Yuzuki Isawa

[Yuzuki Isawa]

Yuzuki Isawa

[/color][/font]

♦ | ♦ | ♦ | ♦ | ♦ | ♦ | ♦ | ♦ | ♦ | ♦ | ♦ | ♦ | ♦ | ♦

Pain, Locked in Chains

[/color][/font][/u]

FROM HERE TO THERE

FULL NAME: Yuzuki Isawa
ALIAS / NICKNAMES: Zuki (former nickname)
AGE: 23
BIRTHDATE: March 26
RACE: Human
SOCIAL STATUS:
Officially the Countess of Toshi no Inazuma
(Empire of Yamataikoku). While the city is still
held in her name, her long absence makes her
sister Aya Isawa the unofficial ruler
OCCUPATION:
Former Captain of the Imperial Guards,
Wanderer and Mercenary

♦ | ♦ | ♦ | ♦ | ♦ | ♦ | ♦ | ♦ | ♦ | ♦ | ♦ | ♦ | ♦ | ♦

[/color][/size]


DOWN TO THE FINER POINTS

HEIGHT: 5’8’’

WEIGHT: 140lbs

HAIR:

Washed by rain and dried by dust, her mangy hair has seen better days. Formerly a brilliant gold tainted with faint hues of red, her unruly mane now sprouts behind her like wild hay, barely restrained into a ponytail.

[/blockquote]
EYES:

Violet, the royal color of days past, bespeaks the owner’s noble bloodline. But those eyes, permanently clouded by intoxication, appear dull and lifeless. Only an occasionally flickering spark, zipping past before drowning into those dead pools, reminds the world that she is still alive.

GENERAL APPEARANCE:

A traveler, Yuzuki shuns fanciful coats in favor for a simple, weather-worn kimono. The black of the robe fades from the shoulders down, a natural gradient created by tempests and storms. The white sleeves, once purer than snow, have turned a faint beige, and their edges made jagged by knives and blades. Only the red dye, made from the roots of a dozen rare plants, still retain the robe’s crimson shade. The robe is in every way a reflection of its wearer – all must fade, except for the blood on her hands.

Her outfit leaves little to the imagination. A warrior, her prowess is belied by her voluptuous form – she would have bound her ample breasts, but the process proved much too troublesome for someone on the go. Across her chest lays a diagonal scar, the top of which just visible under the folds of her robe.

Her legs are long and well-muscled, bespeaking power more than grace. Tanned by the sun, her skin would have glistened healthily if not for her fondness of liquor. As present, it glows with an unnatural white, her veins visible just beneath the surface.

But her form, however imposing in better days, is now hunched and haggard. With her boisterous mane spraying all about her, no one pays enough attention to spot her breathtaking face. A powerful jaw line, deep set eyes, thin lips haunted by the ghost of a smile…Yuzuki is beautiful in her own way. Not innocent and pure. Nor seductive and beguiling. She has the look of experience: someone who has walked the road, seen the sights, and survived to tell the tale. She has the air of mystery: that enigmatic smile, features too fine to belong to a commoner, demeanor too quiet to be truthful…

PICTURE:

♦ | ♦ | ♦ | ♦ | ♦ | ♦ | ♦ | ♦ | ♦ | ♦ | ♦ | ♦ | ♦ | ♦

PERSONALITY:

Alive, barely

Brainless. Crude. Filthy. During her travels, she has heard such insults and more, to which she replies only with her same, inscrutable (idiotic!) smile. Yuzuki appears to possess the mildest of temperament, if the lack of response and utter passivity could be considered a personality. She is forever drunk, forever smiling. The world whirls by her, and she, a traveler, pays no heed to either the world or its inhabitants.

Blasé or sloth?

She is reticent, but not in a nervous, cat-got-her-tongue way. Rather, any attempt of conversation aimed at Yuzuki will rarely garner anything more than a bored grunt, that is, if any reply is given at all. Her detachment, however, is more often than not mistaken as arrogance or affront. As such, she has gotten herself into much more trouble with spoiled nobles than she would have liked. Fights are nuisances, and she is far too lazy to participate. If there are weapons involved, she will, with those characteristic drunken steps, move just enough to avoid razor-sharp edges. If fist and brawn are all that opposed her, then more likely than not, she won’t even bother with dodging – after a while, the attackers will grow tired and leave, they always do.

