Konichiwa, boku wa Shinobu; Gekido no Tenshi... hajimemashite (Greetings, I am Shinobu; the Angel of Rage.... pleased to meet you.)
Title- Gekido no Tenshi (Angel of Rage)
Aka- Blind Rage
Age: Just for simplicity I will say that he appears 21
Skin Tone: Pale.
Hair: Ivory and generally in a spiked formation, shoulder length when not spiked.
Eyes: Rarely do they open, when the time comes they will be explained.
Body: Slender yet tone, enough to give the impression of strength and speed.
Tattoos: (Right Inner Forearm) Black wing with red feathers extending from wrist to elbow. (Left Inner Forearm) White wing with blue feathers extending from wrist to elbow.
Head: Rust colored mask that goes from neck to nose covering lower half of face.
Upper Torso: Bare
Lower body:Wearing simply a orange Hakama with blue accents scattered throughout, on both side of the legs a stitched pattern of a Circle with a triangle inside.
Kusari-Gama: This is no ordinary Kusari-Gama, the blade itself is around two feet long, the chain that connects to the hilt is twenty seven feet in length that is accompanied by a compact twenty pound weight no bigger than his own fist. The weapon itself usually is attached to the side of his hip hanging freely from his Hakama. This one weapon is Shinobu�s only visible weapon. However, witnessing that he wears practically nothing leaving hardly any room for hidden surprises you could make the assumption that that is his only blade.
Shinobu has the ability to wield the four basic elements. Fire, Water, Earth, and Air. With these four elements he can also make secondary elements however with all the combinations he really isn�t as proficient in his secondary�s as he would like. Besides his own personal training and the fact that he was a creation rather than being truly born he also has some hidden talents. His own title perhaps suggests such things.
Every second that passes by four children are brought into this world, each minute that passes two hundred and forty five children are brought into this world, fourteen thousand seven hundred and 9 births every hour. Most children will then be put into the loving arms of their parents, given a name and taken home. Later in years they will go to school, fall in love, have their heart broken, experience life. Why was it they were so lucky? In order for a monster to be born sacrifices have to be made, people have to be hurt, lives must be lost.
Struggling to stay alive a flickering tealight candle rest in the middle of an open book, perfectly aligned with the books spine. Huddled around the book sat four men on their knees, inside the room there was a feel of calm, stillness, absolute. Time itself seemed to not even matter inside of these walls. The altar that consisted of the book and the candle were placed directly in the middle of the room, the flame of the candle continuing to slow die. Each man directly 5 feet from a respective corner of the book. In front of each man a simple almost barbaric looking dagger that was roughly carved from ivory. Kneeling in seiza each man would lift their left hand from their lap and inch it forward, pressing it to the simply cut wood that made up their floors. In a rugged almost sorrow filled voice one of the men spoke "With this loss brings new life, with this life our loss will be re-payed" suddenly the weak candle erupted, the wax would begin to heat and boil, spilling out from the metal circle that held the simple tealight together. The melted wax would overflow onto the pages creating a basic symbol. As the smoke began to billow and the book became visible all that was left on the ground was the most perfect of circles, inside a triangle with each point touching against the sphere. Without hesitation each men picked up their murderous tools and thrust them deep into their stomach, a quick flick of the wrist and pull as the dagger dug through their entrails. As each men fell their entire lives ran through their mind all the way to their last breathe. In unison their eyes would close and with their last breathe a stream of colored smoke would exit their lips and follow what seemed like a pre determined path heading straight for the symbol. Red, Blue, Green and Silver clouds would stream forward and meet together. Swirling around they would fall into the ring, a blinding light sending a shockwave through the room.
As the light dimmed and the room settled each man had vanished leaving only their daggers laying in the spots they had fallen. A fearful cry could be heard throughout the room as what appeared to be a newborn baby laying on the ground, tears streaming from his eyes and his mouth wide as he whaled for attention. A line of glimmering light began to grow larger as what appeared to be a door opened. Entering only one woman who knelt down to lift the boy into her arms, a look of disgust and shame on her face as she shook him in an attempt to stop him from crying. Turning around she would glance down to see the daggers lay bloodstained on the floor, her heart would sink as she entered into the glimmering light only for the door to close behind her.
Sitting on his knees a young child leaned forward; his hands pressing to the chilled glass of the window. His eyes flicking up as he looked at the cloud filled sky, watching as each individual droplet hit the glass. Sticking out his tongue he would close his eyes and imagine the feel of the droplet land on his tongue, the sensation of the cold water turning warm and melting away with his saliva. His heart would sink as a small tear fell from his right eye, biting his lip and clenching his hands he could feel the liquid emotion glide down his cheek and end up dangling from his chin. Quickly he would shake his head forcing his ivory locks to fall from their neatly combed look to that of a long haired ronin. As his bangs now covered his face he would lift his hand from the window leaving behind a perfect hand print on the now fog stained glass. Gripping his long kimono sleeve in his small delicate hands he would wipe the tear from his chin and pivot himself away from the window.
Feeling himself collected he would brush the hair from his face, his orange hues shining brightly as they seemed to only glow from the lack of color other than pure white that surrounded his hues. A voice would emerge from the silence that surrounded him, a small shudder ran down his spine as he heard the gruff, emotionless, cruel tone. Quickly he stood up, his head lowered and his eyes closed tightly. To the far right a door would open, a man stepping in that was ornamented in the finest armor; jewels, jade and gold. "Well well well, day dreaming again?" He said as he slammed the door behind him, the mans hand reaching behind him only to grab a wooden watazashi. Quickly the young boys eyes opened wide as his kimono and hair were struck with a strong breeze, forcing them to blew to the side of him. Before he knew it he was on the ground, his cheek broken and his eye socket bruised. Kneeling down the man spit on the young boys face, a bit of laughter passing through his lips. "That isn't your world, you are a weapon. Nothing more and nothing less. We aren't your family, we didn't ask for you..... You were brought to us."
The young boy chewed on his bottom lip as his body burned with pain, a tear streaming from the broken socket that once was solid. His body began to shake, his blood began to boil and his heart began to shrivel. Weakly he would push himself up, his body feeling as though it could give out at any moment. Turning his head to the man the young boys face could be seen, the heavy sorrow that filled his eyes. "I..... HATE YOU!" He screamed. With those words something inside him snapped, something had awakened. Bashing through the floor boards a form of stone would clash against the mans body sending him flying to hit the wall, as the man tried to regain his balance a might gust of wind would push the man to his knees, the stone now sinking under the ground and spiraling back upwards smashing the man underneath his chin. Talking small uneven steps the boy would grow closer to him, his right hand beginning to steam and turn a vibrant red. "For eight years you have tortured me, broke me, tore me, cut me, spit on me, hated me. For eight years you called me a monster...." His eyes would close tight as he stepped toward the adult. Now standing in front of him a soft innocent smile would tug at the sides of his lips "Well, now you;ve got one" His eyes would flick open as a neon orange would flair, orange glow would radiate from his sockets and rise into the air. His right hand would catch fire as his other would grip onto the mans jaw forcing it open, shoving his flame filled hand toward the man the young boy would cover his mouth and watch as the man swallowed his sorrow, his pain, his rage. After a few moments the body would catch fire. Sitting down in front of the burning man the young boy would hold his hands out letting the warmth flow through him. "You've got your monster"
"I long for the raised voice, the howl of Rage"
Did you ever notice how in the Bible, whenever God needed to punish someone, or make an example, or whenever God needed a killing, he sent an angel? Did you ever wonder what a creature like that must be like? A whole existence spent praising your God, but always with one wing dipped in blood. Would you ever really want to see an angel?