Hozuki Kuro
Nov 24, 2012 18:41:17 GMT -7
Post by adamant on Nov 24, 2012 18:41:17 GMT -7
Basic Information
Name: Hozuki Kuro
Bloodlimit: Hozuki
Height: 166cm (5"5')
Weight: 59kg (130 Ibs)
Age: 14
Gender: Male
Alignment: Evil Lawful
Birth Country: Water Country
Village: Amegakure
Special:
• NinJutsu Specialist
• TaiJutsu Specialist
• GenJutsu Non-Specialist
• Clan Non-Specialist
Weapons
Primary Weapon: Greatsword
- Sword, Greatsword
Rank: "C"
Type: Main, Piercing/Slashing, Sword
Effect: Swords that slash hack, dice and anything else within this genre that reaches a certain length.
Special: ---
Drawback: ---
Description: The sword is approximately 5-6 ft long, with a completely flat blade and one that’s apparently single-edged.
Limit: These types of weapons may be capable of being bought inside any Weapon Shop
Cost: 8,000 Ryo
Secondary Items:
• Small Sized Water Bottle Holding Belt
Rank: Genin and up
Type: Secondary
o Small sized: Holds 2 bottles
Effect: Holds a certain amount of water bottles depending on the size.
Special: Sold in any nearby store.
Drawback: Too much weight can slow down the user’s movements.
Description: A belt that goes around the user’s waist in order to access water bottles easily. The belt contains flexible elastic rings, half of the amount the belt holds on each side, in order to fit any size water bottle they wish. The belt itself is made of black leather.
Limit: Anyone can purchase this item.
Cost: 500 Ryo
• Water Bottle x2
Rank: C
Type: Secondary
Small sized: Restores up to 20 slots.
Effect: Bottles that hold water in order to keep the Hozuki from dehydrating.
Special: Sold in any nearby store.
Drawback: ---
Description: Bottles that are able to hold a certain amount of water depending on how big they are. The user simply twists the cap off and takes a large gulp in order to restore slots. Straws can also be used to drink the water in a more relaxed fashion. They can also dump the water over themselves and absorb it. The bottles can be refilled over and over again.
Limit: Hozuki Bloodlimit.
Cost: 400 Ryo
• BDU (Battle Dress Uniform) Trousers (Overview)
Rank: "C"
Type: Main, Tailor, Slot Holder, Holds 6 Slots (2 for pads), Trousers
Effect: Protective trousers that are able to hold additional items.
Special: ---
Drawback: ---
Description: The BDU trouser is worn with a 2-inch nylon web belt, and features Velcro pouches for knee pad inserts quick are equivalent to 1 slot each, 2 forward-tilted thigh storage pockets with elastic drawstring and Velcro for closure during movement which are equivalent to 1 slot unable to hold a scroll length object, and 2 calf storage pockets one on each pant leg with a Velcro closure which are equivalent to 1 slot each unable to hold a scroll length object. In addition, the pants legs can be bloused and must not extend past the third eyelet boots.
Limit: These types of items may be capable of being bought inside any Tailor Shop.
Cost: 2,800 Ryo
Non-Weapon Items: N/A
Character Depth
Personality:
Kuro’s past has moulded him into a rather stoic person, not being much of a ‘people person’. There were not many things he liked and a list of things that he disliked but above all, he hated cowardice. That hatred had been sown into his heart by his own father and had now become a part of his being.
He would sooner commit ‘Seppuku’ than he would run away with his life; that being said, he would aid those that were not afraid to risk their lives to complete a goal and he would ignore those that were too ‘chicken’ to defend themselves. Kuro considers himself a fervent worshipper of his god and a religious individual who made a quick prayer before every fight and before he went to sleep. His faith was unshakeable and his resolve to do anything for said god was astounding.
At least once, he would try to convert others who he’d converse with as expected of him. When it comes to battling, Kuro’s been taught to be merciless and rightfully so, his father claimed that the ‘filth’ of this world – clearly referring to criminals – had to be cleaned up. An alter-ego has now manifested thanks to this; he transforms into a blood-thirsty monster with blood-shot eyes, fury welling up like tears in them.
Calm is the direct opposite of what Kuro becomes whilst battling and goes against the very ideals he’d been taught throughout his childhood; he embraced anger and hatred as though they’d been his childhood friends. Kuro finds it difficult to distinguish from friend or foe in this mode; he attacks anything in front of him and only ceases when that target no longer poses any threat.
