App, GnD
PLAYER
[journal] parthian_shot
[age] 22 (30 Sept 1988)
[previous characters] Satellizer El Briget (allendowed)
CHARACTER
[series] Katekyo Hitman Reborn!
[full name] Takeshi Yamamoto
[age] About 25.
[gender] Totally male.
[canon point] Post chapter 282, when the future guardians come out of their stasis.
[reference] Wiki.
[personality] Yamamoto is essentially a large, playful, easygoing puppy. He's faithful and cheerful, friendly and overflowing with ready affection and a failure to recognize personal space. You can kick him an almost infinite number of times and still have him come trotting back to be patted, more amused than alarmed. However, it's also the case that his bite is much, much worse than his bark. His relaxed temperament is in direct contrast to the fact that he's actually a very dangerous man who is fairly capable of-if not precisely enthusiastic about-killing whoever represents a threat to himself or his family. Even so, he’s quick to forgive (if not forget) and almost never holds a grudge against an opponent.
Yamamoto’s laid-back attitude means that it’s not uncommon for someone’s first impression of him to be “this man is unbelievably stupid.” In fact he’s a fairly sharp observer, a quick study, and a good judge of character--it’s just all rolled up under a sunnily optimistic exterior that puts the best possible spin on the facts. It doesn’t help anything that he has a tendency to laugh at inappropriate moments and very little compunction about saying the first thing that comes to mind, no matter how ridiculous it might sound. Yamamoto generally abuses a kind of “shortest path” reasoning that offers the simplest possible explanation for situations, an approach that might be more reasonable if his life circumstances were ever logical. His blissful unconcern about how other people see him can be easily mistaken for idiocy by those unfamiliar with him.
Possessed of an almost unnaturally calm temperament and the kind of sense of humor that lets him laugh in the face of almost everything life throws at him, Yamamoto initially seems like an odd choice for Mafia muscle. However, he's also cool and collected under pressure, efficient, competitive to a fault, and extremely protective of the people important to him. He sees the world just a little bit oddly; his apparent inability to take things seriously means that life-or-death situations are a game to him--at least, as long as he’s the one at stake. If people he cares about are in danger, Yamamoto goes into overdrive in a split second. In spite of his cheerful exterior, Yamamoto’s certainly capable of darker emotions like frustration (often self-directed) or outright anger. It's simply the case that he internalizes unhappiness and tends to display an incredibly mild exterior regardless of his personal feelings.
Generally speaking, Yamamoto is an immensely relaxed and adaptable person. The bizarre has long since become routine for him, and not a lot seriously alarms him anymore. He has an openminded accepting nature, a naturally inquisitive streak, an innate gift for tactile learning, and the capacity to manage on partial or no information without being particularly perturbed. He's resilient, patient, outgoing, and friendly. He's also generally empathetic to others but more passive than not, inclined to sit back and see how people want to handle a situation rather than stepping in to lead. He's used to being a follower and a team player, though he’ll take charge under duress; it doesn’t seem like it, but he actually has strong opinions that can surface when he’s pushed hard enough. He’s extremely competitive and stubborn, his own harshest critic; while he might define victory a little oddly at times, winning is important to him.
[orientation] Canon ambivalent with a default leaning towards females. At age fourteen he's up to his ears in girls tripping over themselves to give him chocolate and he never shows any particular interest in any, but he does blush for the mention of boobs. And drop his tea. Which is pretty flustered, for him.
[appearance] Unchanged.
[wish] For a long enough sustained peace that he and the other Vongola family members can lead quiet, normal lives. Relatively speaking.
[requested house] Kagayaku (naked. sushi.) or Komainu would both suit pretty well.
[misc notes] Probably equipped with a jade bracelet due to dying will flames/similar.
SAMPLES
[sample 1#]
It wasn’t the first weird dream he’d had. There’d been a few, over the years. Running late to the subway station--nevermind that he didn’t take the train to school--with a talking dog keeping pace with him, telling him how he was going to fail the math test because he’d forgotten to lace his shoes with the lucky laces. He didn’t even have lucky laces. Then years later, dreaming himself inexplicably back in his father’s sushi kitchen, tasked with sorting hundreds and hundreds of pieces of sushi into different-colored boxes while the kid sat by with a stopwatch and his dad stood by the door, holding a pitcher’s mitt, yelling “just a few more, Takeshi! Run for home!”