Anything for a drink

Despite her passive behavior, Yuzuki does fight every once in a while. But these engagements, if they could be called such, are hardly fights. Fights imply length, be this length filled with glinting armor and clashing swords or filthy words and railed back fists. When Yuzuki unsheathes her sword however, there is no length. Time seems to freeze as Kiku-ichimonji, far too glorious a sword for someone of her station, rends air and flesh. One stroke, whether aimed to threaten or to kill, is more than enough. When she draws back, sword by side, her image seems to be distorted by sun rays. Basked in light, even her travel-worn drabs and lackluster hair cannot conceal the sharp glint of her eyes or the handsome angle of her jaw. The corner of her lips lifts and she tilts her chin, the aura of power and nobility surrounds her… A cloud passes by and playfully obscures the sun. When it passes, the image of the proud warrior is gone. Yuzuki’s form seems to shrink before the eye - back hunching, face lowering, shoddy bangs obscuring piercing eyes. Next comes the routine. She collects her dues and leaves, but not before raising her water sack and chugging down its contents. The powerful liquor burns a trail down her throat; a pleasant warmth courses through her. She frowns as she shook out the last drop – time to hit the tavern.

[/size]

[/color][/size]


LIKES:

[li] Alcohol, the stronger the better[/li][li] Her sword Kiku-ichimonji[/color][/li][li] Night, particular when there’s a full moon[/color][/li][li] Singing when she’s properly liquored up[/color]

DISLIKES:

[/li][li] People bothering her[/color][/li][li] Running out of alcohol[/color][/li][li] Having to work for her alcohol[/color][/li][li] Having to talk[/color][/li][li] Her sword Juuchi Yosamu[/color]

HOBBIES:

[/li][li] Drinking upon roofs[/color][/li][li] Singing or sword playing under a full moon[/color][/li][/ul][/size]

♦ | ♦ | ♦ | ♦ | ♦ | ♦ | ♦ | ♦ | ♦ | ♦ | ♦ | ♦ | ♦ | ♦

BELOW THE SURFACE

SPECIAL SKILLS:

Drunk Fu
A style Yuzuki arguably invented. Drunk Fu blends the close-quarter throws and tosses of wrestling, an activity she has often observed among soldiers, with the unpredictable and uneven steps of a drunkard. When executed correctly (that is, when she’s properly drunk), it is nearly impossible for an attack to so much as graze her sleeve. Like a willow tree braving against harsh winds, she bends when the wind blows, chases when the wind ceases. However, since she seldom fights with this style, its prowess in combat is untested. For the time being, it remains an excellent evasion technique only.

WEAPONS:

Kiku-ichimonji

A simple and glorious blade, its worth evident not in its golden swallow but in its polished, hair-splitting edge. Its grip is wrapped in white, a color uncharacteristic of katana blades, further enhancing its noble image. The blade is long, hanging perilously at the limit of impeccable craftsmanship. One more millimeter, and the balance would be off, the blade rendered useless. But at 73 cm, it is the perfect blend of mobility and reach.

Juuchi Yosamu

Yuzuki didn’t like the blade. She would have never set hands on it if it isn’t a gift from her beloved hime-sama. Unlike the noble Kiku-ichimonji, Juuchi Yosamu whispers evil in its midnight black edge, tempered only by the glint of fine metal. Its grip and guard are lavishly decorated, overly so. Although they do not impede the prowess of the blade in any way, such showy craftsmanship foretells the maker’s arrogance. Juuchi Yosamu is a killing blade, the decorations meant to intimidate. Bloodthirsty, the sheer aura of the demonic edge can blind a lesser will. Once unsheathed, it can only be pacified by blood. And, if not sated, upon its own wielder the blade would feed. All that slain by the blade is forever tormented by its curse. Their soul may not move forward from this earth. Not to reincarnate. Not to rejoin loved ones. Trapped, forever held in place.

MAGICAL ABILITIES: none

FAMILY:

Hiroshi Isawa (father), former Count of Toshi no Inazuma
Miyako Isawa (father), former Countess of Toshi no Inazuma
Aya Isawa (eldest sister), current regent of Toshi no Inazuma
Riko Isawa (sister)
Chiyoko Isawa (sister)

♦ | ♦ | ♦ | ♦ | ♦ | ♦ | ♦ | ♦ | ♦ | ♦ | ♦ | ♦ | ♦ | ♦

[/size]
BACKGROUND:

Dance of blades

The youngest of Count Isawa’s daughters, Yuzuki has always been more interested in her father’s weapons than frills and dolls. While her sisters dressed themselves up in the latest fashion, she played with fearsome edges, waltzing with death. Her father, ever the opportunist, happily accepted his youngest as a surrogate son. Yuzuki was trained by the finest warriors under his command and, once she bested them, by the Imperial Guards.

