Masato Jin Pfeiffer

[Masato Jin Pfeiffer]

MASATO JIN PFEIFFER

....the mask

Your Name: Kuma will do just fine~
Where did you find us?: Remi introduced this site to me.
How long have you been roleplaying?: Mrn... three years, I believe?
Password: [admin edit!]

...basic character information

Birth Name: Masato Jin Pfeiffer
Nickname: Masa, Sato, Maa, Matso.
Gender: Male.
Age: Twenty-six years of age.
Birth date: June 6th.
Major: Masters in Psychology with a Minor in Linguistics.
Classes: Introduction to Psychology, Basis of Behaviour, and Linguistics.
Animal Identity: Coyote.

...personality

Likes:

• ((OBSERVING THE HUMAN MIND)) all men may be created equally, but every individual has a mindset of their own. i'd love to see what it would be like to look into the eyes of every individual of this school, just to see how they see the world through their own eyes.
  
• ((READING)) there's absolutely nothing like sitting in a nice, comfortable chair and cracking open a few paperbacks. would it be silly to say i enjoy placing myself in the characters' shoes~?
  
• ((PUZZLES)) whether they are riddles, crosswords, sudoku, or even just word searches, they're an excellent way of exercising the mind, and usually they make great examples when comparing them to real-life situations... not to mention that they're fun!
  
• ((FREEDOM)) because no one likes to be kept on a leash, hm?
  
• ((CULTURE)) i actually come from an interesting blend of cultures myself, so it's no surprise that i would have such a strong interest in other values and lifestyles. literature... music... the arts... i love it all.
  
• ((OUTDOORS)) you think some old coot like me is going to keep himself locked away to his books all of the time? hah! if i had a euro for every time i heard that one!
  
• ((WARM WEATHER)) i just love feeling the sun on my skin, no matter what form i take.
  
• ((NIGHT)) when the moon is not full, the stars shine more brightly...
  
• ((MUSIC)) music can make people cry in five minutes, while it takes a movie two hours. that's impressive, no?
  
• ((COFFEE)) ... what, do i really have to explain this any further? (and no, i'm not handing out extra credit to anyone who fetches my thermos every morning.)
  

Dislikes:

• ((DISRESPECT)) roll your eyes and make fun of my accent all you want; it's not going to stop me from quitting my job.
  
• ((POLITICS)) ehh... not my cup of tea.
  
• ((CLOSE-MINDEDNESS)) racists, sexists, homophobes... i don't care who you are. you have no reservoir in my society.
  
• ((PESSIMISTS)) it's kind of ironic, considering that i teach psychology, but... i just can't help but feel awkward around them. it's like they fail to see the finer things in life.
  
• ((STRESS)) sometimes, i just can't handle it well.
  
• ((ILLNESS)) feeling sick is a miserable thing... and i hate being miserable.
  
• ((POACHERS)) hell has a very special place waiting for you lot.
  
• ((RAIN)) i'm not quite fond of the thunder and lightning...
  
• ((FRUITS AND VEGETABLES)) every now and then is alright, but i prefer some fresh carrion any time.
  
• ((SODA)) why do kids like this stuff?!
  

Fears:

• ((GUNS)) ah... i used to live around the presence of a firearm. the sound of them alone frightens me to the core.
  
• ((FAILURE)) it's hard enough myself to deal with the thought of making a mistake, but making one so dire it effects my students... it'll haunt me for the rest of my time.
  
• ((BEES)) ... i have my reasons...
  

Strengths:

• ((QUICK THINKER)) most of the ideas i come up with are usually created right on the spot. i don't have much trouble thinking when i'm in a pinch.
  
• ((ATHLETIC)) believe it or not, i used to be very active when i was young. i think i still am... when i've shifted, that is.
  
• ((ENDURANCE)) there's no way i'm going to give up that easily.
  

Weaknesses:

• ((TERRITORIAL)) keep your hands off of my belongings, and we'll be on good terms.
  
