Yes, this is a reboot, I understand that means losing everything and starting from "zero" and all that jazz. I consent.
Name: Shuusui Ruri
Username: Shuusui Ruri
Age: 13
Gender: Female
Sex: Female
Rank: Academy Student
Physical Description:
A 13-year-old girl with the wiry, compact build of someone who trains constantly. She’s athletic and toned, her muscles defined in the subtle way young shinobi develop, but clearly strong for her age. Her skin is lightly tanned from long hours outdoors. Her hair is a short, tousled pixie cut, black and slightly uneven at the ends, as if she trims it herself with a kunai whenever it gets in her way. The cut gives her a sharp, tomboyish look. Her bangs are short and choppy, framing the pale, milky-white Hyuuga eyes that stand out starkly against her darker features. She has a thin, diagonal scar across her left cheek, faint but clearly visible when the light hits it. A second, smaller scar rests on the inside of her right forearm, an old, narrow slash, mostly hidden unless she raises her arm. Her posture is confident, balanced, and alert, the stance of someone used to reacting quickly.
She has two generally seen outfits. Her training gear and her casual outfit. The training gear is practical, flexible, and clearly designed for agility and close-quarters combat. A fitted navy blue sleeveless training top, reinforced along the ribs and shoulders for durability but breathable enough for high-intensity drills. Dark forest-green compression shorts under loose, knee-length black training shorts with slit sides for full kicking range. Dark shinobi sandals with extra wrap bindings around the ankles for support. Her arms are wrapped from wrist to mid-forearm in dark blue cloth tape, frayed at the edges from heavy use. A short, lightweight black utility belt holds only the basics, kunai pouch, small holster, nothing that rattles or slows her down.
Her casual look is more relaxed but still unmistakably shinobi-practical, leaning into her preferred darker palette with touches of green and blue. A loose, dark charcoal hooded jacket with shortened sleeves, ending just above the elbow. The inside lining is a desaturated emerald green, visible when she moves or rolls the sleeves. Under it, she wears a simple ink-blue camisole or short tank top. Slim, cropped dark pants ending mid-calf, with reinforced stitching along the knees. Lightweight black sandals, softer than her training pair, often dusty from wandering outdoors. A green braided bracelet on one wrist that's worn, simple, and was handmade. The casual look has a scrappy charm, nothing matches perfectly, but everything is chosen for comfort and ease of motion.
[WC - 396]
Mental Description:
She is, at her core, a rough-edged and uncompromising young girl, one who has shaped herself into something hard because she believes she must be. Her demeanour is serious almost to a fault; she speaks little, observes much, and rarely indulges in childish behaviour. When other shinobi her age laugh or play, she tends to stand apart, arms crossed, pretending not to care, even when part of her would like to join them. Trust does not come easily to her. She keeps her guard high and her heart guarded higher, but once someone has earned her loyalty, it becomes an unbreakable bond. She is fiercely protective of the few people she allows close, and her loyalty expresses itself quietly, through action, unspoken support, and stepping into danger without hesitation.
Her tomboyish nature isn’t rebellion, it is duty. Born as the first child of the Shuusui clan’s current head, she was expected, before she even drew breath, to be a boy. The clan’s traditions are old, rigid, and heavily patriarchal, with the future leadership normally passing from father to son. When she was born a daughter instead, it quietly disappointed many. She grew up hearing the subtle implications, the unspoken “shame,” the murmurs behind closed doors. Rather than allow it to diminish her, she internalized it as a challenge. She decided early that if the clan wanted a boy to carry their name forward, she would become the closest thing to it: strong, unyielding, disciplined, and superior to any heir they might have preferred. This is the root of her tomboy behaviour. She cuts her hair short because it’s practical, and because it makes her look less like the daughter she feels wasn’t wanted. Avoids dresses and “girlish” behaviour because she fears it will be seen as weakness. She mimics the posture, discipline, and stoicism of her clan’s male warriors and trains until her muscles burn and her body trembles because she refuses to give the clan, or her father, any reason to consider her unfit. Deep down, her masculinity is not an expression of gender identity, but an Armor forged by societal expectation and outdated traditions.
Despite the pressure, she is deeply proud of the Shuusui name. She believes in the clan’s ideals of honour, discipline, and strength. She wants, more than anything, to uphold that legacy. But that pride comes with a heavy burden, she feels that if she falters even once, she will confirm every whispered doubt about her right to inherit the clan. This drives her into relentless training. She approaches every exercise as if failure will cost her everything. Rest feels like weakness, injury feels like disgrace, compliments embarrass her and criticism is taken to heart instantly.
Despite her tough exterior, inside, she’s more fragile than she lets on. She Rarely feels “good enough.” Equates femininity with failure, even though she doesn’t want to, it's simply so ingrained into her. She has deep seated fears of letting her father down more than anything else and doesn’t truly know who she wants to be, only who she believes she must be.
