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Disclaimer: the following information found within this thread is to be taken OOCly and not ICly unless your characters gets informed through in-game means. This is to avoid any sorts of metagaming that may escalate into further situations
Written by both @jayseph_ and @hebwig
For @MikeShotZ
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Disclaimer: the following information found within this thread is to be taken OOCly and not ICly unless your characters gets informed through in-game means. This is to avoid any sorts of metagaming that may escalate into further situations
Written by both @jayseph_ and @hebwig
For @MikeShotZ
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The Patriarch
In 1915, the Yamaguchi-gumi was first designated as a family of several criminals throughout Japan. Quickly gaining a fearful reputation, their numbers rose into the ten thousands as several years went on. Even continuing to stand through the 1980s. Other organizations and families began to affiliate themselves with the Yamaguchi-gumi, the Inagawa-kai, and the Yamaken-gumi two which stood out in their similar reputation to the Yamaguchi-gumi. Under the large group stood the Sawatari-kai, a contingent other than the two known families that young, seventeen-year-old Datenshi Akihito unintentionally discovered.
After being roughed up in Osaka by a complete stranger, Datenshi somehow found himself in front of the aforementioned patriarch; Sawatari Kazutoshi. Engaging in a bit of not-so-secret digging and searching deeper into the situation of this random stranger, Datenshi then aimlessly walked into the Patriarch’s office. Fearful for his life, he lacked the words necessary in order to explain himself. However, as soon as a few words of Rabelaisian behavior spewed from his mouth, the patriarch’s mocking behavior strayed in the face of Datenshi’s desperation.
Being unable to continue with the frantically-stoic exterior he’d put on, Datenshi collapsed to his knees and broke into a fit of pleas and begging. The shock of the situation transitioned into an opportunity, a way that Datenshi could finally be strong for himself. With utterly nothing left of his previous life, one that surrounded itself with nothing but disaster, he mumbled the fake name; designated to himself years before ending up in Osaka.
“Akihito. . . ‘Mike.’”
With the uncertainty and complete terror the next years of his life brought, Datenshi became Yakuza. Met with nothing but harshness from the Sawatari-kai, he was pitiful and weak; yet, he had a plan. He knew what he had to do in order to get where he needed, to order to be strong enough to protect himself. As Datenshi went on, he grew under the disguise of an unassuming, unnatural name that was unbefitting for Japan and progressed quickly. His motivation and new purpose he’d begun to possess were enough to allow him the strength necessary to take the assault from other members of the Sawatari-kai.
In the sight of insult? He would never budge. In the case, someone threw a punch at him? He did not falter. His mentality aided his growth, sacrificing his young adult years for the simple crime that soon became knowledge like the back of his hand. Anything from basic mugging of a citizen who’d wronged the Sawatari-kai, to standing still outside of the office for hours on end as a guard. Datenshi grew up quickly, becoming a teenager that others would cower in the sight of, taking on tasks like it were his lifetime career.
The poor reputation he’d initially had with other members expanded to honor and mutual respect. His heart protected himself and the few friends he had made along the way, guiding him. That, at the very least, was indeed honorable.
Straining his body until it was sore in the evening for sixty days straight, the two months Datenshi had worked himself under forced him to become a different man; the stronger man he’d wanted to be. Memorizing the Yakuza code back-to-front, treating his elders and superiors with respect, and even gaining traction as a person through word-of-mouth within other groups of the Yamaguchi-gumi toward Datenshi in a short period of time was more than impressive. Though, not all of his hard work had positive results. One twisting event that he never expected, nor was prepared for took place; sending his mind into a panic as limited options remained.
As he prepared to speak to the patriarch about another group affiliated with the Sawatari-kai and its misbehavior, Datenshi walked in on a brutal murder scene. With the victim’s head gone from its body and instead spewing something gruesome, it proved that the act did not take place long ago. Not to mention, the body itself was far from recognizable.
Shooting his head around, there was no way to say who was watching him. Who had eyes on him!? To no avail of finding any other spectators, Datenshi tore his sight back onto the spectacle in front of him. Surely as a yakuza, this was not the first bloody thing he’d seen. But a maimed body like this was different. A bout of nausea welled in him, threatening to force him to keel over right then and there. Several different gut feelings, more than just his potential of getting sick, overflowed in him at once and sent him bolting out of the room in an instant. No one had ever seen such a display from Datenshi, much less him suddenly busting from a room; but, the ajar door gave enough evidence that someone had seen the torture along his very eyes.
