|Birthplace||Land of Demons|
|Areas of Expertise||Genjutsu|
|Demon Melody Genjutsu|
"I heard a fly buzz when I died;
The stillness round my form
Was like the stillness in the air
Between the heaves of storm.
The eyes beside had wrung them dry,
And breaths were gathering sure
For that last onset, when the king
Be witnessed in his power.
I willed my keepsakes, signed away
What portion of me I
Could make assignable,-and then
There interposed a fly,
With blue, uncertain, stumbling buzz,
Between the light and me;
And then the windows failed, and then
I could not see to see."
The question of personality bears such a fumbling attempt to identify that which creates us so different, so unique. How does one successfully describe themselves without having a mirror? And even then? Yuu sees himself as would a blind man: by bumbling touch. Who's to say who Yuu will be today, or tomorrow? There is always yesterday to establish one's self, but how true are old tales told? Yuu does not trust the strokes of a painter, or the knotted hands of the sculptor to do anything but tell him how he was. But, if it is the past you desire, then let it be had: look above, and you'll see all you wish to wonder. But of Yuu today… well, who can say besides those who already know?
The man here seems frail, and wan. His face is pallid, but that is the most skin that can be seen. A hat of deep blue, with a short brim, sits low on his head, often casting shadow over thin lips, an angular nose, and sallow cheeks which hang below pale green eyes. A long robe of grey-blue stretches past the tip of the man's fingers, though when the garment is pulled back, such finely pointed nails there be, and hardy digits too. Further the robe falls, smooth along the front and back, to the top of the man's shoes; two long slits - to the waist - rise along the sides of the garment. Pants of a similar hue, but darker in shade - slightly ruffled and bunched - keep the legs covered, also to the tops of the shoes, they being a black pair of full slippers. Nothing about this man, from the sloth of his pace to the hunch of his back to the loft of his height to the thin of his waist, suggests that vigor is not a tenant his body commands. Though, perhaps, the large, cloth-covered, rectangular thing upon his back may bely such frailty.
|Akkioto Joi||Father||Yuu's father, who trained him in the art of the koto from when his fingers could first pluck, and who taught him the worthlessness of life. Dead.|
|Akkioto Muhani||Mother||Yuu's mother, who showed the boy the waste of the noble, and who instructed him in the graceful art of domination. Dead.|
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