There is a quiet, aching softness in her that has never been given the chance to grow. Her tomboy persona stands as a fortress around it.
[WC - 540]
History:
Clan Application:
The Shuusui Clan is a proud, disciplined branch family descended from the Hyuuga of the Leaf. Known for their Byakugan, rigid training methods, and ironclad discipline, they value strength, structure, and loyalty above all else. Unlike the main Hyuuga line, the Shuusui have adopted the bold, force-driven culture of the Hidden Cloud, blending Hyuuga precision with Lightning Country intensity.
They are a reserved but respected clan, quiet on the surface, fierce in their devotion to tradition, and secretive about their internal techniques. The Shuusui raise their children with strict expectations and harsh regimens, believing that only those who surpass themselves can uphold the clan’s honor. Though once viewed with suspicion due to their Leaf origins, they have proven themselves stalwart allies of Kumogakure.
History:
The Shuusui Clan traces its lineage back to the main Hyuuga family of the Leaf. Generations ago, they were a prominent branch, known not for politics, but for discipline and martial rigor. The Shuusui prided themselves on absolute loyalty to the Hyuuga name and carried out much of the clan’s security and enforcement. Their Byakugan was sharp, their taijutsu fierce, and their devotion to the clan absolute.
But as internal tensions grew within, particularly surrounding the political divide between main house and branch families, the Shuusui found themselves increasingly at odds with decisions that threatened their autonomy. Some accounts claim they chose exile to preserve their identity, others whisper that the Hyuuga quietly encouraged their relocation to avoid further strain. Whatever the truth, the Shuusui eventually departed the Leaf, traveling into the Lightning Country.
Settling near a spring-fed lake on the outskirts of Kumogakure, they pledged their allegiance to the Raikage. Their presence sparked wary curiosity; after all, the Cloud and the Leaf had a long history, not all of it positive. But the Shuusui made their intentions clear, they did not seek conflict, only a place to dedicate themselves to strength and discipline without internal constraint.
Over the years, the clan adapted to Cloud culture. Lightning Country’s boldness blended with the Shuusuis precision, shaping a new style of training, faster, harder, and more punishing. Where the main clan emphasized perfect form, the Shuusui added endurance trials, harsh conditioning, and rigorous physical expectations. Children grew up learning traditional Gentle Fist stances alongside gruelling stamina exercises. Respect was earned through effort. Despite their origins, the Shuusui avoided politics. Instead they became valuable assets to the village through patrol work, advanced perception roles, and defensive operations. Their discipline, loyalty, and determination eventually softened Cloud suspicions. Today, the Shuusui stand as a respected but somewhat insular clan, quiet observers who prove their worth through action rather than words.
Their traditions remain strict, their hierarchy rigid, and their expectations high. But their loyalty to the Cloud is ironclad, forged through generations of adaptation, sacrifice, and relentless self-discipline.
Branches; Main Branch:
Clan Head: Shuusui Kaito
a calm, disciplined man in his early forties whose presence commands respect without raising his voice. Tall and broad-shouldered, he carries himself like a mountain shaped by years of service to the Cloud. Kaito is known for his sharp Byakugan insight and an even sharper sense of responsibility, placing the clan’s unity and honor above personal ambition. Though stern and demanding in training, he is not unkind; his expectations come from a belief that strength is nurtured, not gifted. Kaito was the first to bridge the old mistrust between the Leaf-born Shuusui and the Cloud Village, earning him a reputation as a loyal, steady ally to the Raikage. He sees potential where others see flaws, and he quietly champions Ruri, his daughter, as a future pillar of the clan, though he would never say it aloud.
Clan Members:
Shuusui Ruri [Acadamy Student, Potential Heir]
Membership and Attributes:
Birth:
The Shuusui Clan holds a firm, traditional stance on lineage. Only those born directly into the clan’s bloodline may bear the Shuusui name or be considered true members. Adoption, marriage, or honorary titles carry no weight in their internal hierarchy. Outsiders may live with them, train beside them, or even be trusted allies, but they are never Shuusui. This belief stems from the clan’s roots as a Hyuuga offshoot, where bloodline purity and inheritance were once rigidly enforced. Though the Shuusui have grown less severe than their ancestors, they still treat their Byakugan-bearing lineage as sacred. To them, the clan name is not simply a family title but a living legacy, inherited through shared blood, discipline, and duty. Only those who carry that blood are seen as rightful stewards of their traditions, techniques, and honor.
