【Appearance/Wardrobe】 Chojirō can simply be summed up in one word; big. Standing at an unusually high six foot eight inches tall, he's near half as wide as he is high. Broad shouldered and barrel chested, his body is thick with muscle beneath a generous layer of fat that conceals the physique within and often makes him appear squishy and soft, especially in the gut. His skin is tough and tan, calloused across his hands and forged under the bright sun of the Fire Country to be akin to supple leather. His face is square in shape, with a strong clean shaven jaw hiding little of his blocky, inelegant features and a large round nose dominating a usually cheerful face. His ebony hair is messily trimmed to a medium length and typically held back out of his way, and mirthful close set brown eyes beneath thick brows take in the world with a certain jolly determination.
Not one for complexity, he clothes himself in a simple red, long sleeve tunic with matching trousers held up with a wide leather belt that secures his two ninja pouches. On top of this, the Leaf village's signature flak is worn to indicate his role as a leader and offer some degree of protection, only to be layered further by a suit of primitive but effective armor that his clansmen tend to be fond of. His forehead protector is kept exactly where it belongs, keeping his hair and sweat from his eyes while showing his allegiance to the world. His accessories, ever modest, remain solely the earrings gifted to him upon passing his Chūnin exams, and a pair of fingerless gloves to assist in grip. Closed toe boots of black leather guard his feet, with gauze wrapping up his ankles above them.
-------------------------------------------------------------------------------- 【Personality】 Chojirō is a big man with a big presence and a bigger heart. Boisterous and friendly, he tries his best to make good with those around him and lighten the mood with his unique brand of jovial charm. He is carefree and steady of mind, often brushing off insults or the stresses of life with little complaint and occasional joke along the way. Indeed, it was his ability to remain rational and level headed even in the thick of combat that saw him elevated to his position. Stalwart in his way, Chojirō shows great perseverance in achieving goals he sets for himself to an almost pigheaded extent, claiming he is simply strong willed when called out on his stubbornness. A deeply empathetic individual, he keeps his eye out for his fellows, offering a shoulder to lean on should they need it. He believes strongly in unity as a village, and will go to great lengths to assist and protect those who inhabit his home. -------------------------------------------------------------------------------- 【History】 Chojirō was born the second som of his family, coming into the world on the heels of an older brother and sister to a pair of loving parents. His father, a shinobi by trade, was a proud warrior of the Akimichi clan who expected no less of his children, whilst his mother, a merchant's daughter, cared little for the dangerous life of a shinobi. This conflict of interests split the young family early on; Chojirō elder brother sided with his father and followed in his footsteps before his younger brother could toddle, while their sister was content to follow in the footsteps of their mother and lead a civilian life.
A sweet child from the time he could formulate such a personality, Chojirō's sire assumed he was too soft to become a strong warrior. Indeed, as other boys dreamed of waging glorious battle and played ninja in mirror of their dad's, Chojirō was content to simply enjoy food and fun. The hard nosed training sessions his father forced upon his elder brother as he rose through the academy had spoiled the idea for him, and he likely wouldn't have been a shinobi at all had his father's mentor, a Sarutobi of some renown, not visited the humble household one fine day.
The aging man was a veteran of many conflicts and many students, who had seen much in the world, good and bad, and done even more. Well aware of his mercurial pupil's behavior, it was only logical for the old man to probe Chojirō when the two were introduced and he learned the boy's distaste for shinobi life. Caught up in the stories of guts and glory, he had never been told the world of good that the soldiers of Konohagakure had also been responsible for. To be a hero, not for the battles one won, but for the lives one saved. Regaled by tales of such heroism, it was only a matter of time before the helpful lad changed his tune. By the time he was old enough, to his mother's chagrin, Chojirō wished to enroll in the ninja academy.
