Old Character Name: Oushi-Ouja Suzume
Old Village/Missing: Sunagakure
OCR Type: OOC: Retire (Inactivity) (IC: Responsibility...)
Last Known Where-abouts: Sunagakure
Old IC Rank: S
New Character Name: Kazumi
Preferred Username: Kazumi
New Village/Missing: Sunagakure
New BL/CA: Hiyakagami Yuki
New Kinjutsu: Chimeiarashi
Custom Class:
IC Rank: (Tenatative) Chuunin
Character Age: 19
Gender: Fluid
Sex: Female
Character's Physical Description: Standing a few inches shorter than her peers, Kazumi stands out amongst the natives of Wind Country. Despite her time in the sun, her skin tone remains a light hue. While he skin does not appear to tan, it is covered with small faint lines scatterd haphazardly across her body, only barely visible unless upon close inspection. These faint scars are from hundreds of small to long cuts across the young woman's skin, that have long healed. Despite the faint scars, she appears younger than she is, due partly due to her height and a lack of mature features. Her average build shows little in the way of pronounced muscle, though extensive training over many years has kept her fit and well fed.
Character's Mental Description: Strong willed, self-assured and bold are easy ways to describe the young woman. The face that she puts on infront of others, rarely deviates from these characteristics. It is only in private that the edges soften and she sets aside the borderline cocky attitude and exposes her more vulnerable inner self. A decade spent doing little more than wandering the countryside with her master, honing her skills as a swordsman left little opportunity for her to get to know herself. Femininity and masculinity have warred internally within her, a silent battle that continues to be fought as she struggled against the expectations of her master, societal expectations and her own feelings and desires.
Multiple Personality Application: N/A
Character History: Kazumi was born on the islands to the far southeast of Wind Country. Her family's trade was that of a modest traveling merchant, and most of her youngest years was spent on cart or boat traveling from shore to shore or along inland routes. She had aspirations, as most children did, of following in her parent's footsteps, but those dreams has been cut short at the hand of bandits. Her parents and sibling were casualties in the bandit's raid on their caravan, and Kazumi had only survived by luck or chance. Seeing the burnt wreckage of the caravan, her future master had arrived and found the girl. Something in her spurred the man to offer retribution to her for her family, in exchange for her service. The murderers were delt with quickly asn easily by the man, and true to his word he took her under his wing and began to teach her the way of the sword, of his own curious design.
The pair wandered and sailed across the lands for nearly a decade as she learned from him. Many weeks were spent in extreme environments in training that was dangerous and even cruel, but the results spoke for themselves. She revered the man and his commitment to doing what he felt was right, serving as a rogue vigilante, righting wrongs as he saw them with little regard his own safety, or hers. While he was not the perfect teacher, he was especially unprepared when the girl's latent potential began to manifest, though he never seemed surprised regarding it. He encouraged her to experiment, to take risks and push her limits with her control over ice, offering only more challenges and throwing her into dire situations where she had no choice but to adapt, grown her own skills and survive.
Miraculously, it was not she who paid the final price for this. In Wind Country they were beset by hordes of strange humanoid creatures, and her master thrust her into the thick of it as he always had. Even now she could not understand what had happened, but the encounter ended with her fleeing with one of his only treasured weapon in hand, her master's broken body lifeless surrounded by a score of those soulless husks. She escaped with her life and fled towards the village on the horizon, only barely making it to the relative safety of Sunagakure's walls before collapsing in exhaustion, only barely hanging onto life by a scant fingernail.
Clan Request: None
Death/Retirement Thread:
www.ninpocho.com
Old Training: Old Dojo: https://www.ninpocho.com/threads/suzumes-dojo.55737/ (Outdated)
Special Usergroups: N/A
Old Stats: 600/600x6
Old OOC Rank: S
Stat Cut: N/A
New Stats: 600/600x6
New OOC Rank: S
Jutsu Mastery Swaps:
Keeping
All except Kinjutsu
Refunding
Swapping Hachimon -> Chimeiarashi (Ability x2, B x2, A, S)
Other Refunds: None
Name of any Contract you currently own:
- Tsukumogami. Paying the 450ASP to transfer that forward. Writeup for Conttact will be done later when it is 'acquired'.
Name of any Cursed Seals you currently own:
- None
Name of Kinjutsu you own:
- Hachimon
Still actively roleplaying in any other threads?
Yes
Old Village/Missing: Sunagakure
OCR Type: OOC: Retire (Inactivity) (IC: Responsibility...)