Name: Shuusui Ruri
Username: Shuusui Ruri
Age: 13
Gender: Female
Sex: Female
Rank: Academy Student
Physical Description:
A 13-year-old girl with the wiry, compact build of someone who trains constantly. She’s athletic and toned, her muscles defined in the subtle way young shinobi develop, but clearly strong for her age. Her skin is lightly tanned from long hours outdoors. Her hair is a short, tousled pixie cut, black and slightly uneven at the ends, as if she trims it herself with a kunai whenever it gets in her way. The cut gives her a sharp, tomboyish look. Her bangs are short and choppy, framing the pale, milky-white Hyuuga eyes that stand out starkly against her darker features. She has a thin, diagonal scar across her left cheek, faint but clearly visible when the light hits it. A second, smaller scar rests on the inside of her right forearm, an old, narrow slash, mostly hidden unless she raises her arm. Her posture is confident, balanced, and alert, the stance of someone used to reacting quickly.
She has two generally seen outfits. Her training gear and her casual outfit. The training gear is practical, flexible, and clearly designed for agility and close-quarters combat. A fitted navy blue sleeveless training top, reinforced along the ribs and shoulders for durability but breathable enough for high-intensity drills. Dark forest-green compression shorts under loose, knee-length black training shorts with slit sides for full kicking range. Dark shinobi sandals with extra wrap bindings around the ankles for support. Her arms are wrapped from wrist to mid-forearm in dark blue cloth tape, frayed at the edges from heavy use. A short, lightweight black utility belt holds only the basics, kunai pouch, small holster, nothing that rattles or slows her down.
Her casual look is more relaxed but still unmistakably shinobi-practical, leaning into her preferred darker palette with touches of green and blue. A loose, dark charcoal hooded jacket with shortened sleeves, ending just above the elbow. The inside lining is a desaturated emerald green, visible when she moves or rolls the sleeves. Under it, she wears a simple ink-blue camisole or short tank top. Slim, cropped dark pants ending mid-calf, with reinforced stitching along the knees. Lightweight black sandals, softer than her training pair, often dusty from wandering outdoors. A green braided bracelet on one wrist that's worn, simple, and was handmade. The casual look has a scrappy charm, nothing matches perfectly, but everything is chosen for comfort and ease of motion.
[WC - 396]
Mental Description:
She is, at her core, a rough-edged and uncompromising young girl, one who has shaped herself into something hard because she believes she must be. Her demeanour is serious almost to a fault; she speaks little, observes much, and rarely indulges in childish behaviour. When other shinobi her age laugh or play, she tends to stand apart, arms crossed, pretending not to care, even when part of her would like to join them. Trust does not come easily to her. She keeps her guard high and her heart guarded higher, but once someone has earned her loyalty, it becomes an unbreakable bond. She is fiercely protective of the few people she allows close, and her loyalty expresses itself quietly, through action, unspoken support, and stepping into danger without hesitation.
Her tomboyish nature isn’t rebellion, it is duty. Born as the first child of the Shuusui clan’s current head, she was expected, before she even drew breath, to be a boy. The clan’s traditions are old, rigid, and heavily patriarchal, with the future leadership normally passing from father to son. When she was born a daughter instead, it quietly disappointed many. She grew up hearing the subtle implications, the unspoken “shame,” the murmurs behind closed doors. Rather than allow it to diminish her, she internalized it as a challenge. She decided early that if the clan wanted a boy to carry their name forward, she would become the closest thing to it: strong, unyielding, disciplined, and superior to any heir they might have preferred. This is the root of her tomboy behaviour. She cuts her hair short because it’s practical, and because it makes her look less like the daughter she feels wasn’t wanted. Avoids dresses and “girlish” behaviour because she fears it will be seen as weakness. She mimics the posture, discipline, and stoicism of her clan’s male warriors and trains until her muscles burn and her body trembles because she refuses to give the clan, or her father, any reason to consider her unfit. Deep down, her masculinity is not an expression of gender identity, but an Armor forged by societal expectation and outdated traditions.
Despite the pressure, she is deeply proud of the Shuusui name. She believes in the clan’s ideals of honour, discipline, and strength. She wants, more than anything, to uphold that legacy. But that pride comes with a heavy burden, she feels that if she falters even once, she will confirm every whispered doubt about her right to inherit the clan. This drives her into relentless training. She approaches every exercise as if failure will cost her everything. Rest feels like weakness, injury feels like disgrace, compliments embarrass her and criticism is taken to heart instantly.
Despite her tough exterior, inside, she’s more fragile than she lets on. She Rarely feels “good enough.” Equates femininity with failure, even though she doesn’t want to, it's simply so ingrained into her. She has deep seated fears of letting her father down more than anything else and doesn’t truly know who she wants to be, only who she believes she must be.
There is a quiet, aching softness in her that has never been given the chance to grow. Her tomboy persona stands as a fortress around it.