More worries drew over him once in his home. Everything was making him question anything. Even the slightest change to the position of silverware on the counter; why was it suddenly moved when it was here before? The reality that he was with no ordinary Yakuza group settled in his chest. It didn’t calm him any less and still didn’t when he lie in bed that same night. He recalled situations from people he used to call colleagues, finding them to be nothing more than the sickest criminals in disguise. The truth of the Sawatari-kai spanned far past a single violation of the Yakuza code, something that he could not fathom aligning himself to.
As the disoriented puzzle pieces connected in his mind and formed a grotesque image beyond his mental understanding, fear overwrought Datenshi at where this purpose he entrusted to the “Yakuza” would lead him. An urge to flee the setting that no longer felt familiar to him could no longer be shaken under the grasp of the murderous sight he had tottered upon earlier. Disallowing another moment to go to waste, Datenshi hurled himself out of that uncomfortable futon. He gathered everything necessary within the few minutes he permitted himself, and when it was finally time to go, he did not once take a mere glimpse back.
Takashima, an unfamiliar town to which he’d forced himself to take trains upon buses, was small and sometimes unnoticed on maps of the prefecture. Only accessible by a lone bridge, it was Datenshi’s gateway to another horrid place of his life. There were no names or faces that he could attribute to the yakuza. Instead, the city was filled with hellish criminals who you could meet one day and attend their funeral the next. The plucked-off numbers of innumerable citizens who came and went, given nothing of a reputation nor chance at succeeding further in life, stilled Datenshi as he struggled with his newfound trouble. Should he leave this town? Or should he stay?
In spite of the danger he resided in, the notion of leaving his friends behind in Takashima would hurt him more than any weapon. Still young and unaware of what was going to happen next, the turmoil of decisions eventually led him into a tumult he found necessary to avoid. After a group of nameless thugs belonging to the Sawatari-kai tracked Datenshi down to the small, unknown rural city he was living in, the choice to leave became pressing. Having taken them down with the little strength he could muster into his fists, Datenshi gathered all of his hesitations and kicked it into shreds knowing that his life was in danger.
For some reason, he always felt as if he was in danger. More and more criminals awaited him along his escape route, bringing on an awful taste in his mouth that wouldn’t fade. How long was he going to endure this fore? How long will he have to undergo terrible assaults and nonstop harassment from relentless underlings? Why were they willing to go so far to take one person down?
Left against the streets of cities he could no longer discern, his thoughts were finally able to pave themselves in a different direction at the sight of an advertisement stickered onto a bus.As he prepared to speak to the patriarch about another group affiliated with the Sawatari-kai and its misbehavior, Datenshi walked in on a brutal murder scene. With the victim’s head gone from its body and instead spewing something gruesome, it proved that the act did not take place long ago. Not to mention, the body itself was far from recognizable.
Shooting his head around, there was no way to say who was watching him. Who had eyes on him!? To no avail of finding any other spectators, Datenshi tore his sight back onto the spectacle in front of him. Surely as a yakuza, this was not the first bloody thing he’d seen. But a maimed body like this was different. A bout of nausea welled in him, threatening to force him to keel over right then and there. Several different gut feelings, more than just his potential of getting sick, overflowed in him at once and sent him bolting out of the room in an instant. No one had ever seen such a display from Datenshi, much less him suddenly busting from a room; but, the ajar door gave enough evidence that someone had seen the torture along his very eyes.
More worries drew over him once in his home. Everything was making him question anything. Even the slightest change to the position of silverware on the counter; why was it suddenly moved when it was here before? The reality that he was with no ordinary Yakuza group settled in his chest. It didn’t calm him any less and still didn’t when he lie in bed that same night. He recalled situations from people he used to call colleagues, finding them to be nothing more than the sickest criminals in disguise. The truth of the Sawatari-kai spanned far past a single violation of the Yakuza code, something that he could not fathom aligning himself to.
