Name: Hokkyoku Yuka
Age: 10
Bloodline: Sunaku (Iyashiikami path)
Physical Description:
She’s a young desert-born girl, sun-kissed and toughened by heat and wind. Her skin is a warm bronze-brown, naturally glowing as if it’s been permanently kissed by sunlight. Her face is youthful and soft, but there’s a quiet strength in it, the kind of kid who’s learned early how to stay calm, observant, and self-contained. Her hair is a vivid, sandy-orange color, cut short and wildly tousled, with uneven layers that spike outward in messy, windswept locks. It looks like it’s constantly being tugged and reshaped by desert gusts, never quite staying neat. Her eyes are large and amber-gold, bright like sunlit sand or polished stone, but instead of being expressive or bubbly, her gaze is more reserved. She tends to look at people like she’s measuring them, cautious and thoughtful, with a neutral expression that rarely gives away what she’s thinking. She wears practical desert-traveler clothing: a sleeveless cream tunic with a high collar and simple fastenings at the throat, fitted close enough for movement but loose enough for heat. Below are mesh sleeves that shield her arms from the sun and sand. Her olive-green shorts are sturdy and combat-ready, worn with a wide belt and a dark sash wrapped around her waist. Leather pouches and straps hang from her belt and thigh, useful for storing tools, supplies, or shinobi essentials, and she wears fingerless gloves and rugged desert footwear suited to long treks over sand and stone.
[WC: 243]
Mental Description:
Hokkyoku Yuka is quiet in a way that makes people underestimate her. She speaks softly, avoids attention, and often keeps her gaze lowered as if she’s shy or uncertain. Around strangers, she’s polite, reserved, and almost… fragile. In public, she wears the mask of a timid nomad girl raised on discipline, survival, and the Hokkyoku belief that the desert watches everything. But Yuka doesn’t feel things the way other kids do. Where others flinch at cruelty, she studies it. Where others panic, she grows calm - almost comforted. Violence doesn’t disgust her; it fascinates her. Bloodshed is not “sad” or “wrong” in her mind; it’s proof: proof of strength, proof of dominance, proof that something real happened. She has little empathy and no natural guilt, only a careful awareness that she must pretend to have it. Yuka’s cruelty is subtle. She rarely lashes out openly; instead, she targets children she thinks are strange, weak, or undeserving. Her words are small, sharp cuts, delivered in a gentle voice and with a straight face. She plays innocent well, and she enjoys watching others doubt themselves. Inside her is an unholy hunger that is dormant, patient, and eager, waiting for the day she stops pretending.
[WC: 202]
History:
Yuka’s childhood wasn’t built around classrooms, village streets, or the comfort of a permanent home. She was raised under an open sky, where every day began with sand in the teeth and ended with stars sharp enough to cut. While Sunagakure lived protected beneath its underground dome, the Hokkyoku caravans lived in the surface world that never forgives weakness. Her earliest memories are motion-packed wagons, wrapped bundles, whispered route changes, and the sound of canvas snapping in the wind. The Hokkyoku didn’t have a “home” so much as a rhythm—move, trade, survive, return. The desert taught Yuka the rules first, not her parents. Heatstroke, dehydration, sandstorms, raiders, venomous things hiding beneath dunes… all of it was normal. Even as a child, she learned to ration water without complaint, to sleep light, and to hold her tongue when adults spoke in code.
Yuka’s mother carries a secret inheritance from her maternal line: Sunaku blood, traced not through the noble Shokunin branch, but through the darker cousin path—Iyashiikami. Yuka’s great-grandfather was born within a secluded desert cult that worshipped the giant sandworms, believing the creatures to be divine engines of death and rebirth beneath the dunes. The cult’s practices were brutal, using pain and ritualized killing to “call the hunger of the desert” into their blood. Generations later, Yuka’s grandmother escaped. Half-feral from her upbringing but determined to live free, she fled into the open sands and was taken in by a Hokkyoku caravan. There, she learned true survival, earned trust, and eventually married into the clan—burying her origins under new names and safer traditions. Yuka inherited the Sunaku gift in full: sand responding to her will, as if it recognizes her, like grains returning to their rightful master.
Yuka traveled with her family along established Hokkyoku trade lines—running supplies from the Diamond Ocean’s edge toward Soons Haven, then circling back again, always following the safest paths the stars would allow. Sometimes the caravan moved openly with merchants; other times it drifted like a ghost caravan, smuggling or scouting with no banners flying. The strangest part of Yuka’s life was Sunagakure itself. It wasn’t always there. Every few months, like an enormous burrowing beast, the village would rise from the earth for its brief surface period—three months of trade, diplomacy, and resupply before disappearing underground again. To Yuka, Sunagakure felt less like a home and more like a visiting capital… a place of strict rules and soft children, where people complained about problems the desert would laugh at. But the Hokkyoku relied on it. They were the bridge between the hidden dome and the wild surface. Yuka grew up watching her parents negotiate, trade, map routes, and protect supply lines that kept the underground clans alive. She learned to read people the same way she read dunes: you don’t trust what you see, you trust what shifts.
