Emon Suzumei - Shinigami

Shinigami Template

Name: Emon Suzumei

Age: 260

Gender: Male

Race: Asian

Birthplace: Japan

Occupation: Unseated. Unassigned.

Height: 6' 3"

Weight: 180 llbs

Appearance:

Faceclaim: Keith Flick - B The Beginning



Emon is inconspicuous, he wears a simple pair of bi-focals and tries to wear his Shinigami uniform as much as possible. He's modified his uniform to contain many hidden compartments, all with cigarettes cases. His hair and facial hair is scruffy, the main part of his body that he keeps unkempt - every other part of his body is cleaned and kept immaculate. Emon's posture is relaxed, shoulders lowered and head often tilted to the side.  

Personality:

Emon is a social, relaxed person, he kept to his studies in the Shinigami academy and gained a reputation for being reliable. Other students at the academy commented on the fact that Emon would very rarely get angry and always seemed contemplative over conflict. His tutor’s biggest problems with him was his inability to take his studies seriously or focus, often they would find him in the back rooms smoking as he is blissfully addicted.

During combat Emon is erratic, his actions are maddened, his tutors note that Emon complains about a “tune” that plays in the back of his head - setting the score for his movements. When asked what the tune is - Emon answers that it is ‘flight of the bumblebee’ which seems to put some method to Emon’s chaotic actions. For somebody that is often relaxed, Emon’s combat style bewilders opponents and can lead to an air of inexperience.

He doesn’t “get” romance but Emon doesn’t “get” a lot of things. A part of Emon’s brain complains for rigorous regime and then another urges him to take another draw.

Finally, the unseated Shinigami keeps his circle of friends small but his circle of acquaintances large, as he is slow to trust but once a bond is made is a close friend.

Special Characteristics: Emon can conjure small sparks of reishi on the tips of his fingers, hot enough to light the tips of his cigarettes.

Stats:

Attack: 25

Speed: 50

Defense: 25

Sealed Zanpakuto:

The guard of Emon’s sealed Zankaputo is circular wood with a carved pair of hornets which frame it, this leads to a plain black grip with a pointed metallic pommel. The blade itself is thirty centimetres in width that tapers at the end in a point. At the base of the blade above the guard a hole through the middle of the blade.


History:

Emon was born in japan and died a farm boy. An inconsequential life, for an inconsequential soul. His father had beat him, his mother didn’t particularly want him and when he had contracted a deadly illness, nobody had much wanted to save him.

Maybe that was why when he woke in the Rukongai with not much of a memory outside of being yelled at by his mother, he was determined to strive in the direction of Soul Society. He was a fighter, a survivor and there was something in him that told him that he deserved more.

He woke in one of the more awful districts of Rukongai, where prostitutes offered their bodies on the street and gangsters ran gambling houses next to where babes slept. Each district he travelled through, he fought and was chased, each district he travelled through he saw what the citizens of Rukongai experienced and loathed it. For who would not strive to be better? And so he was driven on.

It took Emon many years. Not because of the travelling but because of the things he experienced and the people he saw. He acquired an addiction to cigarettes, something to get him by in those more awful districts. As the districts got better, people began to point out that the way he lit his cigarettes would be desirable by the Soul Society. This motivated Emon to press on.

Eventually he reached the gates of the Soul Society.

They’d already heard about him - the man traversing Rukongai with a pack of cigarettes in hand and a wry determination. He qualified for the academy and gained an education as a Shinigami.

This is where our adventure begins.


Role Playing Sample:

Emon was on patrol in the Rukongai - if patrol was what you could call it. This was one of the poor downtrodden districts and the ramshackled shanty homes and creaky signs were not really what he looked forward to seeing in the morning. Those starved, distrustful expressions, he often wondered if the citizens of Rukongai realised how often Shinigami put their lives on the line for them. Patrol was the wrong word - something else maybe? ‘Walk of shame’. Yeah, that fit.

Society. Wonderful. He audibly sighed as he continued to trudge through the streets, the shifting eyes of the citizens tracking his movements before he got just out of earshot and then they would continue whatever they had been doing moments before. Creaking his neck he vanished down a side alley, towards the backstreets, opening to a small dusty clearing.

“Hey fellas, I’ve been tracking ya for a while now, it you’re going to jump me - might as well do it with style” he looked over his shoulder, the Shinigami’s hands performing a well practiced motion of retrieving a cigarette from one of the various cigarette holders that were sewn into his uniform. He slotted the cigarette between pursed lips and snapped his fingers - flames kindling the end of the cigarette to life - as thugs entered the clearing’s only exit.

“Shinigami-san we can make things easy” a burly man with a club said to him, as his posse of about five all pulled out knives and anxiously watched him with nervous eyes.

“Hey man” Emon waved, drawing the cigarette from his mouth after inhaling that sweet dulling smoke “I know the rebellion affected the black market food networks, but you can’t go blaming every death god for it”

“Yeah but Shinigami have money and we need that as much as we need food!” one of the lackeys piped out from behind their burly leader.

The unseated Shinigami pointed at the lackey “hey that’s true, unfortunately I spent all my money on cigarettes and sake”

The thugs growled and charged.

Emon’s right hand placed the cigarette into his mouth as that damnable song began playing in the background. His left hand’s index finger dropped to his sword guard lifting it slightly and then slotting neatly in the hole. The burly thug charged swinging his club and Emon’s jumped in the air, pushing the man into the ground with one foot while gaining height into the air. He drew his asauchi from the sheath and spun it with his one finger, sending the katana spinning and slamming into the heads of the lackeys. All of them downed in a movement.

Emon landed on the ground a moment later, zanpakuto back in sheath taking a drag from his cigarette.

“That’ll be your weekly warning Gren”

Gren groaned. “Next week Shinigami”

Emon left the alley, a few coins on the ground on the way out.

Approval given. Welcome matey.


Learned Kido:
Bakudo #1
Bakudo #8