--Statistics--
| Speed | **** |
| Strength | ***** |
| Technique | ****** |
| Vitality | **** |
| Endurance | *** |
Name Pronounced: Bah-show
Age: Late twenties\early thirties
Birthday: March 19
Height: 6'
Weight: 171 lb
Nationality: Japanese\British (?)
What?: ???
Pocket Monster Representative: Solitary Umbreon
Instrument: Violin
Weapon: Nunchaku; psychic power
Favorite Color: Grayish blue
Likes: Ura; row boating; scheming\planning
Hates: the Riverboroughs; the Organization; Vicious; bats
Dreads Above All: Ura getting her revenge against him
Most Valuable: Feather he saved from Ura's broken wing
Friends: Warui; Buson
General Outlook: I'm not so sure this is what I want to do anymore. The life I've lived...something's...wrong...
Dreams: To quell his troubled conscience
Phobia: The dark
Favorite Food: Wontons
Nitpicky Nitpicks:
Appearance: Rather cold, stony expression, but a handsome face nonetheless; ice blue eyes; light blue, straight, long hair, either styled or just let down; very pale skin
Had Not the Things that Happened Happened: He would have continued to serve the Rocket Gang unquestioningly
~~~
History: Bashou was never really in to the dirty slave business of the Rocket Gang. Women and pleasure didn’t really rank high in his priority list. That is, until he was sent by Lieutenant Orokusaki to eliminate a certain TEAM member. Using his psychic abilities he found her relatively easy and immediately felt his fancy intrigued by this hot young woman. He wanted her badly, alive.
Poising as an innocent, he drew closer to her and went through the whole hi-I’m-so-and-so-I-was-born-here-and-this-is-what-I-feel thing and he made his move when her guard was down. But she was good; she caught on.
He tried again, but a fight broke out and he wound up shooting her. He almost felt as though he should carry through and just rid her from his sight but he was too far in lust with her to do that.
Instead, he arranged for the meddling Orokusaki to be killed so that he could do as he wished with the angel with no interference. He went through the legalities and bought her from her original master. Knowing her character, he threatened to kill her two best friends if she did not surrender herself; it worked like a charm, and he had her: small, vulnerable creature with soft, pliable flesh. Of course he was generous and shared this gift with his partner, Buson.
He will never fail to be amazed by her fortitude and resilience and stubbornness. Several times she almost broke away but in the end he conquered her, only for her annoying friends to play hero and come for her.
Still he was moved by the experience he had with her. It made a future impression upon him. Though at first he merely wanted his toy back, he began to wonder what it was that made her so strong. He began to maybe feel bad about treating her so terribly, maybe he should have been nicer. He began to regret.
Bashou was born into the Rocket Gang and never really questioned whether he was doing what he should be or not, entirely sold out. He is a high-ranking officer, cunning and sly, he cares not what is destroyed so long as he accomplishes his missions.
But still…something is nagging at his mind… and he doesn’t know what it is…
He may not be fully human; it has
been said he has a grotesquely high tolerance for certain kinds of pain—maybe
he just doesn’t feel it. It is possible that he was put under
one of the ‘Human Strengthening’ Projects, tampered and
experimented with. In either case, he doesn’t remember. That or
he won’t tell.
I walked down the corridor calmly, following the two escapees from a distance. I was right. My slave was just the type to go around helping others. My cousin was free, and everything was going according to plan.
I heard a small whimper and the thud of a body hitting the ground ahead. Sneaking ahead silently, I watched the scene in the shadows. Mine had fallen, ankle brutally caught in a trap. The girl reached for my cousin, the one she had rescued, in desperation, begging her to wait, to help her. She just looked at her for a second, then spotted me. With a nod and a smile, she ran off and left the trapped girl.
I watched the struggling, determined girl, causally stepping over to her. When she saw me, her fear dissipated and was replaced by an anger and hate, and she struggled all the more, not caring for her bleeding leg, just wanting to get away. I don’t know why, but I didn’t like it. I didn’t want her to look at me that way, to hate me.
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