Last Known Where-abouts: Sunagakure
Old IC Rank: S
New Character Name: Kazumi
Preferred Username: Kazumi
New Village/Missing: Sunagakure
New BL/CA: Hiyakagami Yuki
New Kinjutsu: Chimeiarashi
Custom Class:
Main Branch/ANBU/Med-Nin: Main
IC Rank: (Tenatative) Chuunin
Character Age: 19
Gender: Fluid
Sex: Female
Character's Physical Description: Standing a few inches shorter than her peers, Kazumi stands out amongst the natives of Wind Country. Despite her time in the sun, her skin tone remains a light hue. While he skin does not appear to tan, it is covered with small faint lines scatterd haphazardly across her body, only barely visible unless upon close inspection. These faint scars are from hundreds of small to long cuts across the young woman's skin, that have long healed. Despite the faint scars, she appears younger than she is, due partly due to her height and a lack of mature features. Her average build shows little in the way of pronounced muscle, though extensive training over many years has kept her fit and well fed.
Character's Mental Description: Strong willed, self-assured and bold are easy ways to describe the young woman. The face that she puts on infront of others, rarely deviates from these characteristics. It is only in private that the edges soften and she sets aside the borderline cocky attitude and exposes her more vulnerable inner self. A decade spent doing little more than wandering the countryside with her master, honing her skills as a swordsman left little opportunity for her to get to know herself. Femininity and masculinity have warred internally within her, a silent battle that continues to be fought as she struggled against the expectations of her master, societal expectations and her own feelings and desires.
Multiple Personality Application: N/A
Character History: Kazumi was born on the islands to the far southeast of Wind Country. Her family's trade was that of a modest traveling merchant, and most of her youngest years was spent on cart or boat traveling from shore to shore or along inland routes. She had aspirations, as most children did, of following in her parent's footsteps, but those dreams has been cut short at the hand of bandits. Her parents and sibling were casualties in the bandit's raid on their caravan, and Kazumi had only survived by luck or chance. Seeing the burnt wreckage of the caravan, her future master had arrived and found the girl. Something in her spurred the man to offer retribution to her for her family, in exchange for her service. The murderers were delt with quickly asn easily by the man, and true to his word he took her under his wing and began to teach her the way of the sword, of his own curious design.
The pair wandered and sailed across the lands for nearly a decade as she learned from him. Many weeks were spent in extreme environments in training that was dangerous and even cruel, but the results spoke for themselves. She revered the man and his commitment to doing what he felt was right, serving as a rogue vigilante, righting wrongs as he saw them with little regard his own safety, or hers. While he was not the perfect teacher, he was especially unprepared when the girl's latent potential began to manifest, though he never seemed surprised regarding it. He encouraged her to experiment, to take risks and push her limits with her control over ice, offering only more challenges and throwing her into dire situations where she had no choice but to adapt, grown her own skills and survive.
Miraculously, it was not she who paid the final price for this. In Wind Country they were beset by hordes of strange humanoid creatures, and her master thrust her into the thick of it as he always had. Even now she could not understand what had happened, but the encounter ended with her fleeing with one of his only treasured weapon in hand, her master's broken body lifeless surrounded by a score of those soulless husks. She escaped with her life and fled towards the village on the horizon, only barely making it to the relative safety of Sunagakure's walls before collapsing in exhaustion, only barely hanging onto life by a scant fingernail.
Synopsis: Bloodline traces of the Yuki manifested in early teens. Was taught Chimeiarashi by a "Ronin" affiliated with Sunagakure over the period of a decade.
The sand beneath her feet gave way as her chakra control failed her for the hundredth time that day. The first dozen times were accompanied by yelps of surprise and a valiant effort of righting herself. More often than not, she had succeeded, but as the days progressed forward those successes devolved into resigned failures. With even less energy than the last time, she pushed herself up from the hot dry sand and onto unsteady feet. At first being stranded in the desert alone was of little concern to her, her natural talents provided her enough water and kept her cool in the blazing sun of this forsaken country. As minutes streched to hours and then days, that confidence waned to the point of shattering.
Pressing the tip of her master's sheathed blade onto the sand, she managed to steady herself and begin walking once again. Late yesterday evening she had been at the breaking point, but off in the far distance she had finally caught sight of it, the only hope for her salvation from this accursed land. Had her master been with her now, it would have been different. As she took beleaguered step after step, using the cherished memento as little more than a walking stick, she could hear the man's words as clearly as her own.
"Treat the blade as an extension of yourself, do not swing it about like a tree branch or the walking stick of a man with one leg in his grave." She knew it was only in her mind, but she would swear that his voice was coming from his weapon. The rational parts of her mind, the ones most starved of food, water and rest, knew this was because it was simply the only possession of his she was able to salvage from that swarm of those... things. She had never seen anything like them before, while he had managed to cut them down by the dozens with ease.