Comrades can find it difficult to formulate plans with him as his battle instincts can be recognized as one of a predator rather than a sane fighter. It’s certainly something that Kuro finds trouble doing; teamwork is hardly a strong suit of his and for the safety of his comrades, he’d much rather fight alone but if necessary, he will try to keep tight reign of his darker side as much as he can.
The peculiar thing is that once the battle comes to an end, all the malicious emotions that come with the alter-ego disappear and the alter-ego skulks back under its rock. A speedy transformation occurs from a senseless, violent wolf to a solemn, oblivious child.
His father had explained that killing is justified if it’s in the name of their god and only justified if the opponent poses danger to the world; an opponent who refuses to seek comfort in religion and continues to hurl abuse to their betters. Just as his father opened his eyes to religion, he had taught him its taboos and one that stuck out like a sore thumb was lying.
He was taught that lying was the sinner’s wife and that it did more harm than good; Kuro’s honesty had little to do with what his father had told him. In fact, it had a lot to do with a growing fear of lying to his father; it was common knowledge – at least in the family – that his father had beaten him and no-one had stopped him, bound with the same fear that plagued Kuro.
His inability to lie stemmed from such a fear and translated to a resounding honesty. This coupled with it being a taboo made him ‘sing like a canary’ if need be and the only thing that acted like a loop-hole were secrets. Kuro could keep a secret or two, partly to do with him being a good listener and hardly a chatterbox.
He would occasionally talk to those he liked but most of the time, it was about important things like missions he’d been set. He respected his comrades but just as easily as it had built up, it could be released and wasted if he even smelled a whiff of cowardice. However, the worst thing someone could do was commit the highest level of blasphemy – insult his god.
That would turn him from comrade to greatest foe in the blink of an eye and forgiveness was not a trait that resided with his alter-ego. Kuro loved a good night’s sleep as in his childhood; it was what allowed him to escape to a world of his own. A world where neither his father nor talk of being a chosen one existed. He could whisk himself away to a world of his making and create a world unlike the one he lived in today.
Dreams were a funny concept – a deprived childhood robbed him of having his own dreams, Kuro substituting them for his father’s wishes. It was still possible that he could aspire in the near future but at the very moment, his father kept a firm grasp of his life and he was a mere puppet at both his religion’s and his father’s disposal.
Kuro is well aware of his alter-ego and thus because of its existence, he refrains from drawing himself into non-physical conflicts, mainly of a verbal nature. Because once he gets into a conflict, he fears that it may appear and once it does, it would be difficult to stop him from causing damage to those near him.
Any stress obtained from conflicts that lay outside the rigid boundaries of physical battles could be dealt with by finding a quiet spot and being alone; something Kuro often found himself doing. If Kuro was ever found to be the leader of similar religious people, who were just as devout as he was, he would treat them much better than he would a normal person as he can identify himself with them.
But because he trusted them and liked them more, he would be merciless in punishing them if they were ever to stray from their belief. Fair enough, not many people were followers of his religion and that was their choice but once you chose to become said follower, you were bound by its chains and if you were ever to turn your back on it, you were indirectly turning your back on life and encouraging a swift death fit for such a crime. Regardless, anyone who broke the law was scum to him and if the chance arose, he would let justice prevail and take over.
He would sooner commit ‘Seppuku’ than he would run away with his life; that being said, he would aid those that were not afraid to risk their lives to complete a goal and he would ignore those that were too ‘chicken’ to defend themselves. Kuro considers himself a fervent worshipper of his god and a religious individual who made a quick prayer before every fight and before he went to sleep. His faith was unshakeable and his resolve to do anything for said god was astounding.
At least once, he would try to convert others who he’d converse with as expected of him. When it comes to battling, Kuro’s been taught to be merciless and rightfully so, his father claimed that the ‘filth’ of this world – clearly referring to criminals – had to be cleaned up. An alter-ego has now manifested thanks to this; he transforms into a blood-thirsty monster with blood-shot eyes, fury welling up like tears in them.
Calm is the direct opposite of what Kuro becomes whilst battling and goes against the very ideals he’d been taught throughout his childhood; he embraced anger and hatred as though they’d been his childhood friends. Kuro finds it difficult to distinguish from friend or foe in this mode; he attacks anything in front of him and only ceases when that target no longer poses any threat.
Comrades can find it difficult to formulate plans with him as his battle instincts can be recognized as one of a predator rather than a sane fighter. It’s certainly something that Kuro finds trouble doing; teamwork is hardly a strong suit of his and for the safety of his comrades, he’d much rather fight alone but if necessary, he will try to keep tight reign of his darker side as much as he can.