Through teasing that usually accompanied the portly members of the Akimichi clan among young peers, Chojirō proved himself to be more capable than once thought. Far from the doughboy his father had labeled him for, the boy excelled in his physical studies as he grew from a pudgy lad to a towering teen. By the time he graduated, he was nearly the size of his teachers and twice as strong if you believed the rumors among his sore sparring mates. The gentle giant was placed in a traditional trio of Nara, Akimichi and Yamanaka, under a Sarutobi Jōnin.
The years beneath his Jōnin and the ideologies preached by the very clan that had inspired him go become a shinobi in the first place only further cemented Chojirō's need to help the people of the Leaf. It was his duty to ensure the village prospered, and that subsequent generations have a better world to grow into. With that in mind, Chojirō and his team engaged in their first Chūnin exam to advance in rank and achieve greater responsibility.
Now it's the Jōnin exams and he's gonna kick butt okay?
-------------------------------------------------------------------------------- 【Equipment/Weapons/Items】 Name of Weapon or Item: Bisento Description: A long, red wood pole ending in a thick, curved blade with a singular edge. This bisento has been specially made for a member of the Akimichi clan, reacting to its wielder's unique chakra and growing in size at their whim. This not only allows Chojirō to wield the fearsome weapon in his giant state, but also allows for tactical flexibility by suddenly expanding or shrinking the polearm's length or width. As both the wood and metal are chakra reactive, the user is also capable of flowing elemental chakra through it. In Chojirō's case, he can increase the weapon's durability and weight many times over. Appearance: Read above.
Name of Weapon or Item: Armor Description: A simple suit of armor similar to that used in the early days of shinobi warfare. It consists of steel plates held together by lengths of leather cordage over the shoulders and thighs, with bracers and greaves along the forearms and shins and a breastplate with the kanji for "food" in the center. It is worn over the traditional Konohagakure flak jacket. Appearance: Read above.
Name of Weapon or Item: Bags of Holding Description: A typical shinobi pouch holding shuriken, kunai, explosive notes, smoke bombs and basic medical gear. A second pouch full of high calorie food pills accompanies it. Appearance: Read above. -------------------------------------------------------------------------------- 【Kekkei Genkai 】 Name of Kekkei Genkai: N/A Clan: N/A Rank N/A Description: N/A
-------------------------------------------------------------------------------- 【Special Traits】 Deep Reserves: As a scion of the Akimichi clan, Chojirō possesses vast quantities of chakra to fuel his techniques. It takes huge amounts of expenditure to exhaust him. Incredible Strength: Built strong as an aurochs, Chojirō possesses near superhuman strength. His blows are thunderous and ground shattering, and any battle of raw muscle is usually in his favor. Uncanny Endurance: Chojirō's body is immensely hardy and durable beyond that of a normal man. Functioning as a living tank for his comrades, it takes a great deal of damage to bring him down, with a pain tolerance to match.
It was a small consolation for Isuza to have Feya on her side. Provided the captain had the funds for her supplies, the two of them would have little trouble getting the wood, rigging and other miscellaneous bits and bobs on board in one trip. Of course, so rarely was anything so simple with the crew of the Rum Runner. Before the aquatic hybrid could so much as mumble a reply, she had be challenged to a race already! Normally, she enjoyed the friendly competitions, but it was still morning and Isuza had yet to even eat!
Any protests she could've given would have fallen upon deaf ears, as the shark girl would learn. By the time she spun around to call out to the dashing doctor, she had already hopped into the sea. Never one to be spoiled produce, Isuza reluctantly jogged after her friend and after shedding her haori onto the deck, launched herself over the side and into the briney deep below.
The shock of cold ocean water jolted an otherwise sleepy shipwright wide away. Immediately the gills upon her neck sprung open, sucking in gulps of the sea to filter the oxygen within. Legs kicked and arms paddled, launching the small woman forward with breakneck speed to catch up with Feya and her head start. The human was certainly powerful, but she hadn't bested Isuza yet, and that wasn't going to change today. While she paddled hard in the chop of the surface, the lavender headed lass carved through the currents below, racing in the direction of shore.
