Character History: To understand Nezumi, you first have to know about No. 6: a vast, utopian city-state in a post-apocalyptic landscape, where mankind can live free of worry and pain with state-of-the-art resources and technological advancements at their fingertips. Everyone in No. 6 is happy—or, at least, you know, that's what they'd have you believe. In truth, No. 6 is rotting with corruption, and nobody feels this more strongly than Nezumi. The only survivor of a forest people who were devoured by No. 6's secret grasping genocidal tendencies, Nezumi hates No. 6 with a passion and wishes for nothing more than to rip it open and spill its guts. Living in the West Block, a ragged slum that No. 6 treats as a garbage dumping ground, Nezumi claws out a living alongside the thieves, prostitutes, and beggars, sharp with his tongue and his knife but blessed with an uncanny grace, pretty face, and beautiful voice that finds him work as an actor, under the assumed name Eve.
How he makes a living, however, isn't what he lives for. Nezumi uses his mice (both real and robotic) to infiltrate No. 6, constantly digging to find its weak point—and along the way, he ends up with his own weak point, a boy named Shion who had saved Nezumi from certain death when they were twelve. Returning the favor when things inexplicably go sour for Shion's life in No. 6, Nezumi's goal becomes wrapped up with Shion's story, and the two of them work to unearth the city's dark underbelly, all the while becoming more and more wrapped up in each other.
Personality: The West Block is a dog-eat-dog world—for lack of a better expression, honestly, because the dogs there are probably the nicest of the bunch. Nezumi is absolutely no exception, and seems to take pride in being resolutely alone and looking out only for himself. "Never open your heart to anyone. Don't believe in anyone but yourself." Those were the words left to him when his people were killed (because that's totally what elders should pass onto their only descendent? yes?) and the words Nezumi lives by. Or . . . tries very, very hard to live by. Problematically, he was very good at this until Shion barged into his life and started flipping tables and giving Nezumi things like hope and feelings, which Nezumi basically views as the worst thing that could ever happen to him.
Nezumi is incredibly clever: excellent at manipulating others, skilled at reading the atmosphere, and ridiculously well-educated given his social circumstances. He lives in a hovel that is 90% books, 9% rats, and 1% there's a sofa in there somewhere, and seems to be perpetually one, two, or five steps ahead of everybody else at every given moment, both metaphorically and literally. He is tenacious and critical, with a flair for the dramatic, prone to extreme sarcasm and brutal mockery. He can be rude and verbally destructive, with no apparent need for manners or respect—then pull an immediate turnabout and be flamboyant, flirtatious, sensual, and alluring. He is a conman, an actor, a thief, an intellectual, and one rat that you never, ever want to back into a corner.
Writing Sample:
01. If given a choice, what would you like to be called? Given the luxury of choice, are we? Hah, I wonder. Anyway, here's where I'd say, there's no use in putting importance on names, but given how that question's phrased it seems like you already think a little on the same lines. I go by Nezumi—that's good enough, isn't it?
02. Do you require socks to be part of your uniform? Another luxury! Of course, I'm very delicate—I can't imagine what I'd do if my feet weren't cushioned and buffered from the elements, inside hand-sewn tailormade leather shoes. I also only accept the finest thread blends of imported cotton, so do make sure you take that into your calculations.
03. Not including mandatory periods of silence, what is the longest you have gone without talking? There have been plenty of times where there simply wasn't anybody around worth talking to, and I'd just as soon stay silent as waste my precious voice on those who can't pay for the pleasure.
04. Are you plagued by suspicions that other people, including coworkers and relatives, may be doing things behind your back that will hurt you? Saying "plagued by suspicions" just makes it sound like it isn't true. Of course they are—everybody will stab you in the back and climb right over your body to get what they want. Plagued? No—blessed, to be functionally not an idiot, unlike some I could name.
05. Other than a large egret, what wild animal would you like to domesticate? Oh, I couldn't possibly say that I have an affinity for a particular animal. Not at all. Why do you ask?
06. Are you functionally incapacitated by witnessing other people's misery? Much the same way the majority of humans are functionally incapacitated by the sun rising, yes.
07. What is your favorite flatware for, purely as an example, eating cake? What decadent and philosophical queries! What troubling lives some people must leave, to be burdened by such a question—why, I simply don't know how I prefer to indulge my privilege.
08. Do you trust yourself? Heaven is my judge, not I for love and duty, But seeming so, for my peculiar end; For when my outward action doth demonstrate The native act and figure of my heart In complement extern, 'tis not long after But I will wear my heart upon my sleeve For daws to peck at. I am not what I am.
—not a fan? No, I suppose I wouldn't take you for a thespian. So, how's this: there's only one person that trusts me, and only one person I trust.
09. Please list a crime that only you would know that you have committed. That would be an incredibly long list. I'm afraid you'll have to submit that request in writing. Though of course, given the nature of the question, I regret to say that the response would have to remain confidential—a Schröedinger's cat of perjury, as it were.
10. If you disappeared tomorrow would anyone miss you? . . . only an idiot would miss me.
no subject
Canon: No. 6 (novel)
Reference Link: Wikipedia
Picture: Shirtless, even!
