First Name: Kotetsu
Last Name: Bunraku
Alias:Gender: Male
Age: 13
Height: 4'7"
Weight: 96lbs
Birthday: July 30th
Sexuality: Asexual
Relationships: His only true relationship is with his father, his idol.
Affiliation: Shinobi, Kusamuragakure.
Rank: Genin
Element(s): Kat
Specialization(s): Ninjutsu
Personality: Kotetsu has gained a beholding eye for beauty, and looks at the world in brush strokes and molding hands. He is a true artist, carrying himself regally, and thoughtful. His appreciation for beauty extends to everything, and even his most morbid feature, a taste for bloodshed. He actively seeks power, and opponents despite one so young and inexperienced. He has a bit of a tempter, but only when his talent of any kind is in question. His main interest in a fight is to witness another Shinobi's own power, but to always come out as the victor.
Likes: Kotetsu likes, above all, beauty. He sees beauty in structure and well carried out plans, battles, and nature of course. He thinks of himself as an artist above all others, in his craft of Katton, but also battle. He has gained an affection for wood burning, and solid ink art especially. Kotetsu has also acquired a bit of a morbid taste for blood, affectionately calling it "Humanities special paint." This does not, however take up the majority of his thoughts. It is simply one of his oddest features.
Dislikes: Kotetsu especially dislikes when things are disorganized and messy. It is not simply being OCD, but rather that unsightly or dirty things do not belong in this world. While he respects those who are great fighters as artists all their own, he hates any who think they're superior to anyone else. He will often lose his temper on those with no respect, or narcissism.
Motivation: Kotetsu's motivation is to become a magnificent artist, recognized throughout the world for his talents. He has realized that to achieve this goal several things must come with it. Power, talent, knowledge, all intertwine on his path to glory. This being said, being a Ninja is not simply a route to this glory, but his way of life. His Nindo: "Beauty dwells in this world, and I will be the artist who pulls it out, by force if I need."
Fears: Kotetsu has many fears, as many people do. Some he doesn't even know about, because he hasn't been able to face them. Failure, destruction, being forgotten. He truly fears fading from the world without accomplishing anything memorable, living and dying without anything to show for it. He fears true evil, the evil without a cause or purpose. Simple, pure, destructive, evil.
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Bloodline Name: (NA)
Bloodline Ability: (NA)
Location: (NA)
Clan History: (NA)
History: Kotetsu was born a trader's son. His mother died in childbirth, so his simple father's artistic expression buried itself into the child's mind. His father was caring, strong, and respected as a hardworking man. He owned a general shop in Kusamuragakure, and ran it day to night. His off time was spent entirely on his art, and his precious son.
Often he painted, using the colors of the wondrous sakura blossoms and dense jungle to express his inner calm and thoughts in images. The art was beautiful, and regal. Occasionally he would put one on display, but not a single head was turned. Kotetsu knew his father had talent, yet not a soul could appreciate. He grew saddened, but this was not his defining moment.
Late at night, rain poured from the leaves above as it so often had a thousand times before in his village of Sakura Blossoms. Above his father's shop the four year old slept. Suddenly, however, he awoke with a start. The commotion of toppling shelves and the destruction of goods. A tussle went on downstairs. He rushed, and from the staircase he saw his father grappling with a petty thug. Likely he had been caught by his father late doing inventory.
The thief's accomplice saw an opportunity, pushing one of the largest shelves onto them both. The deviant jumped free of it's crushing weight, however the man of the house took the full force to his legs.
Kusamuragakure's medical Ninja did their jobs just fine, however a simple hairline fracture had permanently damaged ligaments and nerves in both legs. It just couldn't be helped. Kotetsu's father would live his life in a wheelchair.
He found comfort in the simple beauty of the world, and captured it in his art, but life was not easy for a cripple on the uneven floor of a jungle. His son he held close, while his way of life failed. He couldn't even stock his own shelves on his own. His life was diminished and it tore at him before Kotetsu's eyes. He swore, no matter what, that would not be his fate.
The young artist joined the academy, quickly realizing the beauty of Ninjutsu. He excelled in using techniques such as the transformation jutsu during class, appreciating their finer points and need for attention to detail. What really captured his interest, was the fine and difficult art of bending the Katton element to his will. It's elegance and opportunity to create wondrous and pure techniques with so much power, "It has a certain flare the other elements lack," he would always say. The untouchable grace in which it burned, bright and powerful. Even the smallest light, shines in the dark. He devoted his entire personal training to mastering Katton, and incorporateing it into his art.
RP Sample:Kotetsu sat leisurely in the shade of an overhanging onning of a tea shop little more than a few hundred yards from the academy. His auburn hair hung in long, loose spikes around his face. He hung his head over his plain herbal tea. A bored expression covered his face, the small circular table supporting his elbows, and crushing weight of his ennui.
It was a few weeks after graduation from the academy, and Kotetsu should be by all rights content with his training. For some reason, however, he hadn't been able to see the beauty in life as of late. His head turned, enough so that his dusty shawl hanging in tatters from his shoulders to his waist waived in the light breeze.
The dark form of his lunch guest contrasted with the burnt-gray of the building it leaned against. The bland form of his Crow-model of puppet. Sure crow had it's own flavor, but it was just like it's twenty other brother's which likely dotted the Shinobi in the village. It had no flair or beauty of it's own, and draped itself lifeless over the chair it occupied.
Kotetsu smiled, his eyes growing wild from the sudden idea which tore acrossed his minds eye, and sending his heart racing. His hand worked itself, activating his Chakra strings.
Crow looked up, it's gears whirring and knocking together in it's classic puppet way. It opened it's mouth, as if to shoot it's poisoned needles in it's everyday way, but closed it's mouth again without a single offensive tactic. It repeated several times, as if silently spelling out the plan in Kotetsu's head.
The puppet master had rushed back to his humble abode, saying a hasty hello to his father and rushing upstairs, his puppet shambling through the air behind him like a woeful shadow. For hours he remained in his room. He sat content, a broad smile on his face as he carved two horns from dried wood. It's dark stained surface contrasted well with the sandy brown wood of Crow's body.
He fitted them with a puppet master's efficiency into two round slots adjacent to the crown of the head, but wasn't satisfied. Before long two more protruded from it's forehead. He sewed it's black clothe into a cloak and hood fitting for the reaper himself. The horns in the back ripped holes in the fabric, adding a natural flair.
With a golden paint, which made it glimmer and would withstand the elements readily, he engraved a tribal design up the puppet's arms. A final touch, a personal touch, was needed. As if it were meant to be a spiritual signature, Kotetsu bit his thumb and ushered forth a crimson dot.
He touched the eyes of his spawn, and let the blood stain it's lifelessness with a scarlett color. The entire part was covered, and glowed in contrast harshly and vigorously reflecting the inner flame which ran through Kotetsu's veins. He thought his creation beautiful.
"Shukaku. After Gaara of the Sand's inner demon, so will you bring trial and tribulation. And strength."
He was proud of what he thought to be a profound statement. He was fully aware that a fancy paintjob was going to do less than nothing for him in battle, but it revived his spirit. He would learn all he could to make his creation great, and make it's inner beauty match it's outer. He would make art of the blood this puppet would spill. This Demo of his own.
Source: Google.com
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