[Wc: 475]
Age: 10
Bloodline: Sunaku (Iyashiikami path)
Physical Description:
She’s a young desert-born girl, sun-kissed and toughened by heat and wind. Her skin is a warm bronze-brown, naturally glowing as if it’s been permanently kissed by sunlight. Her face is youthful and soft, but there’s a quiet strength in it, the kind of kid who’s learned early how to stay calm, observant, and self-contained. Her hair is a vivid, sandy-orange color, cut short and wildly tousled, with uneven layers that spike outward in messy, windswept locks. It looks like it’s constantly being tugged and reshaped by desert gusts, never quite staying neat. Her eyes are large and amber-gold, bright like sunlit sand or polished stone, but instead of being expressive or bubbly, her gaze is more reserved. She tends to look at people like she’s measuring them, cautious and thoughtful, with a neutral expression that rarely gives away what she’s thinking. She wears practical desert-traveler clothing: a sleeveless cream tunic with a high collar and simple fastenings at the throat, fitted close enough for movement but loose enough for heat. Below are mesh sleeves that shield her arms from the sun and sand. Her olive-green shorts are sturdy and combat-ready, worn with a wide belt and a dark sash wrapped around her waist. Leather pouches and straps hang from her belt and thigh, useful for storing tools, supplies, or shinobi essentials, and she wears fingerless gloves and rugged desert footwear suited to long treks over sand and stone.
[WC: 243]
Mental Description:
Hokkyoku Yuka is quiet in a way that makes people underestimate her. She speaks softly, avoids attention, and often keeps her gaze lowered as if she’s shy or uncertain. Around strangers, she’s polite, reserved, and almost… fragile. In public, she wears the mask of a timid nomad girl raised on discipline, survival, and the Hokkyoku belief that the desert watches everything. But Yuka doesn’t feel things the way other kids do. Where others flinch at cruelty, she studies it. Where others panic, she grows calm - almost comforted. Violence doesn’t disgust her; it fascinates her. Bloodshed is not “sad” or “wrong” in her mind; it’s proof: proof of strength, proof of dominance, proof that something real happened. She has little empathy and no natural guilt, only a careful awareness that she must pretend to have it. Yuka’s cruelty is subtle. She rarely lashes out openly; instead, she targets children she thinks are strange, weak, or undeserving. Her words are small, sharp cuts, delivered in a gentle voice and with a straight face. She plays innocent well, and she enjoys watching others doubt themselves. Inside her is an unholy hunger that is dormant, patient, and eager, waiting for the day she stops pretending.
[WC: 202]
History:
Yuka’s childhood wasn’t built around classrooms, village streets, or the comfort of a permanent home. She was raised under an open sky, where every day began with sand in the teeth and ended with stars sharp enough to cut. While Sunagakure lived protected beneath its underground dome, the Hokkyoku caravans lived in the surface world that never forgives weakness. Her earliest memories are motion-packed wagons, wrapped bundles, whispered route changes, and the sound of canvas snapping in the wind. The Hokkyoku didn’t have a “home” so much as a rhythm—move, trade, survive, return. The desert taught Yuka the rules first, not her parents. Heatstroke, dehydration, sandstorms, raiders, venomous things hiding beneath dunes… all of it was normal. Even as a child, she learned to ration water without complaint, to sleep light, and to hold her tongue when adults spoke in code.
Yuka’s mother carries a secret inheritance from her maternal line: Sunaku blood, traced not through the noble Shokunin branch, but through the darker cousin path—Iyashiikami. Yuka’s great-grandfather was born within a secluded desert cult that worshipped the giant sandworms, believing the creatures to be divine engines of death and rebirth beneath the dunes. The cult’s practices were brutal, using pain and ritualized killing to “call the hunger of the desert” into their blood. Generations later, Yuka’s grandmother escaped. Half-feral from her upbringing but determined to live free, she fled into the open sands and was taken in by a Hokkyoku caravan. There, she learned true survival, earned trust, and eventually married into the clan—burying her origins under new names and safer traditions. Yuka inherited the Sunaku gift in full: sand responding to her will, as if it recognizes her, like grains returning to their rightful master.
Yuka traveled with her family along established Hokkyoku trade lines—running supplies from the Diamond Ocean’s edge toward Soons Haven, then circling back again, always following the safest paths the stars would allow. Sometimes the caravan moved openly with merchants; other times it drifted like a ghost caravan, smuggling or scouting with no banners flying. The strangest part of Yuka’s life was Sunagakure itself. It wasn’t always there. Every few months, like an enormous burrowing beast, the village would rise from the earth for its brief surface period—three months of trade, diplomacy, and resupply before disappearing underground again. To Yuka, Sunagakure felt less like a home and more like a visiting capital… a place of strict rules and soft children, where people complained about problems the desert would laugh at. But the Hokkyoku relied on it. They were the bridge between the hidden dome and the wild surface. Yuka grew up watching her parents negotiate, trade, map routes, and protect supply lines that kept the underground clans alive. She learned to read people the same way she read dunes: you don’t trust what you see, you trust what shifts.
[Wc: 475]