Her mind snapped away from that thought, as she pushed herself to her full, but modest, height. She closed her eyes and took a few slow deep breaths as she tried to calm herself. Thinking of him was not going to do a damned thing to help her live; if she dies here and now to the sun, of all things, then the last vestiges of his memory and legacy would die with her. The mere thought of his weapon left here to rust away into dust, or worse, to be found by scavengers and used by some common bandit to commit countless crimes chilled her to her very core.
Gritting her teeth, she pushed one step in front of her after another, sipping at the reservoir of newfound determination as each labored step brought her one step closer to the village and one step farther from where her master made his final resting place. Minutes came and went and her mind once again began to drift back towards those mintues that felt so far removed from her they may as well have been years. Gripping her own pair of small swords, she had fought off a dozen of those soulless husks while her master cut them down by the dozens. Her form was a pale imitation of his. Having only been in his tutelage for less than a decade, how could she have compared?
Kicking off the face of one, he soared into the air, landing with a sword in each hand that he drove down into the pale skulls of two more. With a graceful spin he ripped another blade from a corpse at his feet, sliced the arm off another attacker with a flick of his elbow and sent the blade flying at yet another. On he danced, each motion seeming random as his seemed to carelessly cut, sever or impale his enemies with reckless abandon. Yet each motion seemed to seamlessly flow into the next, as if each chaotic piece was stitched together into an intricate masterpiece that was all part of some grand design.
It was rare to see her master fight with such intensity, but he was not taking the fight seriously. She knew that, in his eyes, this was just another test for her to overcome. A chance to sharpen her skills and push her past her current limits while he curtailed the threat just enough to keep her alive. Even knowing that, she felt utterly overwhelmed as she followed her own unseen rhythm, taking each opportunity she saw and immediately flowing into the next. Her moves were not as graceful, boisterous or as powerful, but after years of study she was shaping up to be a proper disciple.
Her own short blades cut into the chest of one of the creatures that lurched at her. She ripped one free, shoved it back and then leapt up towards him, using the hilt of her embedded blade as a stepping stool up to its head. With a powerful kick she knocked it down and left half a dozen feet into the air, taking the moment to survey her surroundings. As she came down, she reached her hands to her side, the air around them shimmered as the water instnatly crystallized in her open palms. It was not much, barely more than daggers, but it was all she could manage as she came down upon another husk, driving both icy blades into its shoulders. Leaving them embedded into it, she landed with a pained grunt as she hopped back away from its counter attack.
The next few moments came to her in only bits and pieces, blurred together with time and painted over by a thick coat of adrenaline. Another of these things, but much larger and looking less like some mindless zombie and more malicious had grabbed her from behind and threw her to the ground. The seconds after that were even fuzzier, as she heard her master's voice and saw his body collapse a short distance from hers. She did not know if it had been seconds or minutes, but as her mind had come to, she was surrounded in a sea of bodies, and among them lay the broken body of her master, only one sword of his remaining in his grip.
She had rushed to him, her ribs cracked and her vision blurred, but even to her it was clear that he was still. A part of her wished to stay, fight and avenge the man, but what hope did she have. A dozen yards away she heard more stirring as the hulking behemoth stirred, half a dozen blades jutting from its body as it attempted to right itself. Whatever had happened, she had no chance of finishing it. A hundred possibilities of what had happened ran through her mind, none of them making any sense to her. It was impossible that he was dead, not to these things, but as sure as the sun rose she felt his still chest, covered in blood and sand and as still as a stone.
Without pride or honor, she grabbed his sword and sheath and fled. There were still more of the mindless drones and she had no confidence that she could stand up to whatever that thing was, however it had gotten the best of her master. So she ran, her chest burning from exhaustion and the pain of her own bones trying to pierce her own organs. She knew it was cowardly, but it would be what he would have told her to do. To willingly bend the blade past the breaking point is not boldness, it is stupidity. Those words of his, and many others, played through her head as she sprinted on through the sand, tears filling her eyes as it began to sink in that she would never hear them again.
Her master had been all of the family she had known for most of her life. She knew litte about him, he had been a secretive man and she had tried to respect his wishes, even if she regretted it now. She knew that he had once been from the Village Hidden in the Sands, but she did not know why he had traveled the countryside on his own. Even now she did not know if it was pity or something else that had convinced him to pick up the abandoned girl on the side of the road, her merchant parents' cart looted and their bodies tossed aside. He had offered, and she had instantly accepted, to track down the bandits and to avenge her parents. She was old enough to know what swearing herself to him would mean, but it was not as if she really had any other choice.