[WC - 540]
History:
The Shuusui clan had always been a house of still waters and deep traditions—quiet on the surface, fierce and deliberate beneath. Their compound sat at the edge of the village, built in a crescent around a spring-fed lake considered sacred since the clan’s founding. Generations of clan heads had been men: stern-eyed, disciplined, unwavering in their authority. The Shuusui prized structure, lineage, and continuity above all. And so, when the clan learned the current head’s wife was expecting a child, anticipation rippled through the family like wind over water. The clan elders whispered proudly among themselves, predicting strength and potential. The men trained harder, imagining the boy who would one day lead them. Even the women, who were respected, skilled in their own right, but rarely seen as powerful, prepared for the child’s arrival with meticulous care. Everyone believed they already knew who this child would be before the mother even showed signs of being with child. Then the day came. The birth was long and difficult, leaving her mother pale and drenched in sweat, gripping her husband’s hand until her nails cut half-moons into his skin. But when the cry of new life finally filled the room, relief flooded the air, until the midwife announced softly, almost apologetically;
“A daughter.”
The silence that followed felt heavier than the wail of the newborn. The clan head, her father, did not speak, his face remained unreadable, but something in his eyes shuddered. The gathered elders exchanged strained glances and a few murmured to one another, voices too low to hear but not low enough to hide their disappointment. A daughter, not an heir, not the boy they had prepared their hearts and traditions for and from that moment, her life began with a quiet pressure she would not understand until much later.
For her first few years, she was blissfully unaware of the weight she carried. She was a bright child, curious, sharp, always toddling after the older clan children with wide-eyed fascination. She loved climbing rocks, splashing in the edge of the lake, and chasing dragonflies until she collapsed in giggles. Her mother dressed her neatly, brushed her short dark hair, and scolded her gently when she returned home covered in mud. But even in her earliest memories, there was a distance, an unspoken restraint that hovered around her father. He was never cruel nor unkind, but he was also never soft. He held her like she was fragile but regarded her like she was something he didn’t know how to use or shape. He watched her play with the same expression he used when inspecting weapons, this calculating, detached, and faintly disappointed look that she did not understand, not then at least.
She was five when she first overheard the grown-ups talk about her. It was late. She had padded barefoot down the hall toward the kitchen in search of water. The paper walls did little to muffle voices, and she paused when she heard her name spoken sharply.
“…but she is not the heir we needed,” an elder murmured.
“We must consider encouraging the clan head to try for another child. A son.”
“She is bright,” her mothers unmistakable voice protested quietly. “She can be trained.”
“A girl cannot inherit the leadership of the Shuusui. It has always been thus.”
She stood in the shadows, tiny hands curling into fists. She didn’t understand all the words, but she understood enough to feel a sting she couldn’t name, deep in her heart, she didn't realise it then, not truly, but she'd lost something important. That night, she cut her own hair for the first time. Her mother had always spent time caring for it, blushing, washing, styling, proud of how pretty it looked on her. But the broken little girl hacked it unevenly with a dull kunai, watching as the strands fell around her feet like wilted petals. Her mother’s scream the next morning was sharp and startled but her father’s reaction was stranger, his eyes narrowed, not in anger but in something like consideration. He said nothing yet, simply observing, as though weighing this new version of her.
The shift came slowly after that, but it was steady, unyielding as the tide. She began following the boys more than the girls. When the older children practiced the clans martial arts, she begged to join. When they ran, she tried to outrun them. When they sparred, she watched every movement, absorbing each stance and strike with fierce concentration. Whenever she laughed, it was brief, cut short by a quick check to see if the adults were watching, she'd learned early that emotions were easier to swallow and hide rather than to explain. Still the whispers continued, not every day, not always directed at her, but always loud enough to reach her ears when she passed by:
“Such a shame she wasn’t a son.”
“The head needs an heir…”
“Maybe they will try again?”
“She is too wild, too boyish. A proper daughter should...”
And yet the more they criticized, the more she moulded herself into what they claimed she could never be. Her father began to take notice around the time she turned seven. He found her in the courtyard before dawn, repeating the same basic stance she had seen the older boys practice. Sweat dripped down her temples and her legs trembled but she refused to yield, the pain was temporary she'd tell herself. He approached quietly, his voice low.
“Who taught you that form?”
“No one,” she said, without looking up. “I watched.”
“How long have you been training?”
“Four months.”
He stared, and for the first time, something like interest flickered in his eyes. She held her stance until her legs buckled and even then she gritted her teeth and pushed herself upright again. It was the first moment in her life when she saw her father truly look at her, not as a daughter or a disappointment, but as a possibility and that single spark of recognition changed everything. Her father began training her after this day, but he never called it as such. He simply gave her instructions and expected her to follow without question.
“Hold your stance longer.”
“Straighten your back.”
“Again.”
“Again.”
