Riku'to Nyanase

A Keeper of the Moon who wanders the land,
dreaming of lives not his own

Background

Riku’to Nyanase was never built for a life of adventure. Born the second of three, free from the shackles of leadership that bound the eldest, but also bereft of the attention and pampering showered upon the youngest, Riku’to led the life of a drifter, day by day, moment to moment, simply existing, helping out with chores and the minutiae of daily life in his tribe. Riku’to Nyanase was content in his stupor; he never did yearn for a life of adventure… Until the day fire rained from the sky, and the dread moon Dalamud plummeted, ravaging his tribal home deep in the Black Shroud.

Under the steadfast leadership of his elder sibling and the matriarch, Riku’to’s tribe was spared the worst of the Calamity, but that did not mean they escaped entirely unscathed. Far from it, in fact. Many a time had his hands been stained by the blood of his quarry, passable trapper that he was in his community of Keepers, and such a sensation was as natural to him as breathing. And yet, all those experiences were for naught as Riku’to tried desperately to staunch the torrent that poured from the side of the youngest, torn as it was by the sharp piece of bark lodged deeply within him. A deadly projectile originally meant for him, were it not for the quick reflexes of his younger sibling. One that would no doubt have meant the end of his story, unremarkable as it had been up to that point. As the light faded from the eyes of the youngest and dearest of his tribe, any resentment Riku’to might have held towards this coddled, pampered mewling faded with it… This young fool who had always rushed up to him with a tackle-hug out of the blue, calling out, ‘Big bro!’… Neither prayer nor bandages and balms could prevent Nald’thal from claiming his due. Riku’to resolved then and there: that he would no longer be content with drifting through life. So long as there existed the possibility to make a difference, to prevent such tragedy from ever coming to pass again, he would not rest. Such was his guiding star as he bid farewell to the matriarch and his tribesman and begun his pursuit (and eventual mastery) of the ways of Conjury and White Magic in Gridania. Riku’to Nyanase never meant to lead a life of adventure… but such details and trivialities have ever been beyond the purview of mortal men. Especially when fate comes knocking and a life of adventure chooses one instead.

The hunger for adventure and the bettering of his fellow Eorzeans’ lot were not the only changes that the Calamity wrought within young Riku’to. Ever since that fateful night where it seemed as though Dalamud’s descent threatened to bring with it the fall of every star in the firmament, and with it, the cryptic words uttered by that strangely familiar female voice, Riku’to begun having the dreams. Dreams so vivid that oftentimes he would wonder if, rather than him being the dreamer, he was the dream instead. A dream voyage in which he was an erudite scholar, using the faint light of a glowing, fluttering companion to pour over musky, esoteric tomes detailing outrageous and seemingly outlandish claims of individuals experiencing the lives of others as though it were their own. A leap of fancy glimpsed as he closed his eyes for a moment on a quiet bench tucked away in a corner in bustling Ul’dah, in which he charged headlong, lance at the ready and alongside a grimy swordsman, into a fell castle to confront a shadowy queen as roses stared from the sides with singular eyeballs. Dreams so real and substantial that he could have sworn that every word read were beheld by his own eyes, every blow received might as well have been dealt unto his own person. Surely, all of them amounted to more than mere dreams? And yet, while the words faded upon waking, and the scars and wounds inflicted onto his dream-persona did not carry onto his own person, when his time came to face his own struggles, standing shoulder to shoulder with companions who, while different, were no less determined in felling an oh-so-familiar foe… Such stark feelings of déjà vu never did leave his mind. Were they beings who existed only in the realm of his dreams… or was he the dream, dreamt by another and doomed to oblivion once the dreamer awoke?

Only much later, when Riku’to clasped to his chest an orange crystal, given to him by an ‘old new friend’ and engraved with a singular constellation, was it all made clear. And so it was, as well, to his other selves who had grasped that self-same crystal, albeit under different circumstances, different times… And indeed, in different worlds. At that singular moment, Riku’to was made aware of his other selves, not on shards of the Source, but across reflections, varied, different, and yet similar to the plane which he inhabited. In that singular moment, the others, too, were made aware of not only one another, but of him. Though this ‘merger’ was somewhat disorientating at first, especially given the vast differences in capabilities and experiences of his various selves, the transition was largely smooth, and each self, though benefiting from the wisdom and knowledge of the others, held on to their individuality. For they were all born of the circumstances of their being, and the knowledge that none of them were defined by the soul that they were born with, but instead by the paths with which they had tread.

