Name Nakatomi Seiichi
Age 8
Gender Male
Physical Description At eight years of age, Seiichi is a bit taller than the norm at five feet, two inches. While thicker than most others his age and height, most of it is newly budding muscle, overtaking what once was a body covered in baby fat. He's slimmed down, looking more and more like an athlete as time slips by. His tanned skin shines with an odd bit of vitality, a welcome side-effect to his protein rich diet.
His face, however, still retains remnants of extreme youth: his jaw is less defined than those older than he, while his cheeks are also a bit chubbier, combining both to round his chin slightly, causing his visage to appear softer. His angled eyebrows contain the same light lavender as his hair. Styled into a custom bowl-cut, it doesn't seem as it had originated from the often laughed at hairstyle, this sides and his back shaven to a light fuzz, a part towards the side causing it to look even less like a bowl.
Mental Description Still a young child, Seiichi is somewhat known to be cocky and mischievous at times, especially towards those he knows well. Having grown up among samurai, however, he's been raised to act proud and mostly civil, akin to the ocean and its splendor: peaceful and languid when calm, but stormy and chillingly intense when angered.
To him, the blade of a sword means precision - quick, accurate strokes to take down an opponent as quickly as possible, instead of inaccurate yet exceedingly powerful swings. As such, his mind is nothing if not tactical, almost reveling in analyzing anything deemed as a threat.
Historical Description "Seiichi, stand down," his father had said, the breathe coming from his lips causing more pain to his lungs than relief the ability to breath brought. The top to his sable kimono had been cut to pieces, stained a deep maroon from all of the blood that had been stolen from his body by the infamous Ninjutsu shinobi used. His light lavender hair had fallen from the tight, formal bun it had always been in, spilling about the fighting samurai's form as he readied himself for the next attack.
A total of ten bodies were haphazardly strewn across the wooden floor of the home, the majority of them having had more than a single limb removed with the deadly stroke of a the man's sword. Each of the bodies were dressed in the dark garb of the shinobi who'd attacked the samurai residing within the Village Hidden in the Leaves. Another pair had just entered, assessing the situation and moving immediately on the offensive.
The seven year old child watched in simultaneous terror and anger as the room flashed with sudden fire, lightning, and bright beams, cast by the shinobi as his own father deflected each attack off of his sword. The large living room he had been sleeping peacefully in only hours before had been torn asunder by the nearly constant battle, furniture ablaze and smashed and slashed to bits.
The boy held his sword in his hands, which shook slightly as he thought about what to do. These men, they were far beyond his capabilities, but seemed to be less of that than his father's, who was holding his own. The exchange lasted less than five minutes before the two shinobi collapsed to the ground one after the other, one missing a head while the other had lost both arms and half a leg.
His father had sustained multiple injuries during the last bout, pained to the point that he was kneeling, propped up by a leg and his sword. He was nearly covered in blood at this point, some of it his while the rest was his former assailants. Seiichi was just ready to drop his sword and run to his father and assess the damage when yet another shinobi entered, his face uncovered for the both of them to see.
While Seiichi had not a clue who this man was, his father obviously did, as his entire demeanor changed. He used his sword to push himself up, obviously struggling but still, he kept his chin raised. The room was silent for what seemed like eternity, the lone shinobi staring his father down, who only stared back at the lone man. A stalemate.
"Seiichi, it's about time you met your uncle. Shigeru," his father said in a pained yet proud voice. There was hatred here, a palpable tension that could be cut with a knife. Yet even a young boy such as Seiichi could tell that there was a great deal of respect between the two, evident by his father's attempt to appear strong and vitalized even as he was bleeding profusely.
But as all naive boys wanting to save their fathers, Seiichi went into the offensive, brandishing his sword with an easy precision that had obviously been drilled into him, but was nothing compared to this man's power. He swung the sword and missed entirely, the shinobi grabbing the boy's wrist and disarming him with an oddly painless twist. A blow to the back of his head caused him to see black, the world falling silent.
------
Seiichi awoke minutes later, his clothing soaked in blood that he quickly realized was not his own. His head throbbed, having been hit harder than he was ever used to. The edges of his vision were still black, and his groggy movements alerted the other's presence to his wakefulness as well as his near unconscious state. His father was on the ground, a whole in the center of his chest, while the shinobi stood to the side, watching the exchange about to happen between father and son before the former died and the latter passed out once more.
"Seiichi.... Y-your mother... Is okay. Don't do anything stupid.... "A pained breath, "Continue the Nakatomi." His voice was ragged, his torn chest rising and falling. "Shigeru.... Take care of -" were the last words he said, before the last vestiges of life slipped from his body and Seiichi lapsed back into unconsciousness.
-----
A year later, Seiichi has finally accepted his place among the shinobi, despite his problematic behavior in the past. He never fully forgave the shinobi of their crimes against the samurai, but he was grossly outnumbered and overpowered.... And his goal became making sure the Nakatomi Clan continued, to honor the deceased samurai as best as he can while living in his hated world.
