[hider=Kaneko Ohta][center]
[color=ccddee][h1][u]Kaneko Ohta[/u][/h1][/color]
[img]https://i.imgur.com/ukskSs2.png[/img]

[color=ccddee][b][url=https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=P-TMookrajA]“Lemme think on that.”[/url][/b][/color][/CENTER][h3]Overview[/h3][hr][color=878787][sub][color=ccddee][b]Name[/b][/color][/sub]
[indent]Kaneko, Ohta[/indent]
[sub][color=ccddee][b]Age[/b][/color][/sub]
[indent]19[/indent]
[sub][color=ccddee][b]Gender[/b][/color][/sub]
[indent]Male[/indent]
[sub][color=ccddee][b]Occupation[/b][/color][/sub]
[indent]Office Worker[/indent]
[/color][h3]Characterization & Conceptualization[/h3][hr][color=878787][sub][color=ccddee][b]What Do They Look Like?[/b][/color][/sub]
[indent]Ohta’s sallow skin and gray eyes give off the impression of someone who had aged beyond just the nineteen years he had lived so far, and that issue is compounded by how his eyes are perpetually half-open, bagged with dark circles. A heaviness clings onto his frame, grounding him to the earth even as he breaks into a sprint to catch the last train home. Deliberate in his movements, careful in his language, there’s a constant sense of slowness with him. His slender hands are often stained by pencil smudges or ink stains, while his brown hair gives off the impression that he’s just gotten out of bed, regardless of how long he actually spends in bed. At a height of 5’7, with a diminutive frame that naturally hunches into itself, Ohta’s just another face in the crowd, another file in the company’s folder.

The fingernails on his left hand are cut painfully short; the ones on his right feature deep crescents.
[/indent]
[sub][color=ccddee][b]What Are They Like?[/b][/color][/sub]
[indent]Ohta watches, listens, and keeps his thoughts to himself.

Introverted, he’s made it a habit to repress his emotions out of necessity, keeping people at a distance while he plugs along with his tasks. It’s convenient, to be thought of as a cold person, a distant person, so that’s what he leans into. Praise or encouragement for the work he does is strange, after all, and having coldness and distance be the norms for his attitude means that he can bow out of drinking parties without it being remarked upon. It’s good if people just think of him as naturally strange, an overly serious, boring anomaly of a youth. And if people begin thinking about him that way, that would create a Pygmalion effect. If he was perceived of as serious and hard-working, that’s what he could become. If he was perceived of as cold, he would not be hot. And if he was not hot, then he was not…

…passionate, desperate, and so, so, so furious. At the lost twilight of childhood. At the decisions others made. At the burdens he bore alone. At the costs of living for two, when only one brought in income. At the days that never seemed to end. At the assignments that he took so his managers kept him around. At unfairness, built into the very grain of the machine he served. At powerlessness, only able to fold inwards rather than lash outwards.

But when he finds the time to meet her, Ohta figures that he could remain cold, just a little longer.

He can’t meet her anymore.
[/indent]
[sub][color=ccddee][b]What's Their Story?[/b][/color][/sub]
[indent]Duty. Responsibility. Obligation.

At 18 years, on the cusp of graduation, Ohta came home to his family’s three room apartment suite to find it empty. The lock had not been broken. No sign of anyone rummaging through cabinets or shelves. The housewife next door saw the silhouette of his parents at 11:30 AM. They had left no letters, only taken what was theirs and disappeared. He was numb when he picked up Tamimi from school. He was lying when he told her they would be back. If he’d known what was coming, he’d have been a better student. Had picked up skills on his own time. Invested in crypto, started a Patreon, made a Soundcloud, done anything. But he hadn’t.

Strangers came two nights later. Loan sharks. He hid in the bathroom with his little sister. In the morning, it was obvious why they had come. As obvious as paint and pigs’ blood could make it.

Ohta missed out on his graduation. He pawned off most of what remained in the home. Sat on the money for a while. Considered his options. Decided that he didn’t trust his relatives more than he trusted the government. Had a chat with the men that his parents borrowed money from. Decided that it was better to lie again. Orphaned Tamimi.

Her parents were dead. He would work to pay off their inherited debts. After that, they should be able to live together again. Just four years, no, three. They can live together in three years. And then, once again, they can dream.

Office work with only a high school diploma was a miracle with a steep cost, but Ohta paid the cost regardless. Paid it with his body and his mind and did so willingly. Willingly? Out of necessity. Debts to pay. Costs to pay. Rent to pay. Utilities to pay. His cheap suit hung from his body; he was losing weight. His eyes could never focus and always itched; he was losing sleep. His life slipped away even as the days never seemed to end; he was losing time.

Sometimes, he found himself standing in front of the office of those loan sharks, a cheap lighter in hand.

Sometimes, he found himself alone with his boss, nails biting into the flesh of his palms.

But he had a duty to fulfill. A responsibility he could not abandon. An obligation to realize the dream he had spoken of.

The decision is no longer his to make.

Now, Ohta can only pray.
[/indent]
[sub][color=ccddee][b]Why Did The Wish Choose Them?[/b][/color][/sub]
[indent]Righteous and dedicated, a person who could endure the weight of the world, who could think to dream still, no matter how many times he had to rearrange, reimagine it. An idealist who would contort himself to whatever shape necessary to realize his goals. A man who would sacrifice what he loves for who he loves. A hero, perhaps, who would work within the boundaries of whatever society he existed in, no matter how much he hated it.

That was what the wish was drawn towards, a hero who could draw back his instincts and ruminate longer on the consequences of swift action. But…
[/indent]
[sub][color=ccddee][b]What "Hero" Will They Embody? Why?[/b][/color][/sub]
[indent]…the wish did not realize that such restraint was found in a sense of powerlessness. A sense that drove an earnest, crushing desire for power. For might. For the ability to break, rather than bend, to inherent unfairness, enforced bondage. Magma rages beneath the permafrost, willing, always willing to surge out and burn everything to ash.

Ohta is willing to sacrifice, but he’s just as willing to take, whether with words or with violence. So long as he can get away with it. So long as it gets him closer to his goals.

He does not want to endure. He wants to [i]fight[/i].
[/indent]
[sub][color=ccddee][b]What Belongings Will They Take With Them?[/b][/color][/sub]
[indent]A business suit. It does not fit well, and the tie is a boring blue-with-gray-stripes.
A smartphone. The battery is at 53%, and it holds an agenda of meetings and deadlines that no longer matter.
A Tupperware container and chopsticks. Barley rice, mixed with corn. A preserved plum sits in the center.[/indent][/color][h3]Talents & Abilities[/h3][hr][color=878787][sub][color=ccddee][b]Mundane Talents[/b][/color][/sub]
[indent]Ohta was an acoustic guitarist, but now, he's just a run-of-the-mill office worker. Administrative tasks and note-taking have become second-nature to him, and he can enter data and make calculations with a swiftness expected of someone who's gotten accustomed to their job. He learned to sew on his own time, first to patch the holes in his clothing, then in hopes of making a gift for Tamimi.

He doesn't care for it, but he understands business etiquette.
[/indent]
[sub][color=ccddee][b]Achieved Abilities & Knowledges[/b][/color][/sub]
[indent]His efforts have achieved nothing.[/indent][/color][/hider]