Name: Nanjirou Daenerisu
Age: 11
Physical Description: Nanjirou Daenerisu is would be considered small even for her age. Her attire is rather simple consisting of a simple cloth dress, usually a shade of white. She keeps her borderline-white, blonde hair pulled back in a messy bun. Her large, brown eyes soak up her surroundings and feed her insatiable curiosity. It is not unusually for her to be covered in bandages that hide little scraps and cuts earned by that curiosity. She also wraps additional bandages around her arms so she always has extra. The oddest part of her appearance is a large, red longsword that she carries on her back. It was made for an adult and is almost as large as her. The blade appears to end in a hilt and crossguard shaped like a demonic skull with a lifelike eye carved above it.
Mental Description: Daenerisu is a bit of a klutz and an airhead at times. She is constantly scolded by her teachers for what they assume is daydreaming in class, but she is really watching her surroundings, whether it be animals passing by outside of the windows or her classmates passing notes. Despite these traits, she has a highly perceptive mind and is quite capable of reading a situation and coming up with a plan quickly. She really enjoys playing board games such as Shogi with her grandfather, but she does grow impatient and careless if games drag on or her opponent takes too long thinking of a plan. Her grandfather knows this and often takes advantage of it as a way to try and teach her to slow down and completely analyze the possible outcome of her choices. While these traits lead to a lackluster performance in her classroom courses, she seems to excel in her physical courses. When wielding the sword left to her by her father, her personality seems to flip and she becomes extremely focused and ruthless towards whoever is unlucky enough to be her opponent.
History: Daenerisu knows that Konoha is not her birthplace, but it is the only home that she knows. She was told that her father passed away while on a mission and her mother died during childbirth. With the shinobi regaining control of Konoha, her grandfather thought that they needed a fresh start and took the opportunity to move to Konoha where he had invested in a blacksmith shop that he would help run. The girl quickly made friends in her new town and seemed to have a fairly normal childhood. She grew up on stories of her courageous father told to her by her grandfather. She never really noticed that the stories left a 20 year gap from his teenage years and his death. When she enrolled in the academy, her grandfather gifted her with a sword that he claims to have been his son’s, a sword that supposedly contained a part of her father. She proudly carries the sword even though it is currently too large for her in hopes of carrying on his legacy. Her grandfather has different hopes for her, hope that she will be better than his son.
Bloodline Application: A woman’s screams can be heard echoing down a dark hallway as a large man in black armor walks between the flickering light of the torches on the wall. With each scream, his pace seems to hasten. He bursts into the room that appears to be a makeshift delivery room. Shinobi medics rush about the room checking medical equipment, retrieving tools, and attempting to provide relief to the mother-to-be with medical ninjutsu. A small man in an overly large white coat approaches the armored samurai. “The mother is growing weaker. She needs medicine and a blood trans…” *SMACK* A large gauntleted hand slams into the face of the doctor sending him sprawling to the ground. “Her life is secondary to my life’s work. As long as it survives, then there is no sacrifice that is too large. NONE. Do it or I will find someone else more willing.” The implication of the last part seems clear to all in the room. The large man walks past of the rest of the doctors towards the female lying on the bed. She looks up to him with pleading eyes, but the man ignores her and leans down over her stomach. He speaks in a softer whisper that seems almost out unbelievable when compared to his actions just moments ago. “It is almost time for your arrival. You will be half of my greatest weapon. You will be better than I ever was. You will be a ruler.” He places a hand gently on the stomach for a few seconds. The mother reaches down to place her smaller hand on the large metal one. Just as they are about to touch, the man abruptly straightens and slaps it away. He turns and heads for the door pausing briefly as he passes a man wielding a katana. “Cousin, you know what to do where to bring it once the ritual is complete. You have been like a brother to me. You have been my right hand. As my time comes to an end, I leave you this last task.” The man gives a solemn salute with what might even be a bit of sorrow in his eyes as the armored samurai continues on his way back into the darkness of the hallway.
