For the last few months we have been living together and, well, it has been some great times. You're all amazing, each one of you, upholding your own beliefs and putting your lives on the line for the sake of ideals you hold so close to your hearts. As people, you all have purposes, people you want to protect, all that with no questioning the 'whys' and the 'buts'. I admire that, more than anything, so I can gladly say that my time living under the same roof as you guys is something I will treasure forever.
I remember when we first, I didn't want to pull you into this mess, to let you into my heart. I was not worthy someone else's attention, after all, I was a fabricated monstrosity. Well, if anything you managed to change that much. I'm not doing what I'm doing for the sake of ridding you all of the burden having me around could possibly be, but moreso to not darken your inherent brightness.
I want to be able to stand next to you as equals next time we meet.
Because, you see, we all have a purpose. Yours is to be a hero and protect those you care about, a list that I certainly am proud to be a part of, Nathan's, at the moment, I suppose is being the best father to his children. You see, they can be quite simplistic and yet hold a lot of meaning behind them. For many days I lied to myself, told me my purpose should be living a normal life, ignoring the abilities bestowed to me by whoever designed me. However, those were all but lies, I want to discover my purpose. To be able to look you eye-to-eye, not from the ground as you seem to get more and more distant.
That's why I'm leaving, at least for a while.
I don't want you worrying about me, so I will write whenever I can. I also don't want you thinking I've forgotten you, because, at this point, that would be impossible. However, Rana, I didn't want you telling me to stay, because I wouldn't resist, so I had to leave without saying my goodbyes. Otherwise we'd both be pretty unhappy, don't you think?
I do.
Anyways, there are many things I still don't understand. Society and the whole world have many mysteries I wish to unravel, many places I've read about that I must visit, many memories to be made and, hopefully, clarify my clouded head.
We live in a magical world, even if many eyes cannot perceive it as we can, the supernatural is always there. Spirits, creatures, sometimes a mere object... The world is an interesting place, populated by interesting people, and I wish to know more about it so I can learn more about myself. It's... selfish and weird, I wouldn't blame any of you for hating me, but it wouldn't make me feel any less right.
I have to go now, and not forever, because as I couldn't even tell my goodbyes, that can only mean I'm coming back, doesn't it? Even if just to see you one more time. So, please, don't be sad for the empty boy leaving your door, but happy for the future man stepping through it.
See you soon,
Drake
P.S.: Oh yeah, I told the old man that I'll be leaving, but I'm worried about him... Could you, please, keep an eye on the bakery for me?
P.P.S.: Also, don't slack off on your magic training! I might be absent, but when I come back I want to see results!
...
...
...
P.P.P.S.: Uhm... I know I did say I would see you only when I find myself, but that's kind of vague and could take a lot of time, right? I mean, it's symbolic more than anything else, right? That's why you shouldn't lose the card that I left along this letter. I've put a spell in it, just so I can always visit.
Droplets leaked off an asymmetrical gap on the pipe slightly above his glimmering silver scalp, locks of unusual hued hair moistened as each rhythmical bead slid its way earthwards, ultimately splashing at the dusty timbered floor underneath. His head arched forth, both eyes shut, twitching as if abhorrent nightmares flashed inside his head. Unable to fight back, Yamato subconsciously opted to wake up, a strident screech leaving his mouth as his head rose.
Unfortunately, independent of whichever nightmares he could possibly have had, the actual scenerio wasn't much better. Metallic chains tightened his frame against the wall, knees well-nigh bleeding from all the time he spent pressing them against the adamant floor. A figure laid a few feet away, blonde, wavy hair scattered around it, Drake soon recognised the body of his wife, throat slithered as a crimson slop expanding throughout the room.
Steps...
"Finally awake, aren't we?" Shroud in the darkness of a corner, the creepy, alabaster smile whispered rather mockingly. "W-who the hell are you?! What do you want with me?!" Drake roared, crystalline tears rolling down his round cheeks.
"Don't play innocent, you know me. Offspirng of a half-demon, wields a cursed sword, fights the supernatural regardless of the risks... You even go as far as tracking them to the other realms, don't you? Trespassing zones designated for those of magical and unholy nature, do not play stupid, you literally brought this to yourself." The corner lights up for a second, revealing the carmine, devilish owner of that devious grin... Yellow eyes, keen-edged claws, a tail coiled like a viper. "You did this, you killed her, you chained yourself to the wall. And you know what else? You enjoyed every fluffing second!"
