Makoto was born in the remnants of the Kirisame clan. He knew no others beyond his father and mother. Makoto wouldn’t know his parents for long. His father was always out of the house, doing something...Going somewhere and his mother worked hard to support the house. Makoto sort of just drifted along during that time. He hardly had the chance to speak with his mother and spent a lot of his time playing with the gear his father left all over the house.
His life was casual and unexciting.
When Makoto was 10 his father stayed at the house for good. He’d developed a series of illnesses that had settled in his system, crippling him. Doctors estimated that he wouldn’t have long to live. This caused his mother to stay home more often. Those were the best times of his childhood. His mother and father around and even his mother expecting a year later. They were a family during those times.
When Makoto was 11 he started to show signs of his ability. They were subtle and terrifying, but Makoto hid them from his parents. Despite how he tried, his father found out and started him on the path to understanding the Kirisame’s Blood Curse.
In the short time his father trained him, Makoto learned a great deal. He learned about the history of the Kirisame and the nature of the blood that ran through his body. His father wanted Makoto to know everything about the Kirisame because, when he died, Makoto would be the one to pass down the Blood Curse. He wanted Makoto to know how to use it, but explained the implications of ever using that wicked blood.
Everything changed when his sister was born. Her name was Maki.
Maki Kirisame. The day his sister was born was the day Makoto’s mother died and the day his father’s sickness grew terribly worse.
Makoto never hated his sister though.
Even as they buried their mother at a funeral that his father forced himself to attend, Makoto loved his little sister. She was innocent and precious and she was a Kirisame all the same. He swore that he would protect her. He would make sure that she would live a long, safe life.
Makoto, Maki and their father stayed together. Makoto needed to help pick up where his mother left off, but he was young, inexperienced, and held no skills other than what his father had already shown him. Makoto wasn’t naive enough to think that he could use his Cursed Blood for baking or pottery...It was a technique to kill and hurt others. As his father’s medical bills started to rise, food in the pantry started to dwindle, and his sister’s needs were being neglected he realized he had no choice.
Makoto was going to have to join the academy of future assassins that the villages were creating. Makoto didn’t want to ever go to war. He was young, but he’d heard the stories and seen the warscars...War was something awful. He was young, but everyday he’d felt like he’d lived through that war and now he was going to become an instrument of it.
It couldn’t be helped.
His family was more important. He’d kill anyone he had to in order to keep them alive. Of that he, as a Kirisame, he was certain.
As such, Makoto started on his way to becoming a ninja.
Needless to say, Makoto was one of those
genius prodigies that held enormous capacity for being a ninja. He lacked endurance and strength, but he was smart and resourceful. He learned how to maneuver the restrictions on his seal all on his own and started to delve into his abilities. He was promoted to Chuunin[14] only one year of being a Genin [13] and created the Mysterious Cloud Technique utilizing his knowledge and experience with chemistry.
It was when he was 16 that he tried experimenting with his Blood Release abilities. He wanted to experience what it felt like to hold every ounce of the power all at once. He wanted to see what it felt like to hold every ounce of the Cursed Blood’s potential. He started practicing with different versions of his Cursed Blood • Release and, eventually, managed to do a full release of the seal. Understanding it well, he aimed to completely remove the entire seal and, unbound completely, start to use his Cursed Blood Release.
It was a 4 month experiment and, although Makoto thought he took every precaution, he grossly underestimated the full power of the Blood Release and the repercussions it would have on him. Unlike his father, and eventually even his sister, Makoto’s release was hard on him. His father would have been able to walk away from that moment in which the seal was fully removed, however Makoto wasn’t.
His blood drained itself from his skin, puddling on the floor under him. The pain was excruciating. It felt as if little pebbles were being shoved through his skin. Makoto lashed out with the powers, destroying the side of a mountain in humid treeline he was training in. He couldn’t seem to
turn it off like he ordinarily could. Through all his panic, he’d forgotten that was because there was no seal on him. There was nothing to
turn off. His blood release just poured out of him, quickly consuming all his chakra and wearing and tearing his body.
