Name: Makeinu
Age: Unknown to himself. [Biologically 13, visibly within proximity of age.]
Physical Description: Looking upon the boy would make anyone question his health, so small and thin as to appear nearly emaciated. An unfortunate but obvious case of albinism causes his skin, hair, and eyes (appearing reddish) to be devoid of any true color. Barely breaking four feet in height, the collective weight of his bones and meager amounts of flesh weigh the child around sixty pounds or so. The messy white hair sprouting from his scalp remained mostly unchecked for any reason, and his sunken eyes seemed to trust nor find enjoyment in much of anything. The little finger and palm of his right hand seems to have been broken and healed incorrectly, which caused him to lose much function/flexibility in that extremity. [Inability to form complex handseals.]
Mental Description: Makeinu is a hard person to get close to, or understand. Though he suffers from amnesia, he appears to be relatively at peace with it. He never brings it up, and cordially brushes it aside if it cannot be avoided. For someone with a handicap, he seems to be fairly self-reliant if somewhat friendless and indifferent towards himself. The frustration in regards to his lost memories and identities seems to be a problem he keeps to himself, internalizing it and trying his best to stay out of everyone's way. Shy in a number of ways, and less than happy with his physical appearance, he's not the most confident of persons. He does feel he can accomplish something in life, he just hasn't the smallest clue of what that is. His natural even if subtle spark has prompted the suggestion for Makeinu to participate in the academy to see if he could make the cut, even while being unable to form most handseals. Maybe they see something more?
History: The sandstorms that twisted and spiraled about Wind Country were known for whittling away life, stripping skin and flesh from bone. On one cloudy night the weather had been particularly bad. The storm had raged with so much gale force that grains of sand etched scratch marks deep into whatever rocks they touched. The thick clouds of swirling sand threatened to bury the moon's light, yet its beams repetitively bore through at every opportunity.
Courier
{Not Makeinu}Traversing this natural disaster was a courier, no doubt skilled and talented to be hired to cross such terrain. The courier was low on food, water, and stamina but he knew he could make it with what he had left. Fate or the universe perhaps, threw him a curve ball that day and his choice would forever impact the future, no matter how little. Fate's curve ball came in the form of a small body, being carried and flung about in the powerful winds of the storm. At first he wasn't going to stop or pay it any mind, people died in those places all the time. What's it to him?
Fate's insistence somehow saw to it that the little would-be corpse would he sent high over the courier's position, roughly smashing into the side of a stony formation. With the small form close to his travel path, curiosity had gotten the better of him. He saw the pale sickly looking child, with scratches from the sand all over a body barely covered in rags. The back of the boy's head was bleeding from collision with the stony formation, and one of the child's little fingers seemed to have stiffened after healing improperly some time ago. The courier could only wonder how long the boy had been out there, and when he was sure he could see some life in the little body he lifted the youth over his shoulder.
This courier only had enough supplies to last himself, exactly the amount he needed to reach his destination of Sunagakure. Yet, something inside him prevented him from letting the child die in the storm. Instead of being selfish, he fed the child water and what rations he could whenever consciousness momentarily surfaced. By the time the two would eventually near the entrance tot he subterranean city, the courier had used up all his strength and all his supplies preserving the child's life. He fell to his knees, and out of his arms the child rolled into the sand, as limp and lifeless as ever. The only sign of life was the slight swelling and contraction of his ribs, breathing.
The courier himself far exceeded his own expectations, and knew that willpower alone had helped him push on. His breathing mask had been given to the child, which left him open to the brutal internal damage from inhaling the glass-like shards of sand. The skin on his face had almost been sanded away completely, just like the skin on his arms. The lids which would have protected his eyes were torn away as well, forced to move at a slower pace with the extra weight of the child's body, forcing him to endure a more direct assault from the elements. There was no saving him, but he felt saved any way as his exposed eyeball rested on the child's unconscious form, no longer ablee to see.
Outside the village, the weather was more mild but over time sand would begin to cover the two bodies. It wasn't long before some of the village Shinobi took notice, sent scouts, and brought the bodies in. The child was taken to the hospital where he would recover after months, and the courier's nameless body was taken wherever a village of ground-dwelling Shinobi would keep some things. The courier had managed to lose all that he had been carrying, all except the life of that child. When the boy awoke, he didn't have memory of anything. When asked his name he seemed frustrated, as if he couldn't recall having one. After a few days something from his memories did surface, a name he felt somehow suited him. "Makeinu." A name that, the Medics almost frowned at, but had little choice but to scribble it down.
