Name: Otsuka Sumire
Age: 11
BL/CA: Akimichi
Physical Description:
Long deep-auburn hair cascades around a cherubic face, throwing her bright jade-green eyes into sharp relief. She's built sturdy and broad, with strong shoulders and a solid frame made to weather any physical trial. But recent hardships have whittled her down. Her cheeks have grown gaunt, hollowed out beneath the bone, and her body has diminished to something perilously lean, a haunting shadow of the strength her natural build once promised. Yet even in this withered state, she carries herself with an unshakeable confidence, the kind forged through a childhood spent traversing the harsh, unforgiving expanse of the Wind Country.
The girl favors simplicity in her clothing, though she delights in weaving vibrant splashes of color throughout her wardrobe. She gravitates toward loose-fitting knee-length shorts paired with comfortable, breathable tops that grant her full freedom of movement. Rather than constricting herself with shoes or gloves, she wraps her hands and feet in strips of cloth—a practical choice that allows her to grip and navigate the shifting sands with ease, feeling the texture of the dunes beneath her soles and maintaining her balance across the treacherous, yielding terrain.
Mental Description:
Forged in the unforgiving crucible of desert survival, Sumi is a strong-willed girl; hardworking, resilient, and unafraid to plant her feet and defend what she believes is right. Yet something has broken in her. Having only recently escaped a traumatic ordeal, she seems unable or unwilling to give voice to her thoughts. She moves through the world in near-silence, watching her surroundings with an expression gone flat and distant; save for her vibrant jade eyes, which still burn with an intensity that suggests the spirit within hasn't been entirely extinguished.
History:
Sumire grew up cradled in the warmth of a large, sprawling family, one that extended beyond blood to encompass the entire nomadic clan with whom she and her parents traveled. Their kin survived by hunting the formidable creatures that prowled the desert's vastness, but they were meticulous in their reverence for the lives they took, honoring each kill by using every scrap, bone, and sinew. Meat was never scarce at their fires, and generations of this way of life had bred a line of powerfully built hunters whose strength rivaled that of their prey.
Life moved in a steady rhythm: the thrill of the hunt, the satisfaction of shared meals around crackling fires, the constant migration across endless dunes, and the particular joy found in weathering hardship together. It was a hard life, but a good one - until the day a large band of slavers descended upon their camp while the hunters were away on expedition.
Those who remained; the elderly, the young, the wounded, were rounded up like livestock and herded into their own tents to await the return of their stronger kin. Slavers, after all, need strong workers. When the hunters finally returned to find their camp eerily silent and seemingly abandoned, they began searching the tents, only to be met with a coordinated ambush. Blades flashed from the shadows, and those lying in wait struck with methodical precision, wounding their marks one by one.
But numbers and brutality won out. Once the hunters were subdued the slavers shackled them together in long, rattling chains and began the grueling march back to their base of operations. They walked for days beneath the merciless sun, flanked by captors who wielded whips and canes with casual cruelty, lashing out at anyone who stumbled or lagged behind. Even the injured hunters, still bleeding from the initial ambush, were shown no mercy. But they were a strong people, proud and unbroken, and in their hearts burned the certainty that this captivity would not last.
Eventually, they reached their destination; a sprawling work camp where they were immediately put to backbreaking, endless labor. The purpose of the project remained frustratingly unclear; they simply dug, hauled, and built under the watchful eyes of their captors. Every few days, exhaustion and rage would boil over in one or a small group of them, and they would lash out at the guards, only to be struck down with brutal efficiency; their weakened bodies no match for well-fed, well-rested oppressors.
As their numbers dwindled, the surviving nomads grew increasingly restless. They were tired of watching beloved family members fall, hesitant to lose anyone else, yet keenly aware that remaining beneath the boot on their throats would only result in more death - slow, grinding, inevitable.
Finally, desperation outweighed caution. Sumi's parents, along with a handful of others, orchestrated an escape attempt under cover of darkness. For a few precious moments, it seemed they might succeed. The guards were caught off-balance, the chains broken, freedom tantalizingly close. But the alarm was raised, and chaos erupted.
Sumi watched, frozen in horror, as her parents were cut down before her eyes. Her father fell first, shielding her mother with his body. Her mother lasted only moments longer, reaching out toward her young daughter with bloodied fingers before collapsing into the sand. The other escapees were slaughtered just as swiftly, their bodies left where they fell as a warning.
Sumi survived, but her survival came with a price. Deemed too much of a risk to keep with the others - and perhaps too traumatized to be useful in hard labor - she was sold off to a different group of slavers. These were more discreet operators, smugglers who specialized in transporting "merchandise" to wealthy buyers in the hidden villages.
She was transported in the dark, bound and gagged, moved from one shadowy hand to another until she arrived in Sunagakure itself. There, she was kept in captivity, locked away in some forgotten corner of the village, a piece of property waiting to be sold to the highest bidder.
Her captivity ended abruptly when Sunagakure's ANBU conducted a raid on the hovel she was being kept in. Sumi was found among a handful of others, emaciated, silent, and hollow-eyed, and freed. But freedom, she would discover, did not erase what had been done. The chains were gone, but the scars remained, carved deep into her mind and spirit.