Being the second-born to the matriarch, Riku'to was often roped into ceremonial detail as a master of ceremony for this ritual or that. It was over the course of this that he not only developed a penchant for etiquette and protocol, but also an appreciation for inconspicuity; the number of things that one could accomplish when one kept one’s head down was simply astounding, to say the least. It was by virtue of these talents that Riku’to found himself placed on the roll call of a secretive branch within the Twin Adders, a special ops division that specialised in surveillance on not Garlemald, or any other foreign threat… but instead on Gridania’s closest allies. Whether it be as a seemingly clueless trader navigating the hustle and bustle of Limsa Lominsa’s markets, or as part of the service detail to some Ul’dahn mogul, Riku’to’s talents of being a forgettable and much-overlooked wallflower has served him well in his efforts towards keeping a finger on the pulse of the city states of Eorzea. He currently serves as a mole implanted in the Maelstrom, and moonlights as a custodian to a rich young lass, heir to one of the lower houses of the Monetarists in Ul’dah. That is not to say that he has been exempted from frontline duties; far from it, in fact. In a pinch, or when a seemingly insurmountable tide needs to be turned, a certain crimson-haired Miqo’te has often been espied, stepping from the shadows. Well-served by the experiences of his other selves, in battles different, yet similar, the “Merciful Death” delivers succour in one hand to his ailing allies, while smiting his foes with wroth in his other… All the while weaving and dodging the blows of his adverseries, as though the battle had been decided from the beginning, and was merely a choreographed dance waiting to be performed. As though he had exclusive access to an echo that only he could perceive. It is in these twin roles that Riku’to serves the Twin Adders and, by extension, Eorzea. And with rumblings of the second coming of the Final Days and the implosion of the Garlean Empire, it is not a matter of if, but when fate will come knocking once again.

Character Information

Name: Riku'to Nyanase
Alias: Riku
Age: 27
Gender: Male
Nameday: 18th Sun of the 4th Astral Moon
Race, Clan: Miqo'te, Keeper of the Moon
Status: Single
Occupation: -Redacted-

Character Information and Trivia

While Riku'to has found his calling in the arts of conjury, the act of healing and mending nonetheless sparks no small amount of spite and self-loathing within him, given that every bit of solace granted only serves to remind him of his inability to render even a modicum of salvation to the only person in his tribe to have ever looked up to him. As such, this often gives rise to… destructive tendencies... which he unreservedly unleashes with absolute relish unto his foes. Such bloodthirst and reckless abandon often earned him many a look of disapproval from his trainers and peers, though none could deny the brutal effectiveness of his methods.
Of late, Riku’to has dabbled in the path of the sword and shield, and while his mastery of white magic complements the ways of the Paladin, it can be argued that it is his propensity towards sacrificing himself for others and his utter lack of self-worth that have allowed him to truly excel.
Inspired by one of his more erudite and capable other selves, he has begun to take an interest in texts both foreign and exotic. While the more archaic of scriptures yet remain beyond his ability to decipher, a ravenous fire has been lit within him, and of late, he has begun entertaining the thought of starting a thesis in the City of Learning, far across the seas. While this may seem at odds with his languid nature, having a vested interest has often encouraged many a man to move mountains...
Having lived a life defined by strict rules and structure, the professionalism and discretion ingrained in him all but ensured that he breezed through any training necessary for him to not only get used to the service of high culture in the upper echelons of Ul’dah, but also to mingle with ease with the unwashed masses of both the city of coin and its distant neighbour of Limsa Lominsa. Given his upbringing and his line of work, suppressing his sense of self and adopting the necessary personas to adapt to each situation is second nature to him. Rare are the individuals who are able to discern the mask he dons, and fewer still are those to whom Riku’to is willing to let glimpse beneath it. Only the most trusted and precious few have beheld in its entirety the dark depths beneath such seemingly still waters.
While he has obtained a deeper understanding of his ‘Echo’, and the role that he and his other selves play in one another’s lives, Riku’to nonetheless fears that his existence may be lost upon one of the others’ awakening, like spume washing upon the shore as the tide recedes. Or, perhaps, in dreaming another life, he will lose his own. And yet he continues to embrace his dreams, not only to experience the rush of felling mighty foes, but also in full appreciation of the often life-saving precognition that his dreams bring.
Consequently, Riku’to is exceedingly fond of catnaps, and has become a master of napping on the fly. While seemingly transient and light to the point of awakening at the drop of a pin, time flows differently when he’s experiencing one of his other selves’ lives. In the span of a short rest of the eyes as he leans against a lamppost, a feral dog born of shadows may be slain, or an eldritch being cut in twain.
Riku’to is actually awful with faces and names. For the life of him, he can’t readily recall either, and it takes repeated exposures before anything actually gets engrained in memory. Now, one would think this would be a fatal flaw for someone employed in special ops and intelligence, but Riku’to has an ability that more than makes up for it: he can see and recognise the ‘colour’ of an individual’s soul. While he has always had this odd quirk, and leaned heavily (if not intuitively) on it ever since he was young, it was when he clasped that orange gem that the vague and faint impressions and outlines begun to take on brilliant shades of indescribable depth. As such, once he has discerned the ‘colour’ of another’s soul, he is able to recognise the same being, regardless of what form or shape they may take. He has even seen individuals with the same hue in his others’ experiences, but is unable to discern if his other selves are privy to the same information, or are able to use his own prior experiences to guide their actions.
Riku’to is always listless. One would not imagine so from the sheer busy-ness that he engages in, but what one does not realise is that he is hardworking precisely for the sake of being lazy afterwards. Efficiency is the name of his game, and if energy can be invested in a way so as to conserve far, far more energy (and time for his exhilarating dreams) later on, he will be practically jumping at the bit at that opportunity. However, ever since claiming ownership of a particular orange crystal, he has realised that as much as he gets to live the lives of the others, so too do the others get to live his life in their dreams too. As such, he has made it a personal goal to be more presentable; though he does not feel embarrassed by how much his achievements pales in comparison to the others, he would like, as far as possible, to have a life that his other selves would find worth living.
Riku’to hates alcohol. He can be what is best described a sleepy drunk, and while you would be forgiven for thinking that that would be a state he would welcome with open arms, given his affinity for sleep, nothing could be further from the truth. For such inebriated losses of consciousness are not accompanied by the dreams he so enjoys; only the disconcerting embrace of an oblivion that fills him with no small amount of dread and fear. He will drink if it is required of his occupation however, of course, and is able to stay cognizant through sheer force of will. But such herculean feats demand no small amount of effort from him, and for someone as accustomed to enervation as he is, that, too, is an unattractive prospect.
Riku’to enjoys long walks through the woods, and the gentle light that filters through the leaves of the boughs overhead. While not particularly fond of the cold, he prefers it to scorching heat, and when subjected to the latter, will relish any opportunity to cool off in the nearest body of water. As a matter of fact, he even enjoys a swim in waters frigid and bonechilling… so it might be more accurate to say that he is quite the aquaphile. And ever since his travails led him to Hingashin city of Kugane, he has become quite fond of hot springs.
Riku’to does not have a particularly demanding palete, though over the course of his duties as a butler to various wealthy estates across Eorzea, he certainly has become quite adept at catering to those from the high houses. He is rather fond of sweets, however, and has been known to carry a small tin of mints on his person, and to indulge in the occasional parfait.
Riku’to has a fondness for spectacles, whether he is the wearer of said spectacles or not. While he has in his possession a wide array of glasses, his favourite is a crimson pair of oval reading glasses, which he commissioned from an amicable, yet mysterious, employee of a supposedly affluential emporium... It was this pair that saved his life once, and to this day, bears a nick over its crafter's signature, all but rendering it unreadable unless carefully inspected.
While often presenting a suave and calculated manner, inwardly, Riku’to is easily flustered. Being inexperienced in the grand game, he muddles along as best he can...

