Name: Myakashi Mikki (Miksurendo)
Age: Unknown
Physical Description: Mikki stands a proud 122 cms tall, looking rather out of place as if struggling to 'drive' this fleshbag... err body. Having those kind of brown eyes old ladies comment on, long eyelashes that are the envy of girls everywhere, and wavy brown locks, Mikki would be considered 'cute'. His skin has a strange brown tone to it, as if he has been out in the sun for a time but has been the result of constantly working with other Myakashi in the forges of Yamigakure. Normally dressed in heavy armour, Mikki is quite muscular for a boy of his indeterminable age, probably due to carrying so many heavy weapons around all the time! Silence and subtle are not words people would associate with Mikki's demeanour.
Mental Description: Mikki is a difficult character to describe mentally due to his rather different background. In this form, he is constantly bombarded with physical sensations, things which his mind has yet to get used to and as such those around him will feel that he is... different (OOC: With respect, people would assume he is on the spectrum). Whilst outwardly he would seem to lack any empathy or concern for others, he secretly holds significant feelings for his clan-mates and particularly children who are suffering. His recent transformation has given him the opportunity to feel things for the first time in his existence, and while he holds his pre-existing bloodthirsty nature he is gradually figuring out what 'feelings' actually are.
Mikki ‘nay Miksurendo’ is a difficult entity to explain. One of the many spirits created at the beginning of the world, Miksurendo was one of many organised by the great Sun-Goddess, Amatseru Omikami, in the time before all things. As the world was formed, each spirit bound itself to something – some were Kami, noble creatures, others were Youkai, creatures that seemed to cause balance amidst the world. Other spirits were released to find their own place in this new material world, and Mikki was one of these. Desperate to bind itself, and thereby giving it a measure of autonomy and influence over this world, Mikki bound itself to the greatest tree it could find – a sandlewood.
Over the years, the new creation – man – would come and worship at this tree, famed for its fragrance. They would carve a face into the tree, and name it Hātouddo, the Heart Tree. Gifts would be given, and yet despite this worship Mikki was still bound. He could produce the pleasant smell, yet he could not move. Anger grew in the spirit’s heart and he felt he had been tricked by the other spirits who gleefully played in their streams, and interfered with the lives of the mortals.
Soon, the sweet smelling fragrance of the tree went sour as hatred stirred in the trees heart, spoiling its sap. Man turned away from worshipping as the smell grew, and yet Mikki would not change his dark heart. Where once he loved the happiness he caused the people, he now knew only resentment at their freedom.
Time passed, as it always does, and the Hatouddo tree was forgotten, as Mikki fell into depression and darkness, bound by hopelessness. It didn’t notice when the axes came and felled its fellow trees, and only noticed pain when those axes bit deeply into his side.
But oblivion would not take Mikki, no, for it was bound to the fate of the tree and soon it would find itself cut even smaller, parts of him cut free to become furniture, kindling, decorations – each more painful than the last.
But the Sun Goddess is not without mercy, for out of the Heart tree came enough wood for a small mortal. A small mortal whose daughter lay dying of a wasting disease. Enough wood to carve a small wooden puppet to sit by her as her life passed away.
And so Mikki would lay by the child, watching her as she loved him, stroking and talking to him about her dreams that would never come to pass, waste away. At first he was angry – why torment him even more so as he grew to love this mortal – but it was not that simple. The girl died, and Mikki reached out as he had once done, to the source of all.
Why… why take the mortals? Why my mortal? It is not fair!
The answer did not come as he expected.
Years would pass, and so would ownership of this strange sandlewood puppet. He would be loved by children who played with him, and kept the secret that sometimes, sometimes, he could move by himself. It would seem that the Goddess would purposefully place him where he was most needed.
That was when he was introduced to the young Yushi Migoya. A strange albino child, spurned by his family, would be given the puppet in his cradle by a kind nurse, who somehow knew the two belonged together. Mikki, noticing the frail boy as an almost kindred soul, tormented by depression and the darkness within, snuggled close, forever reaching out to sooth this young boys troubled existence.
Years had passed, and Migoya had lived more than one life-span of the human cycle. The bond between them had become close, yet as Migoya delved deeper into dark practices, Mikki often found himself struggling with losing the aspect of his nature that had saved him - hope. An open conversation between the two had come to a simple conclusion - Empathy. Mikki lacked empathy or the ability to understand human emotion. Migoya, master necromancer that he was, had suggested a strange option - the ability for him to be transferred into the body of a boy, and thus have the ability to learn empathy and pain. Naturally Migoya would keep his puppet body safe, but this was an opportunity for Mikki to understand the fleshbags better.
Why not?
The ritual was set, completed, and Mikki became a real boy.
Over the years, the new creation – man – would come and worship at this tree, famed for its fragrance. They would carve a face into the tree, and name it Hātouddo, the Heart Tree. Gifts would be given, and yet despite this worship Mikki was still bound. He could produce the pleasant smell, yet he could not move. Anger grew in the spirit’s heart and he felt he had been tricked by the other spirits who gleefully played in their streams, and interfered with the lives of the mortals.
Soon, the sweet smelling fragrance of the tree went sour as hatred stirred in the trees heart, spoiling its sap. Man turned away from worshipping as the smell grew, and yet Mikki would not change his dark heart. Where once he loved the happiness he caused the people, he now knew only resentment at their freedom.
Time passed, as it always does, and the Hatouddo tree was forgotten, as Mikki fell into depression and darkness, bound by hopelessness. It didn’t notice when the axes came and felled its fellow trees, and only noticed pain when those axes bit deeply into his side.
But oblivion would not take Mikki, no, for it was bound to the fate of the tree and soon it would find itself cut even smaller, parts of him cut free to become furniture, kindling, decorations – each more painful than the last.
But the Sun Goddess is not without mercy, for out of the Heart tree came enough wood for a small mortal. A small mortal whose daughter lay dying of a wasting disease. Enough wood to carve a small wooden puppet to sit by her as her life passed away.
And so Mikki would lay by the child, watching her as she loved him, stroking and talking to him about her dreams that would never come to pass, waste away. At first he was angry – why torment him even more so as he grew to love this mortal – but it was not that simple. The girl died, and Mikki reached out as he had once done, to the source of all.
Why… why take the mortals? Why my mortal? It is not fair!
The answer did not come as he expected.
Years would pass, and so would ownership of this strange sandlewood puppet. He would be loved by children who played with him, and kept the secret that sometimes, sometimes, he could move by himself. It would seem that the Goddess would purposefully place him where he was most needed.
That was when he was introduced to the young Yushi Migoya. A strange albino child, spurned by his family, would be given the puppet in his cradle by a kind nurse, who somehow knew the two belonged together. Mikki, noticing the frail boy as an almost kindred soul, tormented by depression and the darkness within, snuggled close, forever reaching out to sooth this young boys troubled existence.
Years had passed, and Migoya had lived more than one life-span of the human cycle. The bond between them had become close, yet as Migoya delved deeper into dark practices, Mikki often found himself struggling with losing the aspect of his nature that had saved him - hope. An open conversation between the two had come to a simple conclusion - Empathy. Mikki lacked empathy or the ability to understand human emotion. Migoya, master necromancer that he was, had suggested a strange option - the ability for him to be transferred into the body of a boy, and thus have the ability to learn empathy and pain. Naturally Migoya would keep his puppet body safe, but this was an opportunity for Mikki to understand the fleshbags better.
Why not?
The ritual was set, completed, and Mikki became a real boy.
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