The peculiar thing is that once the battle comes to an end, all the malicious emotions that come with the alter-ego disappear and the alter-ego skulks back under its rock. A speedy transformation occurs from a senseless, violent wolf to a solemn, oblivious child.
His father had explained that killing is justified if it’s in the name of their god and only justified if the opponent poses danger to the world; an opponent who refuses to seek comfort in religion and continues to hurl abuse to their betters. Just as his father opened his eyes to religion, he had taught him its taboos and one that stuck out like a sore thumb was lying.
He was taught that lying was the sinner’s wife and that it did more harm than good; Kuro’s honesty had little to do with what his father had told him. In fact, it had a lot to do with a growing fear of lying to his father; it was common knowledge – at least in the family – that his father had beaten him and no-one had stopped him, bound with the same fear that plagued Kuro.
His inability to lie stemmed from such a fear and translated to a resounding honesty. This coupled with it being a taboo made him ‘sing like a canary’ if need be and the only thing that acted like a loop-hole were secrets. Kuro could keep a secret or two, partly to do with him being a good listener and hardly a chatterbox.
He would occasionally talk to those he liked but most of the time, it was about important things like missions he’d been set. He respected his comrades but just as easily as it had built up, it could be released and wasted if he even smelled a whiff of cowardice. However, the worst thing someone could do was commit the highest level of blasphemy – insult his god.
That would turn him from comrade to greatest foe in the blink of an eye and forgiveness was not a trait that resided with his alter-ego. Kuro loved a good night’s sleep as in his childhood; it was what allowed him to escape to a world of his own. A world where neither his father nor talk of being a chosen one existed. He could whisk himself away to a world of his making and create a world unlike the one he lived in today.
Dreams were a funny concept – a deprived childhood robbed him of having his own dreams, Kuro substituting them for his father’s wishes. It was still possible that he could aspire in the near future but at the very moment, his father kept a firm grasp of his life and he was a mere puppet at both his religion’s and his father’s disposal.
Kuro is well aware of his alter-ego and thus because of its existence, he refrains from drawing himself into non-physical conflicts, mainly of a verbal nature. Because once he gets into a conflict, he fears that it may appear and once it does, it would be difficult to stop him from causing damage to those near him.
Any stress obtained from conflicts that lay outside the rigid boundaries of physical battles could be dealt with by finding a quiet spot and being alone; something Kuro often found himself doing. If Kuro was ever found to be the leader of similar religious people, who were just as devout as he was, he would treat them much better than he would a normal person as he can identify himself with them.
But because he trusted them and liked them more, he would be merciless in punishing them if they were ever to stray from their belief. Fair enough, not many people were followers of his religion and that was their choice but once you chose to become said follower, you were bound by its chains and if you were ever to turn your back on it, you were indirectly turning your back on life and encouraging a swift death fit for such a crime. Regardless, anyone who broke the law was scum to him and if the chance arose, he would let justice prevail and take over.
Appearance:
He is nearly always seen with a silver ingot ring that has an arousing crimson ruby at its center. Guarding the stylish red spectacles are extremely thin eyelashes which point downwards to an L-shaped nose with a pointy edge. His eyes are dark blue, the edges staying true to this colour and the centre disobeying, much rather preferring a blackish-blue type of colour. His eyes seem empty, as though he is missing something and they seem lifeless, as though - when looking at something - he is looking straight through.
Kuro has a light, rosy complexion and an oval-shaped chin that forms a pointy 'v'. From a single glance, one could deduce that Kuro's body had utilized a growth spurt; some consider him above-average in terms of height and a few had been intimidated by it, coupled with his disheartening personality. In reality, his height's nothing unusual and in fact average among others; it contributes nothing to fooling others about his age.
Kuro is very rarely seen with a grin on his face, a sullen expression existing in its place. Frowning is commonplace when he's on his own and he rarely ever laughs. In short, he rarely ever shares a joyful expression with others around him and should be declared the sulking champion. His skin, including his face, is practically spotless but surprisingly rough despite his age and his genetic makeup. His lips are thin, making it difficult for others to note whether he's pursing or not. He is neither thin nor bulky but categorised in the middle section, leaning more to the former category.
He wears simple black sandles that are fastened by strips of velcro allowing rain to slip through the 'cracks'. Across his waist lies a belt that tightens his trousers and that houses a pair of bottles, water sloshing inside with each stride. He is usually seen clutching to a large flat sword that's roughly the same size as he is. Mainly, he allows it to lean against his shoulder - blunt side first which inevitably developed a bruise on his right shoulder.
