Shiranai Huzaki

[attr="class","temptitle"]Personality

[attr="class","temptabinf"]Shiranai Raelyn Huzaki. The poster child of betrayal. Before her disappearance and assumed death, she was quite friendly, but with an air of confidence that permeated all she did. After the crash that robbed her of her lineage and quite nearly her life, such things have taken different forms.

Shiranai is, by all extents, a prideful woman in her own right. Saved by Riku by note of the way her Adoptive Action is passed down through her bloodline, the Assassin Queen knows full well that she may very well have died the day her private jet fell from the sky. While this alone does not earn her full loyalty, her new life is similar enough to her old one that she’s not found much reason to raise any sort of complaints. Her presence is one that naturally demands respect, and one that tends to fill any room she enters. While this could be mistaken as arrogance, she’s quick to put down such claims. Be it through violent means or far more diplomatic ones.

She’s known to be a ruthless killer within the ranks of those who serve alongside her. One not to be crossed lest Riku find a reason to send her after one. She has, on more than one occassion, found a reason to kill Strays who have wronged her in the past. While these revenge killings often result in a minor scolding or two such events tend to be necessary, and the degree to which the job is usually performed marks her as one of the more loyal soldiers among Riku’s figurative “personal army”.

Truth be told, in the three years since her crash Shiranai has more or less brushed the topic of her lineage to the side. Be this because of some desire to remain in her current environment or because of other factors remains to be seen, but the fact remains that Shiranai has decided to remain with Riku for a fair bit longer than the original timeframe discussed between the pair of them.

[attr="class","temptitle"]Appearance

[attr="class","temptabinf2"]Standing at roughly five feet and six inches tall, Shiranai Huzaki is by no means a physically intimidating creature. She bears long white hair and green eyes, the right of which bears a unique eight-point star pattern layered atop the iris. Various surgeries performed post-crash have garnered her several catlike features atop that, the most key being cat-like ears and a tail. The ears are usually folded, blending in with the rest of her hair and as such rendering them virtually undetectable, while the tail is commonly wrapped around Shiranai’s torso. Common attire nowadays consists of a wide variety of outfits, with various trends depending on Shira’s mood. Calmer, less pronounced outfits for when she’s in a relatively neutral mood. Distinctly more ‘punk rock’ appearances for other such negative moods.

As far as physical marks go, Shiranai bears multiple scars along the entirety of her frame. A fair number are from the crash, most notably a scar that runs down across her right eye, which was only barely saved from the damage by pure luck. The Huzaki Family Emblem is emblazoned just above the small of her back: a red, six-chamber revolver cylinder with her initials in black lying in the center and gold patterning on the outer edges as a sign of her status.

She carries a wide number of weapons with her, though in recent times she’s resorted to her more favored greatsword rather than anything else. She’s highly skilled in a number of combat styles and weapons as per not only her training pre-crash, but also due to the extensive training she’s gone under while in Riku’s care.

[attr="class","tempfaceico"]Face Claim

[attr="class","tempface"][b]SHIROKAMI KYOUDAN, anceril sacred[/b] as @shiranai

[attr="class","temptitle"]History

[attr="class","temptabinf3"]You never thought it would end this way, did you?

The crackle of flames around you, the searing pain consuming your being as you tried frantically to crawl from the wreckage before the last fuel tank went up in flames. Everything around you was a hell of fire and the smell of burning flesh, and you could no longer tell which was your own and which scents belonged to those who had been unfortunate enough to be on the plane with you. Your right eye, the one containing the gift you’d honed your entire life, was closed shut, glued tight with your own blood as it hardened. You grit your teeth as you pulled yourself forward, inch by inch.

You, who had dreamt so extravagantly that it had invoked such jealousy from one who had cared for you when you were younger. One with the blade of such electric potency that it rivaled the fiercest of storms. You knew who had caused this, though you couldn’t bring yourself to believe it. Such treachery was cause for death within your family, whose creeds and promises you now remember so little of.

