Name: Toujigikou Takumi
Age: 10
Physical Description: Takumi is a little smaller and lighter than those his age, standing at 132 cm and weighing at 32 kg. His build is rather lean, a result of him not focusing much on physical strength. His face is adorned with freckles and dark eyes, long brownish-blond hair usually kept up with a headband of some sort.
Mental Description: Takumi is usually a bright and amiable child, friendly and approachable to most, though can occasionally behave startlingly differently. When interacting with someone he dislikes, he displays clear distate and scorn towards them, not bothering to keep his feelings hidden to make them know exactly how he feels, unless he must pretend to carry out shinobi duties. When people Takumi cares for seem sad, angry or likewise as a result of his actions, he becomes distressed, apologising profusely and trying to make up for what he did.
Takumi views the world in terms of art; traits and behaviours Takumi likes are seen as 'beautiful', whereas the opposite are seen conversely, as abhorrent and awful to look at. 'Beautiful' things he treats with wonder and passion, and 'ugly' things are treated with scorn, often attempting to get rid of them or it, should he able to. There are sometimes things that display both types of traits. In these situations, Takumi will often attempt to remove the negative aspects of it, or them.
Age: 10
Physical Description: Takumi is a little smaller and lighter than those his age, standing at 132 cm and weighing at 32 kg. His build is rather lean, a result of him not focusing much on physical strength. His face is adorned with freckles and dark eyes, long brownish-blond hair usually kept up with a headband of some sort.
Mental Description: Takumi is usually a bright and amiable child, friendly and approachable to most, though can occasionally behave startlingly differently. When interacting with someone he dislikes, he displays clear distate and scorn towards them, not bothering to keep his feelings hidden to make them know exactly how he feels, unless he must pretend to carry out shinobi duties. When people Takumi cares for seem sad, angry or likewise as a result of his actions, he becomes distressed, apologising profusely and trying to make up for what he did.
Takumi views the world in terms of art; traits and behaviours Takumi likes are seen as 'beautiful', whereas the opposite are seen conversely, as abhorrent and awful to look at. 'Beautiful' things he treats with wonder and passion, and 'ugly' things are treated with scorn, often attempting to get rid of them or it, should he able to. There are sometimes things that display both types of traits. In these situations, Takumi will often attempt to remove the negative aspects of it, or them.
Takumi's parents were Konoha Jonin, both showing prowess with the Toujigikou kekkei genkai. Following the motto of the clan, the two believed that strength and training would pave the way to the single, awe-inspiring second they called art.
From a young age, Takumi displayed the affinity for art his clan was notorious for, though their philosophy was not so strong with him. When raising him, Takumi's parents were fully focused on his development, pushing and pushing to talk or walk or develop social skills, whatever they felt was necessary. If he didn't progress or live up to their expectations, his efforts were called "unsightly" and the like, though was followed with words convincing him that they could make him "better", go from being unsightly to being a "masterpiece".
As he entered the Academy, development became more focused into refining his prowess as a shinobi. The process Takumi had undergone throughout his childhood had changed his perception on things, positive things being seen as art, and negative things being unsightly, something that shouldn't be in the world.
From a young age, Takumi displayed the affinity for art his clan was notorious for, though their philosophy was not so strong with him. When raising him, Takumi's parents were fully focused on his development, pushing and pushing to talk or walk or develop social skills, whatever they felt was necessary. If he didn't progress or live up to their expectations, his efforts were called "unsightly" and the like, though was followed with words convincing him that they could make him "better", go from being unsightly to being a "masterpiece".
As he entered the Academy, development became more focused into refining his prowess as a shinobi. The process Takumi had undergone throughout his childhood had changed his perception on things, positive things being seen as art, and negative things being unsightly, something that shouldn't be in the world.
"Your moulding is fairly good, Takumi. Now let's see if you can properly finish our clan's art."
"Forming a half-decent figure is all very well and good, but it doesn't matter if there's no explosion. That's what really matters here. Well, go on, Takumi. Detonate it."
Two figures loomed above Takumi, who was sat, having finished infusing chakra into the clay his clan was famed for using, moulding it into an owl, wings by its side. It was a little amateur, proportions a little off, a little basic in design, though the way the figure looked was hardly important given its fate. With a nod to his parents, he formed the seal, uttering a determined "Katsu." as he does. Nothing. No vibrant eruption of light, just an owl, jeering at him. Looking at his parents, his apologetic state is met with an unimpressed one.
"Is that your best?" Takumi's father spoke with scorn in his tone, looking down at him. "Surely you can do better than nothing at all? If that's your so-called 'art' then it doesn't deserve that name at all."
