Name: Shinrya Akihiko
Age: Eleven
Gender: Male
Rank: Academy Student
Physical Description: Akihiko has shoulder length black hair that he normally keeps tied back in a ponytail or top bun. Even at his young age, strands of white stand out in the sea of ebony, a sore subject for him. He stands at around five feet tall and is of a lean build, various scars adorning his body from his arduous childhood before he returned to the cloud village. His eyes are storm grey, but warm and welcoming. The young Uchiha generally wears of a hoodie, equipment sash, black pants and sandals. On his back he carries his fathers Katana, the scabbard a bright crimson, it almost never leaves his person.
Personality: Despite the boy’s tragic past, he is a ray of happiness to those around him, almost making it a point to be, it seems. He constantly cracks jokes and is a bit childish. In his quieter moments he can often be found gazing off into space, brows furrowed in thought, eyes distant.
Underneath it all, hides a killer. Not one of pleasure but of necessity. A coldness needed to do what needs to be done, even if he doesn’t want to. To those unable to see past his surface, Akihiko is a troubled child trying to find his place in the village. To others, a potential evil. To even fewer, hope.
History: Akihiko was not born in the village, his parents leaving well before his birth. They traveled, enjoying their youth before settling down in the countryside when his mother became pregnant with him. His earliest years were filled with laughter and joy as far as he could remember. Then, one night, there was a large crash outside of his family’s home. Voices. Yelling. His father bid him and his mother to hide while he went outside to investigate, leaving his katana with them. That would be the last time Akihiko would see his father. The sounds of violence and fighting would quickly follow his father’s departure, flames and smoke engulfing his childhood home soon after.
His mother ran with him, sneaking out of the rear entrance, Akihiko and her husband’s prized sword in her arms. She stumbled through the forest, pursuers not far behind. As a final duty to her child, she stayed behind to make time for his escape, placing the katana in his small arms and quickly whispering the directions to the village hidden in the clouds to him. All he could do was cry. What was happening? Where was father? Why was she crying? But there was no time for questions. He wasn’t listening but then, what child could be expected to be understanding in the wake of such despair?
Then, she did the only thing she could think of to ensure her sons survival. She placed him under a genjutsu. Survival for her baby boy was all that mattered to her. And so, he did. Over the course the course of months, he made his way to his parent’s home village, the compulsion of his mothers genjutsu keeping him on the correct path. Many times, he almost perished, to the wild beasts that roamed the land or to rogue shinobi looking to pray on a small child. Still, he endured until finally arriving at his new home, clothed in tattered rags and his father’s Katana clutched in his arms.
Age: Eleven
Gender: Male
Rank: Academy Student
Physical Description: Akihiko has shoulder length black hair that he normally keeps tied back in a ponytail or top bun. Even at his young age, strands of white stand out in the sea of ebony, a sore subject for him. He stands at around five feet tall and is of a lean build, various scars adorning his body from his arduous childhood before he returned to the cloud village. His eyes are storm grey, but warm and welcoming. The young Uchiha generally wears of a hoodie, equipment sash, black pants and sandals. On his back he carries his fathers Katana, the scabbard a bright crimson, it almost never leaves his person.
Personality: Despite the boy’s tragic past, he is a ray of happiness to those around him, almost making it a point to be, it seems. He constantly cracks jokes and is a bit childish. In his quieter moments he can often be found gazing off into space, brows furrowed in thought, eyes distant.
Underneath it all, hides a killer. Not one of pleasure but of necessity. A coldness needed to do what needs to be done, even if he doesn’t want to. To those unable to see past his surface, Akihiko is a troubled child trying to find his place in the village. To others, a potential evil. To even fewer, hope.
History: Akihiko was not born in the village, his parents leaving well before his birth. They traveled, enjoying their youth before settling down in the countryside when his mother became pregnant with him. His earliest years were filled with laughter and joy as far as he could remember. Then, one night, there was a large crash outside of his family’s home. Voices. Yelling. His father bid him and his mother to hide while he went outside to investigate, leaving his katana with them. That would be the last time Akihiko would see his father. The sounds of violence and fighting would quickly follow his father’s departure, flames and smoke engulfing his childhood home soon after.
His mother ran with him, sneaking out of the rear entrance, Akihiko and her husband’s prized sword in her arms. She stumbled through the forest, pursuers not far behind. As a final duty to her child, she stayed behind to make time for his escape, placing the katana in his small arms and quickly whispering the directions to the village hidden in the clouds to him. All he could do was cry. What was happening? Where was father? Why was she crying? But there was no time for questions. He wasn’t listening but then, what child could be expected to be understanding in the wake of such despair?
Then, she did the only thing she could think of to ensure her sons survival. She placed him under a genjutsu. Survival for her baby boy was all that mattered to her. And so, he did. Over the course the course of months, he made his way to his parent’s home village, the compulsion of his mothers genjutsu keeping him on the correct path. Many times, he almost perished, to the wild beasts that roamed the land or to rogue shinobi looking to pray on a small child. Still, he endured until finally arriving at his new home, clothed in tattered rags and his father’s Katana clutched in his arms.
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