Name: Kazutora Seigiro
Age: 13
Personality: Seigiro has generally been a student of few words. Having already lived a life of isolation and solitude, he continues this during his years at the Ninja Academy. Seigiro is ever searching for the man who forever changed his life and for the strength to kill that man. He trains and studies very hard, knowing that one day it will pay off. As a result of both his progress and his isolation, Seigiro does believe that he is superior to many of his peers. He believes that pushing himself harder is the only way for people to look up to him and such thinking, along with his strong sense of justice, fuels his immense pride. Being born in the Depths of Sunagakure, Seigiro's pride runs down into it's deepest crevasse where the mysteries of his origins are hidden.
Appearance: Seigiro stands 5'2, roughly 120lbs. Green/light gray eyes. His silver, unkempt hair falls about his face. During his years at the academy, he wears a white training gi. During his last year, he transitions to wearing a black kimono with the kanji symbol for "justice" embroided on the back.
History: The silence was maddening. Hours passed in the pitch of black, hours that felt like days. He swallowed hard, his mouth dry of spit and his back against a jagged wall. The light flickered and danced and finally extinguished hours ago. He did not deserve the light. Besides, the lamp stood on a table across the room and there was a body on the floor. Gramps. Even in the darkness, Shinmaru's eyes could trace the outline of the body lying flat on its back in the middle of the stony crevasse. His stomach churned something nasty. He didn't know the smell of blood, the thick nauseating stench that permeated his nostrils down to his throat. He felt that same feeling on his clothes, on his face, between his toes, everywhere. He was drowning in it and in fear. The intruder was gone, and still the fear that had instantly crept up Shinmaru's back upon first laying eyes on him gripped his joints and held him at bay. He remembered the eyes, piercing and red, like that of a demon. His thoughts sank to the way the shadows danced as the lamp was first knocked over. The killers shadow seemed to bend and stretch forever. There were no words. Shinmaru saw the man first, but he was more surprised than afraid. He never knew exactly how far down the Depths they were. Gramps would leave every few weeks for supplies, his absence would last a day or two. Once there was a man that visited Gramps, but it was so long ago, Shinmaru had forgotten what the man looked like, except that he taught Shinmaru how to create enough heat using a bit of his chakra, enough to light a candle. Shinmaru could not do it himself, not until days after, after the man left and only after Gramps helped him. This was the only other person Shinmaru had ever seen, so it was more of a surprised that anyone else had found them when the intruder appeared. Gramps eyes moved from Shinmaru's to the entrance and in that instant, time slowed allowing Shinmaru to play it back in his head over and over. "Not the boy..." was all that he could say before the cold steel slid across his chest. Gramps fell back, crashing against the table and the stone walls. The lamp fell and the shadows shifted.
Shinmaru could not move or speak or think. He was in the presence of a demon, a great demon that could kill with a single, sharp look. He could hear the muffled sounds of Gramps as he struggled to cling to life, but the demon had won. It hung over his prey for only but a second before slipping the edge of the blade into the old man’s throat. The stirring stopped and the demons eyes met Shinmaru's one last time before it turned and disappeared into the shadow. The crimson in the eyes of the demon now soaked the stone floor, the walls and Shinmaru himself. Two things were certain. Gramps was dead and Shinmaru could not stay there. Hours passed and finally Shinmaru rose to his blood-stained feet. The fear left him, the demon would not return here. Shinmaru learned a lot from Gramps, who taught him everything from light sparring and exercise to how to carry on a proper conversation. He taught him history, discipline, and meditation and survival techniques for when you're alone. Shinmaru knelt by the, now cold, body and thanked him in a silent nod. There was little else to do and there was nothing specific that Shinmaru wanted to take with him. Only what remained of the food and water, some rope and a knife. It only dawned to him exactly how vast the world could be while walking and climbing through the catacombs of the Depths. Gramps made this trek every few weeks but had never taken him along. Shinmaru knew the route only in theory and was made to remember it in case of an emergency. He never thought he would actually need to use it. He never thought an emergency would actually happen. After myriads of twists and turns and what seemed like miles of climbing, Shinmaru saw signs of the iron city, the city that banished Gramps deeper into the Depths than any other.
Out of the darkness, Kazutora Seigiro would emerge, his thin silver hair muddy from the sand and clay and his clothes were stained with dirt and blood. Shinmaru was dead; he died with Gramps in the Depths. Seigiro could walk among the land of the living. Here, he could learn the skills necessary to find Gramps killer and avenge him. He made it to the steps of the academy before anyone took notice to him. On the outside looking in, Seigiro stood a filthy, blood-soaked child of darkness, curious as to what this world had to offer him.