He did not praise her, he never smiled, just watched her, and that was enough to fill her chest with a trembling kind of pride. While the other girls of the clan learned etiquette and precision, she learned to harden her palms against wooden posts until her hands bruised, while her peers practiced soft, graceful movements, she pushed herself to run laps around the compound until her lungs burned, throwing up less often the more she pushed. The clan whispered about her, of course. They always whispered.
“She’s not supposed to train this way.”
“Girls shouldn’t be pushed so harshly.”
“She’s trying too hard to be something she’s not.”
“Even if she excels, tradition will prevent her from inheriting...”
But she trained harder with every word she overheard. Each murmur felt like a stone placed on her back, and she learned to stand stronger, taller, straighter beneath the weight.
It was near her eighth birthday when she first awakened the Byakugan. Not through ceremony, nor guidance but raw emotion. She had been practicing footwork in the courtyard, sweat dripping down her spine. Two older boys walked past, whispering just loudly enough.
“She’s trying to act like she’ll lead the clan someday.”
“It’s pathetic, isn’t it?”
“Even if she was a boy, she’s too soft.”
“She’ll never be enough.”
Something in her snapped at that moment. Not in anger but something deeper, something that had been coiled inside her since the moment she realized she was born wrong in the clan’s eyes. She spun toward them, fists raised, shouting for them to take it back and for the first time, her vision expanded, veins bulging at her temples, the world blooming into vivid clarity. She could see their shallow breaths, their tensing muscles, the flow of chakra flickering like embers in the dark. The boys stumbled back in shock, before scrambling to run, their fear all to obvious to even her untrained eyes. Her father, who had been watching from the walkway, said nothing till later that night, he placed a hand, heavy and deliberate on her shoulder.
“Your blood is strong,” he said. “Do not waste it.”
It was the closest thing to praise he had ever given her and from then on, her training sharpened into something fierce. She embraced every gruelling task with single-minded determination. She tore her hands open, skinned her knees, and split her lip more times than she could count. She took to wearing short hair because it was practical, but also because she wanted to look like the boys she was expected to surpass. She learned to speak little, to keep her emotions tightly wound behind her ribs, to respond to pain with grit rather than tears. She also learned to stand her ground, against boys who tried to belittle her, against elders who shook their heads at her choices, against her own creeping doubts. But beneath all her hardening edges, she still held the quiet hope that one day, her father would look at her not just as a responsibility or a burden, but as his heir and perhaps, for small moments, he did.
He began involving her in clan matters, sparingly, cautiously, but meaningfully. He allowed her to observe the adults training sessions, to study family scrolls, to sit beside him during certain internal meetings. Each privilege felt like a promise, that if she became strong enough, disciplined enough, Shuusui enough then she might change tradition itself. Yet every privilege also reminded her of the thin ice she walked upon. One misstep, one display of weakness, and all the progress she had clawed for could shatter beneath her feet. With this at her heart, she doubled down, trained harder, ran farther, fought rougher. She began to speak less, laughed almost never, to push her body till it was breaking, screaming in agony stopping only just before collapse.
By ten, the tomboyish habits were no longer an act or a mask, they had become who she was. Not a son, but something stronger than what the clan expected a daughter could be.
As she grew older, her training no longer resembled that of an ordinary child. By eleven, she had surpassed most of the boys her age, and many of the adults as well. Her mornings began before sunrise, running the stone path around the lake until her legs burned. Afternoons were spent drilling Hyuuga forms until her limbs moved with instinctive precision. Evenings, she sparred anyone willing to face her. At first, the adults humoured her. They thought it would be a quick lesson, one that would remind her of her place. But she was relentless, she blocked strikes bigger than her, absorbed blows that would have flattened other children, and forced herself back to her feet every time she fell. When she lost, she asked for another bout. When she won, she demanded a stronger partner, and slowly, something changed. The whispers stopped, not because people feared speaking ill of her, but because they no longer had anything ill to say. Where gossip once followed her like a shadow, respect began to gather in its place. Clan members who once lamented her birth now watched her with quiet admiration. The elders who doubted she could ever match the expectations set for a son now reconsidered what a daughter could achieve.
She had become something solid. Unshakeable. A pillar in the making.
Even her father’s gaze shifted. It did not soften, he was not a man who softened, but it deepened, hints of pride showing through cracks. He no longer observed her as a burden nor an obligation, but as a potential successor. Someone who might lead the clan forward not by tradition but by breaking and rebuilding it, bettering it.