Background:
Chapter 1: There's a first for everything...
From a ridiculously young age, Kuro was trained to be a warrior; if anything, he could’ve been defined as a lawful killing machine. A contradiction in and of itself but it was the best way to define his behaviour. He spent his childhood in a remote village, close to Kirigakure; a village that had largely been forgotten and was home to those who couldn’t afford to live in the ‘big city’.
Crime was at large in the small village, as nothing regulated it and no laws stifled its growth. Strangely enough, Kuro and his family were hardly affected by this epidemic; it was only until the later years of his life that he realized the reason – his surname acted like a talisman. His family was figurative leader of the village – an undisputable fact.
Nothing could rival their power, neither literally or in any other sense. Yet, his family did naught to benefit the village in any way and largely kept themselves secluded in the north section of the village. None of that actually mattered to Kuro as his childhood wasn’t one you’d normally expect; it was unorthodox in the fact that he was given a sense of purpose before he could even read and write.
Kuro was never familiar with the gentle warmth of a mother, his father shrugging off the question of her whereabouts every single time. Kindness wasn’t a trait that lay within his father and he refused to take up the mantle of being a substitute mother. Instead, he taught Kuro how to be a man long before he had genetically become one.
One vivid memory was stuck to his mind, even to the present day; he remembered being locked up in a dark, desolate room with his father lecturing him. Most of the lectures were of a violent nature, his father beating him with a long slender plank with splinters stretching from the wood. “You WILL get this right or you will go without food for the rest of this day. If you so much as complain, I will make it two days!”
Kuro long since recognized that the one biggest mistake he could commit was complaining about any punishments his father issued; it was simply begging for another helping of punishments. After the first few weeks, Kuro had grown accustomed to the abyss-like room and had identified the darkness as a friend – not an enemy.
It wasn’t the darkness that antagonized him but his father, who with every lesson grew more violent. It was an unorthodox type of training, with the absence of actual training; the purpose of the lessons, from his father’s point of view, was to mould Kuro into a man worthy of his standards.
Above all, his father was fervently religious; Kuro made the mistake of once asking who his father worshipped and it awarded him with a swift attack to the side; the splinters of the plank dug into his skin that day. Kuro was terrified to ask why he was attacked and mustered up the willpower as not to cry; his father had consented to his wishes by telling him exactly what he’d done wrong.
“YOU BLASPHEMOUS CUR! YOU DO NOT ASK WHO HE IS OR ANYTHING OF THE SORT! NEXT TIME, IT WILL NOT BE A PLANK THAT TEACHES YOU THAT LESSON!” his father bellowed into his face – spittle decorated his petrified face. [/spoiler]
Chapter 2: Religious Zealot
Over the course of Kuro’s lessons, his father elaborated greatly on the god that he worshipped; it was as though he’d gained the right to speak of his lord – a privelege Kuro had yet to gain. His father claimed that long ago, their bodies had been transformed by their lord’s power; that through this transformation, he granted them a bewildering power.
This power was used for a great many things – both in the past and still is greatly used today; their bodies had taken on liquid form and they could, at will, take on said liquid properties. His father had summed it up in a few short words – that they were the chosen ones. They were chosen to be the ones that would guide this world in a path of His choosing; a path that would lead them one step closer to their maker.
Whenever Kuro’s father spoke of the whole ordeal, he spoke as though dazzled, as though in awe. The other villagers branded him as superstitious, believing that coincidence did not exist and anything that went wrong in the village was down to Him – their maker. Thinking back now, Kuro had gained the impression that his father was partly mad; he believed everything his father had told him, arguably by force but most of the time he wasn’t as passionate about it.
The small portion of light that lit up his seat had illuminated his fathers’ face, making it take on a spooky nature. At first he had been disheartened by the expression, the room intensifying his discomfort but a few years had passed and he had become stone-faced; unmoved by his fathers’ lectures. In fact, he was keen to listen and his father was proud by his son’s tenacity and courage that he’d showed at such a young age.
All of his morals and ideals had derived from his father but the key ones that clung to his brain were the ones he truly believed in. His father had claimed that as the chosen ones, they had to lead the world in the right direction and to do so, the weaklings of this world had to be eradicated.