• ((STUBBORN)) if i have a plan, then i stick to it. there's no changing my mind.
  
• ((LOW ATTENTION SPAN)) ... wait... what were we talking about again?
  

Overall: [400 words minimum]
Contrary to what others might think of him, Masato is not quite what you would expect from your usual cookie-cutter Psychology teacher. He is – in no way – dull, boring, and monotonous with a receding hairline and trousers up to his armpits. He's also not really menacing and uptight either, despite the unevenly cut hair and firm stares he gives to anyone that looks him straight in the eyes. In fact, he tries to stay as far away from those stereotypes as possible by letting his true colors show wherever he goes, whether it's in the classroom, in the teacher's lounge, or even off-campus. Masato is actually rather energetic and outgoing, and he is truly good-natured at heart. He maintains strong connections with his friends, family, and fellow co-workers, and he always knows how to joke around and laugh at his own mistakes.

As a Psychology teacher, he understands just how difficult it may be to squeeze himself into another person's shoes, so he tries to keep as open of a mind as possible, listening to both sides of the argument as well as several opinion upon opinion (all while throwing his own into the mix). He does whatever he can to get his students involved and fully participating in whatever assignment or activity they are doing, even if his methods of teaching is questioned amongst other teachers. Of course, he never really does listen to his fellow mentors and the "pieces of their minds". His main goal at Shifter Academy is to give students the opportunity to delve deep into the science of psychology, to study the basis of human behavior, and to introduce them to the grammatical structure of a language... not to impress other instructors around him.

Though he takes his occupation quite seriously, Masato does also like to have a little fun with his students, teasing them and prodding at them just to see how they react. Occasionally, he would take the time to write down number upon number of riddles on tiny scraps of paper and leave a single strip among every one or two students right before they enter the classroom, requiring that they would answer them by themselves or in pairs as a "warm-up exercise". Not only that, but he even dubs his students with various harmless nicknames (making sure not to step on any toes or cause offense, of course) that are most likely bound to stick with them for the rest of their lives.

Outside of school, Masato is really no different than he is in the classroom. He may act a little more laid-back than usual, but he still treats the people around him with utmost respect, addressing them with the appropriate "sir" or "miss" in his thick German tongue. However, Masato's patience usually does run thin in certain situations. He has a strong dislike for those who refuse to open their hearts and listen to what others have to say with even the slightest bit of concern. But what really disgusts him in particular are people who discriminate against others, such as by the color of their skin, their gender, their personal preference, and even what animal they shift into. No matter who the person is, he feels that they do not deserve to have a part in the society he too belongs in.

...appearance

x x

Celebrity Play By: Ren of the Japanese band Dali for the human.
Appearance: [400 words minimum]

When someone gives but a simple glance at Masato, one would automatically underestimate him for what he really is. With a lanky, five-foot six frame, a weight of 143 pounds, and pale, untouched skin wrapped tightly around his bones like gauze, you would imagine him to be some frail and sickly creature, right?

... Well, actually... That is far from the truth. For between flesh and bones, a hidden strength ripples within his muscles and boils within his Germanic blood so hotly, he could be a force to reckon with (... well, if he wanted to, that is). Nonetheless, Masato's overall appearance corresponds to his own personality: with the way he saunters with a slight perk in his steps, with one shoulder slightly more taut than the other and with a hand casually resting within the depths of his pocket... with the way his sharp, dark-brown eyes glow with warmth and happiness, dull with melancholy, or glimmer and glint with the slightest hint of mischief... with the way his prominent facial features, blended by two entirely different cultures, becomes so easy to flex into a variety of emotions... Even his own hair – a tousled, uneven mess of light tawny locks – seem to match up with his personality well... as well as the beast that stirs within him.