Age 8
Gender Male
Physical Description At eight years of age, Seiichi is a bit taller than the norm at five feet, two inches. While thicker than most others his age and height, most of it is newly budding muscle, overtaking what once was a body covered in baby fat. He's slimmed down, looking more and more like an athlete as time slips by. His tanned skin shines with an odd bit of vitality, a welcome side-effect to his protein rich diet.
His face, however, still retains remnants of extreme youth: his jaw is less defined than those older than he, while his cheeks are also a bit chubbier, combining both to round his chin slightly, causing his visage to appear softer. His angled eyebrows contain the same light lavender as his hair. Styled into a custom bowl-cut, it doesn't seem as it had originated from the often laughed at hairstyle, this sides and his back shaven to a light fuzz, a part towards the side causing it to look even less like a bowl.
Mental Description Still a young child, Seiichi is somewhat known to be cocky and mischievous at times, especially towards those he knows well. Having grown up among samurai, however, he's been raised to act proud and mostly civil, akin to the ocean and its splendor: peaceful and languid when calm, but stormy and chillingly intense when angered.
To him, the blade of a sword means precision - quick, accurate strokes to take down an opponent as quickly as possible, instead of inaccurate yet exceedingly powerful swings. As such, his mind is nothing if not tactical, almost reveling in analyzing anything deemed as a threat.
Historical Description "Seiichi, stand down," his father had said, the breathe coming from his lips causing more pain to his lungs than relief the ability to breath brought. The top to his sable kimono had been cut to pieces, stained a deep maroon from all of the blood that had been stolen from his body by the infamous Ninjutsu shinobi used. His light lavender hair had fallen from the tight, formal bun it had always been in, spilling about the fighting samurai's form as he readied himself for the next attack.
A total of ten bodies were haphazardly strewn across the wooden floor of the home, the majority of them having had more than a single limb removed with the deadly stroke of a the man's sword. Each of the bodies were dressed in the dark garb of the shinobi who'd attacked the samurai residing within the Village Hidden in the Leaves. Another pair had just entered, assessing the situation and moving immediately on the offensive.
The seven year old child watched in simultaneous terror and anger as the room flashed with sudden fire, lightning, and bright beams, cast by the shinobi as his own father deflected each attack off of his sword. The large living room he had been sleeping peacefully in only hours before had been torn asunder by the nearly constant battle, furniture ablaze and smashed and slashed to bits.
The boy held his sword in his hands, which shook slightly as he thought about what to do. These men, they were far beyond his capabilities, but seemed to be less of that than his father's, who was holding his own. The exchange lasted less than five minutes before the two shinobi collapsed to the ground one after the other, one missing a head while the other had lost both arms and half a leg.
His father had sustained multiple injuries during the last bout, pained to the point that he was kneeling, propped up by a leg and his sword. He was nearly covered in blood at this point, some of it his while the rest was his former assailants. Seiichi was just ready to drop his sword and run to his father and assess the damage when yet another shinobi entered, his face uncovered for the both of them to see.
While Seiichi had not a clue who this man was, his father obviously did, as his entire demeanor changed. He used his sword to push himself up, obviously struggling but still, he kept his chin raised. The room was silent for what seemed like eternity, the lone shinobi staring his father down, who only stared back at the lone man. A stalemate.
"Seiichi, it's about time you met your uncle. Shigeru," his father said in a pained yet proud voice. There was hatred here, a palpable tension that could be cut with a knife. Yet even a young boy such as Seiichi could tell that there was a great deal of respect between the two, evident by his father's attempt to appear strong and vitalized even as he was bleeding profusely.
But as all naive boys wanting to save their fathers, Seiichi went into the offensive, brandishing his sword with an easy precision that had obviously been drilled into him, but was nothing compared to this man's power. He swung the sword and missed entirely, the shinobi grabbing the boy's wrist and disarming him with an oddly painless twist. A blow to the back of his head caused him to see black, the world falling silent.
------
Seiichi awoke minutes later, his clothing soaked in blood that he quickly realized was not his own. His head throbbed, having been hit harder than he was ever used to. The edges of his vision were still black, and his groggy movements alerted the other's presence to his wakefulness as well as his near unconscious state. His father was on the ground, a whole in the center of his chest, while the shinobi stood to the side, watching the exchange about to happen between father and son before the former died and the latter passed out once more.
"Seiichi.... Y-your mother... Is okay. Don't do anything stupid.... "A pained breath, "Continue the Nakatomi." His voice was ragged, his torn chest rising and falling. "Shigeru.... Take care of -" were the last words he said, before the last vestiges of life slipped from his body and Seiichi lapsed back into unconsciousness.
-----
A year later, Seiichi has finally accepted his place among the shinobi, despite his problematic behavior in the past. He never fully forgave the shinobi of their crimes against the samurai, but he was grossly outnumbered and overpowered.... And his goal became making sure the Nakatomi Clan continued, to honor the deceased samurai as best as he can while living in his hated world.
