#backgroundstory

He hated it here. He hated this bloody haunted place with every ounce of strength he had. The mansion took its toll on every person’s sanity that was unfortunate to be trapped within, or even connected to it. Even if they were a ghost. Della was no exception; the connection he had with the place was all thanks to him. What happened you may ask, and why? Della had the unfortunate luck of being caught in the middle of a zombie outbreak, which took the life of his friends, leaving him the sole survivor. He had met up with another group, but they too, were separated from Della, although they didn’t die like his first group, but that was unknown to him. He assumed the worst had happened yet again, and attempted to find them but was forced to flee. During this, Della met his ‘end’ when the man who had turned him into a vampire, named Aytron, soon ended up 'distracting' zombies away from Della, telling the boy to go to a Motel on the road to the Mansion, the promised safe zone the vampire was going to take the boy, and his group to before the second horde, telling him he wouldn't miss it, and to wait for him in Room Twenty Two, and that he'd come get him once he was able, and to stay there until he would. Della foolishly went along with what he said, and upon reaching the motel room, he was attacked by zombies during a moment of rest. 

The room had been a trap, with two zombies located within. He was bitten on the left ankle from one of the zombies who had been placed under the bed. After getting away from this one, Della ran for the bathroom, only for one to be within it, and tackled by the zombie. He was then bitten on the right shoulder, while the one from under the bed crawled over to bite Della on the same side. The boy managed to get away from them, only to pass out in the bathroom from pain, and blood loss; accepting his death. Instead of dying, Della woke up in a fancy Victorian styled bedroom, and attempted to get up, only to find out that his wounds were bandaged, and cleaned, but still had quite a bit of pain. The groundskeeper, an old man wielding a sickle, greeted Della, and promised him that the pain would be gone soon. With this, Della had passed out once more. While he was out, he felt a different type of pain in his neck; a feeling of being stuck with ten needles in one spot, and his body felt extremely hot for a moment then extremely  cold in the same second, but couldn’t open his eyes, or move. 

Upon finally waking for the last time, the room felt blinding, despite the only light coming from were the flashes of lightning outside of the windows. Della felt.. Strange all over; his body felt weightless, yet heavy at the same time. The boy slowly was able to get up from the bed he was laying on, taking care not to fall from how his legs felt, noticing how the pain he felt prior was gone. Noticing a full body mirror nearby, Della carefully made his way over to it, but feeling surprised at the reflection in front of him. It was him, but it also wasn’t him in a sense. Instead of his usual purple colored attire, the colors were now red; the dyed area in his hair was now red as well. His skin was much paler, and he had crimson colored eyes instead of his usual brown ones.  “What.. the hell..?” Della managed to say out loud, but sounded hoarse, and now felt like his throat was on fire. When he spoke, he noticed two fangs being present, and noticed a bite mark on the side of his neck that had already begun to scar. 

Upon inspecting himself, the very man behind what had happened, had come into the room; Ayrton. Ayrton explained everything to Della, in lies. He told the boy he had turned him into a vampire like himself to prevent him from turning into a zombie, when in truth, Ayrton used Della’s ‘death’ to fuel the mansion, and turn the boy into a subordinate to work for him. He also lied to the boy that the second group they had been with would not understand him now, and that this was a brand new start for Della without all the pains, and worries. Aytron taught and showed Della how to drink, use his new strength, life, and powers, including using his Lyoko neko/cat form in the real world. The training continued for a while; Della couldn’t keep up with the days as time inside the mansion was much faster than the outside. Weeks, months, and even years could pass by while inside, but only a month or shorter passes on the out.