"Regret and Misery"

If asked about his twin scars on his left cheek, Riku’to will say, with no small amount of rueful mirth and deadpan eyes, that they are named “Regret and Misery”.

“Regret”, the older and thinner scar that traces his cheek from chin to ear, so named for the keening note that sounded above the cacophony of emotions summoned forth by that flaming projectile that lodged itself in his younger sibling’s chest with enough force to splinter into a hundred, hundred shards… one of which streaking across his cheek, liberating blood that not only intermingled with his tears, but that which gushed forth between his desperate hands.

And as for “Misery”, the deep and vicious gash that intersects its twin as it travels from nose to jawline? That scar was a parting gift bestowed by the desperate flailing of a Garlean officer as Riku’to bent over to put her out of her sorry existence, eyes filled with an insatiable bloodthirst. Wave after wave of conscripts did she send against the Merciful Death, heedless of her subordinates’ pleas to retreat, until there were no more subordinates left to be the officer’s wall of meat. After all, what chance did they stand against one armed with so much precognition gleaned from dreams? And yet, it was this very moment of arrogance that might have led to a premature curtain call of the tale of this baleful, bloodthirsty cleric… Had his iconic red glasses not partially deflected the wild swing of a poisoned dagger held in that pitiful wreck’s hand as she stared in horror as her vital fluids leaked inexorably out of the vicious tear in her neck. It was that moment that made Riku’to realise that his dreams, while invaluable, were far from infallible; the lives that his other selves lived, while vastly informative, were ultimately not his. Deviations needed to be accounted for and contingencies, planned.

The healers told him later, as he lay convalescing and convulsing in the sick bay, that if the blade had cut even just a little bit deeper, or lingered just a moment longer, his life would have been forfeit. Through his fevered haze, the last thought that stuck out to him and which comes back to him whenever he traces his twin scars was as such: “Were it that were so… The Twelve know there is regret and misery enough in this world…”