Age: 11
BL/CA: Akimichi
Physical Description:
Long deep-auburn hair cascades around a cherubic face, throwing her bright jade-green eyes into sharp relief. She's built sturdy and broad, with strong shoulders and a solid frame made to weather any physical trial. But recent hardships have whittled her down. Her cheeks have grown gaunt, hollowed out beneath the bone, and her body has diminished to something perilously lean, a haunting shadow of the strength her natural build once promised. Yet even in this withered state, she carries herself with an unshakeable confidence, the kind forged through a childhood spent traversing the harsh, unforgiving expanse of the Wind Country.
The girl favors simplicity in her clothing, though she delights in weaving vibrant splashes of color throughout her wardrobe. She gravitates toward loose-fitting knee-length shorts paired with comfortable, breathable tops that grant her full freedom of movement. Rather than constricting herself with shoes or gloves, she wraps her hands and feet in strips of cloth—a practical choice that allows her to grip and navigate the shifting sands with ease, feeling the texture of the dunes beneath her soles and maintaining her balance across the treacherous, yielding terrain.
Mental Description:
Forged in the unforgiving crucible of desert survival, Sumi is a strong-willed girl; hardworking, resilient, and unafraid to plant her feet and defend what she believes is right. Yet something has broken in her. Having only recently escaped a traumatic ordeal, she seems unable or unwilling to give voice to her thoughts. She moves through the world in near-silence, watching her surroundings with an expression gone flat and distant; save for her vibrant jade eyes, which still burn with an intensity that suggests the spirit within hasn't been entirely extinguished.
History:
Sumire grew up cradled in the warmth of a large, sprawling family, one that extended beyond blood to encompass the entire nomadic clan with whom she and her parents traveled. Their kin survived by hunting the formidable creatures that prowled the desert's vastness, but they were meticulous in their reverence for the lives they took, honoring each kill by using every scrap, bone, and sinew. Meat was never scarce at their fires, and generations of this way of life had bred a line of powerfully built hunters whose strength rivaled that of their prey.
Life moved in a steady rhythm: the thrill of the hunt, the satisfaction of shared meals around crackling fires, the constant migration across endless dunes, and the particular joy found in weathering hardship together. It was a hard life, but a good one - until the day a large band of slavers descended upon their camp while the hunters were away on expedition.
Those who remained; the elderly, the young, the wounded, were rounded up like livestock and herded into their own tents to await the return of their stronger kin. Slavers, after all, need strong workers. When the hunters finally returned to find their camp eerily silent and seemingly abandoned, they began searching the tents, only to be met with a coordinated ambush. Blades flashed from the shadows, and those lying in wait struck with methodical precision, wounding their marks one by one.
But numbers and brutality won out. Once the hunters were subdued the slavers shackled them together in long, rattling chains and began the grueling march back to their base of operations. They walked for days beneath the merciless sun, flanked by captors who wielded whips and canes with casual cruelty, lashing out at anyone who stumbled or lagged behind. Even the injured hunters, still bleeding from the initial ambush, were shown no mercy. But they were a strong people, proud and unbroken, and in their hearts burned the certainty that this captivity would not last.
Eventually, they reached their destination; a sprawling work camp where they were immediately put to backbreaking, endless labor. The purpose of the project remained frustratingly unclear; they simply dug, hauled, and built under the watchful eyes of their captors. Every few days, exhaustion and rage would boil over in one or a small group of them, and they would lash out at the guards, only to be struck down with brutal efficiency; their weakened bodies no match for well-fed, well-rested oppressors.
As their numbers dwindled, the surviving nomads grew increasingly restless. They were tired of watching beloved family members fall, hesitant to lose anyone else, yet keenly aware that remaining beneath the boot on their throats would only result in more death - slow, grinding, inevitable.
Finally, desperation outweighed caution. Sumi's parents, along with a handful of others, orchestrated an escape attempt under cover of darkness. For a few precious moments, it seemed they might succeed. The guards were caught off-balance, the chains broken, freedom tantalizingly close. But the alarm was raised, and chaos erupted.
Sumi watched, frozen in horror, as her parents were cut down before her eyes. Her father fell first, shielding her mother with his body. Her mother lasted only moments longer, reaching out toward her young daughter with bloodied fingers before collapsing into the sand. The other escapees were slaughtered just as swiftly, their bodies left where they fell as a warning.
Sumi survived, but her survival came with a price. Deemed too much of a risk to keep with the others - and perhaps too traumatized to be useful in hard labor - she was sold off to a different group of slavers. These were more discreet operators, smugglers who specialized in transporting "merchandise" to wealthy buyers in the hidden villages.
She was transported in the dark, bound and gagged, moved from one shadowy hand to another until she arrived in Sunagakure itself. There, she was kept in captivity, locked away in some forgotten corner of the village, a piece of property waiting to be sold to the highest bidder.
Her captivity ended abruptly when Sunagakure's ANBU conducted a raid on the hovel she was being kept in. Sumi was found among a handful of others, emaciated, silent, and hollow-eyed, and freed. But freedom, she would discover, did not erase what had been done. The chains were gone, but the scars remained, carved deep into her mind and spirit.
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