Although he’d wished his son to be the harbinger of this crime, common sense had prevailed and the lawful side of his father had kicked in. His father had encouraged Kuro to aid those that showcased bravery and courage but advised against helping those who too cowardly to defend themselves; the Sagasu tribe, a tribe that existed several decades ago according to his father, were the first to be blessed with this power.
Kuro’s father revered them as the ‘Supreme chosen ones’ and referred to them as such; he’d always wanted to become as great as them, however futile it was in his opinion but clearly that hadn’t come to fruition and now, he was passing his dreams onto his son. The first step in becoming a chosen one, even though his father considered anyone born into the Hozuki clan to be a ‘chosen one’, was to carry a certain set of ideals.
His father was an outcast, much of the clan shunning him and treating him like the village idiot; sometimes, his father would constantly roam in circles – often whilst speaking to himself in a low voice and occasionally cackling crazily. The feeling was mutual, he thought; they weren’t the chosen ones and the power that their god had granted them had gone to waste on those select individuals.
It was up to him to redeem the clan and he would inadvertently do it through his son. In this day and age, ninjas rule the world and that was made abundantly clear by the amount of villages that housed ninjas; it was a blessing in disguise! It was simple; the only way the weaklings of this world would come face to face with their maker was to release them of their earthly bounds and to do that involved being merciless on the battlefield.
Everything had to be done by the book and what better way than to become a ninja? However, that was a task that came second to their ulterior purpose; to spread their religion far and wide - If necessary, by force. When Kuro’s father wasn’t prattling on about religion, he was listing the qualities a man should have and all the while inside the gloomy, depressing room that even prevented the calm breezes from intruding.
It wasn’t long until Kuro became just as religious as his spiteful father but the task his father set him was too great; how on earth was he meant to convert others to his religion? It wasn’t a simple task but he had no choice in the matter and he hesitantly relented.
His father would start every lesson from then on with a sermon; passages which came from a tiny book that sat comfily on his father’s palm. Kuro would always listen intuitively; even when he was confused, he would not show it, in fear that he would anger his father.
It was as though his father had ingrained fear into his soul, along with the set of ideals he constantly mentioned; he had turned into a puppet, a manifestation of his father’s choosing. He had forced him to grow a feign distaste for cowardice and an even indifference to those who were proud of it. He saw it as a crime and even at one point, he’d claimed that it was a sin. [/spoiler]
Chapter 3: It's simply training....
Once his father was sure that he had sown the seeds of religion, he'd decided that it was time. He had reached the age of 8 and years had raced ahead of the two, the room distorting their sense of time. It was finally time to train him to use his powers; said powers that he’d considered to be a blessing.
For Kuro, it was a blessing to finally leave that horrid room for good and it was indeed the last time that he would ever set foot in the tiny but frightening room. They had moved into an adjacent courtyard; it wasn’t as spacious as you’d expect of the supposed leaders of a village but it was larger than most. Kuro stood opposite of his father, watching keenly as the latter throwing his black coat to the side.
Kuro’s father had a neatly trimmed moustache that formed a grove on his upper lip; it resembled the letter ‘U’, completing an upside-down arc. Though, the curve in the middle which joined the two thick strands made it look more like a ‘W’ than it did a ‘U’. His moustache shared the same dark-blue colour as his spiked hair; from a distance, it took on a coarse nature and that indirectly made it seem unkempt.
Underneath the coat, he wore a Samurai Gi with the top portion being red and the bottom being black, much like the room he’d been cooped up in nearly every single day. A sword hung loose from his hip, covered by a wooden scabbard that had red kanji inscribed on them.
It read “Divine” but Kuro was oblivious to this as he stared at his father’s face. He noted a scar that defiled the skin beneath his right eye, lines betraying the stitches that had once been used to treat him. His slanted eyes radiated confidence and his posture was calm and collected.
A voice had broken the spell and he’d recognized it as his father; “It’s about time I teach you how to fight like a man. I won’t go easy on you and I will treat you as my equal. I will ignore any pleas you throw at me from this day onwards and I will not hesitate to kill you if you try and escape...” and with those final words, his father sprung at him with an uncanny ferocity.
It took several lessons before Kuro even learned to dodge his hulking fists and a ridiculous amount of lessons before Kuro utilized the area around him; he threw anything he could find, ranging from semi-large rocks to pebbles. Kuro even resorted to kicking dust right into his father’s attire, dirtying the dazzling crimson fabric.
All the while, he had half-expected his father to scold him and maybe even shout at him for his ‘dirty’ manoeuvres but he seemed unfazed and Kuro could’ve sworn that he saw a smile forming on his father – but then again, he could’ve been hallucinating.