"That's a lie, I would... I would never do any of that! Trying to trick me with your illusions, your words, it won't work. She's not dead, you're trying to toy with my mind, I-I'm sure of it! Release me right now and I might let you go away with life." Drake knew the unreal when he saw it, even though it felt pretty painful, he acknowledged it just couldn't be true. He had yet to return to the future, after all.
The demon chortled.
"You still haven't realized, have you? Do not play the part of a fool. Unchain yourself." Suddenly, it all went black, there was no longer a room, only absolute darkness, no chains, no wounds, nothing he had previously seen. "You have been fighting for so long, but still haven't been able to face your worst enemy..."
Amid the shadows, the vermilion figure reappears. Grasping the handle of his sword firmly, the demon hunter darts onward, cutting through the darkness as his blade disembowels the demon, guts hang from the open slash, splashing against the trickling blood that smudged the ground. Thrusting his blade into the monstrosity, he effortlessly splits it in half.
More laughs.
Drake finds himself surrounded, from within the murkiness countless smiles surge, the disgruntling laughter overwhelmed his ears. Each half of the demon opened its eyes, half-smiles emerging from its lips. "It feels good, doesn't it? To be able to take another man's life, to see that spurting red taint your pale skin... It is refreshing, not unlike a breath of fresh air. The trembling on your hands as you take a life, the disbelief on your victim's stare, silently judging you and your so-called cruelty. They never accept their own weakness is their downfall..." The guts spread through the ground rejoin, forming a mass of flesh, the blood is promptly drained by it.
It twitches and contorts in desperation, sluggishly molding into another shape, reaching out to him, holding his steady hands onto the hilt of his greatsword. Skin is formed, a feminine frame takes the place of that mass of flesh and blood, pale skin, bright azure eyes, blonde threads hanging from its head. It's his wife. "I know you can feel it too, Yamato. The indescribable joy of carnage." His shaky hands move on their own as the blade punctures the woman's abdomen, he cannot avert his gaze, watering eyes simply witnessing that lively figure slowly succumb to imminent death.
His whole frame trembles, a mirror appears in front of him, but the reflection isn't him... It's a red beast, portraying that same fiendish grin.
A somewhat skinny and pale teenager, garbing his nonchalant, mahogany stare and unorthodox quiescence. Black threads of hair messily scattered atop his head, showing how laidback Drake is. Mostly seen sporting an unbuttoned, alabaster shirt overlapping any random band tee he wears underneath. He complements the conventional attire with a dark jeans pair of pants.
Also quintessential for his appearance are his black and neon-orange headphones, either hanging around his neck or blasting one song out of his plethora of choices.
Powers:
♫ The Musical Mutant ♫:
Already conceived as a mutant, Drake's family was steadfast to realize it was much more of a curse than it was a blessing. Their son had an incredible destructive prowess, involuntarily bursting glasses, causing tremors and such. It was out of control, the parents had no idea how to control him, so they just left him.
Barely a baby, not even named, growing as a lonesome teenager at an orphanage. Bestowed with the power to manipulate sound itself. He soon found out only focus was required to perfectly tame his wild power, he found it through music.
No one knows how strong he has gotten, he barely ever displays an extension of his real destructive power. Although he admittedly knows how much improvement he still has to work on.
Fun fact: Drake is technically mute, only communicating through lyrics of songs he likes.
A kid containing the power of stars, that's literally Stardust. His whole body explodes with the energy of stars, plenty of them, granting him a plethora of abilities, such as superhuman attributes (speed, reflexes, strength, stamina, durability) and even an instantaneous regenerative factor.
However, the most handy ability bestowed by this uncharted junction is some sort of manipulation of energy. From crafting azure constructs of pure energy to blasting insanely scorching beams of energy or even implementing an impromptu solution to Frank's blindness, granting the boy some sort of energy-vision.
Another interesting skill gifted by the power of the stars is flight. Although it is practically dangerous due to his technical blindness.
