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Naoki Tsukino

Anger issues? Who has anger issues!?

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a character in “The Multiverse”, as played by Moonscar

Groups

Registered citizen of the Terran National Government

Description

Image

The image does not belong to me.

Age: 21

Gender: Female

Racial Background: Korean Japanese

Nationality: Japan

Height: 5' 4"

Weight: 115 lbs

Appearance: Naoki is not an extremely tall woman, nor is she well endowed or impossibly gorgeous. No, Naoki is a simple human woman, and though she may be pretty in face, she has enough bruises and scars under her clothing than she does something to peer at. She has long, slender legs and a lean build. Her hair is shoulder length in a sort of bob cut, and her hands are roughly calloused from training with various weapons.

Equipment/Weapons: Usually a traditional katana and wakizashi. In the case those fail her, (for she truly only uses them within the arena and in competitions) she can use her own body as a weapon.

So begins...

Naoki Tsukino's Story

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How did this happen?

She was sitting down in a chair, taking in the lecture of a close friend, face down to the floor, holding onto her kendo equipment and the gun. She was wishing the floor wold just swallow her, when...well.
When it did.

She fell down a hole in the ground, and landed in some kind of altar. It took her a very long time to get together that what had happened to her actually happened. Eventually, she picked up her equipment and got going. Not minutes after, she came up onto this place. The first signs of life she would encounter.

Naoki Tsukino strode, hesitantly, into Gambits. She wore a baggy pair of black pants and a white shirt. She had a bag in her hands and she looked absolutely lost.

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The woman walked in further, hefting the somewhat heavy, long black bag. She had put the gun in one of the pockets. It went without saying that you did not walk into an establishment with a weapon in clear view. It also went without saying that this woman didn't know which establishment she had just wandered into.

She heard a call in her direction, and she clicked her eyes onto the young, girly, blue-haired gentleman at the counter. He had asked her for a whiskey. For the longest time she only stared, as if entranced, but eventually shook the thought away, whatever it was. She nodded her head, then, just as hesitantly as before, took a seat next to him. Maybe she could get some answers out of him.

"Ah...what town?" she asked, "Is this?"

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"Wing City?" repeated the woman, giving him a confused expression, her brows scrunched up, her lips pursed. She had never heard of this place before. Obviously, they all spoke English. She certainly hadn't made her way to anywhere in Japan or Korea. It could not have been a base, either. Then where? Where the hell was she?

"America?" she asked again, shaking her head. "Wing City in America?" she set the large bag beside her to lean halfway onto the counter. "I don't know where I am. Just came...don't know how." Maybe she had been drugged somehow. There's no way a floor could actually swallow someone, right?

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Never...heard of America? What? Was this guy so foreign that he didn't know? Lived in some kind of desolate town? Wait...what if this place was that town? Or what if he was crazy? or did she say it strange? America, America...she played with the word in her mind.

"America? North...America?" she said again, tapping her short nails on the table. She had no idea who this MacGuffin was. A mayor or something? It didn't matter anyway. She moved on. "Memories? Yes, I was home, I..." she skipped around a few details of what had just happened that evening, "Come home from class. Was talking. Then here."

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Now this really did not make sense. What was he talking about? Where the hell was Terra? Was she somehow swept into a madhouse or a country of people who knew nothing of the world around them? Was this some kind of massive government experiment conspiracy...thing? Had she been knocked out by her friend and somehow placed there? Why did she have the gun, then? And her equipment...was it still there?

"MacGuffin?" said the girl with a little bit of difficulty as she pulled up her bag, unzipping the top and running her fingers along the kashira of her sword. It was still there, at least. "Japan. I come from Japan."

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Naoki shrugged. Who was MacGuffin? Strange name, to say in the least. It sounded American. Very American. Or English. She couldn't tell. She only went to America for a year, after all, and today was the day she had been coming back.

"Cut through tank?" asked Naoki. She laughed, finding that a bit ridiculous. "No, cannot. Cannot do things like that. Cut through skin and bone. Not metal." she said, taking the sword completely out of the bag, sheathed into the saya. She unwrapped the sageo, which had been wrapped around the hilt, as well, and pulled it out by the tsuka a few inches. "This cannot cut tank. Maybe plastic tank, but not metal tank." She laughed again and turned to put it back in the bag. During this action she caught eye of another young man who had come in. He, too, was brandishing a katana. She paused to look at him.

"Clawed out what?" she asked, though she was still looking away from him. "Don't understand."