Never once did his father resort to using his lonesome katana. The effect the sparring lessons had on Kuro was phenomenal; with each passing ‘lesson’, Kuro’s senses and fighting instincts had become fine-tuned despite his age.
His muscles had strengthened as well, even if slightly and he could now begin to dodge a few of his father’s attacks; inevitably however, some always managed to plant themselves at the side of his face and like always, he would roll like a tumbleweed back in the opposite direction. The sparring matches eventually ceased unexpectedly – his father claiming that it was over and that they would move onto something else.
This was the part that he vividly remembered; his father constantly re-uttering the same word “Again!” as Kuro was taught how to use the clan’s abilities. His father would raise his voice in anger every time Kuro made a blunder and he would hit him with a branch for good measure.
Four gruesome years had passed since then and Kuro had matured into a lean, mean fighting machine, copying his father’s cold expression. Not many 12-year-olds would’ve been exposed to the amount of training he had gone through and each moment had sought to terrify him, sometimes his father’s voice echoing in his mind as he slept.
The lessons had traumatised him in a sense and no-one had stopped them; in fact, his uncle and his children seemed to have been oblivious to their very existence! Kuro now stood rigidly, awaiting his father’s words; all he could hear now was the wind brushing through the trees and feel the rain exploding onto his skin.
He felt refreshed and at comfort but refrained from betraying that moment of weakness. The noise was deafening; each droplet was like a cannon ball landing on the courtyard and collectively, they made an unfamiliar melody. His father seemed to have disappeared but he still stared into the same space, undisturbed.
His father returned just as quickly as he’d left but something was walking alongside of him, making a clattering noise as it treaded the courtyard’s tiles. “Here, catch!” his father ordered, throwing a giant sword at him. His instincts told him to dodge but going against his father was simply ridiculous and so he obeyed.
He somehow managed to catch the handle but almost immediately dropped his arm like an anchor. “Hahaha...I should’ve warned you that it was heavy but I guess you found out the hard way...” his father mused. Kuro attempted to lift it with a single hand but it wouldn’t budge, stubbornly clinging to the ground.
Only after he’d tried using both hands and exerting his full strength did he manage to lift it. “These last couple of lessons will be focused...on training with that.” His father said, pointing at the flat-edged weapon that towered over the young boy. Kuro had taken note of his father’s use of ‘last’ and was disturbed by that; he certainly did not have an undying love for his father but he didn’t hate him.
He was beginning to love these sessions and normally, his father would hardly spend quality time with him let alone converse with him and that left a gaping hole in his heart. In his spare time, he would often travel around the village and on his many journeys around the remote village, he would often see a father comforting a crying boy.
Kuro envied such relationships, clearly because of his lack of such a relationship. He hardly had friends to fill that hole on top of everything else. Some could say that he was a depressed child and had a deprived childhood – they’re not far off. “Go!” his father said, gesturing for his son to attack.
Kuro broke into a half-run, half-stagger as he tried to carry the weight of the sword but it was straining his muscles and breaking his calm expression, replacing it with an aggravated one. When he finally reached his father and attempted to slash with the sword, his father had swiftly moved to the side and felled him with one chop to the back.
“Is that all you got! C’mon, attack!” but Kuro simply could not and rebelled by resting on the ground, panting as hard as he could. His father sighed and for once, did not punish the fatigued Kuro and simply walked off into the house. Kuro simply watched him go.
The first few lessons had more or less had the same effect but eventually, as always when he was learning a new technique, he got the hang of it and managed to at least carry the sword without it collapsing to the ground. Within a month, he could use it with some ease and another final month before he could execute techniques that even caught his father off-guard.
That had been a signal for his father to start up his last and final test. “This’ll be your last lesson with me. What I want...” his father paused to slowly draw his katana. “...is to come at me with the INTENT TO KILL! Like I said a while ago, I will not hesitate to kill you period. If you wish to live, you must come at me as though you want to take my life. Come at me with anger and hatred!” his father shouted his advice.
Kuro could not bring himself to do that and he was mainly on the defending side as his father rained strike after strike on his giant blade. “What are you DOING! Stop being such a snivelling little child and come at me! Attack! You must try and KILL ME! You coward...You’re just like your mother!” and that was the words that tipped him over the edge; Kuro shrieked as he parried his father’s attack and followed it up with a quick slash of his sword, ripping cloth and tissue as it slashed diagonally down.