Unfortunately, what she first assumed to be shore wasn't quite it. Cracked up to eyes made to see through the harsh salt water of the sea, Isuza spotted the far off blip grow and grow... But stop growing after a while. Indeed, the murky image was much too small to be an island. It was even floating! A ship, she realized, halting her swim and quickly surfacing to cry out to Feya. In another stroke of misfortune, she reached air just in time to witness the crew's doctor headbutt a hull.
The resulting shouting and pounding quickly washed away any worry she had, but before a giggle could be had, the boom of a den den mushi snatched her attention. Bounty hunters? Oh no.. She had heard the crew made a name for itself during that slave revolt, but surely they weren't wanted enough to warrant a practical galleon chasing them? The bold demand for a surrender resigned Isuza to a sigh; that wasn't happening. There would be a fight here, for certain, only more assured by the sight of Feya scaling the side of the vessel.
The instinctive need to assist in the daring boarding was slowed however, by the skip up of one Mr. Krabbe. Torpedoes?! What kind of bounty hunter had torpedoes?! Her precious Rum Runner was not going to withstand the blast of some kind of bizarre explosive today! Deciding the monstrous Feya could handle herself while the others closed, Isuza sank down again beneath the water, swimming interception between the Runner and this oversized monstrosity of a vessel, large eyes open wide for incoming projectiles.
The gentle rocking of a sailing vessel was always so soothing in the calmer waters. As a child of the sea, Isuza had always been at ease on the open waves, and the lapping of the ocean against the hull at night always put her into a deep, relaxing —
"Bawhahahahaha! Land hooooo!"
Sleep! The rumbling laughter above deck reverberated all the way down into the lowest chambers of the vessel where her cabin was. In her shock, the poor fish girl sprung up with a great deal of force and promptly bonked her head on the low ceiling of her small dwelling. Followed by a sharp inhale and a pathetic whine, the lavender haired shipwright cursed both her jumpy nature and choice of room. At the time, having her place of residence adjacent to the cargo hold at the bottom of the ship made sense; she could breathe if they began taking on water and was closest to finding and fixing the leak.
A big bump on the forehead every time they found land, though, was quickly changing her mind. Higher ceilings on the next vessel, definitely...
Managing to collect herself, Isuza quickly began dressing in her comfortable garb and preparing for the day. She had spent a good deal of the night prior building a list of everything she needed from this final port. Reverse Mountain was a place of broken ships and broken dreams, and the young carpenter would've been lying if she said she was totally confident in her precious Rum Runner's ability to navigate it safely. She had the tooth pile to prove that anxiety. But, she was a proud scion of the Mizushima Shipyard! No mountain was so great that she couldn't fix its effects on a vessel.
Or so she told herself. Stuffing the parchment into her sash, Isuza made for the upper deck, closing her door behind her but leaving the plain cabin unlocked. The only person who invaded, by the greasy residue she usually found, was Slick, and he tended to be everyplace where things weren't nailed down.
Coming into the bright daylight above, Isuza shielded her delicate eyes from the sun. At least the day was nice enough to let her run through a final few checks on the riggings and the like. But that was later. Now, now was the time for supplies.
Unfortunately for her, the man in charge was surrounded on all sides by the crew members who inhabited the vessel. Chewing her bottom lip in contemplation, silvery orbs scanned around and instead focused in on a certain body builder. Feya was always one of the more approachable members of their ragtag family. Surely she could help!
A bit of light footed waddling brought the petite hybrid before her "rival" of sorts. With all the boldness of a mouse, she withdrew the crumbled parchment from the yellow sash securing her pants, wiggling it at the much taller female.
"Uhm.. I made a lith of thingth I need to repair the thip. Would you mind, y'know... Helping me carry it all back?" She asked, air whistling through teeth far too pointy to belong in her mouth as she spoke. "After I get the nethethary fundth from Thedric, anyway..."