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 Sindrir Katsutori's backstory

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Sindrir Katsutori

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Posts : 7
Join date : 2009-09-08
Age : 28
Location : Norman, OK

PostSubject: Sindrir Katsutori's backstory   Wed Sep 09, 2009 12:52 am

I love to write in my spare time and ill post more on here once i get some more written. im posting as much as i have at the moment Comments and critique appreciated. Let me know what you think.

...“Hold son,” Ujio said quietly. Sindrir gripped his bokken tightly and exhaled slowly. Ujio took a slow step to the side and raised his own blade. “Now!” He shouted. The two rushed each other and connected blades. Ujio quickly parried and slashed out towards Sindrir’s open side. The strike landed and sent Sindrir to his knees. Ujio smiled as he sheathed his wooden katana. Sindrir held his side in pain as he made to his feet. “Be glad this wasn’t a real fight or else you would be split nearly in half.” Ujio said patting Sindrir’s shoulder. Sindrir nodded. “I apologize father.” Sindrir said bowing his head. Ujio stepped back. “Again!” He said. Sindrir readied his bokken. Ujio did the same. “Remember Sindrir,” He said. “Don’t step too far or else they will be able to take the advantage of your sides. Keep balance at all times and always keep your openings covered.” Sindrir nodded.
“Now!” Ujio shouted. Sindrir stepped quickly forward into Ujio’s oncoming attack. Ujio struck with incredible speed towards Sindrir’s shoulders. Sindrir saw the danger and stepped back and raised his bokken horizontally over his head to deflect the blow. Wood connected and Sindrir reacted. He stepped far behind his father and let Ujio’s blade run down the length of his own over his back. With a quick turn Sindrir brought his blade back to his front and raised it over his head. He struck down towards Ujio’s exposed back. The old master was not ready to be beaten by a basic strike. Ujio stepped far away from Sindrir and the strike only grazed the cloth of his hakama. Ujio spun to face his opponent and brought his weapon along. The spin lead to a clean strike. Sindrir barely was able to dodge the blow. He jumped back a steps worth and readied his blade. Ujio smiled. “Better, but not perfect.” He said. Sindrir was too busy listening to his father to see the strike going for the inside of his legs. The impact was followed closely with another strike to his side. Ujio sheathed the bokken and bowed. Sindrir was shocked. As soon as he felt like his years of Toyama Ryu were starting to pay off he was defeated as if it was nothing.

For twelve years old, Sindrir was already and excellent swordsman. His father, Ujio, was the Shogun of the Neo-Samurai clan Kitabatake. Kitabatake was very well known amongst the eight remaining clans as a perfect example of samurai culture surviving in modern Japan, especially after the NWO take over. His views were different from many of the other clans. Ujio wanted to be rid of the NWO’s influence in Japan and re-establish samurai dominance. The other clans sought recognition within the NWO instead. Kitabatake however was not known for being warlike in nature. They desired peace but the method of doing so was killing all opposition that might cause turmoil in the long spectrum. Ujio was preparing to gather his samurai and lead a campaign against the NWO supporting clans in order to change their minds with force. Although drastic it seemed the only way.
Sindrir was to take up his fathers goals after his death. However, Sindrir was not his biological son. Ujio and his wife Matoko had lost their own child shortly after its birth. The couple was desperate for a child and didn’t know what to do. Sindrir’s parents were American. After the NWO passed an act on controlling childbirth, Sindrir’s parents sent the child to Japan where it was deemed safer. His parents escaped into the southern reaches of the island only to encounter the Kitabatake clan and the childless Ujio. Sindrir’s mother and father loved him more than anything but had to give him up in order to save his life after hearing that a small agency from the NWO was chasing them. The two left the child to the ecstatic Ujio and Matoko. Sindrir was only weeks old at the time and was to never see his real parents again.
Sindrir’s childhood was simple. He was taught to work in the fields and to fight. He followed a rigorous training schedule with his Japanese father. From the time he was six, Sindrir trained in Toyama Ryu and Batto Do swordsmanship. He studied the sport of Kendo with his fellow youths in the village. The sword became his life. He wanted to become perfect and unbeatable. He was reckless and unpredictable but he was loyal beyond any other youth. Sindrir was caught up in many little brawls in the streets with other children. Many made fun of his pale skin and light complexion. He was easily angered and usually ended up beating the harassers senseless with his training shinai. Even though the other children trained like he did, he was always able to beat them with ease. His father would always scold him severely but then praise him for his prowess amongst his peers. Some older children would challenge him in matches just to see how good Sindrir really was. By the time he was eleven, Sindrir was undefeated out of all of the children and even some adults. He seemed to have a niche for the art and he constantly worked on improving it. The only real match for him was his own father. Ujio was his teacher and bested him every time with no sweat. Ujio was famous throughout the Japan as an amazing swordsman and thinker. Sindrir was constantly reminded by it every day. He would always hear the same phrase at the end of every training session, “Better, but not perfect.”