Character History: To understand Nezumi, you first have to know about No. 6: a vast, utopian city-state in a post-apocalyptic landscape, where mankind can live free of worry and pain with state-of-the-art resources and technological advancements at their fingertips. Everyone in No. 6 is happy—or, at least, you know, that's what they'd have you believe. In truth, No. 6 is rotting with corruption, and nobody feels this more strongly than Nezumi. The only survivor of a forest people who were devoured by No. 6's secret grasping genocidal tendencies, Nezumi hates No. 6 with a passion and wishes for nothing more than to rip it open and spill its guts. Living in the West Block, a ragged slum that No. 6 treats as a garbage dumping ground, Nezumi claws out a living alongside the thieves, prostitutes, and beggars, sharp with his tongue and his knife but blessed with an uncanny grace, pretty face, and beautiful voice that finds him work as an actor, under the assumed name Eve.
How he makes a living, however, isn't what he lives for. Nezumi uses his mice (both real and robotic) to infiltrate No. 6, constantly digging to find its weak point—and along the way, he ends up with his own weak point, a boy named Shion who had saved Nezumi from certain death when they were twelve. Returning the favor when things inexplicably go sour for Shion's life in No. 6, Nezumi's goal becomes wrapped up with Shion's story, and the two of them work to unearth the city's dark underbelly, all the while becoming more and more wrapped up in each other.
Personality: The West Block is a dog-eat-dog world—for lack of a better expression, honestly, because the dogs there are probably the nicest of the bunch. Nezumi is absolutely no exception, and seems to take pride in being resolutely alone and looking out only for himself. "Never open your heart to anyone. Don't believe in anyone but yourself." Those were the words left to him when his people were killed (because that's totally what elders should pass onto their only descendent? yes?) and the words Nezumi lives by. Or . . . tries very, very hard to live by. Problematically, he was very good at this until Shion barged into his life and started flipping tables and giving Nezumi things like hope and feelings, which Nezumi basically views as the worst thing that could ever happen to him.
Nezumi is incredibly clever: excellent at manipulating others, skilled at reading the atmosphere, and ridiculously well-educated given his social circumstances. He lives in a hovel that is 90% books, 9% rats, and 1% there's a sofa in there somewhere, and seems to be perpetually one, two, or five steps ahead of everybody else at every given moment, both metaphorically and literally. He is tenacious and critical, with a flair for the dramatic, prone to extreme sarcasm and brutal mockery. He can be rude and verbally destructive, with no apparent need for manners or respect—then pull an immediate turnabout and be flamboyant, flirtatious, sensual, and alluring. He is a conman, an actor, a thief, an intellectual, and one rat that you never, ever want to back into a corner.
Writing Sample:
01. If given a choice, what would you like to be called?
Given the luxury of choice, are we? Hah, I wonder. Anyway, here's where I'd say, there's no use in putting importance on names, but given how that question's phrased it seems like you already think a little on the same lines. I go by Nezumi—that's good enough, isn't it?
02. Do you require socks to be part of your uniform?
Another luxury! Of course, I'm very delicate—I can't imagine what I'd do if my feet weren't cushioned and buffered from the elements, inside hand-sewn tailormade leather shoes. I also only accept the finest thread blends of imported cotton, so do make sure you take that into your calculations.
03. Not including mandatory periods of silence, what is the longest you have gone without talking?
There have been plenty of times where there simply wasn't anybody around worth talking to, and I'd just as soon stay silent as waste my precious voice on those who can't pay for the pleasure.
04. Are you plagued by suspicions that other people, including coworkers and relatives, may be doing things behind your back that will hurt you?
Saying "plagued by suspicions" just makes it sound like it isn't true. Of course they are—everybody will stab you in the back and climb right over your body to get what they want. Plagued? No—blessed, to be functionally not an idiot, unlike some I could name.
05. Other than a large egret, what wild animal would you like to domesticate?
Oh, I couldn't possibly say that I have an affinity for a particular animal. Not at all. Why do you ask?
06. Are you functionally incapacitated by witnessing other people's misery?
Much the same way the majority of humans are functionally incapacitated by the sun rising, yes.
07. What is your favorite flatware for, purely as an example, eating cake?
What decadent and philosophical queries! What troubling lives some people must leave, to be burdened by such a question—why, I simply don't know how I prefer to indulge my privilege.
08. Do you trust yourself?
Heaven is my judge, not I for love and duty,
But seeming so, for my peculiar end;
For when my outward action doth demonstrate
The native act and figure of my heart
In complement extern, 'tis not long after
But I will wear my heart upon my sleeve
For daws to peck at. I am not what I am.
—not a fan? No, I suppose I wouldn't take you for a thespian. So, how's this: there's only one person that trusts me, and only one person I trust.
09. Please list a crime that only you would know that you have committed.
That would be an incredibly long list. I'm afraid you'll have to submit that request in writing. Though of course, given the nature of the question, I regret to say that the response would have to remain confidential—a Schröedinger's cat of perjury, as it were.
10. If you disappeared tomorrow would anyone miss you?
. . . only an idiot would miss me.