Currently in the present day after this, the boy roamed the halls of the Contione Estate, waiting for them to return with new victims to add onto the house’s soul ranks. It is what fueled this haunted place, after all. An unfortunate thing Della was stuck being part of. Most of the past victims, which were now ghosts, were called Residents, kept their distance from Della, as they did everyone who ‘worked’ as a subordinate for him. It was mainly out of fear; as the subordinates were often the cause of the Residents deaths. Ayrton, and his lackeys soon returned with more victims, more souls. This time, however, a child was involved. It was a young female, around the age of eight, or nine, and rightfully scared out of her wits, and being held by the shoulders by one of the lackeys. “We have a new young one for our ranks.” Ayrton proudly said, while many past ghosts had appeared to watch the sad moment. “She has no.. living family left, which was unfortunate. She cannot survive on her own. So allow us to help her join ours, where she can stay for the rest of eternity.” The older vampire said, earning different reactions; most in the applause since most were too scared to say anything else. The young girl attempted to speak against, but was drowned out by Ayrton’s voice once more. “Della, why don’t you do the honors? It’ll be your official first in helping us.” He told the boy, his voice always going softer; always having a different tone when he spoke to the boy. 

“I-I.. she’s so young, Ayrton. I can’t do that to her. I-” Della was quick to say, but was quickly stopped. “It is your life now, Della. You are strong, and you ARE one of us.. Let me show you how it is now.”  Before Della could protest, or even run away, Ayrton had controlled him via the supernatural power of the mansion, and forced Della to kill her, using Della’s other form he had taught him how to use. The death was a ruthless, and cold one. The bastard made Della not only drink the blood of the girl, but also claw out one of her eyes during it to insure she was dead. Seeing how much power Della truly had under the influence of the mansion, Ayrton set off to figure out how to keep Della under his control permanently without any ill effect that wouldn’t go in his favor. As the other subordinates got rid of the body, and made sure the girl that had just been killed became a Resident, Della snapped back to himself, and ran away to the basement; a hiding spot he often used to be alone. Della was now the cause of some of the victim’s deaths. He was aware the entire time. He couldn’t control his actions, but god was he aware.  It wasn’t of his own free will, however. Della didn’t want to kill. 

He wasn’t a killer. He was forced to be.

Now he sat in the basement, against a corner wall, hugging his legs to his chest as he hid his face in his arms as he cried quietly. “Why..? Why was I saved, just to become a murderer? If this is how it’s going to be, I don’t want to be here anymore..” After spending half the night alone, Della eventually returned upstairs. 

The cycle repeated for another few days, and each time Della returned to the basement. One the last time, while Ayrton, and the lackey were away, Della decided to go to a different part of the mansion’s basement. There, he discovered a halfway boarded up door which piqued his curiosity. It stood out so much to Della at the time, but the room suddenly felt cold; a presence was felt to him. It felt like how the Residents did around him, but it felt different to a point. He wasn’t alone.

“Open the door, and use it. Quickly before it finds out. It’s your only hope.”

A voice had whispered to the boy from what felt like all around him. The voice sounded a mixture of several different others. As fast as the presence appeared, it was gone after it had spoken. He didn’t know if he should trust the voice. “If this IS an exit, I’ll still be connected to this place, just like the others when they go out, but they won’t know I’m gone until I’m far away since it won’t be the front door..” The boy quietly mumbled to himself. Della carefully, yet quickly took down the boards from the door, with the help of his vampire found strength, and opened the door. As he did, Della shielded his eyes from the bright sunlight that came from outside of the door; the light not hurting him strangely. 

It was an exit door. To the outside.

LIFE IS a constant battle between Sakurai and God. Ever since he was born, nothing good served on his plate. On Monday, it would be pain; on Tuesday, it would be despair; on Wednesday, it would be violence; on Thursday, it would be regret; on Friday, it became milder, shame; on Saturday and Sunday, Lord gave him a little bit mercy and fun with lust. 

Had Sakurai plead for more mercies, God might send him a packet of blessing every day. But no one ever taught the man how to kneel down or to slosh in tears, asking for forgiveness and hoping the heaven belonged to him. But for once, he saw and heard his parents shouting: “God! Oh, God! Forgive me. God!” while raising a kitchen knife. Later, they thrusting at each other with it, still calling out for anybody’s God.

When the shouting stopped and the red river claimed the lifeless builds, Sakurai crawled on top of them. His dark hair which inherited from his mother and his sharp strong-willed eyes gifted by his father, shaped him like a vulture in a huntㅡready to devour the corpse before flies and maggots joined the feast.