Akaiittou - the bloodthirsty blade - and Ginyasha - the silver demon:
The tales of Muramasa and Masamune are plenty, always widening the Oriental folclore and raising brows of treasure hunters everywhere. The flawless opposites, the Ying and the Yang, one which artistry concentrated into crafting bloodthirsty weapons and the other, which only cravings were to dedicate his life to artisanship. Masamune was often used as a symbol of holiness, purity and, overally, the superior swordsmith.
Muramasa, on the other hand, hammered his evil intent and murderous persona onto the weapons. They seemed to affect its wielder to an extent that the best of men would morph into the coldest of devils. Of course not many proof was found, yet culture is culture...
Still, what happens when legends and myths become veracity itself?
After leaving his own Clan behind and smudging his family's name, the Reicho Runaway occasionally stumbled upon a dazzling beauty. It was no majestic woman enrapturing his always nonchalant gaze, nor was it unsurmountable gold or silver. He hadn't such needs, dirtying his soul with unneeded ambitions. It was something else... An obsidian scabbard carefully sliding off to reveal the argent content inside, such an exquisite work. The irregular traces of its hamon (midoreba), approaching the outlining ha with a quaint expertise, the darker shallow valleys encased in-between the known waving format of gunome. The hilt, in contrary to most of Muramasa's acquainted work, wasn't tanagobara (fish-belly) shaped, leading the Ronin to believe it was made under a few specific commands. The embelished Tsuka (hilt) in tones of a light carmine, almost burgundy. A few golden details complemented its breathtaking features, taking the form of Japanese demons, or Akumas, as if to indicate the blade should solely be brandished by one.
To a kid with nowhere to go, nothing to feed on and barely thoughts to nourish his dreams about a future, it was not unlike the present of a god. Since he lifted that sword, the Kenjutsu practicioner became a whisper clad in silvery. A being equally adept at the killing arts as a demon, his speed seemingly inhuman, his strength of bone-shattering proportions, his reflexes sharp as his blade. He made a name for himself as the Ginyasha, or Argent Demon to those unacquainted with the language. Since then, he mysteriously vanished, allegedly breaking free of the katana's devious charm and throwing it away.
It is unbeknownst if the sword holds any mystical aspects, yet one thing is for sure: once unsheathed, it shall not return to its scabbard prior to tasting blood. The enemy's or the ally's.
Philosophy:
"A man is nothing without his own way of living."
Ever since he deserted both Reisho and the Yakuza, his path focused on one thing and one thing only: finding a purpose. Perhaps it was destiny getting rid of all those mistakes, yet the price wasn't cheap. He had lost everything he could've asked for. Yet, instead of being haunted by the spirits of his troublesome past, they strengthened his soul and enlightened a road that seemed to have ended a long time. It was misty, well-nigh invisible, but Gin certainly didn't bother, venturing further and further. Maybe the top of the mountain wasn't lost, maybe it was just the view that was awful and downgrading so far.
Based on his own life experiences, former suffering and knowledge of the world, Drake segmented his own life philosophy in two path: the Path of the Sword and the Path of Dreams. Although ostensibly distinct, those two are entirely intertwined in a somewhat simple yet functioning system.
The Path of the Sword:That's not originally Gin's, yet it was adapted to his own concept of how to live. The sword is not a wooden or metallic blade you wield against your opponent, it's not an instrument of dreadful chaos which beauty rivals that of a jewel. No, it is the purest of things, an extension of the owner's soul. It isn't about how adroitly built it was, if it can pluck lives in the endless spiral of death, no, that's the superfluous cultivated by the countless fools dubbing themselves swordsmen without harnessing the simplest concept: the blade only breaks if your will does. It mustn't be physically present to be there, it shall only aid you in conquering your own path. For Drake, his chosen item was a sword, one that can vibrate just as vigorously as his soul, yet it doesn't need to be a blade. It's something you deposit your trust on, something you can't seem to be complete without.
Why, though? Why is this path even considered part of a philosophy if it can be anything? It's quite simplistic. The Path of the Sword nourishes the idea of becoming one with the Sword, thus becoming stronger yourself. But what does it mean to be stronger? Would an assassin be called strong if his only certainty in life is killing? If he stabs his friends beneath their backs? No. Despite the difference in skill between the ultimate weapon and a mere kid defending his friends, the kid is overally stronger. A towering image, actually.
