---

-NAME-
"Chino Rossini; Local pub singer, and person-breaker, if you're a pain in the ass!"

-PERSONALITY-
"Which part of me do you want to hear about? The reserved singing girl, or the one that beats your ass after you try to grab mine? i tend to keep to myself during work; Seems to give the guys an impression that I'm shy, or gentle. It's absolute bullshit, but if I get my cash, I don't really care. If they touch me though, I won't hesitate to beat them within an inch of their life! I can't stand perverted bastards, you know? I don't ask for much, but respect is just a normal thing to want: It shouldn't be this hard.

Now I'm not just some punk; Well, to some people I might be, but I know me better than anyone else: I can be kind! I like teasing my friends, sure, but I'd never let them down! I try my best to be reliable, but admittedly sometimes I fuck up and do something stupid; Human nature, right? Everyone does something stupid every once in awhile, right?

While I don't hesitate to beat the hell out of scumbags, that doesn't mean I just give a beat down to anybody who passes me by: I'd much rather protect an innocent person than hurt one: Especially women and children, as I figure most men can take care of themselves. Though if they proved to need it, I'd help them too. Just give them a hard time about it afterwards, heheh.

I also love cute shit. Stuffed animals, actual animals, baby animals... Maybe I just like animals? Cute animals, though. While I have a generally tough exterior I still have some gentleness underneath: I tend to push it off in my own harassing way, but I can be caring and considerate with someone I like. 'Love' isn't really a thing I put into my head, unless my dad counts: But maybe I'll feel that towards someone else one day.

This is getting drawn out, I'm gonna wrap it up, 'kay? I'm a bit of a jerkass, but I've got a heart of gold-- Wait, wait. Maybe not gold. More like silver? Yeah. Silver heart of gold-- I mean, goddamn it! A heart of silver! Yeah.

Are you laughing at me?!

ゴ ゴ
ゴ ゴ

You bastard, I'll kick your ass!"

-HEIGHT AND WEIGHT-
"This is an easy way to get me to beat the hell outta you; You don't ask a girl these questions!

... I stand at five feet, six inches: And I weigh somewhere around one-hundred & forty pounds? Good enough?"

-AGE-
"I'm twenty-three and insecure: Asking my age does not help."

-GENDER-
"Are you serious? I'm a girl."

-BACKSTORY-
"Florence has been my home for as long as I can remember: My father brought me here from somewhere, and I lived out my childhood here up until my current adulthood. Dad's a troublesome bastard; A bit of a gambler, gets himself in situations he shouldn't. I used to sing on street corners just trying to make a buck to eat on; But in retrospect, it wasn't that bad. I learned to take care of myself early on, and I never had to rely on anyone else growing up. I got scrappy when I had to, and I always did love singing: Maybe it was actually a pretty good early life.

I've managed to get a bit older, and job opportunities have struck: I make my money by taking performances in pubs, singing for patrons and getting harassed by them for it. There was one bad case in particular where a man followed me out after my late leave; Bastard tried to grab me up in the alleyway. That's when I truly learned of my power; A presence I could always feel, but only just now lashed out to save me from a harasser; The microphone appeared in my hand as I screamed, the amplifier near my shoulders pointing at the man and blasting him to the ground with what seemed like pure force in the winds.

After that I had control; I used my Stand during performances as I found it could affect my pitch and turn my singing even more beautiful than it usually ways. Helped me make more money; But it always did sort of concern me that I had such a thing... I couldn't bring myself to ask my father about it, but I had a feeling such a thing wasn't normal: He probably couldn't tell me jack shit if I tried, so I just rolled with it.

So, my life wasn't really bizarre until the microphone-spirit-thing. It got weirder than that though! Much weirder.

I've felt strange lately. I had this horrid moment where I blinked and I swore the whole world around me fell apart; Usually I didn't care about being a general loner, but this feeling... It was so cold, and empty. Like I was stuck in nothingness, unable to even breathe. When I opened my eyes I snapped out of it, but had to gasp for breath. I've been scared of trying to sleep since it happened; It's left me concerned, and sleep deprived.

That I could live with; But what I couldn't live with was my dad disappearing. His dumbass just wasn't home one day; And I had no idea where he went. I checked out all his usual spots, but he was just... Gone. Sure he was a deadbeat for the most part, but damn it, he was my dad! The police didn't know anything: Nobody had any answers! I ended up living alone, angry saddened and confused at what the hell had happened. Thoughts of that cold, empty void came back to me; Scaring me, honestly. Was that going to be my life eventually? Empty, and nothing?

I still had to work. It's all I could do; Keep myself going.