In another room of structure, a smith hammers away at a piece of metal slowly taking the shape of a longsword. For a moment, the distant screams can be heard as a door swings open before slamming shut again and cutting off the screams. The armored samurai doffs his armor and tosses it aside as he makes his way towards the center where the forge runs hot. Next to the anvil lies a brick pit full of coals with shinobi surrounding it. They occasionally add fuel to the coals and use fire and wind jutsu to strengthen the flames. In the center of the pit is another anvil glowing bright red. “How are the preparations coming?” He asks as he pulls his sword from its sheath and tosses it aside. He holds the blade up inspecting the blade, with its intricate folds and razor edge. The smith looks up and wipes sweat from his brow with the back of his arm. “We have finished our part. All that is left is the finishing touches that you must do.” The smith places rough longsword on the anvil and stands up before stepping away from his work station. The samurai nods approvingly and walks over to a metal cauldron glowing red hot on a bed of coals. The samurai holds his blade above the cauldron and it seems to develop a soft green, glowing aura. He watches as the aura grows fainter by the second before tossing it in the cauldron. He begins making hand seals before breathing fire into the cauldron. The fire grows hotter and hotter as the aura grows fainter. After several minutes of repeated fire jutsu from the samurai, the aura seems to break with a sound that might even be mistaken for muffled scream. Almost immediately, the sword begins glowing red and melting. With the blade a puddle of molten steel in a cauldron, the samurai picks up the cauldron and the longsword and walks out onto the coals to the center of the pit. He places the longsword into a groove in the anvil and pours the molten steel of his former blade on top. “Hotter!” He yells as he begins hammering away at it. “Hotter!” The shinobi surrounding the pit begin pumping it full of fire and wind jutsus. “Hotter! Hotter! Give it your all or I’ll make you pay!” Despite the fire burning away his clothes, the shinobi around the circle begin funneling in more jutsus and the flames jump up obscuring their vision. “Hotter! Yes, it’s working! More! Hot…” The samurai’s words are drowned out by roaring fire, but the sound of his hammering can still be heard, repetitively pounding away inside the fire. The silhouette of the samurai begins to shrink as the flames grow larger. The smith takes up the orders. “Keep going. Give it your all. We are almost there!” Everyone in the room seems to give it their all, with a few even collapsing and falling forth into the fire and immediately being consumed. The shadow of the man in the middle keeps pushing ahead. The work seems to last over an hour before the hammering finally stops. “Enough! Quench the flames!” The smith barks out his orders as a second group of shinobi step forth summoning geysers of water that gushes out over the fire and coals. Steam fills the room. As the steam begins to disperse, the remaining shinobi, less than half of those that started the process, let out gasps at the sight of what remains.
Elsewhere, a baby cries as a doctor stands up straight after hours of labor. “Quick, someone check with the others. See how they progress. Our side is done.” One of the nurses scurries out the door, presumably on his way to check in on the others. The mother lays pale and weak looking on the bed. She lifts a hand towards the doctor and summons her fading strength. “Wait… please… let me… hold her… just once…” She manages to croak it out between breaths in a faint whisper. The doctor hesitates for a moment as he thinks over his orders, but he relents and hands the baby to her mother. The shinobi standing guard at the door grows impatient and begins to stop the doctor, but even he can see the mother does not have much longer. He figures little harm can come of letting her have peace in her final moments, plus they have to wait on word from the others anyways. A faint smile grows on the mother’s face as she holds baby. She begins to make hand seals with one hand as she gathers the last of her chakra. She summons a small stream of water as she rinses off the baby and cleans her. In the distance, a ruckus seems to be occuring in the hallway. The guard instinctively turns towards the door and draws his weapon. “Quick! Take it back and get it out of here! We have intruders.” The doctor moves towards the mother as he reaches for the baby. The soft smile of the mother fades into a scowl as she makes one more hand seal and the soft stream of water increases tenfold. The stream becomes a geyser and seems to take the shape of a dragon as it flows out and slams into the doctor. The water pushes him back and slams him against the wall where he crumples. The noise draws the attention of the guard, who has no time to react before a flash of chakra cuts through the door at an angle. Moments later the body of the nurse that left flies through knocking the two halves off of their hinges. An old man wielding a katana strolls in. The guard gets a worried look on his face. “You?!?” The man steps forward preparing to slash out, but seems to be stopped as something invisible hits him. He looks down at the cut in his shirt but sees only untouched skin below it. The old man steps past him pushing his katana back into its sheath the half inch he seemed to have drawn it while making a hand seal with his other hand. The guard lets out a scream of pain as blood begins gushing from the wound in his chest. “You don’t know what you are doing uncle.” The guard spits out the words with blood before falling. The old man glares at the rest in the room. They seem to be frozen in fear until one looks at the door and makes a run for it. The rest follow quickly giving the old man a wide berth. With the last of her strength, the woman looks up at the old man and smiles again. A tear rolls down his face as he looks at the poor woman holding her newborn babe. “I’m so sorry for what my son has done to you.” She shakes her head and looks down at the baby. Her look says that it was all worth it. Through his tears, the old man watches her breathe his last, before closing her eye lids and gently taking the baby. “We have one last stop to make.”
Leaving the isolated base, the old man carries a baby wrapped tightly in a blanket in one hand and a red longsword in his other. He looks down at the longsword. “You fool. I won’t allow her to grow up like you. I won’t make the same mistakes twice.” He looks from the sword to the sleeping baby and pulls her closer to himself as the snow begins to fall around the two.