At twelve, the Shuusui determined there was nothing more they could teach her within the compound. Her fundamentals were flawless. Her Byakugan control was exceptional for her age, raw, but potent and her discipline was unbreakable. The next step was the Shinobi Academy of the Hidden Cloud. For the clan, this decision was political as much as practical. Their history with the village had always been cautious, loyalty must be proven, strength must be shown. By sending her, their prodigy, their rising pillar, they offered the Hidden Cloud a visible symbol of allegiance, she was the clan’s olive branch and a showcase of the power the Shuusui brought to the village. She accepted the decision without hesitation. She had trained for this her entire life, and she would not falter at the threshold.
On the morning she left for her first day at the academy, clan members lined the walkway, not with doubt or disappointment, but with pride. For the first time, she did not feel the need to hide beneath a boyish mask or hardened bravado. She stood straight, focused. She wasn't the son they expected, but she'd become a warrior they believed in.
[WC - 2194]
“A daughter.”
The silence that followed felt heavier than the wail of the newborn. The clan head, her father, did not speak, his face remained unreadable, but something in his eyes shuddered. The gathered elders exchanged strained glances and a few murmured to one another, voices too low to hear but not low enough to hide their disappointment. A daughter, not an heir, not the boy they had prepared their hearts and traditions for and from that moment, her life began with a quiet pressure she would not understand until much later.
For her first few years, she was blissfully unaware of the weight she carried. She was a bright child, curious, sharp, always toddling after the older clan children with wide-eyed fascination. She loved climbing rocks, splashing in the edge of the lake, and chasing dragonflies until she collapsed in giggles. Her mother dressed her neatly, brushed her short dark hair, and scolded her gently when she returned home covered in mud. But even in her earliest memories, there was a distance, an unspoken restraint that hovered around her father. He was never cruel nor unkind, but he was also never soft. He held her like she was fragile but regarded her like she was something he didn’t know how to use or shape. He watched her play with the same expression he used when inspecting weapons, this calculating, detached, and faintly disappointed look that she did not understand, not then at least.
She was five when she first overheard the grown-ups talk about her. It was late. She had padded barefoot down the hall toward the kitchen in search of water. The paper walls did little to muffle voices, and she paused when she heard her name spoken sharply.
“…but she is not the heir we needed,” an elder murmured.
“We must consider encouraging the clan head to try for another child. A son.”
“She is bright,” her mothers unmistakable voice protested quietly. “She can be trained.”
“A girl cannot inherit the leadership of the Shuusui. It has always been thus.”
She stood in the shadows, tiny hands curling into fists. She didn’t understand all the words, but she understood enough to feel a sting she couldn’t name, deep in her heart, she didn't realise it then, not truly, but she'd lost something important. That night, she cut her own hair for the first time. Her mother had always spent time caring for it, blushing, washing, styling, proud of how pretty it looked on her. But the broken little girl hacked it unevenly with a dull kunai, watching as the strands fell around her feet like wilted petals. Her mother’s scream the next morning was sharp and startled but her father’s reaction was stranger, his eyes narrowed, not in anger but in something like consideration. He said nothing yet, simply observing, as though weighing this new version of her.
The shift came slowly after that, but it was steady, unyielding as the tide. She began following the boys more than the girls. When the older children practiced the clans martial arts, she begged to join. When they ran, she tried to outrun them. When they sparred, she watched every movement, absorbing each stance and strike with fierce concentration. Whenever she laughed, it was brief, cut short by a quick check to see if the adults were watching, she'd learned early that emotions were easier to swallow and hide rather than to explain. Still the whispers continued, not every day, not always directed at her, but always loud enough to reach her ears when she passed by:
“Such a shame she wasn’t a son.”
“The head needs an heir…”
“Maybe they will try again?”
“She is too wild, too boyish. A proper daughter should...”
And yet the more they criticized, the more she moulded herself into what they claimed she could never be. Her father began to take notice around the time she turned seven. He found her in the courtyard before dawn, repeating the same basic stance she had seen the older boys practice. Sweat dripped down her temples and her legs trembled but she refused to yield, the pain was temporary she'd tell herself. He approached quietly, his voice low.
“Who taught you that form?”
“No one,” she said, without looking up. “I watched.”
“How long have you been training?”
“Four months.”
He stared, and for the first time, something like interest flickered in his eyes. She held her stance until her legs buckled and even then she gritted her teeth and pushed herself upright again. It was the first moment in her life when she saw her father truly look at her, not as a daughter or a disappointment, but as a possibility and that single spark of recognition changed everything. Her father began training her after this day, but he never called it as such. He simply gave her instructions and expected her to follow without question.
“Hold your stance longer.”
“Straighten your back.”
“Again.”
“Again.”
He did not praise her, he never smiled, just watched her, and that was enough to fill her chest with a trembling kind of pride. While the other girls of the clan learned etiquette and precision, she learned to harden her palms against wooden posts until her hands bruised, while her peers practiced soft, graceful movements, she pushed herself to run laps around the compound until her lungs burned, throwing up less often the more she pushed. The clan whispered about her, of course. They always whispered.