For days, he sucked on his mother’s stiff nipples, but no milk calmed his hunger; all left was dried blood and maggots eddying around him. They nudged his weakened cheek and hand several times as if inviting the boy to play. But he was too hungry to move and his mother’s warmth had gone, so he did what a three years old would do: crying. And when the vocal cords couldn’t support another weep, he fell asleep.

Days passed, Sakurai was saved. He didn’t know who and when, but what he faced once he woke up was a woman dressed in white, carrying him while feeding something unfamiliar. A year later, he learned that he fed from a cow and he loved it. He loved it more than his mother’s which he couldn’t recall the taste anymore. 

Everything became blurred to him. How his parents look like? What nickname did they give him? What was the title of his favorite bedtime story? All those memories dead along with his parents.

Fighting over flower scented blanket or new donated toys was the usual activity. Some kids would use their fist and the others would cry. The strongest got the blanket and the toys while the weak ones bawled together in the corner of the room. Sakurai believed they shouldn’t cry because later, once someone took them away, they would have their own toys and bedroom. Just like Nanao who left with an uncle who had big belly, she sent some pictures where she went to the Disneyland and stuffed her pink bedroom with dolls from there. 

Soon, Sakurai figured that not every child who left the orphanage could have a beautiful life like Nanao. He remembered he held hands with his fellow orphans, dressed in all black, following the caretakers who cried while hugging a photo of a kid named Genta. They said Genta was beaten and starved until he passed. The police arrested his adopted parents and threw them into jail. 

After Genta’s death, everyone became murky. None of them excited whenever they were told to line up or to hear: “The parents are here!”. Sakurai saw them and himself like the goods being sold in the market. And it was just his luck that a woman dressed in kimono took interest in him. She said he looked handsome and not so Japanese; that his records showed he behaved well.

For a week, Sakurai who lived for only six years on earth, felt nervous. Would he end up like Genta? But did he have anything to lose? He didn’t even know how the future would like.

So he left with Makoto, the woman’s name. She took him to Gion, Kyoto, where she worked as a geisha in her early twenties. Now she in her middle thirties, no one interested being entertained by her. And with her charming mind, Makoto opened a restaurant which serving her hometown delicacies to tourists and the tea houses’ visitors. 

Sakurai didn’t end up like Genta and didn’t end up like Nanao. He ended up as Azumaya Sakurai, the adopted son of Nakamura Makoto. Every morning he helped his mother to clean the restaurant and went to school with his friends from the same neighborhood. He grew up bright and playful. Everyone loved him, but some couldn’t help to tease him for being parentless and for being adopted by Makoto.

One afternoon, Sakurai got home with cuts and bruises. Makoto asked him if he were falling or fought someone. And the answer was the latter. “I defeated them,” he said. “Then, I’ll make sure to visit your school tomorrow,” she said.

After Makoto patched his wounds, Sakurai asked her if she didn’t want to know the reason of his fight. And with a motherly smile, she said, “I know the fight is for me. Thank you, Saku-kun. If I were born as a real woman, you wouldn’t need to through this embarrassment.”

And Sakurai yelled in rage: “What was the purpose of the sentence?” For him who left by his parents and knew nothing about how warm a mother’s love could be, Makoto was the most beautiful mother in the universe. Even when she turned into ashes.

Sakurai forgot how to count. He forgot how to count the times he had cried over Makoto’s full name on a tiny jar. It was unreal how he could feel a great sadness in his heart.

The aching, the yearning, and the emptiness he experienced, every single of it were for Makoto; for his mother. That day, Sakurai had his first conversation with God to condemn Him. My mother would still alive if You didn’t allow those drunkard yakuzas came in. I hate You! 

An eleven years old boy who grew up with manner didn’t know how to cuss properly. Even when a stranger held him in his arms, Sakurai got nothing to say but to ask: “Who are you?”

His dark long silky hair swayed beautifully as he walked. And his droopy but keen eyes stared at him tenderly, just like Makoto’s. “I’m Makoto’s little brother. So, you are my responsibility now. But because Makoto didn’t have a good relation with our family, you should work harder than everyone else to gain the Oyabun’s favor.”

“I’m sorry, but who is Oyabun?”