To be stronger is to be able to defend your own dreams and ambitions, as well as those of others, on your own. That is what becoming one with the Sword should mean: standing upright even when all the odds are against you, become the blade to cleanse yourself from all the filth. Become one with no fears or weaknesses.
The Path of Dreams:What is the Path of Dreams, though? Well, it's mostly what it is supposed to be. Always following your dreams, for they are your ultimate goal, despite of what your head tells you is logical. You must always climb up the mountain, sometimes even going through the wrong course twice or thrice, taking the wrong turns every now and then, giving up when you see the summit surmount the clouds. Yet reaching the top isn't the only reward. If you climb a mountain willingly, why don't you feel accomplished after progressing? You always seem to matter the small stuff and forget the veracious beauty is right in front of you. The sheer happiness of making it that far.
If you descend, maybe even fall? What is the problem, why do you give up? It's an arduous task, if you're willing to give your life for the failure, why not live gladly to see it fulfilled?
Finally, the Path of Dreams always teaches you to look at life not as black, white and grey. Those are just three colors. Life is green, red, orange with a beauteous azure sky! Never look at it with a limited vision, labeling everything between three options. Instead, try to see all the colors of something. Perhaps that thief isn't only obsidian, maybe he is ultramarine and verdant as well. That prized hero, perhaps the carmine stains taint his fists and weighs them. Appreciate every color, every landscape you go through to climb that mountain.
After all, a tree isn't just a tree. It is a nice resting place as much as it is a silent location for a tombstone. Why not see the people and their dreams with the same eyes? You may never judge a book by its cover.
Trivia:
Drake was a renowned assassin back on his early days, the number two of Yakuza, brandishing his demonic sword to reap lives from this plane to utter darkness. He'd probably be recognizable, since there aren't a lot of silver-haired Japanese ex-Yakuza around the globe.
He has a dragon tattooed on his back. Usually hidden by his clothing.
Has no qualms with modern clothing and overall inventions, he just prefers to stick to his Reisho roots.
The kanji on his bokken stand for 'Gin' (銀) and 'Tama' (魂). It means 'Silver Soul'.
Akaiitou (aka Crimson Blade) is actually a demonic sword, one those who delve unto Japanese culture should fear since it was crafted by the ostensibly perverse hands of Muramasa. The original idea is giving Drake the speed and nimbleness of a demon, as well as ignoring wounds and bestowing its wielder a power that'd match his soul. Since Drake's soul is basically seeking for answers of his own, the blade gifts the Silver Soul Samurai some sort of clairvoyance, making him able to avoid some hits. It only works while it's unsheathed. The other cons are: the more power you harness, the less in control you are and it must draw blood to return to its scabbard. Friendly or not.
Drake is heavily influenced by Miyamoto Musashi, Gintoki Sakata (from Gintama, also his look) and there's also a little bit of me in it.
I tried to copy Musashi's philosophy at first, but ended up finding it much more pleasant to simply start mine from zero, even if it clearly has some flaws and needs a better writer to actually pass my thoughts to words. It's odd, because I somewhat incorporated it into my day to day.
Drake's my safe haven, I try to delete this profile, but I can't. It's too painful to waste it away, even if the character never takes off. Probably never will, I don't even need or want him to. I just love the concept, from the backstory to the look to his flaws and qualities, his persona and his mannerisms, how he behaves, how he speaks. It might not sound or even seem legit, but I swear it's just perfect to me. Anytime, any feeling, any story... I can make it work. I just feel good while writing him or pretending to be him at non-canon threads.
An old man. That was what the once so vivid Gin Mitsurugi had become. He never pemitted any of his character to wash out with age, though. Year after year he would buy his mangas, watch his animes, train with his bokken and exert his philosophy. Age was but a number, for he was still young where it mattered. Those wrinkles on his kind, bearded visage meant absolutely nothing, the trembling hands and slow pace that eventually he developped were hardships of life,nothing unexpected or impracticable to live with.
His eyes, however, hardly held the same meaning. Those weren't lively glares, they were saddened, attempting to find any form of light. A smile that emerged without any reason now hidden among parched lips.
A tangerine light shone from the cloudless sky, each majestic beam thoroughly illuminating the adamant grey of stones, each placed aside an equally cut piece, linking throughout the extension of what could be considered an ancient temple. Drake's legs were crossed, his wooden sword placed aside him, both eyes shut... Two eyes gazed at him from the other side, almost as if devouring that man's frail stance in cold-blood.