A giant rip formed where the slash had made its mark and his father released his katana, instantly reaching for his chest. A liquid substance oozed out from the rift; his father still clutched the 'wound' but he didn't seem to be in pain. Of course, Kuro was oblivious to this. It took a moment before he'd realized what he’d done and in a panic, he ran into the house with all the speed he could muster up. A tear ran down his cheek, believing that he had fatally wounded his father; he could not stomach the consequences of such a mistake.
The death of his father would certainly bring nothing but pain into his life. Rummaging around a cupboard, he had found what he’d been looking for. Kuro sprinted back outside with folds of bandages covering his trembling arms.
His father was walking towards him, limping and flinching because of the 'pain'. Kuro supported him and helped him into the house, all the while keeping an eye on the overflowing liquid that dripped on both the tiles and the wooden steps. They sat down at the top of the steps and Kuro instantly wrapped the bandages around the wound, his father watched with a seemingly pained expression.
For now, the wound had stopped leaking fluids and it was covered to prevent infection. Kuro simply sat watching the horizon, trying his best to hide his upset. Something had gripped onto his right shoulder and he recognized it as a hand. A grin formed on his father's amused face; "Gotcha' didn't I!" his father said. "W-wha-" Kuro began to say but he couldn't completely form words in his mouth, a baffled expression creasing across his face.
"It's one of the many benefits that god has given us! You actually fell for it haha!" his father chuckled to himself, entertained by his son's ignorance. "So long as you defend your religion, you will be blessed by that body of yours. Don't stay out too long..." his father advised as he walked back into the house, still chuckling aloud.
Kuro broke into tears, uncontrollably whimpering and catapulting tears with his eyelashes. He wiped his tears off and followed his father into the house, where he would eventually rest his eyes and his mind. [/spoiler]
Chapter 4: An unexpected twist
The next day, his father was nowhere to be seen – at least in the house. Kuro searched around for him but only until he’d stepped out onto the courtyard did he spot his father’s tall figure.
Next to him was another figure that he was all too familiar with; his uncle was a man unmistakeably shorter than his father and slightly more muscular than him as well but his father was the older of the two and he played a hand in raising the latter after their parents mysteriously disappeared.
Kuro slowly wobbled over to the two men and their conversation was hardly stifled by the boy’s presence. After a minute or so, the two acknowledged his presence with a glance and his father was the first to speak.
“Kuro...you have matured into an admirable young man and I reckon it is finally time for you to sprout your wings and fly. Your mission starts from henceforth – as long as you live, you will stay true to your religion and as a chosen one, guide others onto the correct path. There are many ne’er-do-wells in this world and it is your duty to clean them up. Show them no mercy and when you fight, fight with the same ferocity that you’ve used against me.”
His uncle had given them their space, tending to the two horses that would likely take Kuro on a journey. “Listen son.” His father had kneeled and grasped his shoulder once again. “In the ninja world, people claim that ninjas are merely tools to those that outrank them and they must give their life up for their betters...Well, they’re half right. Ninjas are tools and you will likely become one of those tools however you will become a different type of tool. You may seem to be a tool at others’ exposal but truthfully? You are a tool to none other than god." his father paused, waiting until the message sunk in.
"You are god’s tool and there is nothing to be ashamed about. They say that said tools are not allowed to have emotions and that emotions weaken them but I disagree. Emotions allowed you to successfully hit me and emotions will carry you far in life. It’s true, such emotions like love and sympathy are useless and its better off that you throw them away. However, if you use anger...and hatred...those are what makes a powerful Shinobi!" His father spoke with such reverence in his voice.
"Your purpose in life may seem hazy at the moment but it’s simple. Anything you do from this day onwards should be in the name of Him and that you should pray as often as you can. Remember everything I’ve taught you and you should prosper in life. Other than that, I wish you well...Oh and here...” his father said, reaching in his pocket and pulling out an ornate ring that had a luscious silver pigment.
A ruby sat plump in the middle and the ring weighed little more than an acorn. “Consider this a wedding ring in a sense; you will be married to your religion and this will serve as your talisman. Also consider it as a gift from me and I hope you treasure it for the rest of your days. Treasure it with your life! Finally, I will seek you out in the future when you make something of your life. Count that as a promise. Now go...!” his father ordered.
“But...where father?” Kuro asked. “It’s about time you made a name for yourself and the best place to do it is in one of the main villages...the perfect place would be Amegakure” his father guessed. “Why’s that...? Kirigakure is closer father, I haven’t even heard of this...Amegakure before” Kuro said, confused. “True but you will find out soon enough why it’s an ideal village. Let’s just say...the conditions are ideal for a Hozuki...of your soon-to-be calibre..hehe..” his father grinned.
