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kiyono mizuto;

an original character penned by spencer. EST. 2023. independent and selective OC blog. warning for heavy religious themes along with other dark topics. dms are open, for mains and mutuals alike.

name	kiyono 水音	mizuto 清野
age	twenty five	june 20, XXXX
pronouns	he / him
race	japanese

and i see what you see.

i know what you want,

location	pacific northwest, USA
parish	cathedral of stella maris
origin	asahikawa, japan
languages	jpn & en

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standing at an average height of 5'9, mizuto is quite skinny. he has little muscle. beauty marks dot his figure, especially his 'feminine' face. he’s almost a carbon copy of his mother, narika. cross-shaped scars as marks of branding cover the backs of his hands, and stain his throat and chest. medium length brown strands that fall in loose waves against his neck. cheap teal dye covers the lower half of his hair– he forgot to redo it, and is currently growing it out. there's a heart-shaped ahoge and long bangs which curl against his cheeks and nose. hair is greener at the tips, irises are a chocolate-hue brown, akin to deer. thick, dark brows, and crows feet besides his eyes. no scars on his face, keeping a clean appearance. a mole beneath his right eye, and below the left corner of his lips. an aquiline nose with a bump, full lips, and dark circles under dull eyes. hands constantly adorned with black gloves. two silver hoop earrings in each lobe, as well as cartilage piercings- usually taken out. nails are painted black, chipping and peeling at all times. rosary always tucked in khaki pocket.he walks with a permanent limp due to his lower left calf’s malunion. he occasionally uses a cane, and will sometimes have recurring aches and pains in said leg. he’s incapable of most physical exercise, and cannot run. mizuto’s overall appearance is mostly clean, but messier than anything beneath the surface. he’s almost malnourished, with his muscle seeming to have somewhat wasted— though, he still tries to do whatever he can to look normal. THEY mustn’t see his problems. they aren’t important, after all.

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positive   kind, thoughtful, compassionate, good listener, meek. thorough, passionate, eager, sensible

negative   antisocial, insecure, worrisome, tired, self destructive, self deprecating, suicidal

pushing it down & praying.

personality

quiet, reserved and skittish. for someone who works with others constantly, he's terribly anxious. a follower, not a leader. kind and compassionate, greatest strengths being the ability to listen, and empathy so strong he gets upset often. lawful good, infp —— melancholy, more often than not, tired. one to stand up for others, but never himself. can be outgoing depending on who he's with. someone with a heart of gold, but thin skin. even being constantly kind can't keep you from losing your mind.