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"Magic is not real. Is show things. Flashy theater trick. Cannot believe things like that," she said, lifting the sheathed katana on her lap, seemingly in a neutral pose. She then slowly, slowly lifted the sword to her left side, the curved side of the blade facing the ceiling, her fingers grasping the hilt. She pushed her thumb under the tsuba, the same as the other boy had, and slowly twisted the sword so the curved edge faced outward. What was he doing? He made as if he was going to attack someone. Namely her, of course.

"Yes, evening," she said to Judas, though her attention was locked on Roth. She couldn't allow him to attack her while she was distracted. She got to her feet, sliding her left foot behind her, heel propped up.

"What do you want?" she said to him, finally.

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The young woman let out a short laugh. "I don't know what kind of country this is..." she began, separating the katana from the tsuka completely, drawing the sheathe back and the blade forward, "...where people challenge another in a bar," she grabbed the hilt with both hands, leveling it with her waist, the point faced towards his throat. This stance was supposed to discourage the opponent from coming close, less they pierce themselves on the point right away. "Does not matter right now, though."

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The girl did something similar to the boy in concentration. She never closed her eyes, as she did not know her opponent, did not trust him to not attack when she wasn't looking. Instead, her lids narrowed, and the world around Roth disappeared, leaving only him for her to study. Her own grip was not deathlike. No, she held her sword much more loosely, though it was still firmly held in her hand. A tighter grip was not requited until just the right time.

She bent her knees, just a bit, and slowly moved away from the counter, waiting for him to strike first, as she knew he would. After all, he was the one that challenged her. It would be appropriate for him to be the first to start it off.

And, as he came rushing at her, he proved her right. She expected a full on charge, the sword coming right down upon her, but as he leaped onto the table and again onto her, she had to quickly change her plans. She lifted the sword to her left in a diagonal, raised high above her shoulder. However, she would dodge to the side and allow his sword to slide off her own toward the ground as she pulled her katana forward, aimed for his wrist in counter.

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Naoki felt the hilt push toward her blade, and stepped back in her own retreat to reset and calculate her next strike. He did the same, and by the pause she knew what she had to do. She loaded the tsuba to her shoulder, the blade pointed outward as she rushed toward the young man, throwing out what appeared to be another waist strike-

Before she dropped to her knee and circled the blade outward for his waist.

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She had to act quick. This kid wasn't playing around. He knew what he was doing; he wasn't some idiot with a few feet of metal. She pushed against him, but ultimately knew that his weight and strength, while she was on the floor, was going to win over her. She had to use this to her advantage somehow. She slid her kneeling leg from underneath her and pulled it forward, suddenly dropping to the floor and hopefully causing Roth to fall toward her as she pushed both feet out and attempted to flip him head over heels beyond her. It was risky, but it she had seen it done.

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As Roth was thrown over, Naoki worked to get back to her own feet, rolling and stepping down, one leg extended, one leg bent underneath her, used as a sort of catapult to push her forward toward the young man. Although, his next move was unexpected in her recovery, and she had to drop her blade low to meet it with Roth's, but still did a stinging pain run through from her hip. She looked down, spotting the very tip of Roth's blade in her skin. Just half an inch too late. She pushed against his blade, trying to flick it off before retreating in a cat stance, never pausing to take further notice of the injury.

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The woman lowered her sword, pinching her brow. "I made mistake. Not so capable then," she said, grinning at Roth. She wanted to continue; that is, her mind wanted to. Adrenaline rushed through her like fuel into a jet plane. "No fair. Next time it'll be different." That is, if I'm not out of here by then. Or if I don't wake up from this coma. She walked towards him, red staining her white shirt. She whipped the tip of her sword upward, then slid it between her fingers before edging the tip down into the saya.

"I am Naoki. Name?"

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"Nice meeting, Roth," she said, putting her palm around the cut. "Not your fault. I was careless. It was a duel. That's what happens," she said, feeling the sting that accompanied deep, yet thin wounds. It wasn't even that bad. It had hit only...nicked a bit of skin.

"Sake? Sounds nice," she grinned back, walking toward the bar. "No bandage, though...is alright."

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Naoki was going to protest, but decided not to. He was going to get the pack, it was obvious. However, speechless as she usually was (though this event did not reflect that well) she merely sat down at the counter and took her sheathed katana out and into her bag, eyeing the shinai already in there, accompanied by the gun in the next pocket. She zipped up the bad quickly. Maybe she didn't have to deal with that here...those problems.
What if this was better?