Masato's personality also weasels its way into his sense of fashion as well. He has a dark, but playful taste in couture, with pinstriped, button-up shirts, long, black scarves, and a typical "black-tie" set of a jacket and trousers sprinkling his everyday look. Occasionally, he might even spice up his attire with a deep, silk top hat or silver jewelry to adorn his gloved hands, but that's only when he's "feeling fancy" (besides, he would hate to lose those when shifting; they didn't cost no measly penny).

Masato used to bear several piercings upon his face when he was just a few years younger, such as snakebites, an eyebrow piercing, and an array of jewelry of different shapes and sizes clutching onto the cartilage of his ears. However, for the sake of his occupation, he's removed them all long ago and has allowed the several tiny holes to close up on their own. Another thing that he has to make sure to hide from his students is a black cross the size of his palm that adorns his left shoulder blade. Ironically enough, he didn't get the tattoo just to flaunt his religious beliefs, but rather to mimic the black dorsal stripes that run down his spine and cross over his shoulders when he has fully shifted into his canine-like manifestation.

As a coyote, Masato is pretty average in size, measuring about five feet in length from the tip of his nose to his tail, standing at over a foot and a half at the shoulder, and weighing in at about 45 pounds. His pelt is a various blend of colors: a basic, soft raw umber along the upper segments, while his throat and belly is tinted with a light buff. His forelegs, the sides of his head, and his muzzle are a reddish brown shade, and his undercoat is the same color as his tangled human hair – tawny – with black-tipped guard hairs that form the aforementioned cross that runs from the nape of his neck to the tip of his tail.

Masato bears several pointed features as he shifts into a coyote, such as his muzzle and his two large ears. However, if one were to look closely into his deep, dark-brown eyes, they would see that they were the same ol' eyes that were bored into Masato's human skull. He is build rather slender, but still muscular and fit, with a long, bushy tail to maintain his balance and legs that could carry him at speeds up to 40 miles-per-hour.


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...history

Parents: Marius Anselm Pfeiffer and Nanase Kawako-Pfeiffer.
Siblings: None.
[400 words minimum]

Masato... My son, don't you cry.
It's painful, I know... but please, don't you cry.
It is a natural thing for you, don't be scared.
It is not a curse, but rather, it is a blessing.
A blessing passed through Pfeiffer's blood.
You are special, Masato, to have received this gift...
... But you must understand something.
London is no longer a safe place to be for you.
You are young, and you have much you need to learn...
Do not fret, though, for I know just the place where you belong.
It is safe... unbeknownst to other humans... and there are plenty of others just like you.
You will come to like it, I am sure of it.
Who knows... you might never want to leave.

A healthy baby boy breathed his first breath on a warm, Summer evening, when the sun was spreading the last of its rays like little seedlings of light before dipping beneath England's horizon. He was the first and only child to have survived nine months within his mother's womb, for she had possessed a history of miscarriages and failures before. After those first few attempts, Marius Anselm Pfeiffer, a well-known psychologist who hailed from Meissen, Germany, was beginning to grow rather worried. Not only were there chances that he and his beloved wife, Nanase Kawako-Pfeiffer, would be incapable of having a child of their own, but there were chances that Marius would be without a successor. An inheritor of both his clinic... and the secret that has long traced back since his ancestors.

Fortunately, however, their wish was finally granted as the tiny infant was placed into his mother's arms, bundled up in a soft, powder blue blanket like a neatly wrapped present. They smiled upon him fondly as they watched him wiggle slowly, eliciting noises that ranged from barely audible coos to whiny little cries.
"Such a sweet child," his parents had chirred to each other. "So soft... so gentle..."

"So elegant, even... In fact, elegance will resonate within his name," Nanase gazed up at her husband with an amiable smile. "What do you think about calling him Masato?"
"Masato...?" Marius sampled it on his palette before he chuckled softly. "That was your brother's name, was it not?"
"Indeed. He would have loved to seen his first nephew... and you know, my father would have loved even more to see his first grandchild."
"Hn... in that case, would you like to pass his name on?"
Sweet little Nanase blinked with surprise. "... You... do not mind?"
"Of course not, mein liebling. After all..." Marius grinned toothily. "He does have my family name."

