Burger

Lostman Graffiti

@Crowvette

Northwest District

"Not... not chasing," a heavily breathing Aya told Fumiko, "following." Holy cow, that sprint brought her out of it. She hadn't expected the young girl to be a track and field legend at such a young age. Though, maybe it was the college life diet of instant ramen and plain rice that brought Aya down to the girls level. Maybe it was all of the cameras she had with her at one time. It was everything except for her own ability, she thought. Though, maybe her lack of any recent strenuous activity explained the sudden heart pain. When was the last time she exerted herself? High school gym class?

"An' she wasn't running from me, Morimori. Girl slammed into me at full speed, kept on hustling, an' I got a lil curious. So, you know, I followed her." It was a good thing she still had her bottle of still-cold water to cool herself down a bit. The condensate soaked her brow, but she really didn't mind this time around. All the running in the humid summer air already drenched her breezy t-shirt with sweat.

"It's uh... heat syncope. Get the legs an' help me move her somewhere cool. If she's sweatin', she'll come to and we give her some water. If she ain't and has a fever, then uh... 119. That's what Occupational Health and Safety: Outdoor Work Environments by Sasaki Shouta says, 'nyways." Aya didn't exactly have the heart to tell Fumiko that that book was self-published and wasn't verified by any health authorities. She went around to the girl's head and used her still unopened water bottle on her forehead in an effort to cool her down even a little.

"You're also an accomplice now."

You Can Become a Hero!

The bullet train she had taken to Hokkaido was frankly uneventful. Besides watching the vistas outside the window, she was left alone to her thoughts. When she finally arrived, there wasn't anything to do except walk to the school. She would have loved an extra day to spend the time to shop and sight see, but renting a hotel room wasn't exactly her prerogative. Most places wouldn't rent out to her, especially without parental approval. She'd asked her parents, but they refused.

Hokkaido was definitely cooler than Kagawa. Back at her home, the rising sun warmed the night's air. Even during the rainy season, the sun was strong enough pierce the cold. Hokkaido, however, was much different. The cold wet air clung to her winter uniform and, contrary to what one would have thought, the sun did little to warm her. The cold air wasn't something that Yoru enjoyed. The air was pleasant in short bursts, but her skin and lips? Practically chapped and dried out the second she stepped off the train.

Not that she fully hated it. The frozen air was a something new to experience and the more reserved by necessity clothing of Hokkaido made for all new styles she could try. The uniforms offered to her by the school were tolerable. The sailor fuku was a mainstay in traditional Japanese uniforms. If the school was truly traditional like its reputation lead one to believe, then having everyone in kimonos would be the most traditional move possible. Probably not the best idea, considering how everyone would need to gird up their loins the second they needed to do anything physical. The idea of a class of heroes with girded loins gave Yoru a sensible chuckle.

Her arrival at the school gates didn't really fill her with any sense of awe, dread, or excitement. She knew what the school looked like from images on the internet. It wasn't really a situation where being there in person changed anything. It was just a big building filled with people whose job it was to teach people to be heroes. Not really awe-inspiring or life changing, was it? It was just what it was: a new school.

Ishin Academy wasn't her first choice, but it was for her parents.

Maybe that's why there was no life changing revelations from it.

There really wasn't any point to dawdle around the front entrance. There really wasn't a point in making friends with everyone before she even knew who was in her class. She didn't want to associate with anyone that harmed her marketability as a person or hero, nor did she want to waste her time on people she'd never see again. She walked through the halls of Ishin and into the auditorium, taking a seat with the other first years. It'd be a lie to say that she wasn't at least a bit curious on who she would share a class with. Hopefully not the girl sitting alone who occupied two seats with her suitcase. Unlike that person, Yoru kept her suitcase underneath her chair. She packed a considerable amount (what she considered bare necessities), but it wasn't like she packed for a two month vacation. She could for send most of the things that she needed.

First, she'd have to get through whatever introduction the faculty at Ishin had planned.

You Can Become a Hero!

Y o r u

Personal Dossier

---

_Name

Genkuro Yoru

_Age

15

_Origin

Takamatsu, Kagawa

_{Physical Description}

Standing at 5'3", Yoru is perfect height to be an idol. Her physical traits are well groomed. Her pure white hair is cut to a cute length and styled frequently, her dark skin is free from any noticeable blemish as a result of her extreme skin care, and her clothes seem to just fit better than other people. To call her an idol rather than a hero wouldn't be too far off.

_{Characterization}

Attention-seeking
Spiteful
Self-centered
Artistic
Calculating
Vain

_{Personal History}

Born to two pro heroes, Yoru's chance at a normal life was gone from the start. Unfortunately for her, neither of her parents decided to slow down their heroism. From a very young age, she was raised by a series of caretakers. They were fine, but none of them stuck around long enough to make a connection. The only friend that she had during all of this was her art. Years of charcoals, pencils, pastels and paints had formed her childhood. Art was the only thing that made her happy, but the direct scorn of her parents for this killed any interest the young Yoru once had on it.