As the disoriented puzzle pieces connected in his mind and formed a grotesque image beyond his mental understanding, fear overwrought Datenshi at where this purpose he entrusted to the “Yakuza” would lead him. An urge to flee the setting that no longer felt familiar to him could no longer be shaken under the grasp of the murderous sight he had tottered upon earlier. Disallowing another moment to go to waste, Datenshi hurled himself out of that uncomfortable futon. He gathered everything necessary within the few minutes he permitted himself, and when it was finally time to go, he did not once take a mere glimpse back.
Takashima, an unfamiliar town to which he’d forced himself to take trains upon buses, was small and sometimes unnoticed on maps of the prefecture. Only accessible by a lone bridge, it was Datenshi’s gateway to another horrid place of his life. There were no names or faces that he could attribute to the yakuza. Instead, the city was filled with hellish criminals who you could meet one day and attend their funeral the next. The plucked-off numbers of innumerable citizens who came and went, given nothing of a reputation nor chance at succeeding further in life, stilled Datenshi as he struggled with his newfound trouble. Should he leave this town? Or should he stay?
In spite of the danger he resided in, the notion of leaving his friends behind in Takashima would hurt him more than any weapon. Still young and unaware of what was going to happen next, the turmoil of decisions eventually led him into a tumult he found necessary to avoid. After a group of nameless thugs belonging to the Sawatari-kai tracked Datenshi down to the small, unknown rural city he was living in, the choice to leave became pressing. Having taken them down with the little strength he could muster into his fists, Datenshi gathered all of his hesitations and kicked it into shreds knowing that his life was in danger.
For some reason, he always felt as if he was in danger. More and more criminals awaited him along his escape route, bringing on an awful taste in his mouth that wouldn’t fade. How long was he going to endure this fore? How long will he have to undergo terrible assaults and nonstop harassment from relentless underlings? Why were they willing to go so far to take one person down?
An island getaway. A place secluded from the rest of humanity. Karakura.
Once arrived, Datenshi set on past the looming danger and into his new future. One that, unbeknownst to him, would plummet his mentality and all of the strength he’d worked for into further destruction. The island of Karakura was as beautiful as it was depicted in its advertisements. Gorgeous architecture, a vast forestry and greenery that cornered every single street like a cocoon.
Upon his arrival, the chaotic chase between him and an unruly yakuza came to a halt, enough so that he could settle himself within the city and lay low for the meantime. Unexpected even to himself, his education would continue and pursue itself well into high school, a fate that he would have questioned in years prior.
Adhering to the strange city values, Datenshi was soon employed at the 11/7 convenience store to which he could better fit into the bustling society. The island was a quickly-growing habitat for those in need of a getaway, something that he took advantage of in his flee from the yakuza. Yet, what he sought out next was even more out-of-the-blue.
Datenshi Akihito soon met a student, close in age, who was both an employee of the same workplace and a studen at the same school. Lo and behold, this same person was a councilor; Luke Herrington. If Datenshi could entrust his morals and values to at least one friend during this shapeless period of his life, Luke was definitely the first in mind.
Of course, this was before the two lead similarly-contrasting live of demise.The two continued their studies into college; where Luke excelled and became popular among the student body, Datenshi simply kept to himself in the shadows. Their relationship was a likely case of “opposites attract”, not sharing the same wishes nor probably future. And thus, with their completely different personalities, Datenshi’s reputation as simply being “Luke’s friends” slowly drew out to “Luke’s acquaintance” and then to nothing; for he could not share the same boisterous lifestyle. He was cursed to a future unfruitful and fated with nothing but pain. One eye always open in his sleep in order to guard his surrounding and avoid the sight of a murdered, pulverized body from forming in his nightmares.
Even after all this time, that image would never go away. What were those nauseating blends of gut feelings back then, the second he saw that body? Why did they lead him to this place? A hostile resolve to walk away from all that tormented his mentality overtook his rationality. As he watched that one man, Luke Herrington, succeed some kind of twisted motivation overwhelmed in him onto working somewhat similarly.
He would never replicate what Luke was doing, but he could use his savings to create an honest living of his own. From what was left of his calculative brain, hiding away every bout of a small salary and tips received over time, Datenshi worked himself into the next chapter of his life. A twenty-four year old with a city-wide reputation, a tiny plot of land, and a gift shop with donned the name of “Sayonara,” a forever farewell.
