Faceclaim

Kazuyuki wears his headband like an eyepatch because he thinks it looks cool.

Name

Hoshigaki Kazuyuki

Land

Kirigakure (originally...)

Rank

D

Ninja Way

To become one of the Seven Ninja Swordsmen of the Mist and wield Samehada!

Perks

Bloodline Limit (KG: Shark Physiology 2)

Drawbacks

Rage
Crybaby
Unique Look
Bad Habit (overeating)

Chakra Nature

Water, Wind

Basics

Unarmed Combat 2
Stealth
Weapon Art 3
Body Flicker 2
Chakra Flow 2
Utility Jutsu

Advanced Jutsu

Advanced Taijutsu
Advanced Weapon Style 2 (Howling Mountain)

Items

Custom (Chakra Greatsword)

Personality

When the Mizukage calls for no quarter, only a Hoshigaki can sink to the depths required. The current patriarch of the clan has cultivated this savage reputation, raising his sons less as children than as instruments. Kazuyuki, the second youngest, lacked the teeming agression of his brothers. Quiet and withdrawn, he was a poor fit for the mold his father had cast. This sensitivity was deemed by his father to be unbecoming of a Hoshigaki, and his discontentment most commonly found voice during swordsmanship lessons. His temper was that of a typhoon— a crack of his hand on the back of Kazuyuki's head when he faltered, a contemptuous silence that followed failure. A Hoshigaki did not flinch, a Hoshigaki did not weep, and yet Kazuyuki did both. Where his brothers absorbed the brutality of their upbringing and were hardened by it, Kazuyuki was hollowed. He learned to be small. He learned to anticipate the moods of dangerous men. He learned, above all, that he was a disappointment. Eventually, Kaz's father grew exhausted. Deep in thought one night, he came to a rather elegant solution: If he could not turn his boy into a weapon, then he could at least be made into a tool. Forging a letter of admission, Kazuyuki was to be sent to the Village Hidden In The Moon and enrolled in their academy. Under the guise of an estranged clan member, Kazuyuki's mission was simple: to observe, report, and most crucially, avoid any suspicion. Rather than strike from the depths, Kazuyuki was to lurk in shallow water.

Yet despite his carefully laid plans, the Bloody Beast of the Mist had failed to account for simple human kindness. At home, Kazuyuki's lineage preceded him like a drawn blade. Peers kept their distance, and instructors tempered their words with the careful neutrality reserved for a rabid animal. He had grown accustomed to that particular species of loneliness, to being seen as a predator when he felt like prey. In the Hidden Moon, few if any people knew what a Hoshigaki was, and if they did, they did not investigate further. To his classmates, he was just another student, albeit one with pale blue skin and very sharp teeth. Here, the instructors corrected his mistakes not by barking insults, but with gentle advice. It was, for Kazuyuki, profoundly disorienting. He had no framework for it. Kindness, in his experience, was either transactional or a prelude to something worse, and for weeks he held himself at a remove, waiting for the mask to slip. It did not slip. A classmate offered to share lunch with him and asked for nothing in return. An instructor stayed after the lesson to walk him through a kata he had fumbled, not once raising her voice. Small things. They accumulated like water in a basin that was beginning to overflow.

The reports he sent home were dutiful and precise. He noted the numbers of jonin, academy curricula, and names of instructors. Encoding it in the cipher taught to him by his brother, he cast the messages into the sea at the designated cove. Yet as the bamboo tubes floated in the crystal blue water, he saw only his reflection.

He did not make friends easily—he had no experience doing so, and a grey November had settled too deep in his soul to allow him to open up to others. He says little in the classroom and even less at meals, where he tries to eat away his feelings. At times, he splits off from his classmates to find somewhere quiet, preferably near the water. Most assume, given his prowess with the blade, he is going to train. He is not. Sitting at the water's edge, Kazuyuki lets the tears flow, sometimes for reasons he can explain and sometimes for reasons he cannot. Lately, his reports are increasingly sparse. Not dishonest—surely he would be torn apart by the Mizukage's agents if he did so—but perfunctory. Every name encoded is someone who taught him a jutsu, every drill ground a place he played kickball or tag. Yet he still throws the messages into the sea, even though he wonders why.

When combat breaks out, though, something shifts in Kazuyuki. The dull grief drains from his eyes, replaced by the flat, inhuman gaze of a shark scenting blood in the water. There is no semblance of rage in that look, but to think he is without it would be a final mistake. He fights like a bull shark—relentless, brutal aggression, every strike intended to tear his opponent limb from limb. To this end, he channels his chakra into a whirling edge of countless shark teeth, effectively turning his blade into a chainsaw. Since coming to the Village Hidden in the Moon, he has dubbed this technique the Shredding Shark Saw Jutsu. Supplementing his kenjutsu prowess with Water Release and the trademark Shark Bombs of his lineage, he is yet unable to imbue the Shredding Shark Saw with his water nature. Though he buries his frustration, a teammate might catch him practicing it alone to no avail. Once his instincts are uncorked, they are not easily bottled again. Kazuyuki does not stop. Rather, he has to be pulled off, and when the beast finally departs for darker waters, all that remains is the same scared boy who hid from his father in the trap door.