Nobody said anything. Not even the men in the front row of the car, they were as quite as the dead. But once the car stopped and a grand gate appeared behind the tinted window, the man opened his mouth: “The Head of Sui-kai, my father.”

General Information

Name: Azumaya Sakurai (東屋櫻井)

CV: Howl

Place and Date of Birth: Tokyo, September 13 1991

Gender: Male

Height and Weight: 188 cm and 87 kg

Blood Type: A

Education: Bachelor of Science Communication University W

Job: Yakuza mentor to Hanase, Vice President of Celestial Entertainment, (former) kindergarten teacher

Outfit: Simple modern black suit, tracksuits, and hoodie

Pants: Anything that's comfortable

Shoes: Classic shoes (Oxford/Chelsea), sneakers

Tattoo: Irezumi style (on the back)

Accessories: Watches, earrings, and a belt

Perfume: Gentleman by Givenchy

Weapons: Daggers, swords, knives, and fists

Favorite Food: Anything

Favorite Drinks: Whiskey, tea

Favorite Cigarette: Camel Wide

Group: Murakami-gumi, Sui-kai (former)

Pets: Kyosuke, Hanase, Otsuka, You.

Personality

MBTI: INFP Alignment: Lawful Evil/Good Keywords: Analytical, intelligent, reserved, critical, helpful, conscientious

Usually, Sakurai is a good-hearted man. He is sensitive to his surroundings and tend to help his peers in need. Generally, he is respectable, hard-working, and bright in knowledge and practical matters. Everyone will search for him when they need advices.

Sakurai doesn’t enjoy spotlight. He prefers standing in the background as long as he is appreciated for doing things well. He may brush off people’s compliment harshly which leads to uncomfortable situation, but honestly, he’s just shy.

Not everyone knows that Sakurai is honestly a playful and has mischievous sense of humor. He’s a bright person who enjoys life and freedom; he loves to travel the world and meeting new people, creating many lovely memories.

Sakurai doesn’t like to hold back due to his temperamental nature. He’ll dealing with his problems right away so he can get on with other things. He secretly enjoys trouble and confrontations, stagnant life isn’t for him. And some people can’t hate him deeply because of his childlike innocence. 

Even so, Sakurai used to live as a soldier; the knight in fairytale stories. He lives listening to the Lord’s command, not the one in command. He’ll submit and do the tasks bestowed upon him, bringing the victory for his Lord. 

He is chained by the destiny. He is forced to do what his heart refused to do. All the blood, the suffering, the dying souls in the battlefield, he must weight them on his shoulders for years to come; eating up the little light inside him.

How to trigger him? Anyone who breaks the rules and creates a chaos will not live peacefully until they pay for their actions. Sakurai doesn’t get along with people who have bad manners and direct or abrasive expression of feelings. Not only they’ll keep fighting, but Sakurai has tendency to give in (avoiding conflict) and let the person always bullies him.

Physical Statistics

STRENGTH (2,205lb/1,000kg)

CONSTITUTION

stamina: 100%

endurance: 100%

vitality: 100%

recovery: 85%

resistance: 90%

fortitude: 100%

resilience: 85%

DEXTERITY

agility: 90%

accuracy: 97%

Mental Statistics

INTELLIGENCE (90%)

CHARISMA

presence: 100%

charm: 100%

social skills: 100%

PERCEPTION

awareness: 100%

POWERS

interrogation (4/5)

firearms (3/5)

hand-to-hand combat (5/5)

intimidation (5/5)

manipulation (3/5)

skilled acrobat (4/5)

multilingual (English, Korean, Japanese) (4/5)

technology (4/5)

Trivia

He has affectionate nature.

He has more networking with older people than younger ones.

Stamina King.

Twitching his eyebrows and gripping his buckle when he’s mad or irritated.

Changing his home or office interior regularly.

Controlling his sensitive side with working out and cleaning home (loves domestic works).

Discount Maniac, he knows when the supermarket will have great deals.

Contributed to society as a health instructor for the senior citizens. 

Yes to extreme sports, not much scared of anything; even the dark side of human nature.

Love music and art, Makoto taught him.

Can’t sleep alone, he collects bear dolls to accompany him or sleeping with someone instead.

Cover Up Tattoo