“She’s not supposed to train this way.”
“Girls shouldn’t be pushed so harshly.”
“She’s trying too hard to be something she’s not.”
“Even if she excels, tradition will prevent her from inheriting...”
But she trained harder with every word she overheard. Each murmur felt like a stone placed on her back, and she learned to stand stronger, taller, straighter beneath the weight.
It was near her eighth birthday when she first awakened the Byakugan. Not through ceremony, nor guidance but raw emotion. She had been practicing footwork in the courtyard, sweat dripping down her spine. Two older boys walked past, whispering just loudly enough.
“She’s trying to act like she’ll lead the clan someday.”
“It’s pathetic, isn’t it?”
“Even if she was a boy, she’s too soft.”
“She’ll never be enough.”
Something in her snapped at that moment. Not in anger but something deeper, something that had been coiled inside her since the moment she realized she was born wrong in the clan’s eyes. She spun toward them, fists raised, shouting for them to take it back and for the first time, her vision expanded, veins bulging at her temples, the world blooming into vivid clarity. She could see their shallow breaths, their tensing muscles, the flow of chakra flickering like embers in the dark. The boys stumbled back in shock, before scrambling to run, their fear all to obvious to even her untrained eyes. Her father, who had been watching from the walkway, said nothing till later that night, he placed a hand, heavy and deliberate on her shoulder.
“Your blood is strong,” he said. “Do not waste it.”
It was the closest thing to praise he had ever given her and from then on, her training sharpened into something fierce. She embraced every gruelling task with single-minded determination. She tore her hands open, skinned her knees, and split her lip more times than she could count. She took to wearing short hair because it was practical, but also because she wanted to look like the boys she was expected to surpass. She learned to speak little, to keep her emotions tightly wound behind her ribs, to respond to pain with grit rather than tears. She also learned to stand her ground, against boys who tried to belittle her, against elders who shook their heads at her choices, against her own creeping doubts. But beneath all her hardening edges, she still held the quiet hope that one day, her father would look at her not just as a responsibility or a burden, but as his heir and perhaps, for small moments, he did.
He began involving her in clan matters, sparingly, cautiously, but meaningfully. He allowed her to observe the adults training sessions, to study family scrolls, to sit beside him during certain internal meetings. Each privilege felt like a promise, that if she became strong enough, disciplined enough, Shuusui enough then she might change tradition itself. Yet every privilege also reminded her of the thin ice she walked upon. One misstep, one display of weakness, and all the progress she had clawed for could shatter beneath her feet. With this at her heart, she doubled down, trained harder, ran farther, fought rougher. She began to speak less, laughed almost never, to push her body till it was breaking, screaming in agony stopping only just before collapse.
By ten, the tomboyish habits were no longer an act or a mask, they had become who she was. Not a son, but something stronger than what the clan expected a daughter could be.
As she grew older, her training no longer resembled that of an ordinary child. By eleven, she had surpassed most of the boys her age, and many of the adults as well. Her mornings began before sunrise, running the stone path around the lake until her legs burned. Afternoons were spent drilling Hyuuga forms until her limbs moved with instinctive precision. Evenings, she sparred anyone willing to face her. At first, the adults humoured her. They thought it would be a quick lesson, one that would remind her of her place. But she was relentless, she blocked strikes bigger than her, absorbed blows that would have flattened other children, and forced herself back to her feet every time she fell. When she lost, she asked for another bout. When she won, she demanded a stronger partner, and slowly, something changed. The whispers stopped, not because people feared speaking ill of her, but because they no longer had anything ill to say. Where gossip once followed her like a shadow, respect began to gather in its place. Clan members who once lamented her birth now watched her with quiet admiration. The elders who doubted she could ever match the expectations set for a son now reconsidered what a daughter could achieve.
She had become something solid. Unshakeable. A pillar in the making.
Even her father’s gaze shifted. It did not soften, he was not a man who softened, but it deepened, hints of pride showing through cracks. He no longer observed her as a burden nor an obligation, but as a potential successor. Someone who might lead the clan forward not by tradition but by breaking and rebuilding it, bettering it.
At twelve, the Shuusui determined there was nothing more they could teach her within the compound. Her fundamentals were flawless. Her Byakugan control was exceptional for her age, raw, but potent and her discipline was unbreakable. The next step was the Shinobi Academy of the Hidden Cloud. For the clan, this decision was political as much as practical. Their history with the village had always been cautious, loyalty must be proven, strength must be shown. By sending her, their prodigy, their rising pillar, they offered the Hidden Cloud a visible symbol of allegiance, she was the clan’s olive branch and a showcase of the power the Shuusui brought to the village. She accepted the decision without hesitation. She had trained for this her entire life, and she would not falter at the threshold.