And if that all wasn't bizarre enough, this man showed up at the pub one day: Diavolo. He wasn't grabbing at me or throwing me money, rather he was there to just... Speak with me directly. I was familiar with my power and the potential destructive force it held, but I never trained with it because I was just a singer doing my work. But he seemed to know about what happened to my dad, about my power, and what I could do.

Now, I wasn't one to entirely trust strangers. But this guy seemed to know something: And if anything he knew could help me get my dad back? I was definitely open to listen.

---

-STAND NAME-

_{ENGRISH VER.}
「 PISHHU PURRFECT, ACT ONE 」
_{ENG. DUB NAME}
「 FLAWLESS TONE ACT ONE 」

-STAND ABILITIES-
「 PITCH PERFECT ACT ONE 」is a stand summoned in the form of a microphone and floating amplifier for me to use. It has no self-combat ability, and no real form of defense aside from using it's abilities in a defensive manner. It allows me to use my voice to manipulate sound, using soundwaves for offensive and defense.

「 ACT ONE: SENDIN' TUNES」Is my Stand's current main ability. Using my Stand, I can turn my voice into a weapon; Sending damaging soundwaves that cause harm on contact; Directly hitting lighter targets while vibrating and causing damage through the armors of heavier opponents. Soundwaves require a medium to be sent as an attack; Air, ground, water: If somehow I were to be isolated from these things, I would be powerless.

My job is to simply make the noise; The amplifier part of my Stand follows my eyesight, so aiming is a breeze unless I'm blinded. Even though I'm the user, I can be damaged by my own soundwaves; So targeting near myself is risky, but may be necessary if I need to escape. This leads into my Stand's secondary ability, however...

「 ACT ONE: BLAST THE MUSIC」Spins my amplifier to face behind me; Allowing me to use my soundwaves as propulsion to move forward, or upwards. This speed is good for an escape, but still requires me to make noise in order to use it; So if I'm somehow muted, it's absolutely useless. This is generally also useless without air or water, depending on if I'm swimming or not; Because I still need them as a medium."


-STAND CRY-
FIGAFIGAFIGAFIGA, FIGAAAAAROOOO!!

-HEIGHT-
Dimensions of the Amplifier: 12.2 x 17.1 x 5.5 inches

-OBTAINED-
_INHERITED?
"I've felt it's presence since I was young; It's been with me all my life.
My deadbeat dad... Did he know about this even if I didn't tell him? Maybe I should've confronted him before he disappeared..."

-APPEARANCE-
"It takes the form of a baby-blue colored amplifier, and a black microphone. Where there would be a brand title on the amplifier, it simply says "C.H.I.N.O" instead. The amplifier also has a handle atop it, if for whatever reason I felt the need to grab it, I guess? It just floats around with me though..."

Gender: Male

Height/Weight: 2.01 m (~6'7"), 79 kg (~164 lbs)

Personality: Phil, generally speaking, is quite a cool guy. He is encouraging to others, in particular seeing to it that everyone works together to bolster one another's strengths and shore up their weaknesses, does everything in his power to make others feel better when they're down, and push people to perform acts of great bravery and valour that they may not otherwise have been able to do. Additionally, he tends to present himself as quite relaxed, giving off the sort of vibe that makes people approachable without being disconnected from how others feel. Humanity, after all, is strongest when it is unified; isolation, therefore, is anathema to human nature itself. So he believes, anyway.
This may be because, secretly, he is rather dependent on attention himself. He does genuinely believe people should work together to achieve their goals, but so far as he's involved with them, he also feels that those people should be rallying around him specifically. If he cannot lead the charge, he will do everything in his power to change affairs so that he can; if somebody is feeling down, he has to be the one to make them feel better; if somebody needs training, even himself, he will try to be the one to train them when he can; and when an enemy approaches, he believes it ought to be him who defeats them at the last, him who receives the credit for success.
Whilst these two qualities of altruism and narcissistic self-hyping seem quite opposed, it is not so common for them to clash, for the differences are relatively subtle until a crisis point suddenly pits the two values against one another. Of course, most situations can be salvaged and turned in his favour, even if the means to do so may appear contrary to his self-image... but should the two points become irreconcilable, Phil is liable to pick himself over others, if he doesn't simply have a breakdown about it.