Age: 11
Physical Description: Nanjirou Daenerisu is would be considered small even for her age. Her attire is rather simple consisting of a simple cloth dress, usually a shade of white. She keeps her borderline-white, blonde hair pulled back in a messy bun. Her large, brown eyes soak up her surroundings and feed her insatiable curiosity. It is not unusually for her to be covered in bandages that hide little scraps and cuts earned by that curiosity. She also wraps additional bandages around her arms so she always has extra. The oddest part of her appearance is a large, red longsword that she carries on her back. It was made for an adult and is almost as large as her. The blade appears to end in a hilt and crossguard shaped like a demonic skull with a lifelike eye carved above it.
Mental Description: Daenerisu is a bit of a klutz and an airhead at times. She is constantly scolded by her teachers for what they assume is daydreaming in class, but she is really watching her surroundings, whether it be animals passing by outside of the windows or her classmates passing notes. Despite these traits, she has a highly perceptive mind and is quite capable of reading a situation and coming up with a plan quickly. She really enjoys playing board games such as Shogi with her grandfather, but she does grow impatient and careless if games drag on or her opponent takes too long thinking of a plan. Her grandfather knows this and often takes advantage of it as a way to try and teach her to slow down and completely analyze the possible outcome of her choices. While these traits lead to a lackluster performance in her classroom courses, she seems to excel in her physical courses. When wielding the sword left to her by her father, her personality seems to flip and she becomes extremely focused and ruthless towards whoever is unlucky enough to be her opponent.
History: Daenerisu knows that Konoha is not her birthplace, but it is the only home that she knows. She was told that her father passed away while on a mission and her mother died during childbirth. With the shinobi regaining control of Konoha, her grandfather thought that they needed a fresh start and took the opportunity to move to Konoha where he had invested in a blacksmith shop that he would help run. The girl quickly made friends in her new town and seemed to have a fairly normal childhood. She grew up on stories of her courageous father told to her by her grandfather. She never really noticed that the stories left a 20 year gap from his teenage years and his death. When she enrolled in the academy, her grandfather gifted her with a sword that he claims to have been his son’s, a sword that supposedly contained a part of her father. She proudly carries the sword even though it is currently too large for her in hopes of carrying on his legacy. Her grandfather has different hopes for her, hope that she will be better than his son.
Bloodline Application: A woman’s screams can be heard echoing down a dark hallway as a large man in black armor walks between the flickering light of the torches on the wall. With each scream, his pace seems to hasten. He bursts into the room that appears to be a makeshift delivery room. Shinobi medics rush about the room checking medical equipment, retrieving tools, and attempting to provide relief to the mother-to-be with medical ninjutsu. A small man in an overly large white coat approaches the armored samurai. “The mother is growing weaker. She needs medicine and a blood trans…” *SMACK* A large gauntleted hand slams into the face of the doctor sending him sprawling to the ground. “Her life is secondary to my life’s work. As long as it survives, then there is no sacrifice that is too large. NONE. Do it or I will find someone else more willing.” The implication of the last part seems clear to all in the room. The large man walks past of the rest of the doctors towards the female lying on the bed. She looks up to him with pleading eyes, but the man ignores her and leans down over her stomach. He speaks in a softer whisper that seems almost out unbelievable when compared to his actions just moments ago. “It is almost time for your arrival. You will be half of my greatest weapon. You will be better than I ever was. You will be a ruler.” He places a hand gently on the stomach for a few seconds. The mother reaches down to place her smaller hand on the large metal one. Just as they are about to touch, the man abruptly straightens and slaps it away. He turns and heads for the door pausing briefly as he passes a man wielding a katana. “Cousin, you know what to do where to bring it once the ritual is complete. You have been like a brother to me. You have been my right hand. As my time comes to an end, I leave you this last task.” The man gives a solemn salute with what might even be a bit of sorrow in his eyes as the armored samurai continues on his way back into the darkness of the hallway.