That one was definitely stranger. This was just Squalo, dressed all in white, silver hair cascading down his back and arms folded impatiently over his chest like always. It wasn’t even weird to dream about Squalo, although more often it was blood and rain and leather and swords. Not a quiet forest and a white kimono and Squalo just wearing this faintly annoyed expression like he had better fucking places to be, stupid brat, and this was a waste of his time.
"Haha,” he offered. “Sorry--” Because he wasn’t sure why they were out here, but it was definitely his idea, since it wouldn’t have been Squalo’s.
"Brat,” Squalo interrupted. Yamamoto grinned, dimmed the expression to a more reserved smile just barely held closed around the edges when Squalo glared, and ducked his head instead to hide it. “Just shut the hell up and listen.”
And that was okay, because he’d always been good at listening. And Squalo was good at talking--or at least yelling, and sometimes talking, and it was all the same skill anyway. It didn’t even seem weird that Squalo could lay it all out like that, what he wanted and needed in blunt level words. It was a swordsman thing, maybe; a Rain Guardian thing; a thing between men that lived lives balanced on the bloody edge between normality and a centuries-outdated code, men who fought for the joy of the fight but really fought for something, too.
Then Squalo stepped closer and he tensed, breath going quick and shallow and eyes lighting with sharp-playful excitement in anticipation of a fight. It was always a fight when Squalo closed quarters like this, and it was one of the things he liked best about him. He was uncomplicated. But then Squalo lifted his hand, the good hand, and instead of cocking his fist back for a punch caught Yamamoto by the tie and dragged him in for a rough biting kiss. There was a second or two of uncertain flailing before Yamamoto concluded that yeah--maybe this was a fight too--and then everything was going fuzzy and he was sliding to the ground and he guessed maybe he was waking up. Some part of him was a little bit disappointed. That was about when he really decided it was a dream, actually.
When he woke into the next dream, there was a man in a kimono, a steady stream of words that didn’t quite connect in his muddled head. Soothing hands and herbs over the weirdly itchy skin on his back, and then a pallet and silence. After that, he thought maybe he slept again--if you could sleep in dreams--and then he was waking up in the same place, just as confused. His head hurt, and his arm hurt when he pinched it, and that salved spot burned like anything. Kind of weird for a dream.
Dream, or illusion, or prank, or just really funny training exercise, he wasn’t getting anywhere laying around. Stretching and rolling smoothly to his feet, he snagged the kimono from its folded pile and pulled it on as he padded quietly from the room, in search of a familiar face or a ready explanation or his sword or all three.
Or just directions home, really. He wasn’t that picky.
[sample 2#]
((Picking a house here to give the sample something a little less generic to roll from. Assuming about 1-2 weeks after arrival.))
[video]
[when the feed clicks on, it’s just--hands. Nice, long-fingered hands, kind of scrabbling at the camera for a few seconds. The extremely sharp-eyed might catch some telltale calluses along his palms. There’s a quiet pleased “ah!” and the hands withdraw.
A young man is sitting sprawled in front of the Fansuworth, dressed in the ubiquitous kimono and... rope. There’s quite a bit of it tangling his wrists, but with no other culprit in sight, it looks like his bindings might be self-imposed. Certainly his sheepish grin suggests that there’s nothing more serious than a little mischief going on here.]
Uh... Anyone good with knots mind giving me a few tips? Pretty sure it wasn’t supposed to go like that.
[briefly glances down at his hands and cocks his head at the mess again. If nothing else, it’s kind of impressive in its own right.]
--Or if anyone around Kagayaku wants to stop by and give me a hand, that’d be great. Mine’re a little stuck. [wryly wiggles his fingers, grinning again at the device before leaning forward to begin the laborious work of turning it off. It’s a few seconds, and the feed ends.]