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Much has changed about the girl over the last ten years. When London fell, she was one of the unlucky few to get caught in the blaze. While thankfully saved from the brunt of the devastation, she sustained significant injuries that forced her to remain in a hospital for five years afterward. Among the list of injuries, which totalled 60% of her body being covered by severe burn marks, with a focal point on her left side, she lost her hearing and sustained such severe burns to her left arm and leg, that from the elbow and knee down they had to be amputated. But Shiranai didn’t let that stop her. Using her family’s network of contacts, she replaced those lost limbs with high-tech, cybernetic components… and using the wealth of both first-hand and leaked researched from Riku’s pet project, she made additional modifications to her body to allow her to not only regain her lost hearing, but to aid in securing her balance as well. While these changes result in her bearing a significantly foxgirl-like appearance, she keeps much of her body covered, even wearing a mask to cover the bottom half of her face so as to hide the burns that scar so much of her form.


By some miracle, however, the woman’s thigh game was spared from such catastrophe.

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Silent and observant, but also willful and outspoken, Shiranai is the current leader of the Huzaki Clan, a criminal family with operations in nearly every country on the planet. An escapee of the original program that created Pets in London before its fall, her ties with the city- and the memories of those she met there- haven’t faded at all despite the difference of ten years. Wary of outsiders, and more so of supposed friends, she’s a woman of will and strength. Get on her bad side, and you’d better be ready to have the very shadows turn themselves against you. Get on her good side, and consider yourself invincible.

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You’ve been here before, haven’t you? Surrounded by fire. You still remember the sound of that last fuel tank exploding, the searing pain that crawled up your legs as you crawled from that flaming husk of a plane. Where he found you. Rebuilt you. But now that was all in flames, now far more literally than it had been before. The pain was sharper now than it had been back then, and there was more of it. You could hear the sounds of combat outside of the building that burned and crumbled around you, see the bodies of those who you’d known only briefly before hell had broken loose.

Get up. Come on. You can do this.

There you go. Feel that? That’s pain. Favor your right side. You can’t feel your left. Nothing but pain until the elbow and knee, and then just nothing at all. A curse under your breath. Even if you survived, you were probably going to lose those limbs. No matter. You’d experienced death before- or something like it. You could still feel your late brother’s blade in your chest. Feel where it’d missed your heart by a mere sixteenth of an inch.

You’d found that measurement so funny. Sixteen. That’s a name you know, isn’t it? Good. Hold onto it. Bring it close. Let it fuel your drive to get out of here.

Sixteen. Kyrarei. Kari. Yukia.

Yukia.

No, your sister would be fine. She was strong, as was that boy she’d found for herself.

Take a step. Take another. Nevermind the disquieting crunch your left foot makes against the ground. No… that wasn’t sound, that was feeling. Vibrations. The ringing in your ears hadn’t stopped at all, and you reached your right hand up to touch that side lightly.

It came away red. Another way taken from you. You cursed again, growling as you pushed yourself further. You were not going to die here. The hopes of your family rested on your shoulders.

You were not going to fail them.

You ignored the shadow that sat itself at the edge of your vision. You didn't have time to bother with distractions. It seemed... amused. Had it been watching? Was it the reason you were even alive right now? You spared it only a moment's glance, watching his smirk grow before you tore your gaze from him. You thought he said something before you left, but the words fell on bloody, deafened ears.

But looking back on it, on the nightmares that plague your sleep. On the incidents and occurrences that seem to follow you, you can't help but wonder if that stranger wasn't in some way linked to it all.

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You don’t remember exactly when they found you, sitting on a rock outside London and watching the city burn. But you remember their looks. Concern. Fear. Stares of wonder as to the fact you were still alive despite your injuries. They took you to a hospital, where the comfort and relaxation finally let you… let go. So you slept, and slept, and slept. When finally you awoke, you hurt, but not to the same extent. You couldn’t hear, so the doctor had been forced to relay the news to you through written word.

Nothing you didn’t already know.

Your body was covered in burns, almost sixty percent of it, in fact. Your once long hair had been burnt almost as badly as everything else, and had been cut short. They said it would be a year or two before it healed back, if it ever did. You were certain it would grow back sooner than that. You’d been a pet, after all. Enhanced capabilities, regeneration among them. Unfortunately, it seemed the damage to your hearing was beyond any measure of saving.

Thankfully, your voice recovered easily enough. Quickly you made the arrangements. You’d witnessed a pet with animal features before, and in an attempt to subvert what you’d lost, you sought the same treatment. Three months and countless frustrating discussions later, you reached your breakthrough. You had to be relocated to somewhere else to pull it off, though, as the hospital you'd stayed in thus far lacked the equipment... and the scrutiny. And so it was that you were moved to one of the private hospitals, one largely under the control of your family.

They felt… weird, at first. You weren’t used to feeling so fluffy. But the ears and tail were easy enough to adapt to. After giving it another two months you were able to add prosthetic limbs to the mix as well. Your wounds still needed a bit longer to finish healing, but you were intent on getting back on your feet. It was then you noticed your innate ability to mimic others had seemingly increased. Regaining the ability to walk was easy once they brought someone in with a similar injury to show you how. Learning to fight again with a prosthetic hand, however, was another matter. But that was one you’d tackle upon returning to the mountains.

And tackle it you did. With fervor. Ever increasing the quality and complexity of the prosthetics you used, until they were more or less just robotic versions of their flesh-bound originals. Your sword skills became faster, more lethal, especially once you were reunited with your beloved blade. Using a greatsword was cumbersome, however, and so you decided to reforge it into a katana.

Reforge it, and give it a name.

Your combat style with your new katana was brutal, animalistic and deceptively lethal. Tactics you’d developed specifically for use in sparring matches against Sixteen became tricks of the trade, dancing around your opponent with more skill than any Matriarch before you.

Years passed. And you found yourself wondering more and more where your wayward sister had disappeared to. Rumors of survivors showing up in Tokyo reached the ears of your clan, and you found yourself preparing for another journey.

After all.

Where the survivors were, surely she would be to.

Surely, that’s where they’d all be.

[ OOC Name Rebirae | Age 19 | Pronouns She/Her | Time Zone Mountain ]

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Bearing teal green hair and matching eyes, the young woman known as Tsuya Ametsuchi is, for some, as beautiful as nature itself. Indeed, she seems more like a sylph or dryad than anything resembling a human. She ties her hair back with a black bow, and wears numerous clips in it for aesthetic purposes.

She stands at around 5'4", or roughly 163 centimeters, and weighs about 122 lbs (55kg). Her hair reaches roughly to her hips, and her overall build is actually rather lithe.

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Once willful and composed of an almost violent pride, the girl known as Tsuya Ametsuchi has undergone a startling transformation since her induction into the Totsuzen program. Whereas she was once prone to respond with earth and fist to unfavorable circumstance, she now responds with a cold calm and surprising docility. Yet comprised of a mind that refuses to forget any interaction unless instructed, she's shown remarkable capabilities in recognizing prior situations- and individuals- and altering her own personal responses in turn. Of course, this does little to hide the brutal truth of the girl's emotionless and brutally logical exterior- a result of the programming underwent by each Totsuzen before they're permitted into society.

In truth, her years in the program have left her rather wanting in the conversational category, and she possesses rather inept social skills. That isn't to say the girl isn't without her uses, however. In fact, with what little autonomy she's afforded that thought remains a near constant. That desire to be useful, to be able to do more than simply sit around and be forced to watch. So long as she can accomplish that, what else is there for her to devote her energies to?

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You thought you'd seen hell before.

You thought you'd experienced pain before.

How wrong you'd been.

You'd always been the outcast, the reject. You weren't like the other kids. You were colder. More primal. You scared people. Not that you cared.
Not even your parents were entirely comfortable around you, but you supposed that must've been normal.

You hated the words they threw around. How the two of them constantly fought over whose fault it was. Whose fault it was that you'd been pinned with such a word so young into your years.

Psychopath.

You were too young to know what it meant. But as you grew older, you began to understand. You realized, albeit slowly, that the thoughts in your head weren't the thoughts of those insolent space-takers around you. Those arrogant fools who paraded their so-called uniqueness and yet made fun of you for those same traits. They called you weird. For so many years you had to bear the brunt of it. Constantly moving from school to school, until eventually your parents decided it would be less of a hassle to homeschool you. After all, you'd sent more than handful of classmates to the hospital by the time you were thirteen.

Not that it had been your fault, of course. They were the ones who had thought it a brilliant idea to come and press buttons that didn't need to be pressed. Who cared what your family was involved in? Who cared that your dad was an addict and your mother a drunk? Who cared that they were divorced by the time you were seven, and that the one saddled with the responsibility of taking care of you didn't want anything to do with you?

You discovered it a week before your fourteenth birthday. If you focused, you could sense the earth around you. Intimately. It felt like you could just... reach out, and pick up a rock or pebble with just your mind. You experimented with it. Even after the falling of London, the ensuing death of your father when an unregistered barged into the house, desperate and panicking. You watched him die. And the only thing about it that you hated?

You hadn't been the one to kill him. You suppose, then, that it was a stroke of luck that the driveway leading to your house was composed of gravel. The cops had arrived to find two corpses, and your silent, deathly stare as they approached. That first kill is the one you regret forgetting the most. The feeling of excitement, the overwhelming joy. The power you felt coursing through your veins. All those months of practice had shown some sign of progress. You were inexperienced, however, and no amount of blood-induced fervor would make up for that. You only managed to injure one of the cops before they subdued you, forcing you into the gravel and handcuffing you. You didn't mind, though. The earth was welcoming, comfortable.

And no matter what anyone said, you'd were proud of what you had done. You were fifteen.

By the age of sixteen, you were a fully-fledged patient in the Totsuzen program. Registered and deemed far too dangerous to simply be left to your own devices. They'd called your mother, of course. She'd wanted nothing to do with you nor the mess you'd gotten yourself wrapped up into. That was fine, you told yourself. You'd just go after her once you got rid of everyone else there.

Unfortunately, nothing went to plan. The treatments were too thorough, the tactics employed far more than you could reasonably outmaneuver. And you tried. Gods did you try. Slowly, however, they succeeded in stripping you of the monster you'd been. Remodeling you into something far more... suitable. A tool. A weapon. You were still cold and silent, but no longer was it out of that watchful fantasy of mentally ripping everyone around you apart. Now, now it was because you needed to be useful. That was all you cared about now. Being useful.

They'd succeeded in breaking the beast, in taming it. In rewriting you. A success, they called it. A marvel of modern sciences. An extreme cure, but a cure nonetheless.

And so you, Tsuya Ametsuchi, were put to use.

...that's what you wanted. Right?

[ OOC Name Rebirae | Age 19 | Pronouns She/Her | Timezone Mountain ]