Backstory: Philip's early life is not exactly too noteworthy. In so far as they matter, his parents were emotionally neglectful, albeit not particularly abusive in any way - which is to say, they cared about his well-being more than they cared about him as a person. In response, and perhaps because his brain would always have been wired that way, Phil began seeking attention from his fellows on the playground, quickly discovering that he made a lot more friends being nice than being mean. This didn't always work out well, of course, but he came to the conclusion early on that whilst any attention was better than no attention, positive attention generally meant more people wanted to associate with him, and therefore he would gather yet more followers.
To that end, he wound up forcing himself to be as multi-capable as possible, but whilst he was certainly not a slouch when it came to his mind, he ultimately decided on a career based in his physique. After all, it was athletes and singers who people rallied around most, right? And despite himself, he never could master the art of singing. Sports it was, then; and after some time, he came to the conclusion that the most attention he could get for being a sportsperson without it being divided amongst other people in a team was in skateboarding, a skill which he promptly mastered at the tender age of nineteen, quickly growing in fame and acquiring tour and tournament deals around the world, not to mention his numerous other physical talents.
This, somewhat ironically, is how he eventually came across his Stand. On the way to his most recent tour in Italy, his crew discovered that a traffic accident would delay their trip by several hours; unwilling to keep everybody waiting, they took a diversion that unwittingly had them pass through a Devil's Palm, and ultimately led to the van turning over and crashing rather violently. Phil, inexplicably, survived with minimal injury, but could only drag out one corpse and two or three living people before the van exploded outright, knocking him on to his back. The crick he felt before it rapidly faded, unbeknownst to him, was the spine from the corpse of a Saint fusing with somebody who appeared worthy of carrying it, as it had fully been his intention to personally pull everybody from the wreckage that he could - it was the right thing to do, and it would have made him the hero of the moment, so to him, it was the only logical course of action.
In the end, he and the surviving victims were picked up by a group calling themselves the Speedwagon Foundation, and both were promptly informed of the nature of both Stands and the area they had just passed into - and the fact that it had apparently ceased to be a Devil's Palm after their entrance. Thus, he and the others were compelled to stay accessible until the Foundation could ascertain the cause of this phenomenon, as well as the deeper limitations of their respective Stands. As a compromise, and with both the greatest control over his own power and the fewest injuries, Phil agreed to remain in nearby Florence until further notice with another Stand user keeping an eye on him, deciding to treat the situation like somewhat of a vacation, given that he couldn't very well go on tour with his crew mostly deceased as they were. He didn't know them all that well, mind, but it was still a tragedy and an inconvenience all rolled into one horrid event.
Not long after came the day he was struck with a wave of horror far worse than a mere van crash. A cold, lifeless void, leaving him breathless for a long time indeed. And not long after that, the man called Diavolo approached him, telling him of others who had seen the same thing. Perhaps people he could shape into a real team of go-getters, if he can just find them.

---

Appearance: 「Ten Thousand Fists」 is truly a Stand that stands out from the rest, especially with its short range and high power. Its entire body is composed of tesselating isoceles triangles that reflect and almost amplify the light that lands on them in colours akin to those of the six primary chakras, down to its eyes being a pair of wide triangular sunglasses akin to those of its owner (albeit in magenta rather than black), and its mouth being full of sharp pointed teeth. Whilst it has legs, these tend to be crossed over one another as if in meditation; instead of walking, it hovers over the ground when manifested, and nine arms extend from its body in corresponding colours - an arm from each temple, a pair of regular arms with another pair directly below these, another at the solar plexus, and two more three-jointed arms coming round from the lower spine and coccyx. These in fact correspond with nine of the sefirah of the Kaballah, with Keter and Da'at conspicuous for their absence to those who make the connection.

Height: Same as user, though its legs are rarely uncrossed to show its full height.

Obtained through: Devil's Palm (spine)

Ability: When 「Ten Thousand Fists」 strikes a surface, be it a tap or a full-blown punch, it can apply force to that surface as often as its user wishes for up to fifteen seconds afterwards or until the user moves more than fifteen meters away from the surface in question. More specifically, impact points are marked with a random chakra lotus, and any given lotus can expulse additional "strikes" into the surface beyond the initial impact, with up to the same frequency and force the Stand could normally manifest, shimmering brightly for a moment when they do so. In practice, this means that every individual punch it makes that finds its mark can be repeated for the next fifteen seconds with incredibly high frequency and force, all focused on one spot and without interrupting the Stand's other attacks, which naturally has its benefits in a fight.
However, this does not need to be applied so liberally, and a given impact point can have blows repeated at lower strength to, for instance, direct somebody to move their head or limbs in a certain direction, or indeed apply something akin to ultrasound to an area or a specific point on a living being for a variety of both harmful and therapeutic effects.

Stand Cry: GLIMMER GLIMMER GLIMMER... GLIMMER!