this barrier, this distance, is Matsuo's safety net. Keeps him strong, secure and alone. This forced separation has made him emotionally stunned, however, as should something ever breech that barrier; he wouldn't know how to handle it. His emotions have been chained, pushed to the back of his mind for so long, that he wouldn't be able to properly handle them should they ever get out.
Despite his abrasive and detached tendencies, Matsuo is a reliable man. His word is his bond, and once given, he will do as he has sworn to do. In his line of work, reputation is everything. The second someone loses it, they are done. A reputation takes a lifetime to build but only a moment to destroy. If word were to ever get around that he went back on his word, his contract, he would never be able to recover his reputation from such a deathblow. He would have to scrape along the bottom, taking work from whatever scum offered it. There have been times when his word has gotten him into jobs he did not want, often, when offering protection or acting as a bodyguard, something he now loathes to do. In such cases, he will stick to the exact wording of his contract and will utterly refuse to lift a single finger more hoping to irk them enough to cancel, but no matter the situation, he will never directly go against it. He has often done things he regrets, things he would rather forget, but he does it because that is his job. He bears the burden of his actions as they are his burden alone.
~Childhood~
Matsuo was born in a small northern village, Shigata, tucked away in the mountains. There was barely a hundred people in the village, and their main source of income was in timber and furs as the land was unsuitable to keep a family going through farming. His grandfather was the village elder, their leader, and it was a position his father would take when he was old enough, and if things had turned out differently, it would have been a position Matsuo would have occupied. The only thing truly remarkable about the village was how utterly unremarkable it was. Besides keeping an eye on the village, taking in orphans, the village elder was in charge of the villages militia, while the village was too remote to be a target for brigands, it didn't stop the local lord from mustering up the village men when war was being waged or a small skirmish was being fought. The idea to bring the men together to train as a unit was thought up a few generations ago, through training and sticking together, more men could come back to their families. While they weren't as well equipped as true Ashigaru of more populace or powerful lords, their training was quite advanced for villagers.
As a whole, his childhood was pleasant and entirely uneventful. Their provincial liege, Lord Kagami, never took much interest in their small village on the border of his lands which, as any normal man, or woman, will say, the less a noble looks in your direction, the better. Most of Matsuo's childhood was filled with games with the other boys, and girls, of the village, going hunting with his father, helping his mother and little sister around the house and, when he was older, taking part in the village training, learning how to wield Yari and Yumi. But as Matsuo would later learn, the world delights in kicking someone in the teeth.
~Adolescence~
It wasn't long before his grandfather passed away and his father rose to the position of Village Elder. With the added responsibilities, Matsuo had to start taking over more and more of his father's old responsibilities especially in hunting and ensuring ample food was always at hand. At fourteen, he entered his first battle, nothing more then a Yari wielder in a small border skirmish, and he did terribly. While he had not fled from the battlefield, Matsuo had clambered up in fear at the blood and chaos of battle. Luck was on their side and they were able to route the enemy fairly quickly, but the young 'warrior' had to endure the long walk home under the shame filled eyes of the other soldiers. His father tried to console him, telling him how fear effected them all, and he was young and shouldn't be too hard on himself, but the sympathy only pushed Matsuo's spirits further down as his father should never have had to console him. His father should have been glowing with pride, not watching the looks the others threw at his unworthy son. Matsuo swore to himself that he would never again be paralyzed and controlled by his fear, next time, he would make his father proud. Of course, in the next skirmish a few months later, Matsuo did quite the opposite of what he should have done. Instead of being paralyzed, he was brazen, dangerously so, and his antics and rash glory seeking had nearly gotten them killed. Once more, he had to endure the shame filled looks and mutterings of how silly a boy he was, playing at war. This time, his father did not console him and, instead, pulled him aside by his ear and laid into him about his foolhardy nature and how he had endangered not only his own life, but the lives of every man around them. It was good to be brave, but he was to never be foolish. A brave fool doesn't get a larger grave then the coward. Being young, and sulking over a bruised ego, Matsuo threw a fit, he could never seem to do it correctly. But, despite his tantrum, he did learn, and in the following skirmish, he fought side-by-side with his comrades and, for once, walked home with his chin held high and glare free.