She was thirteen when she first bested Katashi, the Guards’ captain. The burly man, brown mane already lined with gray, laughed heartily and bestowed his sword, Kiku-ichimonji, to his pupil. Words of Yuzuki’s victory soon spread and commoners and nobles alike hoped for a glimpse of the legendary upstart. Some said she had two heads and four arms. Some said she was an eight-feet tall giant. Some said…the rumors didn’t settle until the Emperor of Yamataikoku himself summoned Yuzuki to court. To everyone’s great surprise, the two-headed monster turned out to be a slender girl, a noble one at that. The emperor, delighting in the Yuzuki’s talent, promoted the promising youngster to the rank of the Imperial Guards. And, seeing that the girl was the same age as his daughter and heiress, made Yuzuki his daughter’s personal guard.
And that was how they met.

Dreams of another lifetime

To date, Yuzuki can never forget the first time she laid eyes upon Shizuka, a girl whose beauty paled everything in comparison.

It was snowing that day; millions of playful crystals caressing the barren land, promising nourishment in the coming spring. Yuzuki loved snow. To her, snow was like heaven’s touch on earth: pure, pristine, perfect. She shuffled along quietly amidst the newly fallen crystals, marking her presence with each step. She wore a new kimono, the stitching on her collar proudly displaying her new rank as a member of the Imperial Guard. Her heart pounded; she had heard the Crown Princess to be kind, but would a lady of such stature really accept a thirteen-year-old as her personal guard?

Her usual confidence all but evaporated, she approached the palace slowly. Maybe it was a bad decision for her to accept the appointment so boldly. Too arrogant a move – she had let the glory of victory go to her head. If she should displease the Crown Princess, then not only would she lose her freedom, but possibly her head as well.

The weight of a hand on her shoulder made her turn. She looked at her mentor questioningly.

“We have arrived.” Katashi stated simply, a reassuring smile conveying all that he needed to say.

Yuzuki turns again, a fleeting crimson dying her cheeks from her silly mistake; she hadn’t noticed herself stop walking. She took a deep breath and approached the compound. She waited by the paper panel as a servant announced her arrival. She walked briskly into the room when the panel slid open. She knelt.

“YuzukiIsawaatyoursevicemilady.” She said in one breath, eyes never leaving the ground, stomach tied up in knots.

A melodious laugh, the sound of silver bells, roused her. She looked up.

In the North there's a lady,
Singular in her beauty
One look astounds a city;
Another dooms an empire.
Rather not know the ruination that follows her.
Such rare beauty again will not be found

There were no words to describe the girl. If she must try, then Shizuka was the essence of snow. Pure. Pristine. Perfect.
Skin whiter than snow and finer than silk. Hair a cascade of midnight strands, trailing behind her and shimmering with unparalleled brilliance. Face the masterpiece of a finest sculptor, each curve flawless…

Yuzuki has never been captivated by a boy or man, being years removed from the marrying age. The times when she had been pursued, she laughed at the poor fellows’ antics. Were stuttering supposed to charm her?

But now, she felt her heart beat faster, threatening to burst out of its chambers. All of her blood seemed to rush to her head, and, as hard as she tried, she could not tear her eyes away from the beauty before her. She didn’t understand the flutterings she felt; she only knew that she wanted to imprint the image before her into her mind. Sear it into her memory. Keep it there forever…

A slash across the heart, not penetrating

The Toshi no Inazuma was in uproar. Everywhere rose great clamors, drowning out even the sound of cheerful trumpets. The city folks went all about in their merriment: visiting friends, dining, and most of all, talking about the cause for all the celebration – today the Countess of Toshi no Inazuma celebrates her eighteenth birthday.

The people love their Countess, a girl, ney, woman, younger than nearly all of them. She had made quite a name for herself in her youth, and, having been promoted to the Captain of the Imperial Guards upon her mentor’s retirement, brought glory and prestige to the city. When the Lady and Lord of Toshi no Inazuma first passed away, the same people had been dubious of the younger Isawa’s capabilities. Can so young a girl govern? But aside from her valor in combat, she soon proved herself in the matters of state. Under her brief two year rule, Toshi no Inazuma has seen a period of prosperity paralleled only by the lore of the old.

In her own manor, Yuzuki gazed upon her friend and lover fondly. Shizuka had grown even more beautiful over the years. It was hard for her to believe, even now, that Shizuka liked herself. When her unusual love for her liege had been first discovered (she needed to work on not sleep-talking), Yuzuki had panicked and all but bolted away. But Shizuka had hugged her ever so calmly (warmly) and accepted her love.