Takumi sat in silence, his gaze avoiding his parents, staring at the owl.
"Don't be so disheartened, Takumi. It might be terrible now, but we can help make your efforts less ugly. Just watch me do it, okay?" Takumi's mother spoke far more gently than his father, trying to stop the boy from giving up. She prepared her clay far more expertly than Takumi, her movements fluid like water, effortlessly producing an elegant swan. Simultaneously, the two jonin formed different handseals, the figure exploding violently, shrapnel bouncing harmlessly off of the barriers formed around the three.
"See? You have to properly infuse your chakra. Your turn, but don't worry about making the figure look particularly nice yet. We just want you to actually be able to perform it, okay?"
Takumi takes more time preparing the clay, trying to infuse enough chakra, though it felt as though he were coaxing water up a hill. Praying that something would come from this attempt, he coalesces the clay into a vague shape, trying to detonate once again...and still nothing.
"Again, Takumi."
It was so annoying.
"Again."
Why wasn't there any reaction?
"Again."
It was unbearable. There should be at least something. But there never was.
"Again."
Each failure was another log on an internal fire, frustration building til it spread outwards, filling each "Katsu" with ever growing bitter rage.
"My patience is running low, Takumi. Do it again, and achieve something, anything."
Takumi worked in silence, focusing entirely on the task, determined to not fail. After what felt like forever to him, he finished preparing, moulding the clay into a beetle. Forming the handseal, he prepares to detonate.
"Katsu!"
There was no explosion, though a sound seemed to eminate from the clay. A fizzling, akin to a firecracker.
"Well, the yelling made it all a little anticlimactic, but congratulations. You managed to progress a little bit with your art." Takumi's father gives the boy a little pat on the shoulder and a smile, taking on the gentle tone his mother had used earlier.
"You should go and rest, restore your chakra."
With a nod, Takumi stands and leaves the room, relieved that the session hadn't been a complete failure.
"Forming a half-decent figure is all very well and good, but it doesn't matter if there's no explosion. That's what really matters here. Well, go on, Takumi. Detonate it."
Two figures loomed above Takumi, who was sat, having finished infusing chakra into the clay his clan was famed for using, moulding it into an owl, wings by its side. It was a little amateur, proportions a little off, a little basic in design, though the way the figure looked was hardly important given its fate. With a nod to his parents, he formed the seal, uttering a determined "Katsu." as he does. Nothing. No vibrant eruption of light, just an owl, jeering at him. Looking at his parents, his apologetic state is met with an unimpressed one.
"Is that your best?" Takumi's father spoke with scorn in his tone, looking down at him. "Surely you can do better than nothing at all? If that's your so-called 'art' then it doesn't deserve that name at all."
Takumi sat in silence, his gaze avoiding his parents, staring at the owl.
"Don't be so disheartened, Takumi. It might be terrible now, but we can help make your efforts less ugly. Just watch me do it, okay?" Takumi's mother spoke far more gently than his father, trying to stop the boy from giving up. She prepared her clay far more expertly than Takumi, her movements fluid like water, effortlessly producing an elegant swan. Simultaneously, the two jonin formed different handseals, the figure exploding violently, shrapnel bouncing harmlessly off of the barriers formed around the three.
"See? You have to properly infuse your chakra. Your turn, but don't worry about making the figure look particularly nice yet. We just want you to actually be able to perform it, okay?"
Takumi takes more time preparing the clay, trying to infuse enough chakra, though it felt as though he were coaxing water up a hill. Praying that something would come from this attempt, he coalesces the clay into a vague shape, trying to detonate once again...and still nothing.
"Again, Takumi."
It was so annoying.
"Again."
Why wasn't there any reaction?
"Again."
It was unbearable. There should be at least something. But there never was.
"Again."
Each failure was another log on an internal fire, frustration building til it spread outwards, filling each "Katsu" with ever growing bitter rage.
"My patience is running low, Takumi. Do it again, and achieve something, anything."
Takumi worked in silence, focusing entirely on the task, determined to not fail. After what felt like forever to him, he finished preparing, moulding the clay into a beetle. Forming the handseal, he prepares to detonate.
"Katsu!"
There was no explosion, though a sound seemed to eminate from the clay. A fizzling, akin to a firecracker.
"Well, the yelling made it all a little anticlimactic, but congratulations. You managed to progress a little bit with your art." Takumi's father gives the boy a little pat on the shoulder and a smile, taking on the gentle tone his mother had used earlier.
"You should go and rest, restore your chakra."
With a nod, Takumi stands and leaves the room, relieved that the session hadn't been a complete failure.