As a young, proud boy, he had his share of infatuations such as the daughter of the pig farmer, the mature widow who lived next to them who had a tendency to leave her window unblocked when she was changing, and whatever other girl happened to capture his over imaginative mind at the time. His 'love' life was little more then a few stolen kisses, clumsy caresses and more then a few slaps. At sixteen, Matsuo saw his first true battle. Their lord had gathered every able bodied man he could in order to face one of their neighbors, a dispute over a local stone quarry and who it belonged to. Their forces met on a rainy fall day, the gray clouds casting a gloomy atmosphere as, to Matsuo's astonishment, thousands of men had mustered on the field. He had never seen so many people gathered in one place, and while he knew that much larger towns and cities then his humble village existed, it was another thing, entirely, to see so many... and it was far worse when those thousands of men started to kill each other. The blood, fear, human feces and screams were far beyond his imagination or nightmares. The sight of hundreds of arrows descending upon him, the panicked pattering of his body to remind himself that he hadn't been hit even as men around him fell to the ground impaled and screaming, and it was an arrow that brought upon the great change in Matsuo's life. A single arrow that brought his life crumbling down around him, an arrow that had pierced Lord Kagami's throat. With their Lord down, their forces pulled back and quit the field. Lord Kagami, despite the apothecaries best efforts, died shortly after hitting the ground and, although Matsuo did not know it yet, Lord Kagami's last breath was the only harbinger of the reckoning that was coming.
The new Lord Kagami was a deviant. He enjoyed using his position and power to 'convince' young girls to please him. When his father was alive, this was curbed, but as the new lord with all the power at his disposal, even after their recent defeat and the loss of the quarry, he was free to engage in his long repressed desires. News of his... desires even reached their small, isolated village, but no one truly gave it much thought. Their village was small, isolated and unimportant, hardly worth a second look or, gods forbid, a visit. For almost an entire year, they were able to escape notice, but the fates were conspiring against them as the young lord had decided to take a 'tour' of his lands to 'examine' his subjects. When his entourage approached their village, Matsuo's mother, and many other mothers, went out of their way to hide their daughter's looks, a small amount of dirt here, a snip of hair there, covered in a dirty, unflattering, kimono all in the vain hopes of escaping the lord's notice.
The young Lord Kagami had the men, women, and children of the village lined up, so he could examine them like horses. He would, occasionally, stop to examine a woman or girl, turn their heads, brush his hands against their curves, measuring them in his mind, before his eyes settled on Matsuo's sister, Akiko. No amount of dirt could hide her startling steel grey eyes or the luxurious dark hair that seemed to shine even under the coat of dirt. In a whirlwind of despair, the young Lord offered her a 'respected position' in his hold and hinted at what would happen should she refuse, how easily it would be to cut their village off from the rest of the world, how easily it would be to remove their tiny dot from the local maps... how terrible it would be if the village was to be attacked by 'bandits', their homes burned, their families slaughtered all because their devoted lord couldn't spare the troops to patrol the mountain passes. Akiko, seeking to protect her home and family, accepted and despite Matsuo's outraged pleas, his father silenced him. Matsuo watched as his sister was dragged off, easily sacrificed and how quickly the other people of the village turned their eyes away from the plight of their neighbor glad it was not their wife, sister or daughter that had been taken. When they returned home, Matsuo tore into his father, only to be struck by the older, stronger man. Even after all his lessons, Matsuo was still thinking only with his heart and not with his mind. They were lowborn peasants, little better than the livestock they raised in the eyes of the nobility, if they fought, and fight they would, they would do so intelligently, striking from the shadows, otherwise, they would easily be crushed, their homes destroyed and their families killed. That night, his fathered gathered a few like minded men, and the small group set off into the mountains to fight in the only way the could, as bandits.
Over the next few months, they ambushed traders, assaulted troop patrols and raided warehouses owned by the Kagami family. It was going well, stories of the Lord's tantrums were always welcomed, how he ordered the seppuku of the samurai in charge of putting them down for his failures, but their success wasn't to last. Lord Kagami's investigators were able to weasel the information out through bribes, the local butcher, Katashi, betrayed the names of the 'bandits', their location and hideouts as well as the village they come from in return for a position as an official of Kagami's court, the safeguard of his family, and a very large reward of RyĆ. Matsuo, his father, and their small group of 'bandits' returned to smoke, ash and death. Their village had been burnt to the ground, their families and friends put to the sword for their crimes of aiding and abetting outlaws. As they searched the ruins, they were set upon by men of Lord Kagami who had been lying in wait for them to return. They did their best to resist, to fight back, their anger blinding them and robbing the notion of retreat from their minds as many were slain, but a few, such as Matsuo and his father, were captured.