After a bout of soft and playful laughter, the boy was officially blessed with a name: Masato Jin Pfeiffer. It was one that would stick with him proudly for the rest of his life... as well as the secrets that flowed through his blood.

Since then, Masato had grown up as the only child in his small but loving family, raised without abuse or neglect of any kind or sort. While his father disciplined him and taught him to respect other people – how to say "please" when asking for something, "thank you" when receiving it, and "pardon me" whenever he belched at the dinner table – his mother had guided him to do everything any other normal child did. She taught him every letter of the alphabet, how to read, and how to write. She had even taught him about numbers and basic mathematics ("if I have five apples and you take away three, how many apples would I have now?").

And oddly enough, Masato was capable of absorbing it all into his head like a parched sponge.

He was naturally intelligent, even as a small child. He couldn't solve certain problems off the top of his head, but when he put his mind to it, he often found new ways of breaking those obstacles down, solving each piece individually, then reconstructing the problem as one big code to crack. It was something that amazed his mother and father – Marius, especially. Not only did he believe that this behavior of putting things in a whole different perspective might prove Masato to be worthy of following his own career as a psychologist, but it also led him to believe that Masato was developing at a much faster rate than he had predicted. Soon, he had thought, he might be able to learn how to shift.

And that day soon came, when he was merely fourteen years of age.

On that fated night, Masato had found himself tossing and turning in bed more than usual. Occasionally, he would have times before where he had some difficulties falling asleep... but they weren't nearly as bad as they were then. He tried several strategies to get himself a tiny bit drowsier – breathing deeply, meditating, counting sheep up to the thousands – but nothing had seemed to work. Frustrated, Masato had thrown the covers off of his scrawny body and trudged towards his window, where he slid open the glass panes.

For a moment, Masato recognized the cool, crisp air of midnight... the silvery light of the waxing half moon glowing vaguely in the the sky... and the next, Masato felt pain.

It was a pain far more excruciating than anything he had ever felt before. Thousands of daggers dug and twisted into his muscles as his bones shuddered and creaked with grief, bringing Masato collapsing down to his forearms and knees. Flames licked up his ankles and along the inner walls of his stomach as bitter frigidness ached in his joints, the gut-wrenching noises of those very bones cracking and popping out of place filling the air as they allowed themselves more room to grow. He couldn't even cry. He couldn't even scream. Not with his jaw dislocating and relocating itself as the features of his face morphed into a muzzle.

And soon, the transformation had stopped. Right where a young German-Japanese boy had laid, a small coyote had taken his place.

The prairie wolf. The trickster. The animal.

The silence that had surrounded him long after the phasing did not last for long, for as soon as Masato perked his pointed ears and lifted his great, furry head... his father had stood in his bedroom doorway, his chest heaving after running up the stairs as quickly as he could... and his hazel eyes widened with surprise.
Immediately, Masato was frightened. He tried to scramble and stand on his own four feet, his tail tucked between his legs and his legs trembling. He was scared... scared of what his father might do to him now that he had seen him.
Could he recognize him?
And if not, what was he going to do to him?
Shoo him out of his own household, never to return again?
Or... was he going to be killed?
Killed by the very man who raised him?
Who taught him everything he knew?
... Who loved him?
Masato whimpered softly and backed away slowly from his father, but Marius had only stepped closer to the coyote, crouching down to his level carefully before he gave a gentle whisper...

"Masato... My son, don't you cry."

How his father had recognized him right away was a mystery to Masato at that time, but he couldn't give more or less of a "rat's arsch" at the moment. The most important thing was that his father knew who he was... and that he still loved him dearly just for that.