It seemed almsot too coincidental that a few years later she had began to show signs of her family's distant lineage: the Yuki bloodline from the now frozen islands. In this, he was a poor teacher, but he had encouraged her to learn and experiment on her own. It was the only real taste of freedom she had from her travels and training from her master, which was as unforgiving as it was effective.
The man was a master of the blade, one who wove through a battlefield like a hurricane of steel and fury, and now, likely because of her, he was now food for the scavengers. Felled by some mindless abomination that she likely would never see again. As she collapsed down again, she barely caught herself with on the hilt with his sword, feeling the unnatural chill seeping out from the edge of its sheath as she pushed herself up once again. The sword itself was nameless, just another tool in her master's arsenal, but holding its hilt in her hand she could almost feel his hand on her shoulder urging her forward.
The next day was grueling, but after four long days of exhasutive travel, she finally made it to the village gates. As soon as the young woman's eyes made contact with the shinobi at the gate, the last wisps of energy that sustained her gave out as she collapsed like a lifeless sack onto the hard compacted path.
WC: 1707
The sand beneath her feet gave way as her chakra control failed her for the hundredth time that day. The first dozen times were accompanied by yelps of surprise and a valiant effort of righting herself. More often than not, she had succeeded, but as the days progressed forward those successes devolved into resigned failures. With even less energy than the last time, she pushed herself up from the hot dry sand and onto unsteady feet. At first being stranded in the desert alone was of little concern to her, her natural talents provided her enough water and kept her cool in the blazing sun of this forsaken country. As minutes streched to hours and then days, that confidence waned to the point of shattering.
Pressing the tip of her master's sheathed blade onto the sand, she managed to steady herself and begin walking once again. Late yesterday evening she had been at the breaking point, but off in the far distance she had finally caught sight of it, the only hope for her salvation from this accursed land. Had her master been with her now, it would have been different. As she took beleaguered step after step, using the cherished memento as little more than a walking stick, she could hear the man's words as clearly as her own.
"Treat the blade as an extension of yourself, do not swing it about like a tree branch or the walking stick of a man with one leg in his grave." She knew it was only in her mind, but she would swear that his voice was coming from his weapon. The rational parts of her mind, the ones most starved of food, water and rest, knew this was because it was simply the only possession of his she was able to salvage from that swarm of those... things. She had never seen anything like them before, while he had managed to cut them down by the dozens with ease.
Her mind snapped away from that thought, as she pushed herself to her full, but modest, height. She closed her eyes and took a few slow deep breaths as she tried to calm herself. Thinking of him was not going to do a damned thing to help her live; if she dies here and now to the sun, of all things, then the last vestiges of his memory and legacy would die with her. The mere thought of his weapon left here to rust away into dust, or worse, to be found by scavengers and used by some common bandit to commit countless crimes chilled her to her very core.
Gritting her teeth, she pushed one step in front of her after another, sipping at the reservoir of newfound determination as each labored step brought her one step closer to the village and one step farther from where her master made his final resting place. Minutes came and went and her mind once again began to drift back towards those mintues that felt so far removed from her they may as well have been years. Gripping her own pair of small swords, she had fought off a dozen of those soulless husks while her master cut them down by the dozens. Her form was a pale imitation of his. Having only been in his tutelage for less than a decade, how could she have compared?
Kicking off the face of one, he soared into the air, landing with a sword in each hand that he drove down into the pale skulls of two more. With a graceful spin he ripped another blade from a corpse at his feet, sliced the arm off another attacker with a flick of his elbow and sent the blade flying at yet another. On he danced, each motion seeming random as his seemed to carelessly cut, sever or impale his enemies with reckless abandon. Yet each motion seemed to seamlessly flow into the next, as if each chaotic piece was stitched together into an intricate masterpiece that was all part of some grand design.
It was rare to see her master fight with such intensity, but he was not taking the fight seriously. She knew that, in his eyes, this was just another test for her to overcome. A chance to sharpen her skills and push her past her current limits while he curtailed the threat just enough to keep her alive. Even knowing that, she felt utterly overwhelmed as she followed her own unseen rhythm, taking each opportunity she saw and immediately flowing into the next. Her moves were not as graceful, boisterous or as powerful, but after years of study she was shaping up to be a proper disciple.
Her own short blades cut into the chest of one of the creatures that lurched at her. She ripped one free, shoved it back and then leapt up towards him, using the hilt of her embedded blade as a stepping stool up to its head. With a powerful kick she knocked it down and left half a dozen feet into the air, taking the moment to survey her surroundings. As she came down, she reached her hands to her side, the air around them shimmered as the water instnatly crystallized in her open palms. It was not much, barely more than daggers, but it was all she could manage as she came down upon another husk, driving both icy blades into its shoulders. Leaving them embedded into it, she landed with a pained grunt as she hopped back away from its counter attack.
