Welcome to Tokyo, Japan. January, 1991. The world has entered the technology era, portable phones, home computers, internet, video games. Japan quickly became the epicenter of the latest and greatest. Companies and factories flourished. Where money was, people followed. And while many rose to live a comfortable, happy, and delightful life from this new found money... Others did not. You see, money has this effect on people that can't be outdone. People will do anything for it. And when it starts slipping into the wrong hands, it's impossible to stop. Benethe the day time laborers and the double-shift workers, a seedy underbelly of syndicates exists. Narctics, black market, organized crime, money laundering, you name it and it's been growing as fast as the upper world economy. While many do it just to stay alive, there's those who make it their posh lifestyle. Either way, there's only one question. What would you do if the money was good enough?
JAN 29 2021: Welcome!! ƎLEMENT has been open for two weeks now and we're so happy to see such a bright beginning! If you're new feel free to drop into the discord and say hi before joining.
[attr="class","poredholdermj"]So come on and take a shot, You just can't get enough Don't let the fact that you know nothing stop you talking now
[attr="class","poredwordsmj"]Jikai was always that go-to guy. Need someone to have your back in a brawl, he’s there instantly. Need to have guys time where you just relax with drinks or drugs, boom he’s calling you back if he didn’t already pick up. Aside from his building criminal history at this point and his job that he used to pretend that he wasn’t some cracked-out kid that fought almost every weekend for the big bucks, he honestly had the free time. All the time. So when Hikaru called him for some drinks, of course he was down, he just needed to finish off a few errands beforehand. Nothing that would take long, too. It was just basic things for like his place. Like food. Needed that more.
But once his food was in his house and his rent money dropped to the landlord, he was happily hopping on his bike to roll up on this bar. Consider it ‘competition scouting’ being that he hasn’t heard of this place yet if at all. But really, he didn’t care that it wasn’t the bar he worked for. He’d rather not be there trashed anyways. Gotta maintain that he is somewhat upstanding there. All part of the farce that helps cover his story.
But he didn’t expect less when he pulled up and heard how the place was alive with fiery tones from outside after his ignition was turned off. And once he was in the place and saw what was going on, he could only cock a grin. The gathering towards the back as the bystanders just gawked just grew as did the loudness of the involved parties. This was a different kind of place, he felt. And he liked that. He was also fairly certain who was in the center of the argument.
Jikai strolled with all the momentary confidence he had to the group like he owned the place. These situations seemed to only fuel his ego that was typically dead. It was the rush that instantly dragged him from his woes. Adrenaline was the best self-produced drug in his mind.
When the shine of the bright blonde hair got his confirmation, he just bellowed over the argument. “Aye, yo Hikaru!” Then he shoveled into the crowd, right shoulder forward to split his way up to his buddy, only shifting his jacket once he was beside the blond. “Already starting shit, I see…” He muttered to Hikaru, his grin growing more and his tone missing any malice about the situation.
What’s the worst to happen?
[attr="class","poreddectwomj"]
[attr="class","poredtagmj"]takahashi hikaru ryan caraveo - ghost
[attr="class","poredholdermj"]So come on and take a shot, You just can't get enough Don't let the fact that you know nothing stop you talking now
[attr="class","poredwordsmj"]He leaned against the door frame for a moment as it sank in for him that there was one hell of a big chance that that good ol’ doctor buddy might not be around for this pinch. He probably just gave up the ghost and get to a payphone maybe, ring up for an ambulance before the warm fuzzy feeling turned startling cold and the world lost its sharpness. Like hell, Shu could be somewhere else entirely for all he knew, even another country if he was the type.
But eventually, his thoughts were cut off about how he could probably just pass out here for all he knew, let alone cared while it could just fade away when the door clicked opened. It was so shyly at first, confusion clear in the man’s tone as he began to question why this big ass baffoon was at his door. “Wel-”
”Sh-Shit! Come in, come in!”
No time for explanations, then he found himself thinking as the doctor took to flight even though mere seconds ago he looked like he was somewhere else. Jikai thankfully wasn’t the kind to really question that previous bit too deeply, like how Shu was in casual clothes for once. Like he was really in the state to do so. The whirlwind of tugs, the rush of leaking blood, and the mild entertainment he felt at the panic state the doctor was spun in over a tiny stab wound honestly had him missing the fact there was a wine bottle being poked into this whole affair.
”What happened?”
As he was sat down on one of those odd medical beds that were all too comfy for where there were meant.
“That’s a greeeeat question. Depends on the answer you want?” Jikai gave a small laugh that was eventually cut off by a grunt of pain from both Shu’s prodding and his side not enjoying the movement of his breathing let alone laughter. So much for playing this off as not that bad…
“Would you believe a party gone wrong?” It wasn’t necessarily wrong. But it also was not entirely right. It is a party, but definitely not the kind you go to for some drinks and food deal.
He gave a groan of pain eventually and fed up with the doctoring while Shu fussed with his layers. “Hold on-” It sounded grumpy like he was pissed he survived this. Probably because he lowkey was, but also the fact it hurt so damn much. He tugged the one side of his shirt and hoodie over to rest on his shoulder to make it easier on the both of them, keeping the clothes out of the way without any of the work, leaning so the cut showed to more light.
“Honestly, it’s not thaaaat bad.” Could of been worse. Always could be. Even though most people didn’t share his sentiments. Then that woozy feeling hit like a wave and made the room feel like it spun even though it was mostly still thing there and it showed. His lean wavered a bit like he was ready to dip off the table. So much for it not being that bad.
[attr="class","poredholdermj"]So come on and take a shot, You just can't get enough Don't let the fact that you know nothing stop you talking now
[attr="class","poredwordsmj"]There was a sharp pain in his side as he staggered like a drunken fool. If only it was alcohol that was causing the dizzying sensation washing over him like crashing waves. His left arm wrapped tight to where the mildly inconvenient wound under the hoodie he worse. He was honestly angry over how that fight went. Well… Almost went.
Sure, street fights were all about the risk and gamble. It’s why the money there just works. It flows like the blood of the fighters when they gun for that high reward at the end. He wasn’t expecting there to be a knife pulled on him when his opponent was going south. He remembers a disgruntled onlooker tossing it to the guy. It’s when he started to turn serious about the whole deal. He hated himself, but he still had a thread of self-preservation to not go down without a fight.
“... That son of-” He started hissing to himself at the pain.
Granted, he won and walked away, but he had to call the night early and on top of that, every part of him was burned out, injured in some way but nothing held a candle to that blade’s bite. It was not sharpened, hell he was surprised that it wasn’t rusted over. Regardless, this made him think he needed to bring attention to that in specific as he lifted his darkened hand, seeing peaks of red that were from the lapping of fabric.
“Fuck me.” He muttered to himself before he finally leaned on an alley’s wall that he entered.
He has to pull in a favor. Granted, he wasn’t going to be dying from this yet, he decided it would probably be smarter to not let his wound get an infection. Again, he refused to go down without a fight and dying over a damned knife gash from a fight he won was not how that worked for him.
He thumbled about his pocket, searching for the damned card that guy handed him out of his wallet. He knew he was somewhere in this area, but his brain struggled to recall anything with how it spun. When he found it, he glanced it over before he went staggering on again, planning to see a doctor for once. Though, he didn’t know how much excitement was for the man that employed him to see him looking like a punching bag. But he didn’t care, as he moved until the address on the card came into his view and he found the strength to put his fist to the door in a slightly harder than necessary manner.
The thing about Jikai noticed by people immediately is his nonchalant, independent attitude and how often that give no fucks state makes him seem cocky with his confidence. He seems to be steely and quiet, just observing you as if he wants to find ways to tear you apart before you can touch him. There’s always something about him that says he’ll do what he wants, when he wants, when he feels like it. He’s got no problem telling people his thoughts directly to their face, even if it comes rash and abrasive. There’s always been a perchance of destruction and violence he had from his raising that often makes him seem like there’s a need to constantly lash out. This doesn’t even get to how vindictive he can turn when he is truly angry or doesn’t like something. That moodiness makes him an impulsive, intense person without knowing who he is under his tough-guy exterior. Under it all, he’s a very pained individual that is pretending like he’s not as mentally messed up as he is, when there’s days where his adventurous nature can’t even get him out of his bed. He hates himself to the point of being overly self-critical despite his cockiness and if asked by someone close to him, he’d say it is always meant in sarcasm. He doesn’t really pay note to his empathetic and protective nature to be a good trait because he never sees it as a good thing. He knows his playful and tolerant sides exist, but they’re never good enough points since he sees one as a weakness and the other as something that feeds his impulsive and lazy sides. No matter how good he can really be with himself, he doubts these things and spirals deep into his bad points. [break][break]
physical
Height: 6’1” [break] Weight: 162 lbs. [break] Ethnicity: Japanese-Hungarian [break] Style: Grunge [break] Other: [break] Tattoos: Full arm sleeves and more scattered pieces on body. Mostly just blackwork ink. Most notable: [break]
Cobra cresting the back of his neck with tribal marks around it
right sleeve has an asian style dragon sailing down forearm across peonies and waves, broke up by a double black band, forearm has abstract ink splatter geometric pattern that bleeds into the backdrop of hand tattoo which is a moth on hand with a double moon with a black gradient backdrop on wrist
left sleeve has an abstract eclipse and woods tattoo on upper arm that leads into forearm that has a tiger and fu dog fighting in the smoke and leaves motif with a snake coming down wrist to its head being on his left thumb, bright-colored lotus on left hand
More for later
[break] Piercings: prefers more their jewelry to be mix-matched silver, black, and some reds and purples
Face: Left side labret, right eyebrow, bridge, septum
Right ear: three lobe, mid helix, rook, surface tragus
Left ear: Two lobe, industrial, 3 vertical helixs, rook
[break] Scars: Has several all over. Many are from his original home and are heavily faded, but the many jagged scars still remain. Any that were on his arms are hidden by ink at a glance with one or two new ones that need refilled with ink. He has a mix bag of fresh and old his torso and back from between his first home and fighting now. Most obvious ones are the one in his right palm from a deep cut from shattered glass and the poorly, hack job of a repair under his left shoulder blade from a fight that splits into two and obvious stitch marks surrounding it [break][break]
history
[tw: mentions of child abuse][break][break]
He didn’t have a beautiful picture of the world when he came into the world. One would argue that the marriage of his parents would be something to be happy for was their relation spanned borders, his father Japanese and his mother Hungarian. But beyond that, it wasn’t a happy relationship. They were terrible for each other as his father controlled and manipulated every part of his mother’s life to trap her to him. And that didn’t end when he was born. Instead, it just extended to him. He was cared for just enough to grow weakly into a toddler when the verbal abuse worsened. He was also an idiot bastard to them even as a child, and his mother couldn’t help but out of stress beat her own son. His father mostly ignored his physical existence unless he was on a rager and beating his wife wasn’t enough. [break][break]
This was the only life he understood as he entered kindergarten and no one grew concerned about it until he was a year into school where he kept lashing out at being gently scolded by teachers and the scars, marks, and bruises couldn’t always be covered. But the teachers’ concern only made things worse at home, to the point they started making him skip meals as punishment on top of beatings, yelling, and locking him up in his room. Their concern eventually had the cops investigating more and the neighbors had been reporting more of the domestic violence heard daily. Within four months and the passing of his sixth birthday, he was removed from the home by the police from the horrors that were his early life. He would never know what happened to them as he got to the orphanage and the older he grew the more he didn’t care to know. [break][break]
He was a roughed up kid at this point despite his young age and upon hearing the home he came from, many people hesitated to take on and the problems he’d grow up with, being as he will always have clear memories of that time. The regular night terrors and lashing out from fear was something that would take time to heal. Regardless of the quickly dropped interest in his adoption, he found himself lost in this new world of other kids who were taken from or given up by families. But what he found himself doing is protecting the younger kids from the meaner, older kids that thought it was fun to mess with the tinier ones. And for some reason he found himself trying to calm those younger ones after they were messed with, playing games with them or reading books to them. Something in their plight in the orphanage held some hold on him, probably over his own reasons for being among them. Hanging around the younger kids is how he ended up meeting his younger sister, Chiharu, though at this point he never realized she’d be his sibling. Until a couple found them both and took on the challenge of him and a younger child together to foster.[break][break]
Much of his life started to turn to normal for the most part, next to the regular therapist visits and night terrors that haunt him. Under the recommendation of his therapist and parents, he put his energy into as many sports as he was allowed to juggle to distract him from the memories. The rough patches were smoothing, even as he was teased occasionally for being adopted and being mixed. He didn’t take any of it to heart as there was nothing compared to what his actual parents would say about him. There was still a strive to do well in things that actually left him too tired to dream or think of what his old family was like. It kept him working on being an okay student, slow-growing group of friends, and getting along with other kids. It was like his whole life was piecing together something that was as normal as you could get in the aftermath of what he was born into.[break][break]
Things about this plan didn’t shift until their foster parents got pregnant with their own child. Their true first even though Jikai and Chiharu were there before their youngest sibling. Then the halls of their school seemed to become a place of annoyance instead of escape. The adoption thing came up more and more as a bad thing, especially with his sister in how neither would hold a light next to the unborn child. When he came to himself, he knew to just roll his shoulders and walk the other way. He always knew there was worse to be said about him. But the target of rumors on Chiharu, knowing how quiet and soft natured she was as a kid, turned him on others. He had no problem with starting the schoolyard fights that were nothing more than children shoving each other until he learned how to make his fist tight. There were many calls sent to his parents, suspension with written ‘apologies’ that he never meant, and nights grounded as he never found any reprieve in the situation they were given. [break][break]
He felt himself grow bitter in what was supposed to bring him peace. How was any of it better than the physical neglect and abuse he took before? Especially when his parents had no backbone to say what the other kids were saying and doing was wrong towards their first two kids. He refused to not come to Chiharu’s defense, even after their sibling was born and proved everyone else around them right in his eyes. Even when he knew there was pressure put on their youngest sibling, anyone unleashing on Chiharu was inexcusable to him. The more he turned to a teen, the worse he began toil over this idea that they could never be as important since they were adopted. He argued more with the entire family as he began to stop talking to his therapist since he stopped trusting them to not say something to their parents about his attitude shift. His fighting at school went from simple flailing of a school kid to someone poised to make someone bleed or feel pain, starting over really anything and not only his sister. He found himself withdrawing more from all the sports he was involved in to go hang with new friends, even if these people were from other schools and not the influence wanted for him previously. [break][break]
When his parents responded to his shift in attitude with more rules, being more strict, grounding him, the more he had a tendency to go and break those new rules and boundaries to be away from them. He had given into the idea that they truly didn’t care about them and they wouldn’t be doing this to him or Chiharu if they did. There was no reason for him to stop hanging out with the people that started to gather into his life, people they called the wrong crowd. To him, they were vastly better than any parents he has had in life. Even if they lead him into many illegal things. [break][break]
There came a point that they had enough of Jikai’s violent behaviors when he turned on their youngest sibling bullying of Chiharu, ready to punch them when their parents came in and everything went south. All to the point that he was told to get out of their house despite being only sixteen. He left the house with only saying fucking gladly and slamming the door behind him as he didn’t pack up anything. While Chiharu was still living at home, he tended to keep their contact to notes so he could avoid the family that he left behind and didn’t really see her that often until she also moved out. [break][break]
Instead, he went to friend’s houses and crashing with them and borrowing things until he had a fake ID and got himself a simple job. He had little knowledge that some of his friends also had dealings with worse things than just drinking underage and drug use. He often found himself in need of speed cash for his habits and trying to survive, joining underground fighting rings and any dirty jobs he could. He was fine with this life, as long as he was getting the cash, alcohol, and drugs to fuel his current habits; he is content.[break][break]