Through what he accumulated upon countless business courses and the rare aid of his talkative friend of the past, the gift shop overflowed with customers on a daily basis. Datenshi met several faces and personalities that only further reminded him of how strange the city was. Somehow, he ignored the signal that something was likely wrong with it. Several faces, several personalities, several relationships. The idea of living honestly was suddenly much more of a reality. Though, that same picture of that maimed body made no difference to his pessimistic mind and what it brought upon him. Datenshi, for as long as he possible could, would pretend that he lived a normal life. He would pretend as if he was not orphaned, as if he was not a runaway, as if he was not currently on the run.
He would pretend to be human.
As his business developed along with the intricacies of his interpersonal relationships, Datenshi collected enough savings to create a proper living space for himself and the friends he’d met through the existence of Sayonara Gift Shop. Shortly thereafter, created on the exact same grounds, present to Karakura and active to this date, the Akihito Estates were born. The detail put into each and every panel of roofing and etched into each pillar of homes was far beyond the belief of a man such as himself. Even after all of this, in both awe and shock of what his surplus profit could bring, Datenshi couldn’t keep pretending.
It was too painful; not being something a person should have to burden. No person should have been encumbered with the sight of a brutalized and dead body. No person should have to sleep beside a handheld weapon to assure that he will wake up beside no surprises. No person should have to worry of their work falling to bits and pieces due to mistakes of a former life, a former living. And yet, that was when he realized he finally had something to protect.The realization only worsened his mind. There was no escaping it. No amount of fortune, warm beds, beautiful chairs sitting in a house, no amount of smiles and handshakes between distrustful peers, no amount of anything could salvage him. He was broken. Long, long before all of this. Long before he had ran from herds of burly-murderous freaks, and long before he had even encountered the fearful Sawatari-kai.
His sleepless nights persisted. Mornings and afternoons were slept away in fatigue, merciless to Datenshi’s yearning to finally live a normal life. He had enough for himself to pass on the ownership of his gift shop to someone else, but that “enough” only lied in his wealth; Because certainly, no “enough” existed for a person like him.
In his short retirement of trying to reassemble what he was slowly losing grasp of, Datenshi found those interpersonal relationships of before growing into something greater. With only a few years of choosing a peaceful life, abating the idea of returning to a criminal’s methods of survival, he married a woman who would later bear his children and anchor him to the life he had wished for. Something or normality.
Though, wishing for something normal in Karkaura was only a curse. In hopes of progressing this newfound reasoning of life, Datenshi returned to business and formed his own nightlife-slash-club corporation titled “Luxe”. His motivations lying in supporting his family. Taiketsu Seneden, the headstrong woman he had come to love and marry, along with Kotomi and Youhei, his two children who only spurred him to keep going.
His success was prevalent. The lingering anxiety he always clung onto, thoughts tormented by the idea that something is wrong and that this is not “enough,” made no effort to leave in spite of his flourishing. Datenshi Akihito had made a name for himself as “Mike” Akihito in this city that would forever prove itself into further damnation and that’s where it all took him off guard. With no precedent to these harbinger of tragedy, with no admonishing or a red-lit signal that could alert him of what was to come; Datenshi Akihito falsely put his faith into Karakura once more.
Taiketsu Seneden, h
is devoted lover, disappears without a trace; latter being announced dead.
Datenshi is given no explanation, only options. The mindset that tortured him for so long was becoming a reality, and for what he had to do next was an impending burden to his livelihood. Not to mention his own children, what was going to become of them?
With his frantic mindset, he tied to the disappearance directly to the Sawatari-kai. While he was well-aware of the other dangers that lie bespattered across Karakura, no grudge actively existed against him that would render his family in this type of unheard danger. Karakura criminals weren’t the kind to cover up their own tracks and, no other motive to harm lied against the Akihito’s. At least, in Karakura.
For all Datenshi knew, that same yakuza from before who traumatized his sight and made it their last effort to silence his movement along the Japanese cities in his flee, may still exist. They may still be after him.
As he cushioned the reality of the situation to his own children, Datenshi worked in private to determined the whereabouts of the Sawatari-kai.
More coming soon...
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