As Marius held his son's great head in his hands, he explained all that was kept a secret for so long. He had explained that he was a Shifter, what a Shifter was, how shifting abilities were passed from one generation to the next... and he then explained the most difficult part.
"London is no longer a safe place for you to be, Masato," he spoke solemnly as he gazed sternly into his son's eyes. "There are people here who would kill you the moment they see you like this... and if our secret was to be revealed... Well, you can guess what would happen." But a small smile tugged at Marius's lips and his hand patted Masato's head playfully. "However, I know just the place for you to go. It's an academy in Hawaii, built just for Shifters like you. It's safe... unbeknownst to humans... and--"
The dull sadness in Masato's eyes made Marius pause for a moment, and his expression softened. "... And I've explained most of it to your mother. She believes it's just a normal academy... and she thinks it's a splendid idea. However, I leave the decision-making to you. Either attend a normal academy here in London, risk your life, and live in fear of other humans... or attend the academy in Hawaii and remain safe, all while learning to become stronger."

And so, it was needless to say that Masato had chosen the second option, boarding the plane to Hawaii long after turning back to normal. There, he attended Shifter Academy from ninth grade up until graduation, majoring in the field he loved and grew up around: Psychology (as well as minoring in Linguistics, a subject that his mother always loved). After that, Masato had realized... that his father was right. There was no better place for him to stay than Shifter Academy, and so... to pursue in his father's footsteps with his own personal twist, he had decided to work towards teaching Psychology classes with an additional class for Linguistics and, to this day, still walks the campus freely in his own shoes.

...connecting human to animal

• ((PLAYFUL LITTLE TRICKSTER)) in traditional stories from many native american, first nations, and aboriginal cultures, a deity based off a coyote played the roles of the trickster, the culture hero, or both. even to this day, coyotes – especially young pups – are known as playful creatures, often play-fighting and wrestling with members of their own kind. even masato is playful in his own way, poking fun and dropping riddles upon every student's desk just to see how they use their heads trying to solve them.
  
• ((OPEN TO CHANGE)) modern-day coyotes often express their cleverness through their ability to adapt to the changing landscape of where they live. they have also learned to adapt to human environments, dietary changes, and even sleeping habits. because of this adaptability to a flexible environment, masato himself sees, hears, and responds to the world in a wide-open view, willingly taking in any wonderful idea that floats about.
  
• ((NIGHT OWL)) coyotes were once essentially diurnal – meaning that they were most active during the day and slept through the night. however, with the pressure of humans, they have come to adapt to a more nocturnal lifestyle. masato himself barely gets enough sleep at night, and he has to rely on his thermos of coffee to keep him alert.
  
• ((COMMUNICATION IS KEY)) in nature, coyotes communicate with each other not only by howling, but by yelping (for celebration and criticism among other coyotes), barking (as a threat display when protecting its den or kill), and huffing (when calling pups) as well. In fact, the scientific name for a coyote – canis latrans – means "barking dog". because of the structures of these various calls, it would make sense for masato to minor in a subject related to the structure of language: linguistics.
  
• ((NO TRESPASSING BEYOND THIS POINT)) just like coyotes are in nature, masato's lengthy fuse tends to run short when someone gets into something they're not supposed to. he is especially territorial over his personal belongings, like his precious books, his bag, and even his coffee.
  
• ((FAITHFULLY YOURS)) in nature, coyotes are extremely loyal and travel in groups called packs. coyotes are also known to mate for life, and they search for that special someone by howling, an essential part of their communication. much like his animal shift, masato always stays by the sides of those who are close to him, whether they are a part of his family, his friends, or even just his students, treating them like a pack of his own.
  

...literacy

RP Sample[/i]

Blood. It seemed as if the entire night was drenched in blood. The night sky, the musky air of New York, even the small sliver of the moon was tainted in a bath of crimson red. An unusual silence had also coiled its way around the city like a snake preparing to suffocate and devour a helpless little field mouse, which only added to the eerie setting of New York City. Such a night as this could only mean one thing: somewhere in the city, at some given time, a battle between life and death occurred in the pitch-black darkness of the night.

And it did. It truly did.

