Old Character Name: Uchiha Taiyo
Old Village/Missing: Leaf
OCR Type: Inactivation
Last Known Where-abouts: Leaf Adacemy
Old IC Rank: Adacemy Student
New Character Name: Matsui Himiko
Preferred Username: Matsui Himiko
New Village/Missing: Cloud.
New BL/CA: Demonic Ancestory
Name: Matsui Himiko
Age: 12
Gender: Female
Sex: Female
Rank: Academy Student
History: Himiko wasn’t raised; she was moulded. Being born into a secretive cult, she was looked at as the promised child who could bring back the return of their dark god. From the moment she could walk, her life was no longer her own. Every breath, every lesson, every scar was part of a design carved into her by hands that called themselves faithful.
They did not teach her how to play—only how to endure. They did not ask what she felt—only what she could withstand.
Rituals replaced bedtime stories. Chants replaced lullabies. The cult’s chambers were filled with incense, blood-inked seals, and whispered prayers that coiled into her ears long after the candles were extinguished. They told her she was chosen. They told her she was sacred. And when the training hurt too much, when her vision blurred and the world twisted into nightmares, they told her that pain was proof of devotion.
Sometimes, when the rituals went wrong, the shadows would move. Sometimes, she would see things that weren’t there—faces in the walls, hands in the dark, eyes watching from nowhere. The cult called these visions blessings. Himiko learned, very young, that screaming only made them pray harder.
When she grew older, they began the awakening. The cult traced the demonic blood in her veins, a lineage she had never asked for, a curse older than memory. Through rites of fire, blood, and whispered names older than the world, they forced her to confront her darkness. Himiko felt it coil in her chest, claw at her mind, whispering promises of power—and destruction. She was taught to fear it, to bend it to their will, to kneel before it as a gift. A gift she had never wanted. Never asked for.
The rituals left her broken: her voice raw from screaming, her skin a map of scars, her spirit frayed. Alone in the darkness, she heard it whispering still. Shadows clung to her like a second skin, patient, hungry, waiting for the moment she would give in. It offered her relief from the pain. From the suffering. It offered its hand, and she took it.
By the time the cult fell—whether by shinobi intervention, internal collapse, or the thing they worshipped turning on them—Himiko was already something different. Not fully human in the way they wanted her to be. Not fully monster either. She was merely shaped by hands that never cared what she might become.
When she was taken to Kumogakure, they called it a rescue. But it felt like abandonment. Thrust into a world she didn’t understand, surrounded by people who didn’t see her, Himiko felt like a ghost wandering through someone else’s life.
Description: Thin and pale, Himiko is anything but imposing. Her short white hair sticks up in careless tufts, as if she never bothers to tame it. Lavender eyes, wide and haunted, flicker over the world with a wariness no child should know. She lingers at the edges of rooms, never staying long, never speaking unless forced, as if the air itself might strike her down.
She moves with a jittery stillness, her gaze snapping to shadows that no one else notices. Sometimes, in the quiet, she whispers to herself—soft murmurs meant for ghosts only she can see, as if bargaining for mercy from hands long gone. At night, sleep offers no reprieve. Her dreams twist into fevered landscapes of fire and shadow, endless corridors where voices scream her name and clawing shapes lurk just beyond her sight. She wakes drenched in sweat, heart hammering, hands trembling, and the whispers of those dreams linger long after dawn, echoing in every shadowed corner.
Old Village/Missing: Leaf
OCR Type: Inactivation
Last Known Where-abouts: Leaf Adacemy
Old IC Rank: Adacemy Student
New Character Name: Matsui Himiko
Preferred Username: Matsui Himiko
New Village/Missing: Cloud.
New BL/CA: Demonic Ancestory
Name: Matsui Himiko
Age: 12
Gender: Female
Sex: Female
Rank: Academy Student
History: Himiko wasn’t raised; she was moulded. Being born into a secretive cult, she was looked at as the promised child who could bring back the return of their dark god. From the moment she could walk, her life was no longer her own. Every breath, every lesson, every scar was part of a design carved into her by hands that called themselves faithful.
They did not teach her how to play—only how to endure. They did not ask what she felt—only what she could withstand.
Rituals replaced bedtime stories. Chants replaced lullabies. The cult’s chambers were filled with incense, blood-inked seals, and whispered prayers that coiled into her ears long after the candles were extinguished. They told her she was chosen. They told her she was sacred. And when the training hurt too much, when her vision blurred and the world twisted into nightmares, they told her that pain was proof of devotion.
Sometimes, when the rituals went wrong, the shadows would move. Sometimes, she would see things that weren’t there—faces in the walls, hands in the dark, eyes watching from nowhere. The cult called these visions blessings. Himiko learned, very young, that screaming only made them pray harder.
When she grew older, they began the awakening. The cult traced the demonic blood in her veins, a lineage she had never asked for, a curse older than memory. Through rites of fire, blood, and whispered names older than the world, they forced her to confront her darkness. Himiko felt it coil in her chest, claw at her mind, whispering promises of power—and destruction. She was taught to fear it, to bend it to their will, to kneel before it as a gift. A gift she had never wanted. Never asked for.
The rituals left her broken: her voice raw from screaming, her skin a map of scars, her spirit frayed. Alone in the darkness, she heard it whispering still. Shadows clung to her like a second skin, patient, hungry, waiting for the moment she would give in. It offered her relief from the pain. From the suffering. It offered its hand, and she took it.
By the time the cult fell—whether by shinobi intervention, internal collapse, or the thing they worshipped turning on them—Himiko was already something different. Not fully human in the way they wanted her to be. Not fully monster either. She was merely shaped by hands that never cared what she might become.
When she was taken to Kumogakure, they called it a rescue. But it felt like abandonment. Thrust into a world she didn’t understand, surrounded by people who didn’t see her, Himiko felt like a ghost wandering through someone else’s life.
Description: Thin and pale, Himiko is anything but imposing. Her short white hair sticks up in careless tufts, as if she never bothers to tame it. Lavender eyes, wide and haunted, flicker over the world with a wariness no child should know. She lingers at the edges of rooms, never staying long, never speaking unless forced, as if the air itself might strike her down.
She moves with a jittery stillness, her gaze snapping to shadows that no one else notices. Sometimes, in the quiet, she whispers to herself—soft murmurs meant for ghosts only she can see, as if bargaining for mercy from hands long gone. At night, sleep offers no reprieve. Her dreams twist into fevered landscapes of fire and shadow, endless corridors where voices scream her name and clawing shapes lurk just beyond her sight. She wakes drenched in sweat, heart hammering, hands trembling, and the whispers of those dreams linger long after dawn, echoing in every shadowed corner.
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