On the morning she left for her first day at the academy, clan members lined the walkway, not with doubt or disappointment, but with pride. For the first time, she did not feel the need to hide beneath a boyish mask or hardened bravado. She stood straight, focused. She wasn't the son they expected, but she'd become a warrior they believed in.
[WC - 2194]
Clan Application:
The Shuusui Clan
.:"In stillness, we see; in storms, we stand.”:.
Overview:
.:"In stillness, we see; in storms, we stand.”:.
The Shuusui Clan is a proud, disciplined branch family descended from the Hyuuga of the Leaf. Known for their Byakugan, rigid training methods, and ironclad discipline, they value strength, structure, and loyalty above all else. Unlike the main Hyuuga line, the Shuusui have adopted the bold, force-driven culture of the Hidden Cloud, blending Hyuuga precision with Lightning Country intensity.
They are a reserved but respected clan, quiet on the surface, fierce in their devotion to tradition, and secretive about their internal techniques. The Shuusui raise their children with strict expectations and harsh regimens, believing that only those who surpass themselves can uphold the clan’s honor. Though once viewed with suspicion due to their Leaf origins, they have proven themselves stalwart allies of Kumogakure.
History:
The Shuusui Clan traces its lineage back to the main Hyuuga family of the Leaf. Generations ago, they were a prominent branch, known not for politics, but for discipline and martial rigor. The Shuusui prided themselves on absolute loyalty to the Hyuuga name and carried out much of the clan’s security and enforcement. Their Byakugan was sharp, their taijutsu fierce, and their devotion to the clan absolute.
But as internal tensions grew within, particularly surrounding the political divide between main house and branch families, the Shuusui found themselves increasingly at odds with decisions that threatened their autonomy. Some accounts claim they chose exile to preserve their identity, others whisper that the Hyuuga quietly encouraged their relocation to avoid further strain. Whatever the truth, the Shuusui eventually departed the Leaf, traveling into the Lightning Country.
Settling near a spring-fed lake on the outskirts of Kumogakure, they pledged their allegiance to the Raikage. Their presence sparked wary curiosity; after all, the Cloud and the Leaf had a long history, not all of it positive. But the Shuusui made their intentions clear, they did not seek conflict, only a place to dedicate themselves to strength and discipline without internal constraint.
Over the years, the clan adapted to Cloud culture. Lightning Country’s boldness blended with the Shuusuis precision, shaping a new style of training, faster, harder, and more punishing. Where the main clan emphasized perfect form, the Shuusui added endurance trials, harsh conditioning, and rigorous physical expectations. Children grew up learning traditional Gentle Fist stances alongside gruelling stamina exercises. Respect was earned through effort. Despite their origins, the Shuusui avoided politics. Instead they became valuable assets to the village through patrol work, advanced perception roles, and defensive operations. Their discipline, loyalty, and determination eventually softened Cloud suspicions. Today, the Shuusui stand as a respected but somewhat insular clan, quiet observers who prove their worth through action rather than words.
Their traditions remain strict, their hierarchy rigid, and their expectations high. But their loyalty to the Cloud is ironclad, forged through generations of adaptation, sacrifice, and relentless self-discipline.
Branches; Main Branch:
Clan Head: Shuusui Kaito
a calm, disciplined man in his early forties whose presence commands respect without raising his voice. Tall and broad-shouldered, he carries himself like a mountain shaped by years of service to the Cloud. Kaito is known for his sharp Byakugan insight and an even sharper sense of responsibility, placing the clan’s unity and honor above personal ambition. Though stern and demanding in training, he is not unkind; his expectations come from a belief that strength is nurtured, not gifted. Kaito was the first to bridge the old mistrust between the Leaf-born Shuusui and the Cloud Village, earning him a reputation as a loyal, steady ally to the Raikage. He sees potential where others see flaws, and he quietly champions Ruri, his daughter, as a future pillar of the clan, though he would never say it aloud.
Clan Members:
Shuusui Ruri [Acadamy Student, Potential Heir]
Membership and Attributes:
Birth:
The Shuusui Clan holds a firm, traditional stance on lineage. Only those born directly into the clan’s bloodline may bear the Shuusui name or be considered true members. Adoption, marriage, or honorary titles carry no weight in their internal hierarchy. Outsiders may live with them, train beside them, or even be trusted allies, but they are never Shuusui. This belief stems from the clan’s roots as a Hyuuga offshoot, where bloodline purity and inheritance were once rigidly enforced. Though the Shuusui have grown less severe than their ancestors, they still treat their Byakugan-bearing lineage as sacred. To them, the clan name is not simply a family title but a living legacy, inherited through shared blood, discipline, and duty. Only those who carry that blood are seen as rightful stewards of their traditions, techniques, and honor.
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