For the evidence was abandoned in a stray alley sandwiched between two dilapidated brick buildings, only a mere several blocks away from where a dingy, rundown motel was located: Motel 8. There, Die was dragging his feet heavily against the pavement of the sidewalk, occasionally stumbling and limping every now and then to maintain his footing. His face – which either held content, smugness, or fury – was contorted with pain while his back hunched a few degrees forward. One of his hands hung limply at his side, while the other clutched onto his left side tightly to prevent his blood from flowing too freely. Yes, he was wounded. It was all thanks to that fucker who tried to rob him of his money, his clothing, and his weaponry… Hell, maybe his very last breath. Why the kid would do that was somewhat of a mystery. Perhaps he was sick of the Scarlets like everybody else? His intentions were unknown, but there was no need to worry about that now, for the man who tried to assault him was lying on the grungy floor of the alley, his dark hazel eyes holding no sign of life or light, his blood mixing with the rank slime and dirt of the pavement beneath him and his limbs folded and twisted in unsettling positions.

After a bit of walking, Die had managed to make it to the motel nearby without passing out. He shuffled through the front door of the reception area, his free hand digging through his pockets for a decent wad of cash. Pulling out his wallet, he pried his hand away from the knife wound that carved into his side and popped his wallet open, pulling out enough money to last him a night before setting on the counter. He didn’t even bother with saying anything about preferences, or how long he was staying. Hell, he didn’t even care if he was about to leave traces of his own blood on his cash. He just stared long and hard at the woman behind the counter with hazy eyes. The woman, an adolescent brunette who was too frightened to retaliate, dug through the cabinets and handed a room key to Die, a yellow tag with the number 118 molded into it in black lettering. Die gave a weary nod and ventured off to find his room, not even bothering to take back his four dollars worth of change.

As he walked, Die’s conscience was completely focused on calling for help. He was bleeding – badly, at that – and at this rate it would be difficult to heal his wounds when there was no hospital in a spitting distance. The nearest one was most likely miles away.
‘Lovely,’ his mind hissed as his eyes drifted over the room numbers lazily. ‘115, 116, 117… Ah, 118.’ Fumbling with the key in his hand, he slid the key into the keyhole of the doorknob. With a turn and a click, the door unlocked and the male pushed the processed slab of worn wood.

The room itself was fairly clean and adequate, which was ironic since A) it was a motel, and B) it was a motel in the heart of a sleazy area in New York City. The bed was prim and properly tucked and the furniture was as simple as it could get: a small couch and a few chairs with a simple square table, with all of the upholstery sporting the same pattern as the comforters on the bed. In the back of the room was a counter with two sinks and a large rectangular mirror that hung to the wall. To the right led to what seemed like a tiny bathroom, however it was impossible to see what was really past the closed door.

Die sighed and dragged his feet over to the single bed and sat down at the edge, slipping out of his black leather jacket and pawed through its pockets. Pulling out his sleek black cell phone, he settled down onto the mattress and flipped it open, scrolling through his contacts list with fumbling hands. He already knew whom he was going to notify right away, for it was his job to update the other about what was going on if he strayed far from the pack. When he finally scrolled over Jordan's name, he set up a text message and started to punch away into the keys. Certainly this was an easy task. However, Die was slowly losing a bit of blood with each passing minute, which only caused his limbs to respond more like limp noodles rather than human appendages. Therefore, instead of typing out a nice, brief text like, say, "Jordan, I need some help. Some punk got me while I was walking home. I'm at the local Motel 8, room 118," he could only manage this:

"Help. Motel 8. 118."

It was pathetic, yes, but Die's brain was hardly focused to even realize his lack of a thoughtful message and hit the 'send' button before he had a chance. After that, his arms gave way and flopped down, one flopping by his body with no intention of moving while the other held his hand over the gash in his left side. All he had to do now was wait for the other to see his text message and come…

Wait… and hope to God that he wouldn't pass out and croak from blood loss.

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