Kuro was clearly baffled and did not share the same thought process as his father and so was left in the dark. His expression was amusing, his father barely resisting a laugh and he quickly broke the silence by moving him along. “Now go with your uncle, he’ll stay with you for a while. A year we’ve agreed and he will return here. In the mean time, I will train his children and take care of them." his father pausing a final time, trying his best to hide his upset.
"He’ll tell you everything you need to know and show you the ropes so that when he leaves, you can pick yourself right up and finally become a man....Goodbye and remember everything I’ve taught you. You should quickly rise to the top as you’ve already learned to do the basics of what a shinobi’s required of. Farewell, my son.”
And with that, his father walked off back into the house. “Over here!” his uncle called, a tight fist wrapped around the reigns of the two horses that would carry them to Amegakure. “We’ll make haste, anything you’re forgetting apart from all this?” he said, gesturing to the packs that hung by both sides of the horses. “...No.” [/spoiler]
Chapter 5: A fresh beginning
The two had weathered all sorts of issues on their winding journey to the village, taking several routes and boats, occasionally resting up whenever they had grown tired. The two had hardly spoken on much of the journey and only when the village came into sight did they begin conversing. “...Amazing...” his uncle said, dazzled by the view. Kuro too was amazed and stupefied by the scenery.
They had been opposed by two sentries as they approached the city gates but with a quick flash of their papers, they were allowed in. The very city itself was vibrant and upbeat, despite the weather which should’ve dampened their spirits. The weather was to his liking and he had recently found out why; the Hozuki and water was practically an inseparable couple and water was needed much more than food.
It was revitalizing; a welcomed treat to the two individuals. They marvelled at the towers that surrounded them, their design intricate and it was abundantly clear that they were built with finesse. Skyscrapers outlined the horizons and pipes pumped steam all around the two as they walked deeper and deeper into the metropolis.
A clock chimed in the distance, reverberating through the building and frightening a school of crows from their comfortable resting place. It was pitch dark and his uncle had figured that the sound signalled midnight; that was a sign that they needed to hurry to their inn.
The inn itself shared the same design within as it did on the outside, metallic bars lining the walls and a furnace engraved into the wall. A burly man with strange attire stood behind a large table, eyes fixated on a set of papers laid out in front of him.
Kuro’s uncle cleared his throat in attempt to catch his attention, succeeding in the attempt as the man’s dull brown eyes shiftily looked at the two newcomers. “We have reservations for a room...we have the money with us” he said, giving a couple of gold coins to the plump man. The man beamed at the sight of gold and merely nodded as he led them to their room. “Here it is. I hope it is...to your liking...” the man said. “Thanks...”
The two stepped into the spacious room and closed the door behind them. The room wasn’t as impressively looking as the sights they had previously seen but it was still interesting and better than average. Kuro hadn’t realized how tired he was and almost ran as he landed in his bed.
Shortly after, snores disturbed the peaceful environment and he slept with his back facing the wall. His uncle re-adjusted him so that he slept in the right position and tucked him in. Kuro’s unnatural snores had hardly been disturbed by the older man’s actions and he continued to do so, even as his uncle rested in his own bed.
Within the first few months, his uncle helped acquaint the young boy to his surroundings and registered him at the Academy. The boy, naturally, was magnificent and simple tests like chakra training were child’s play for Kuro. He had met all sorts of people in the academy and before long, he graduated within a year. His uncle had taken this as a sign to leave; he had left without warning and by the time Kuro had returned to share the news, his uncle had gone.
However, he had left a letter on the table. “You probably guessed that I’m gone now but hopefully not forgotten. I’ll report the good news to your father and congratulations...I won’t be around to help you so I suggest that you learn to stand up on your own two feet. You are on your way to becoming a man and I believe that you can become a great shinobi some day. Good luck and so long!”.
Kuro had once again entered the realm of emptiness and was feeling more alone than he did back at home. Except now, he truly was alone. Despite this, he still managed to rise to the ranks of Genin on his own and he was close to fulfilling his father’s wishes.
He would become a great shinobi that would be worthy of being a chosen one and he would wear the stripes of being an Hozuki proudly for the rest of his life. He would seek comfort in being god’s follower and spread his religion to those who would listen. This was the beginning of Kuro’s story.[/spoiler]