As she grew, her parents kept on trying to instill their sense of heroism and justice on her. Every heroic thing she did was rewarded by her parents with love and affection, even if they were such small things as helping an old woman move a sack of rice. Conversely, every time she showed her parents her art or anything else unrelated to being a hero, she was meant with disapproval and ignoring. Even though they were her blood, her parents never felt like as though they raised her. The isolation corrupted Yoru. She would be a hero, even if it was just for the attention.

Of course, the easiest path was through a hero school. With all of her drive put towards becoming a renowned hero, she was just good enough to enter Ishin Academy—the school her parents wanted her to enter. Her path to superherodom would start there.

_{Character Development & Conceptualization}

As a character, Yoru is meant to symbolize and exploit the issues of commercialized heroism. Rather than be a hero for the sake of helping others, she is a hero in order to become famous. She's meant to ask the question of what is actual heroism. If someone saves a life to save a life and another saves a life for fame, what's the actual difference between the two? Likewise, what does the effect of this commercialization and commodification have on these types of people?

Likewise, she's meant as a character who isn't able to do what she wanted. Her number one goal was to be an artist, but was unable to because of her parents disapproval. Being the child of two pro heroes, nevermind two absentees, has an effect on the head. For Yoru, becoming a renowned hero is a way to gain her parents approval. The fame she desires stems from the corrupted dreams of wishing to become a renowned artist and the belief that her parents will finally pay attention to her.

Abilities & Talents

---

_{Quirk Type}

Emitter

_{Quirk Description}

Going by the name [Black Paint], one can easily assume the basics of Yoru's quirk. From her mouth, she can exude a pitch black substance that allows for the creation of "holes". These holes can be created by the paint being placed on opposite sides of an object. If a direct path can be made between the two painted areas, instantaneous travel can be made between the two points.

Additionally, if something is covered in an uninterrupted line of paint, a light force will cause it to split into two. These objects are still connected, so to speak. The insides are covered by a thick black and a nigh indestructible elastic rope connects the now separated objects. While it can't be cut and resists almost all impact, the rope is limited to a ten meter stretch. Each meter is harder to pull than the next and the resistance approaches about infinity at that mark. Reattachment is as simple as placing the two separated pieces together again.

The paint has a simple weakness: it's a liquid. If it mixes with any other liquid, it will violently attempt to make things how they were. Any object intersecting a portal will be shot out via the path of least resistance. If a rope is wet, then it will slowly retract until fully repaired. Once the black paint is no longer intersecting a foreign object or reattaches separated parts, it will begin to wash off. It also lasts up to thirty minutes before flaking off and turning to dust, causing the same process as water.

_{Other Talents & Attributes}

While rough around the edges, Yoru is half decent at art. She suffers from not actively pursuing her interests, but the effort she put into it during her early life is apparent. She also knows a bit about art history, but it's not often that it comes up.

Her voice and mannerisms are pleasant to listen to. This is less natural and more effort, as she has spent months of effort into making herself as marketable as a hero as possible.

She's also rather athletic. Not enough to win any competitions or set any class records, but she put the effort into exercising that she wouldn't be left behind by anyone.

JoJo's Bizarre Adventure - Operation: Ground the Harpy

With the cacaphony of explosions and gunshots finally stopping, it was over. While unwounded, she certainly wasn't unrattled. Standing meters away from an explosion had a tendency to throw people for a loop. She was at least thankful that the medicine hauling Russian was a great fighter too. Without him, it was likely that they'd have to eat a few more bullets and explosives before getting out of dodge.

With a noticeable cringe from having been blasted from less than ten meters with Cakebread's empowered voice, Lilliane gave a curt nod.

"Yes," she said shaking the dirt off her jacket, "with the exception of this little stroke of bad luck, we should have a clear path to sneak to Orleans. Actual French wilderness away from any roads known to the Germans. Only thing to look out for are the wild boars."

Really, she didn't want to use the resistance's paths. While much of the resistance of overt and hidden in plain sight, the use of such labyrinthine paths to carry supplies was a necessity. A single stick of dynamite could easily be hidden in a bread basket, but a bread basket of dynamite had to be kept a little more hidden. For that reason, a long path with a handful of spots to rest had been stealthily carved into the french countryside. Though, it never saw much use. It was used more by the boars to get from farm to farm than the resistance themselves.

"I suppose I do owe you all a nice meal and place to rest. I know a nice place in Orléans. If we get the medicine there, you'll have all you can eat."

From Oubliette to Oublioth [R.I.P]

---

With the other party fleeing, a wounded Locke managed to turn into his back. It wasn't hard to figure how messed he had become. His breath escaped through the cracks, only to be replaced by the stagnant air of the walled ruins. It didn't help that the subtle stench of ancient sewers was noticeable to him. Oh, how he longed for the fresh mountain air once more. Really, he wasn't one for senseless combat. If his two sociable teammates could have sweet talked Hawklen and his gang of horribles to go away, that would have been much more appreciated. Unfortunately, because of a certain someone, that didn't happen.