Your muscles screamed out alongside you as you pulled yourself free, smoke and embers cast out into the sky as you pulled yourself a few feet from the wreckage. You were still in plenty of danger, you knew, but your body no longer had the strength to keep moving. Even breathing was becoming a chore, but you forced yourself to keep doing so anyway. After a few moments your senses began to return to you, and you registered the mass of pain that swaddled your lower body, as well as the intense ringing within your ears. You didn’t know which it was, but you were certain you’d lost hearing completely in at least one. Dirt and blood now covered your being, and you struggled once more to pull yourself just a few more inches. Anything to be just a slight bit safer from the conflagration roaring behind you.

That didn’t to matter to the one who found you. Who you were, who you had deigned to have been. Those had died with the dozen others who had ridden with you. He knew who you were, to such an extent it almost worried you when you’d first talked with him. Your injuries were severe, but he’d promised that they could be healed. This man, who knew not only your name but much of your history. He gave you a second chance, in exchange for nothing more than your loyalty.

You were slow to give, at first. The tests and experiments were painful, but you were a Huzaki. Nothing he threw at you could break your spirit, and that seemed to please him to some extent. In time, his promises proved fruitful. You regained that which you’d lost. Your hearing, your movement. The charred skin of your legs had been healed, and felt just as they had before the crash. Your body sported three new features as well, compensation for what you’d lost. Two new ears sat atop your head, replacements for the pair that had become too damaged to be of any proper use. Your emblem remained, the sign of your heritage a proud one that he’d allowed you to keep as you transitioned into your new life.

The first year passed as such, uneventful and full of growth. You learned your place alongside the others, whom you’d come to know were all known as ‘Pets’, just as you yourself were. You didn’t quite take to the term immediately, but over time you grew used to it. You became aware of others, and of the names associated with each of them- whether you were instructed to or not. You began to earn a marginal degree of respect within the ranks of those around you. You were quiet at first, almost shy, were it not for the aura of power and pride that enveloped you. Gradually, you opened up. You showed them who you were, your sense of humor, the topics you enjoyed to discuss. Slowly, they began to become almost like family.

But there were those who would cross you, those who would refuse to realize that they were no better than you, nay they would refuse to acknowledge that your lineage gave you more power than they could ever hope to have, and so when the first one escaped you jumped at the chance to prove yourself. The kill was messier than those that had preceded it, a fault which you apologized for and chalked up to a lack of recent practice. After all, you’d not killed a target in the field since you’d joined the ranks. You were given more training, and were sent into the field much more often. You learned to stalk prey much as you had during your childhood, a review on the various ways an individual could be killed and the multitude of methods to employ them. You used your inherited abilities when sparring, besting foes who had once been considered unbeatable. Your second year passed, and as your skill grew so too did your notoriety among your peers.

You became a model soldier, the man who had saved you now having earned much of your loyalty. But there was another besides him whom you couldn’t help but be drawn to. A male, with much the same skill in combat as yourself. The pair of you sparred often, each one ending in a draw with slight advantage to one individual or the other. You knew not his name, only the number he was given. They all knew, of course. It wasn’t hard to tell after the first few months. The only one who never saw it was the boy himself, but all of those around you could see the way in which you regarded him. The way you almost seemed to make yourself more approachable when he was around, and how you’d almost subconsciously position yourself closer to him when he so much as entered the room.

There was no room for such emotions in this place, you knew, and you knew full well that the object of your subconscious affections was likely fully incapable of experiencing such things himself. A part of you simply didn’t care. You wanted to tell yourself you’d follow him to the ends of this earth, but at the same time you knew that you wouldn’t. That you couldn’t. Your place was here.

And so passed your third and most recent year. The fourth now dawns, and with it a new chapter in your story. Be this the time your loyalties are tested, or the finality of your life you do not know.

But there’s only one way to find out.

[attr="class","temptitle"]Information

[attr="class","temptabinf3"]Hooray for version two! Have everyone’s favorite assassin, just in a significantly reworked version.