The Ginyasha chuckled under his breath."<So you came, huh?>" An unwavering temper, typical of the Silver Soul Samurai. He rose from the ground, bearing the very same scatterbrained and apathetic mannerisms of his younger self, eyes devoid of any emotion as he drew his pinky finger toward his nose, the other hand resting slightly above his wooden weapon. "<You know, you really look like the Bonolenov fellow from Hunter x Hunter.>" Drake blew the snot out of his finger.
The figure standing before his eyes reminded him of someone, a brazen young man, clenching his blade bitterly. Engulfed on bandages, cloaking almost all his ashen skin, but that surrounding his rubicund, bloodthirsty eyes. Tufts of charcoal hair hung from the curled bandages on his head. "<I am the one who should be surprised, after all you accepted my challenge instead of running away like you always do.>" The mummy-like figure pugnaciously responds. "<Why is your blade on the ground? Don't tell me you plan on taking me on with that old stick. You underestimate me, old man!>"
Yelling, the youngling mightily charged against the aloof elder. Blade tightly held by both hands, one elbow projected aback while the other hand sustained the grip aside the man's chest, but in front of his shoulder. He jolted, his speed inhuman, his strength far from average. A split-second halt, his right foot switches from supporting to leading, his blade fizzed diagonally, aiming to slash the Silver Samurai's shoulder and chest, perhaps even rip off the arm.
The bloodthirsty metal didn't meet flesh, though. Instead, its opposition was a mere stick of wood.
Simpering, Gin held his hilt with tremendous expertise of who trained for almost sixty years. His composure, his calculating eyes, his gelid judgement, those were all remains of a figure even unwillingly he carried with himself. It was the precise motion of a grandmaster, overlapping the amazement of sheer power with the harmonious nature of an expert.
The Reisho's Runaway knew he couldn't top a young man's speed, agility nor strength, let alone someone above a normal human. His usually skeptic eyes now analyzed his opponent, from the gritting teeth to the unease footwork. In a single, fluid movement, Drake gyrated his blade around his enemy's katana, tipping it off his hands.
His bokken stretched forth, stopping a few centimeters from the bandaged figure's head. "<You're dead. One point for me.>" He chuckled softheartedly, his inherent jocose demeanor only fueling his opponent's wrath.
The kid rolled to his right, picking up the sword and once again rushing onto a blind onslaught, lead only by his instinct. Each slash, each thrust, they were all parried with relative ease, never diminishing the strength behind the blow, but rather changing its course. The bandaged samurai would fall on the ground frequently, just to rise again and try another angle or another move, but they didn't seem to even budge the defensive bulwark the Silver Soul Samurai presented.
Ultimately, the kid tired himself, panting boldly."<You... You're gonna pay for all you've done. First you try to kill me, then you forget me and now?>" The man recovers his stamina for a while, dashing towards Drake on what possibly would be his last attack. "<Now you even refuse to finish the job! Who the hell do you think you are?!>" It was an all-or-nothing assault, the remaining strength passed to a single thrust toward Gin's chest.
"<That anger, that style... I knew it was you when I first saw you swing a blade, that's why I accepted this challenge.>" The Silver Soul Samurai simpered, his arms envelopping his assailant's trembling stance as he stiffened the embrace. "<W-why? Why did you do this?>" The young man enquires, shaking and no longer overtaken by the anger on his heart, but a wild mix of satisfaction and despair. His hands throbbing with blood, no longer holding the hilt of his blade. He couldn't react as Drake sluggishly removed the bandages from his scarred face, revealing a disfigured visage. Gin ran his fingers through that boy's cheeks and chortled. "<Why, you ask? Hufufufu...>" His laughter was mixed with lots of coughing. "<Was there any other way to embrace my own son?>"
A single tear fall from Drake's eyes as he slowly backs off, a sword pierced through his chest, blood staining his alabaster robes. "<Don't give me that look, son. I'm an old man, and since I left my own home I knew I couldn't regret it. There is no point on being chained to the past for choices you make, I decided when to kill, when to spare...>" He paused, falling to one knee. "<And when to sacrifice. You should do the same. Live the way you want, choose what you want, and, when the time comes, die as you want too.>"
"<Hehehe... You have your mother's eyes, you know that?>"
Thud.