Somehow, in a rush, the young ninja pulled out and wrapped himself with special chakra bandages that his father taught him to use and, with them, he resealed himself and his abilities before passing out.
Makoto was found by some trappers that were in the forest the next day. They took him to the hospital where the boy was told that he did irreversible damage to his body. His spine, his kidneys, his liver, his heart and all of his muscular system were damaged beyond even ninjutsu repair. He was told that he’d have to quit being a ninja.
Instead, Makoto took up the sword and decided that he would be a Jounin. He refused to give up simply because a doctor suggested he should. He wouldn’t let that ruin the benefit he was providing for his family. He matured considerably after that incident. He viewed the world differently after that point and valued the Kirisame in an entirely different light. He saw the world as fragile and was reminded that everything could come crashing down at a moment’s notice.
Makoto took up the sword. He was gifted with his swordplay, even claiming the title of Bloodslinger. Despite how beaten and battered his body was and how much it hurt to move and fight, he fought on. He held a determination that sedated his pain. His father called it the pride of the Kirisame. When Makoto was 18 he was promoted to Jounin.
When he was 19 his father died.
Makoto hadn’t realized realized it until that day, but that was almost the entirety of the Kirisame clan. Despite being bedridden and sick and weak...His father always held an enormous presence. His father always seemed to weigh as much as a hundred men to Makoto. No matter how many people came and left their home, when his father was there it always felt full.
It was a big deal when his father died. The entire village spoke about it. He hadn’t just been any man. He was renowned and rightfully feared. His loss was an enormous one for the Kirisame. His death caught the attention of friends, rivals...And enemies.
Days after his father’s death, enemy ninja sneaked into the village and abducted his sister, whom was 7 at the time. It had been a trap.
The ninja wanted Makoto to find out so that he’d tire himself out chasing after them, leaping through trap after trap, and enduring emotional and physical exhaustion. They ambushed him, 15 to just himself. That was the day that he became the Red Mist.
Unlocking all his power yet again, he fought them with all the strength of a Kirisame. Three of the men managed to escape, they were ninja, however the other 12 had their bodies torn apart by a lethal, foreboding red mist that hung in the air. His sister, only 7, witnessed the massacre. Makoto hadn’t held anything back and he pushed himself even further passed his limit than the initial time he was just trying on his powers. This time he directed his incredible strength towards completely eradicating a target and his power was colossal.
So were the consequences.
Makoto’s body was in a worse shape than before. He had to go through various surgeries and even physical rehabilitation for 14 months of his life. It was mostly through meditation and his continued sword training that he was able to pick himself up again. It was assumed that, as soon as he was able to take care of himself without accommodation, that he’d retire.
He did not.
No matter how beaten or how much it hurt, he was going to be a ninja. When his sister expressed that she too intended to become a ninja that only motivated him in continue to be one, so that he could watch over her. He never forgot that she was abducted once. She needed the strength to protect herself...Because he would not always be here. Just as his father showed him the way to unlocking the Blood Curse, Makoto planned to give his sister the same option to use it. It was her right and her privilege as a Kirisame and he wasn’t in any position to deny her of it. That was his pride as Kirisame.
Makoto is technically disabled. He has various systemic problems, terrible joints, and permanent damage to his central nervous system. It hurts just to breathe. Most of the time, he hides his pain and suffering, however long periods of strenuous effort require that he take a break. He actually feels the least amount of pain when drawing upon the Cursed Blood as opposed to his sword techniques.
However, although he is disabled he is still no weakling.
Although his endurance is shoddy, in short bursts his strength is slightly above Jounin standard. The first few minutes of a spar he is stronger, faster, and more agile than your typical Jounin. He’s extremely fast and his sword skills have made him a legitimately feared ninja. He is not suited for long duration fights, however. The longer the fight the more drastically his skills deplete and the greater the effort needed in order to do the simplest of things. It isn’t just in fights that he’s like this. Running for too long, training for too long, even lying in one place for too long bring about discomfort in Makoto, thus giving him a very difficult life. Still, he lives it. He wishes to be there for his sister and he knows that it is his responsibility to rebuild his clan. For the sake of others he keeps going. That’s his nindo.