In another room of structure, a smith hammers away at a piece of metal slowly taking the shape of a longsword. For a moment, the distant screams can be heard as a door swings open before slamming shut again and cutting off the screams. The armored samurai doffs his armor and tosses it aside as he makes his way towards the center where the forge runs hot. Next to the anvil lies a brick pit full of coals with shinobi surrounding it. They occasionally add fuel to the coals and use fire and wind jutsu to strengthen the flames. In the center of the pit is another anvil glowing bright red. “How are the preparations coming?” He asks as he pulls his sword from its sheath and tosses it aside. He holds the blade up inspecting the blade, with its intricate folds and razor edge. The smith looks up and wipes sweat from his brow with the back of his arm. “We have finished our part. All that is left is the finishing touches that you must do.” The smith places rough longsword on the anvil and stands up before stepping away from his work station. The samurai nods approvingly and walks over to a metal cauldron glowing red hot on a bed of coals. The samurai holds his blade above the cauldron and it seems to develop a soft green, glowing aura. He watches as the aura grows fainter by the second before tossing it in the cauldron. He begins making hand seals before breathing fire into the cauldron. The fire grows hotter and hotter as the aura grows fainter. After several minutes of repeated fire jutsu from the samurai, the aura seems to break with a sound that might even be mistaken for muffled scream. Almost immediately, the sword begins glowing red and melting. With the blade a puddle of molten steel in a cauldron, the samurai picks up the cauldron and the longsword and walks out onto the coals to the center of the pit. He places the longsword into a groove in the anvil and pours the molten steel of his former blade on top. “Hotter!” He yells as he begins hammering away at it. “Hotter!” The shinobi surrounding the pit begin pumping it full of fire and wind jutsus. “Hotter! Hotter! Give it your all or I’ll make you pay!” Despite the fire burning away his clothes, the shinobi around the circle begin funneling in more jutsus and the flames jump up obscuring their vision. “Hotter! Yes, it’s working! More! Hot…” The samurai’s words are drowned out by roaring fire, but the sound of his hammering can still be heard, repetitively pounding away inside the fire. The silhouette of the samurai begins to shrink as the flames grow larger. The smith takes up the orders. “Keep going. Give it your all. We are almost there!” Everyone in the room seems to give it their all, with a few even collapsing and falling forth into the fire and immediately being consumed. The shadow of the man in the middle keeps pushing ahead. The work seems to last over an hour before the hammering finally stops. “Enough! Quench the flames!” The smith barks out his orders as a second group of shinobi step forth summoning geysers of water that gushes out over the fire and coals. Steam fills the room. As the steam begins to disperse, the remaining shinobi, less than half of those that started the process, let out gasps at the sight of what remains.
Elsewhere, a baby cries as a doctor stands up straight after hours of labor. “Quick, someone check with the others. See how they progress. Our side is done.” One of the nurses scurries out the door, presumably on his way to check in on the others. The mother lays pale and weak looking on the bed. She lifts a hand towards the doctor and summons her fading strength. “Wait… please… let me… hold her… just once…” She manages to croak it out between breaths in a faint whisper. The doctor hesitates for a moment as he thinks over his orders, but he relents and hands the baby to her mother. The shinobi standing guard at the door grows impatient and begins to stop the doctor, but even he can see the mother does not have much longer. He figures little harm can come of letting her have peace in her final moments, plus they have to wait on word from the others anyways. A faint smile grows on the mother’s face as she holds baby. She begins to make hand seals with one hand as she gathers the last of her chakra. She summons a small stream of water as she rinses off the baby and cleans her. In the distance, a ruckus seems to be occuring in the hallway. The guard instinctively turns towards the door and draws his weapon. “Quick! Take it back and get it out of here! We have intruders.” The doctor moves towards the mother as he reaches for the baby. The soft smile of the mother fades into a scowl as she makes one more hand seal and the soft stream of water increases tenfold. The stream becomes a geyser and seems to take the shape of a dragon as it flows out and slams into the doctor. The water pushes him back and slams him against the wall where he crumples. The noise draws the attention of the guard, who has no time to react before a flash of chakra cuts through the door at an angle. Moments later the body of the nurse that left flies through knocking the two halves off of their hinges. An old man wielding a katana strolls in. The guard gets a worried look on his face. “You?!?” The man steps forward preparing to slash out, but seems to be stopped as something invisible hits him. He looks down at the cut in his shirt but sees only untouched skin below it. The old man steps past him pushing his katana back into its sheath the half inch he seemed to have drawn it while making a hand seal with his other hand. The guard lets out a scream of pain as blood begins gushing from the wound in his chest. “You don’t know what you are doing uncle.” The guard spits out the words with blood before falling. The old man glares at the rest in the room. They seem to be frozen in fear until one looks at the door and makes a run for it. The rest follow quickly giving the old man a wide berth. With the last of her strength, the woman looks up at the old man and smiles again. A tear rolls down his face as he looks at the poor woman holding her newborn babe. “I’m so sorry for what my son has done to you.” She shakes her head and looks down at the baby. Her look says that it was all worth it. Through his tears, the old man watches her breathe his last, before closing her eye lids and gently taking the baby. “We have one last stop to make.”
Leaving the isolated base, the old man carries a baby wrapped tightly in a blanket in one hand and a red longsword in his other. He looks down at the longsword. “You fool. I won’t allow her to grow up like you. I won’t make the same mistakes twice.” He looks from the sword to the sleeping baby and pulls her closer to himself as the snow begins to fall around the two.