They were paraded through the streets, the 'bandits' that had endangered the lives of the people, that raped and pillaged through the countryside. They were spat on, beaten and rotten food was flung at them. No matter the intention, it took only one word at the right place and time to turn those noble intentions into a noose around the neck. a lesson Matsuo learned well and to heart. Kagami made a great show of giving them 'fair consideration', but the gleam in the young man's eye was anything but fair. He recognized Matsuo, from his outbreak on his sister's abduction, and made effort to talk about his newest, and loveliest, concubine as he made it clear that Matsuo and his father would be dealt with separately from the other captives who were quickly put to death, dismembered so they would never truly find peace on the other side.
Taken to the training yard, tied, beaten and forced to prostrate themselves before the young lord as he waved his katana around, freshly forged, but yet to be tested. A child with a new toy and eager to play with it. His 'kindness' had him bring out Akiko, to let them see her one more time before they were taken from this world, to see just how well he had been taking care of her. The bruises covering her face told a different story, a story that no amount of the pale cosmetics that coated her face could hide. Matsuo's father, brave to the end, spat at the lord's feet and cursed the man for being half the man his father was, he faced his death nobly, his head held up high, his eyes defiant even as the sword lowered on his neck. He can still remember the scream that ripped from his sister's throat, the cry of outrage from his own, the sick ecstatic look on the lord's face as the blade easily parted his father's flesh and... how his father head had bounced and rolled in the dirt.
Not bothering to waste time cleaning his blade, Lord Kagami moved to Matsuo, and Matsuo was determined to face his death as bravely as his father. He lifted his chin, met the Lord's gaze and willed his body to stop trembling. As the sword fell, Matsuo failed his father once again. He lost his courage, he lost his pride for a selfish desire to live at any cost. He threw himself to the side, the descending blade his body fought to get away from was the last thing his right eye saw as the blade sliced through the side of his face. The last thing Matsuo saw before darkness claimed him was the smile that slid across the lord's face.
Matsu woke up in a cell a few days later, his face coated in dried blood and bloated from infection. The Lord had spared the coward, but not after getting his sister to fully submit to him, to no longer fight him. Her will and body for Matsu's life. She scarified herself for her coward of a brother who could not die with honor as their father did. For the next few months, as he healed, Matsu was tortured, but it didn't matter anymore. The pain of his body, the loss of his sight... it was pale in the comparison to the shattering of his soul. To his shame and anger, he survived the infection. Not even the gods would let him die now. He had made his choice, had thought his pathetic life worth saving, and it seemed, they were going to humor him. Lord Kagami visited only once, the day before he was tossed out of the castle, with his sister. The fire that was in Akiko's eyes were gone. While she may be breathing, on the inside, she was just as dead as their father and mother. Beaten and bloody, Matsu picked himself up from the dirt and walked. He didn't know where he was going, why he was going, his body just moved itself as the cowardly man of a brave father and a loving sister fled like a whipped dog.
~Adult~
For the next few years, Matsu wandered aimlessly. More dead then alive, taking jobs wherever he could, hoping for death but clinging to life. Slowly, his life became consumed with self-hatred and his work. The past still haunted him, but he became adept at forgetting it, at putting the memories behind a mental block and while he did not sleep any better; he was able to be more then a walking specter. Wandering and working, that became his life for the next decade. He did not hear anything about his sister, of the lord, of the traitor Katashi, and he didn't ask.
Matsuo had numerous jobs, numerous employers and had preformed more then his fair share of... work, some more shameful than others. He protected tax collectors, acted as an enforcer for outlaws and gambling den owners, bodyguard for officials and the wealthy and even, at times, a hitman and assassin. It all blended together, just work that he could detach himself from. To become numb, to lash out with barbed words as his only outlet, to live... well, try to, deep down, he knows the only parts of his soul that were worth having died with his father and sister. Of course, being in his line of work, he heard of the Yakuza and waved it off as a childish fantasy. A 'second chance' for people like him didn't exist, if something was too good to be true, then it likely was, but more than that, people like him didn't deserve a second chance and more fool on others for thinking they did. With the raise of ToshirĆ, Matsuo felt validated. As always, his pessimistic nature had called out the false promise for what it was without having been drawn in. If it hadn't been ToshirĆ, it would have been someone else to cast off their thin shell of idealism, and Matsuo is just glad he was wise enough to not fall for their tricks, he would hate to be working for a man like ToshirĆ. Matsuo is fond of gold, not corrupted idealism fueling egomania, and more then that, being stuck in the same job making less money then he did now? Terrible fate.