Their relationship started out slowly. In public, they still maintained the perfect guise of the princess and her guard. But in private, they grew much closer. There was not a secret between the two of them. And, in the dead of the night, when the servants were fast asleep, Yuzuki often helped Shizuka sneak away from the palace. Together, they chartered wilderness unseen. Together, they listened to the symphony of nightingales. Together, they watched the first red hue marking the rising sun…

Their love grew slowly but steadily, and each day was the happiest day Yuzuki ever lived.

“Zuki, guess what’s in this box!” Shizuka exclaimed happily, presenting her guard with a long, rectangular box about a meter in length. In the confines of Yuzuki’s room, she was not the prim and proper Crown Princess but a mere teenager, excited to celebrate her love’s birthday.

“Haha, I don’t know, Zuka, why don’t you tell me?” Yuzuki replied with a chuckle, though she had quite a few good guesses in mind.

“Open it and you’ll see.” Came the enigmatic reply.

Yuzuki complied, and, in a single flourish, untied the ribbon and removed the lid. A sword laid in the cushioned box. A troubled glint flickered past Yuzuki’s eyes.

“It’s named Juuchi Yosamu. A shogun had made a tribute of it to father; he spoke much of its prowess. I thought, why let such a fine sword sit in father’s treasury? Fine swords belong with fine warriors, and so…happy birthday!”

Yuzuki made no motion to seize the sword. A worried look tainted Shizuka’s beautiful features. “Zuki, you don’t like it?”

“Huh? Of course I do! I was merely admiring it. Thank you, Zuka, it’s perfect.” As if snapping out of a trance, Yuzuki quickly replied. She had lied. For some reason unbeknownst to herself, she didn’t like the sword. In fact, it repelled her. But it was a gift from her beloved, and, no matter what Shizuka gave her, the gift is wonderful.

She grabbed the sword.

A stab through the heart, breaking

“Why, Zuki, why?!” Her beloved snow princess, now empress, cried, hugging the corpse of a newly slain man. His blood dyed her azure robes (Sacrilege!).

“I…Zuka…no…let me explain!” She panicked. She held the sword, the blood-tainted, freshly killed sword (O evil sword!).

“I know I’ve done you wrong,” Shizuka sobbed, “It wasn’t my intention to hurt you…But I couldn’t stop my heart from falling for him. I told you. You said you understood…so WHY?!”

“No, that’s not it, no…” How does she explain?! It was the sword that did it? Ludicrous! Even a fool would not blame a murder on the weapon. But, how else would she explain the ridiculous deed?

“Zuka, listen to me! Don’t you remember my eighteen birthday?” Having finally found her voice, Yuzuki spoke quickly. She grabbed the collar of her kimono and ripped, bearing her collarbones and the top of her heaving chest. Across the previously immaculate skin laid the tip of a scar. Jagged. Hideous to behold. It slashed diagonally down her chest, disappearing into her robe, hinting at a length far longer than seen.

“Remember? This sword is evil! I tried throwing it away, but every time it came back. It wants blood!” She cried out, her voice trembling. “I tried to stop it, but it seized me in my sleep…I…I really didn’t mean to…” 'But you did. If you didn’t want to kill him, I would have never been able to control your mind.'A voice in her head sneered.

“Zuka…Zuka?” But the empress has long stopped listening.

“Yuzuki Isawa.” Shizuka haven’t used her full name in ages. “If you are going to lie to me, at least be more convincing.” Her face is cold, perfect features marred by grief and rage. She smoothed out the man’s hair, laid him gently on the ground, and stood. “Give me the sword.”

“Zuka…”

“Give me the sword.”

She complied. Carefully wiping the bloodied handle on her kimono, she presented the sword (O evil blade!) to her beloved, with the edge facing toward herself. She closed her eyes, waiting for the inevitable.

Her cross to bear

“Kill me.” Despair, anguish, pain…a thousand emotions swirled about in her usually calm violets. Her kimono was red now, a searing shade that burnt the eye. It was the color of his blood, whom she killed. And it was the color of her blood, whom she loved, and who died for the man she killed.

“No.” The boy, regal despite his age, replied simply.

She closed her eyes and raised her own sword.

“Will you abandon her then? Let her be trapped by the curse? Forsake your vows of protection?” He asked, calm as ever, words piercing.

She lowered her sword.

“You will find a way to break the curse. Until you free my sister, you may not die. Go now, I will prepare whatever you need. Travel the lands. Find a way.” He commanded. Already, he has the aura of an emperor.

She raised a hand. “I will take nothing from this place.” She paused. “But I will delay my death. I vowed to protect her forever, and protect her I shall, even in death.”