Sindrir made his way back to the house. His bouts were getting better but every time he would end up dead. His father still was able to trounce his every effort to win. ‘Soon,’ He thought. “Soon I will win and prove my worth to him as a swordsman. How can I lead the clan when he’s dead if I can’t beat the original leader?’ Sindrir spent the whole night awake in bed, thinking about his training and his future. ‘If I am unable to succeed with friends how am I do succeed with my enemies? Sure I can defeat almost every other warrior in the clan but I must be the best in order to insure my survival.’ Sindrir sat up and leaned on his knees. ‘Father leaves tomorrow with the army,’ He thought. ‘If he doesn’t return then I must be the one to command. No matter what I must be calm and focused.’
The next morning Sindrir met with his father outside the gates of the village. The army was assembled, full of hardened warriors. Ujio was adorned in his traditional plate armor and his two swords. “Sindrir, I have something to ask of you.” He said approaching his son. Sindrir nodded and bowed. “You may be young but you are a competent warrior and I need everyone there. The only thing you lack is the stomach for blood. You are to come with me and watch from afar and learn that battle is brutal, frightening, and horrible. If the chance comes I want you to face an enemy in single combat and earn your blades. Just being my son is not enough.” Sindrir’s stomach dropped. He wasn’t ready to put his life on the line. He had no choice but to obey. “Hai, Father!” Sindrir said shakily. Ujio patted his shoulder. “I know you are not expecting to live. That means that you will. Go into battle ready to die and you will live but want to live and you surely will not.” Sindrir nodded. “I already have your weapons and armor ready, change and meet me here in several minutes and we will be off.”
Ujio pointed to a samurai with a bundle in his arms. Sindrir was directed to him. Sindrir took the bundle and went into the tea house. He left the two swords at the door in respect of the house. Sindrir was trembling as he placed the armor on his body. It wasn’t much protection. The armor was basically a chest and set of paulderons made of leather with metal studs. There was also a flimsy set of grieves and a helmet. Sindrir came out of the house and collected his swords. He tied them to his belt in traditional samurai fashion. Ujio had a look of pride in his eyes when Sindrir approached him. “You are ready.” He said. Sindrir sat silent. Ujio turned to his army. “March!” He shouted. The men fell into ranks and marched out of the village. On the road out were women from all over the area. They threw flower petals at the samurai’s feet. Sindrir marched along with the men. He was hidden in the ranks from the outside view. Soon several dozen horsemen came to join the ranks. The march was on and Sindrir knew that before tomorrow’s moonrise he would either be a true warrior or a dead soul.
The army was camped at sunset in a small forest. The samurai around him cooked rice in their helmets and talked to one another. Sindrir sat next to a small fire of his own and silently chewed on his own bowl of rice. Ujio came near and sat next to his son. “Sindrir, do you know why I am leading this army to war?” Sindrir nodded. Ujio smiled. “Do you now?” He said chuckling. Sindrir looked at his father. “We are fighting to rid Japan of the NWO. Those heathens fight with more than just sword and spear. They dishonor themselves with assault rifles and pistols. That is not the world I want. I want there to be honor amongst men, not cowardice. I want Japan to be independent and rule itself once again. The only way to do so is to unite the clans but as you know they only respect battle prowess and apparently they have forgotten who we are. Do you understand now?” Sindrir lowered his head. “Yes father.” He said. Ujio picked up his sons chin. “You are afraid?” He asked gently. Sindrir nodded. Ujio smiled. “I am too you know.” He said. “I am always afraid but that doesn’t stop me. I use my fear as focus and I am successful. Do that and you will be fine. I always think that every battle will be my last but it hasn’t been so. You are definitely the kind of warrior that will do great things.” Sindrir looked as if he had a little more hope. Ujio stood. “I will see you tomorrow son.” Sindrir turned. “I love you father.” He said. Ujio looked at him. “I love you too son. Get some sleep.” Ujio turned and walked away. Sindrir set down his empty helmet and lay his head on a pile of wrappings. He was soon fast asleep. He slept long but restless. The visions of his death haunted his nightmares. He would soon see a more real nightmare right in front of his eyes, but that was for tomorrow.
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