"I'm going to wrap my hands around that boy's neck," Locke said to no one in particular. Certainly it was a joke, right? He did say it in a rather serious tone, but most of what he said was serious.

Artemisia's healing worked well. His brain no longer hurt from it rattling around his skull and his spine no longer felt like someone took a hammer to it. His clothing was still ruined from the fight. Though, the current situation gave for a brief moment of respite. With a wave of his finger, the iridescent fairy by Cecelia spun out of the mortal plane like the others and was replaced by a much more naturalistic fairy by Locke's side. To call the fairy primitive would be accurate. It seemed much more in tune with nature than the others. Without so much as a word, the fairy got to work. It flew around Locke, carefully inspecting the extent of damage to his gear. With a dull glow between the fairy's hands, it began to mend his gear. The cracks in his mask seemed to slowly unform, dust collecting and filling whatever gaps were made. Similar could be said about his clothing. Threads once torn and broken had strung together once more, filling the gaps from before and the ones left from the fight.

For now, he remained on the ground. The time to choke out the boy would have to wait. He just had to keep his life and not die because of some invisible twat. Keep at the pace of the other.

Lostman Graffiti

With summer haze leaking in through every gap in the building, the beloved vista of the western district was much less appealing for Aya. The thought of screaming traditional buildings are shit, give me air conditioning constantly filled her mind during the summer months. Even with her summer uniform of a thin shirt, shorts and emblazoned apron, Amato & Ito's lack of actual air conditioning was apparent. The muggy air of the rainy season damaged books, but nobody in the store really minded. It wasn't like anyone besides the most curious of minds picked up first print issues of "Love Blooming On The Battlefield: Can You Find Love In 1864 America". The latest manga magazines usually sold before the humidity rot the pages. Fans plugged into walls billowed as best they could, but they only moved in more hot air.

Bzzz. Aya's pocket vibrated. Was it two already? Her mind, tortured by heat, thought eternity had already passed. She wasn't dead and trapped in some mildly hellish realm of labour and uncomfortable weather after all. With that, her shift was over. Miki was practically passed out while sitting at the counter, a small desk fan blowing onto her face. Walking past her and into their tiny excuse for a break room, she grabbed two bottles of nice and cold water and the rest of her stuff. Apron was now off and she was ready to escape the intense heat of the building. Placing one beside Miki's head as she left, she gave a quick goodbye.

"Headin' out. Shift's over."

The slow-roasting Miki lazily replied, her affirmation distorted from the spinning fan.

Outside was even worse. At least inside, she was protected from the sun's rays. After putting on her hat, she moved from shadow to shadow. Poles and awnings gave respite with the sun mostly overhead. For the long stretches of sun, Aya placed the bottle of water on her forehead to keep herself cool. The outside of the bottle became soaked from condensation the second it was exposed to the sun. Her forehead was drenched with water the moment the bottle touched. To the public transit she went!

Or that's what she would say, were it not for a loud thud and currently off balanced.

She caught herself on a pole. The concrete floor wasn't going to scrape her bare legs this time. Before her was a child. A foreigner? Auburn hair was definitely rare around these parts. Aya's hair wasn't the standard either, but that's because she dyed it long ago. In the brief moment of confusion the two of them had, she tried to figure out what to say. Sorry? Where are your parents? You could have killed an old granny? All three of them at once?

Before she could even extend a hand to get the girl up, she ran off. How odd, she thought. After mulling it over for all of five seconds, she began to run after the girl. Even in the great summer heat where she just wants to lie down, her curiosity was getting the better of her. Why was there a lone runaway girl? Was there something chasing her? Before she knew it, her legs were carrying her towards that long girl and her arms were tightly nestled around her camera bag.

Lostman Graffiti

Photogirl

Name Shimamoto Aya
Description: At 5'0" even and 95 pounds, Aya is not a very large person. Most people would call her rather cat-like in both personality and appearance. She has sharp eyes, an smug look on her face, and acts about the same as a cat in human skin would. She follows her whims, acts on instinct more than anything else, and lazes around whenever she doesn't have to do something. She has a pretty big love for pictures of urban sprawl and brutalist architecture. Her attire usually consists of things that are easy to wear more than anything else. Low maintenance is her code of life. Well, that and her camera. She's never seen without it.

From Oubliette to Oublioth [R.I.P]

From Oubliette to Oublioth [R.I.P]

going by dragon quest rules, where we're at, he'd be at most a town hero

which is really just a handful of buffs/debuffs like bounce, holy protection, insulate, kabuff, kaclang, kasap, magic barrier, and oomph and a couple of slashes like flame, kacrackle, lightning, metal, and miracle.

From Oubliette to Oublioth [R.I.P]

most fantasy magic systems and societies stop making sense when you think too deeply about them.

better to just hit it with the todd howard "it just works" special