After some time, it was suggested that Makeinu be considered for the academy as a way to help him find a place within the village. A purpose in life. A path to follow.
Age: Unknown to himself. [Biologically 13, visibly within proximity of age.]
Physical Description: Looking upon the boy would make anyone question his health, so small and thin as to appear nearly emaciated. An unfortunate but obvious case of albinism causes his skin, hair, and eyes (appearing reddish) to be devoid of any true color. Barely breaking four feet in height, the collective weight of his bones and meager amounts of flesh weigh the child around sixty pounds or so. The messy white hair sprouting from his scalp remained mostly unchecked for any reason, and his sunken eyes seemed to trust nor find enjoyment in much of anything. The little finger and palm of his right hand seems to have been broken and healed incorrectly, which caused him to lose much function/flexibility in that extremity. [Inability to form complex handseals.]
Mental Description: Makeinu is a hard person to get close to, or understand. Though he suffers from amnesia, he appears to be relatively at peace with it. He never brings it up, and cordially brushes it aside if it cannot be avoided. For someone with a handicap, he seems to be fairly self-reliant if somewhat friendless and indifferent towards himself. The frustration in regards to his lost memories and identities seems to be a problem he keeps to himself, internalizing it and trying his best to stay out of everyone's way. Shy in a number of ways, and less than happy with his physical appearance, he's not the most confident of persons. He does feel he can accomplish something in life, he just hasn't the smallest clue of what that is. His natural even if subtle spark has prompted the suggestion for Makeinu to participate in the academy to see if he could make the cut, even while being unable to form most handseals. Maybe they see something more?
History: The sandstorms that twisted and spiraled about Wind Country were known for whittling away life, stripping skin and flesh from bone. On one cloudy night the weather had been particularly bad. The storm had raged with so much gale force that grains of sand etched scratch marks deep into whatever rocks they touched. The thick clouds of swirling sand threatened to bury the moon's light, yet its beams repetitively bore through at every opportunity.
Courier
{Not Makeinu}
Fate's insistence somehow saw to it that the little would-be corpse would he sent high over the courier's position, roughly smashing into the side of a stony formation. With the small form close to his travel path, curiosity had gotten the better of him. He saw the pale sickly looking child, with scratches from the sand all over a body barely covered in rags. The back of the boy's head was bleeding from collision with the stony formation, and one of the child's little fingers seemed to have stiffened after healing improperly some time ago. The courier could only wonder how long the boy had been out there, and when he was sure he could see some life in the little body he lifted the youth over his shoulder.
This courier only had enough supplies to last himself, exactly the amount he needed to reach his destination of Sunagakure. Yet, something inside him prevented him from letting the child die in the storm. Instead of being selfish, he fed the child water and what rations he could whenever consciousness momentarily surfaced. By the time the two would eventually near the entrance tot he subterranean city, the courier had used up all his strength and all his supplies preserving the child's life. He fell to his knees, and out of his arms the child rolled into the sand, as limp and lifeless as ever. The only sign of life was the slight swelling and contraction of his ribs, breathing.
The courier himself far exceeded his own expectations, and knew that willpower alone had helped him push on. His breathing mask had been given to the child, which left him open to the brutal internal damage from inhaling the glass-like shards of sand. The skin on his face had almost been sanded away completely, just like the skin on his arms. The lids which would have protected his eyes were torn away as well, forced to move at a slower pace with the extra weight of the child's body, forcing him to endure a more direct assault from the elements. There was no saving him, but he felt saved any way as his exposed eyeball rested on the child's unconscious form, no longer ablee to see.
Outside the village, the weather was more mild but over time sand would begin to cover the two bodies. It wasn't long before some of the village Shinobi took notice, sent scouts, and brought the bodies in. The child was taken to the hospital where he would recover after months, and the courier's nameless body was taken wherever a village of ground-dwelling Shinobi would keep some things. The courier had managed to lose all that he had been carrying, all except the life of that child. When the boy awoke, he didn't have memory of anything. When asked his name he seemed frustrated, as if he couldn't recall having one. After a few days something from his memories did surface, a name he felt somehow suited him. "Makeinu." A name that, the Medics almost frowned at, but had little choice but to scribble it down.
After some time, it was suggested that Makeinu be considered for the academy as a way to help him find a place within the village. A purpose in life. A path to follow.