It's all dark. All those bright years, that bright life, that one flame... It was no longer there, just like that. But amid all that obscurity, perhaps a little flickering light could be seen, as if it struggled to survive... Or to be conceived. That minor, uncertain blaze
So, I've been really thinking about making this Top 10 and I decided against it many times for "not watching enough stuff". Well, the day I made my very own Top 10 finally came. I feel odd for making a Top 10 about animes, as I once held a weekly "Ten Favorite Characters" list on my old account.
Well, anyways, this is my opinion, not an actual review or anything like it. So it's what I think is good, not what I judged to be good. Firstly, I'd like to say the points I analyze when deciding if an OP is good: the music (quality and rhythm), the animation (not if it's modern or old, just if it fits the opening and progresses nicely alongside the song) and how it connects to the anime (if it can give you a hint of what to expect, or how you'll feel and such). Secondly, I'd like to warn you not to expect Dragonball or Saint Seiya or Pokemon or Digimon here. I watched all of those on my native language, with their respective OPs in Portuguese.
So, no more delays, let's get to it!
10. Monster:
Creepy? Disturbing? Even scary? It sets up a perfect atmosphere for the episodes, the suspense contained within chapters is thoroughly transmitted to the beat. Worthy of a position on this list.
9. Kinnikuman - Kinnikuman Go Fight!:
This opening just passed on the lighthearted tone of the anime perfectly, I mean, it's pretty much happening at the 80s and tells the story of a clumsy superhero-wannabe that happens to be a great wrestling fighter. If you find a translated version, you can even see its lyrics are pretty much on-point. The animation is lacking, though, even if it's old.
8. Fist of the North Star - You wa Shock:
C'mon, guys? Do I need to say anything about this? It's pretty much a masterpiece, the only con here is that it gets somewhat monotonous when nearing it ending, but otherwise it's f***ing great!
7. Slam Dunk - Kimi ga Suki da to Sakebitai:
A brilliant job when setting up the pace of the anime. If you're expecting something light on story but visually better like Kuroko, you're in for a disappointment. A huge one. It's just as the opening, slow. Genius Sakuragi improves a lot and the techniques are actual basketball techniques, so no flashy moves. Aside from that, the opening basically sums up the whole Hanamichi/Haruko situation you'll see throughout the anime.
6. Kekkai Sensen - Hello, World!:
This song has its hype moments and its somewhat sad moments, pretty much like the anime has some hilarious stuff, yet also has some depressing sh*t. Aside from that, it fits perfectly with the time and setting of the world you'll be accompanying on this series.
5. Hajime no Ippo - Under Star:
Pretty much self-explanatory, the day-to-day and training trajectory of the beginning are all here, the song is pleasing and fits well with the animation. The anime is great itself, second sports anime after Slam Dunk. The opening, though... It's just superior in so many ways.
4. Space Dandy - Viva Namida:
Dandy opening for a dandy guy and his space crew in space. 'Nuff said.
Also, praise the booty.
3. City Hunter - Don't Disappear My Love:
Pure, distilled 80s' cop-ish show with an equally 80s show.
So, there's this manly traditional school where only manly men attend to become more manly with extra manliness sauce of manly tears of manly friendship. And then we have this extremely manly OP on the most manly scenarios with manly stuff such as: staring at the waves, walking with hands on your pockets, wearing a bandanna, staring through the fire, traditional Japanese swordplay, practicing near a waterfall, a walking shadow with its hands on its pockets, standing against the wind and so on.
MANLY AS F***!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
1. Gintama - Donten:
Gintama has tons of openings and even more tons of sagas, but this single opening that happens before the Shinsegumi Crisis arc is simply my favorite of them all. The serious setting it has, the badassness of staring and... I just can't describe it, it's just awesome as hell!
So there you have it, folks. My rather unorthodox top ten of best OPs!
Honorable mentions:
Gantz:
One Punch Man:
Fullmetal Alchemist: Brotherhood:
Ergo Proxy:
JoJo's Bizarre Adventure:
Parasyte/Kiseijuu:
And, mostly due to the fact it was the anime's last good saga:
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