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born kiyono mizuto on june 20, in asahikawa, hokkaido, japan. a meek boy who usually kept to himself, often found clinging to his mother’s yukata. with an emotionally absent father for most of his childhood, mizuto’s relationship with his mother (narika) was unmatched. she sprung the idea of moving to america when mizuto was ten years old, specifically the pacific northwest.his father made the decision to enroll him in an all-boys catholic school, near their home on the outskirts of seattle. this differed from their indigenous, spiritual belief from hokkaido: shinto. narika opposed this initially, but eventually relented due to the thought that experiencing new “culture” might make mizuto come out of his shell.unfortunately for both of his parents, this change took far too long. eleven year old mizuto was commonly found alone, thumbing through english dictionaries during lunch… always trying to understand this new and confusing language. it made little sense to him– and his parents were only comfortable speaking japanese to begin with.of course, being a social outcast led to nothing but bullying and harassment. whether it was related to his broken english, handwriting, or something else entirely, it felt constant for mizuto. he never quite understood why– he never did anything wrong. his mother got used to her blouse being wet with his tears– and he would beg her to take him back home. after all, their family was there. he didn’t have anything here, and he didn’t like it.though she brought the idea up to her husband multiple times, he refused– and eventually, the constant arguments over their son’s wellbeing caused mizuto’s father to reject them entirely, and leave the household. with him gone, narika was forced to work as much as she possibly could, simply to keep mizuto and herself alive. this led to mizuto seeing her less and less, until his one pillar of comfort became nothing more than a quick headpat every morning.mizuto’s emotions were in a whirlwind. constantly changing moods, irritable and depressed. eventually, he lashed back at the bullies who had now moved on to insulting his facial features. although he only yelled at them, he was beat up behind the tennis courts until black and blue– and they finished it off by shattering his left calf with a baseball bat. the bishops who ran the school never stepped in. ‘boys will be boys’, they repeated to mizuto’s distraught mother.only a few months later, in january, he received the news in class that his parents had been killed in an automobile accident. unable to cope, mizuto lashed out at his classmates. sitting in detention, he was told that the church would take him in for the time being, until he was eighteen and could leave, and live on his own. the fact that his last words to his mother were nothing special– a simple ‘see you later’ made his heart ache. he cried for hours, in the police station– only to be taken to the church. he would never step foot in his house again. mizuto was now under the total care of father [ ], and would be his ‘adopted son’-- minus any of the paperwork, or basic care. it was a farce, after all. he lived in that church, quietly, for three years… never telling a soul, blindly obeying every teaching and command. it was fine, after all.much to his ‘father’s’ dismay, he dyed his hair— for his sixteenth birthday. badly done, bleached and box dyed in his small bedroom. the stains never came out of that carpet. he was punished, of course, but there was a smile on his face. he was excited to have something to call his own– something his faith would argue against, but his heart would enjoy. his mother would have liked it- she loved turquoise. teal, whatever it was called. the box said something stupid, anyway. on that day, with that display of independence– mizuto was not scolded calmly like they would a child. he was smacked across the face, so hard he tumbled. from that day forth, nothing was the same. the punishments increased in severity.during this time in the church, mizuto was treated like a prize lamb. perfect for whatever the bishop needed, often being dragged with his head down into his ‘father’s’ office. everyone kept silent. for years– this continued. mizuto endured endless days of scolding. his hands burned from ruler smacks, newfound scars from branding constantly burned and stung. self inflicted scars bled, always eventually found by his father- only leading to further punishment. mizuto’s life became hell all over again– body broken, emotions warped, mind scarred. his faith wavered, and he knew if he spoke up about this, things would only become worse. so, instead, he bottled every question up, never to speak of it again. he would blindly follow- more akin to an obedient DOG than a young man.mizuto had known from a very young age that he did not find women attractive. he simply didn’t. even the catholic boys’ school wasn’t exempt from playboy magazines and raunchy comments about the nuns. mizuto felt disgusted by this– though, if it was that cute upperclassman who helped him pick up his binder, maybe he would understand more… he knew he had to keep that to himself. playboy never interested him, but the posters of rock-stars shown as a ‘sinful act’ made his heart beat a little too fast. he didn’t understand, until his father explained the sin of homosexuality- sodomy, anything like it. that day, mizuto knew he was destined to burn. even so, he prayed relentlessly for these feelings to stop. for his body to not react how it did. one day, he confessed to his father how he felt. appalled, yet understanding… or so he thought. as punishment, his father explained that every man deals with the temptation of homosexuality– and ‘teaching’ was his excuse to abuse mizuto for the years to come. maybe this would teach him not to be a deviant. mizuto barely slept, and his clothes got looser and looser as he lost weight rapidly. he wanted to die– he wanted to kill himself. no, no. he wanted to kill his FATHER for ever ruining him that way. for making him hate himself. for making his life a living hell.at the age of twenty–five, on his birthday, the bishop planned to ordain him properly, as a priest. this bishop, whom he had always called his ‘father’ was mysteriously murdered in the chapter house next to the church, and that building was set ablaze. mizuto never told a soul that he was the one who lit the match– who beat his ‘father’s’ head in with a candelabra. they would never know, and he would never tell.unfortunately, in his moment of mania, mizuto made a scene. the police came soon after, mizuto was gone, but there was an immediate investigation due to the scale and suddenness. his Father's remains were found and foul play was immediately noticed. over a period of a few months, mizuto was investigated repeatedly by the police, detectives, and media from around the area. he was obviously the primary suspect, and treated as such. but they had no "evidence" in a physical sense. the police uncovered the years of abuse through this investigation, but decided not to count it in the evidence or motive due to not wanting issues with the church or the vatican overall. soon after, the suspicions were legally dropped.despite the legal issues having blown over, every person in the town is suspicious. and for valid reason- mizuto’s consistent paranoia and skittishness doesn’t help his case. to this day, he is awaiting the imminent handcuffs– while also trying to rebuild public trust.

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i can taste you on my lips;

mun information  spencer. 20. est. he & him. hobby writer & artist. full-time college student.

account information  twitter handle : @ consecratist. carrd comm by topa.

and smell you in my clothes.

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