Age: 13
Personality: Seigiro has generally been a student of few words. Having already lived a life of isolation and solitude, he continues this during his years at the Ninja Academy. Seigiro is ever searching for the man who forever changed his life and for the strength to kill that man. He trains and studies very hard, knowing that one day it will pay off. As a result of both his progress and his isolation, Seigiro does believe that he is superior to many of his peers. He believes that pushing himself harder is the only way for people to look up to him and such thinking, along with his strong sense of justice, fuels his immense pride. Being born in the Depths of Sunagakure, Seigiro's pride runs down into it's deepest crevasse where the mysteries of his origins are hidden.
Appearance: Seigiro stands 5'2, roughly 120lbs. Green/light gray eyes. His silver, unkempt hair falls about his face. During his years at the academy, he wears a white training gi. During his last year, he transitions to wearing a black kimono with the kanji symbol for "justice" embroided on the back.
History: The silence was maddening. Hours passed in the pitch of black, hours that felt like days. He swallowed hard, his mouth dry of spit and his back against a jagged wall. The light flickered and danced and finally extinguished hours ago. He did not deserve the light. Besides, the lamp stood on a table across the room and there was a body on the floor. Gramps. Even in the darkness, Shinmaru's eyes could trace the outline of the body lying flat on its back in the middle of the stony crevasse. His stomach churned something nasty. He didn't know the smell of blood, the thick nauseating stench that permeated his nostrils down to his throat. He felt that same feeling on his clothes, on his face, between his toes, everywhere. He was drowning in it and in fear. The intruder was gone, and still the fear that had instantly crept up Shinmaru's back upon first laying eyes on him gripped his joints and held him at bay. He remembered the eyes, piercing and red, like that of a demon. His thoughts sank to the way the shadows danced as the lamp was first knocked over. The killers shadow seemed to bend and stretch forever. There were no words. Shinmaru saw the man first, but he was more surprised than afraid. He never knew exactly how far down the Depths they were. Gramps would leave every few weeks for supplies, his absence would last a day or two. Once there was a man that visited Gramps, but it was so long ago, Shinmaru had forgotten what the man looked like, except that he taught Shinmaru how to create enough heat using a bit of his chakra, enough to light a candle. Shinmaru could not do it himself, not until days after, after the man left and only after Gramps helped him. This was the only other person Shinmaru had ever seen, so it was more of a surprised that anyone else had found them when the intruder appeared. Gramps eyes moved from Shinmaru's to the entrance and in that instant, time slowed allowing Shinmaru to play it back in his head over and over. "Not the boy..." was all that he could say before the cold steel slid across his chest. Gramps fell back, crashing against the table and the stone walls. The lamp fell and the shadows shifted.
Shinmaru could not move or speak or think. He was in the presence of a demon, a great demon that could kill with a single, sharp look. He could hear the muffled sounds of Gramps as he struggled to cling to life, but the demon had won. It hung over his prey for only but a second before slipping the edge of the blade into the old man’s throat. The stirring stopped and the demons eyes met Shinmaru's one last time before it turned and disappeared into the shadow. The crimson in the eyes of the demon now soaked the stone floor, the walls and Shinmaru himself. Two things were certain. Gramps was dead and Shinmaru could not stay there. Hours passed and finally Shinmaru rose to his blood-stained feet. The fear left him, the demon would not return here. Shinmaru learned a lot from Gramps, who taught him everything from light sparring and exercise to how to carry on a proper conversation. He taught him history, discipline, and meditation and survival techniques for when you're alone. Shinmaru knelt by the, now cold, body and thanked him in a silent nod. There was little else to do and there was nothing specific that Shinmaru wanted to take with him. Only what remained of the food and water, some rope and a knife. It only dawned to him exactly how vast the world could be while walking and climbing through the catacombs of the Depths. Gramps made this trek every few weeks but had never taken him along. Shinmaru knew the route only in theory and was made to remember it in case of an emergency. He never thought he would actually need to use it. He never thought an emergency would actually happen. After myriads of twists and turns and what seemed like miles of climbing, Shinmaru saw signs of the iron city, the city that banished Gramps deeper into the Depths than any other.
Out of the darkness, Kazutora Seigiro would emerge, his thin silver hair muddy from the sand and clay and his clothes were stained with dirt and blood. Shinmaru was dead; he died with Gramps in the Depths. Seigiro could walk among the land of the living. Here, he could learn the skills necessary to find Gramps killer and avenge him. He made it to the steps of the academy before anyone took notice to him. On the outside looking in, Seigiro stood a filthy, blood-soaked child of darkness, curious as to what this world had to offer him.