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"Dojo in my town. Nemuro. It was a big school," she said, taking her hand away from the wound. She supposed she did not have a choice. Well, she did, but it was better for conversation this way. "You? Don't look like you are from Japan. Where did you learn? They teach in America?" she asked. After only being there for such a short time, she really didn't know. There was a good amount of things in America that they didn't have in Japan, so she was sure it was the other way around.

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"Araki Mujinsai? You? His descendant? This is joke," she said, shaking her head. Him? The descendant? That was...wait. "But your not Japanese. You are adopted?" she asked, wondering if the words were not so harsh to say. Some took a lot of insult in it. Unlike a very particular mute test subject.

As he asked to pull up the fabric, she nodded. "Ah...yes, is alright," she said, one hand arching back to take the choko and sake, pouring it for them both. She did not seem too...too shy.

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"Is easy to tell," she said with a shrug, lifting her arm to look at the cut, foam now covering it. She nodded and smiled to him. "Thank you. Would not usually make someone else do it, but next time is my turn if it happens to you," she told him, attempting to prod his chest lightly with one finger. The cut stung, but it wasn't as if it was unbearable. "Is alright if it scars. I have lots of them. Lots of people do, is not a problem."

At the comment of her face, she looked away. "Oh, no," she said shyly, trying to play off a laugh. "Not really," she waved a hand to dismiss it, sliding him one of the choko. "Maybe if you drink you see better." She laughed, taking her own cup up and drinking.

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"Well, maybe I wont mind much if I drink lots too, hm?" she joked, though she really did plan on drinking as much as she could handle. This was all a dream, after all, or some weird detention center or...something altogether crazy. What was that western story? Alice in Wonderland?
Down the rabbit hole she'd gone, then.

"Maybe another competition. Who can drink more before gone?"

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"Can't be worse than killing each other," grinned Naoki. She had a miraculous way of holding her liquor. Hopefully she could drink this boy out way before she was smashed or anything of the like. She grabbed the sake as he waved it, edging it towards her own Choko.

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Two more would come into the bar. One was a short young woman with black bobbed hair framing her round face. On her hip strapped a katana. No, she was not an anime character, nor was she controlled by some weeaboo who thought samurai were cool. She actually attended kendo classes and had knowledge of the weapon.
No.
It did not glow green and make magical waves, either.

She sat down, half catching the sight of the Chinese soldier. She did not look straight at him, however.

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The young Korean-Japanese woman looked up at the soldier, furrowing her brow. Oh, well he must be new, right? She was, too, but she was from modern Japan. She knew, at least, what these shining screens were for.

Curiously, she skipped over a few seats toward him. "Ah..." she began, pointing to one of the robots, "We have no tender. Only robot. Robot uses screen," at this, she pointed to the touch-screens, "Screen makes order."

The setting changes from gambits-bar to Main Street

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"Urusai..."

A sleepy hand drooped over her bed, searching sluggishly for the cellphone that sat upon her bedside table. Once her fingers curled around a thin, wide object, which blared Queen's Bohemian Rhapsody on its speakers, she clicked the answer button and placed the phone to her ear.

"Is Nao-" she was cut off by the unmistakable sound of- who else? Lexi again. Too early. The Japanese woman snailed up onto her pillow and curled up. "Mhmm? What happen?" she asked, rubbing her eyes.

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The girl tottered out of bed, dressed lightly in a large T-shirt and a pair of pajama shorts. She reached a hand toward the curtains, pulling them open. As light spilled into the room, a collection of Japanese and Korean insults spilled through the phone to Lexi. Eventually, Naoki regained any of the composure she must have had before.

"This again? Lexii, you know you got to lay off the meatloaf before bed, you know. It's been messing with your head again," snorted the girl, yawning groggily before brushing her fingers through her hair. "It was a guy? Well...he look half okay? Or ugly guy?"

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"Really cute? Asian?" asked Naoki. Of course, that was always her question whenever Lexi was speaking about any type of person. It was her mom's wish, of course. She always lectured to her. "Find Asian boy. Find Asian place. Make Asian babies."
One day, she swore her mother would find a very dark grandchild in her lap from spite.

"Kind of cute not at random? Nooo, I bet the meatloaf picked it for you. But, oh, whatever. Where do you think you see him?" She paused for Lexi's question.

"No. You don't wake me up. Queen wake me up."

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