The next few moments came to her in only bits and pieces, blurred together with time and painted over by a thick coat of adrenaline. Another of these things, but much larger and looking less like some mindless zombie and more malicious had grabbed her from behind and threw her to the ground. The seconds after that were even fuzzier, as she heard her master's voice and saw his body collapse a short distance from hers. She did not know if it had been seconds or minutes, but as her mind had come to, she was surrounded in a sea of bodies, and among them lay the broken body of her master, only one sword of his remaining in his grip.
She had rushed to him, her ribs cracked and her vision blurred, but even to her it was clear that he was still. A part of her wished to stay, fight and avenge the man, but what hope did she have. A dozen yards away she heard more stirring as the hulking behemoth stirred, half a dozen blades jutting from its body as it attempted to right itself. Whatever had happened, she had no chance of finishing it. A hundred possibilities of what had happened ran through her mind, none of them making any sense to her. It was impossible that he was dead, not to these things, but as sure as the sun rose she felt his still chest, covered in blood and sand and as still as a stone.
Without pride or honor, she grabbed his sword and sheath and fled. There were still more of the mindless drones and she had no confidence that she could stand up to whatever that thing was, however it had gotten the best of her master. So she ran, her chest burning from exhaustion and the pain of her own bones trying to pierce her own organs. She knew it was cowardly, but it would be what he would have told her to do. To willingly bend the blade past the breaking point is not boldness, it is stupidity. Those words of his, and many others, played through her head as she sprinted on through the sand, tears filling her eyes as it began to sink in that she would never hear them again.
Her master had been all of the family she had known for most of her life. She knew litte about him, he had been a secretive man and she had tried to respect his wishes, even if she regretted it now. She knew that he had once been from the Village Hidden in the Sands, but she did not know why he had traveled the countryside on his own. Even now she did not know if it was pity or something else that had convinced him to pick up the abandoned girl on the side of the road, her merchant parents' cart looted and their bodies tossed aside. He had offered, and she had instantly accepted, to track down the bandits and to avenge her parents. She was old enough to know what swearing herself to him would mean, but it was not as if she really had any other choice.
It seemed almsot too coincidental that a few years later she had began to show signs of her family's distant lineage: the Yuki bloodline from the now frozen islands. In this, he was a poor teacher, but he had encouraged her to learn and experiment on her own. It was the only real taste of freedom she had from her travels and training from her master, which was as unforgiving as it was effective.
The man was a master of the blade, one who wove through a battlefield like a hurricane of steel and fury, and now, likely because of her, he was now food for the scavengers. Felled by some mindless abomination that she likely would never see again. As she collapsed down again, she barely caught herself with on the hilt with his sword, feeling the unnatural chill seeping out from the edge of its sheath as she pushed herself up once again. The sword itself was nameless, just another tool in her master's arsenal, but holding its hilt in her hand she could almost feel his hand on her shoulder urging her forward.
The next day was grueling, but after four long days of exhasutive travel, she finally made it to the village gates. As soon as the young woman's eyes made contact with the shinobi at the gate, the last wisps of energy that sustained her gave out as she collapsed like a lifeless sack onto the hard compacted path.
WC: 1707
Clan Request: None
Death/Retirement Thread:
The Passing of the Mantle
It was a solemn day to be sure. It was one that all in the clan knew was coming, but now that it came it all felt so surreal. Oushi-Ouja Suzume stood at the head of the gathering, the few dozen of her clansmen surrounding the wrapped body as it made its final rest upon a stack of dried wood...
www.ninpocho.com
Old Training: Old Dojo: https://www.ninpocho.com/threads/suzumes-dojo.55737/ (Outdated)
Special Usergroups: N/A
Old Stats: 600/600x6
Old OOC Rank: S
Stat Cut: N/A
New Stats: 600/600x6
New OOC Rank: S
Jutsu Mastery Swaps:
Keeping
All except Kinjutsu
Refunding
Swapping Hachimon -> Chimeiarashi (Ability x2, B x2, A, S)
Other Refunds: None
Name of any Contract you currently own:
- Tsukumogami. Paying the 450ASP to transfer that forward. Writeup for Conttact will be done later when it is 'acquired'.
Name of any Cursed Seals you currently own:
- None
Name of Kinjutsu you own:
- Hachimon
Still actively roleplaying in any other threads?
Yes
Last edited:
