Hashirama Raito

Hashirama Raito was born into the Raito; a family whose members tended to lean towards the aspects of a martial artist rather than a shinobi. Knowing how to defend oneself was a key aspect of life within this tight-knit family, and there had yet to be a child who didn't learn how to throw a solid punch. Ever since the moment he could walk Hashi found himself undergoing rigorous training exercises and forms so long they would boggle the minds of most any ninja. He learned how to move both on and offbeat during a fight before he could even speak full sentences, much less actually hold a conversation with someone his age. Learning how to perfect his footwork and increasing his flexibility were both daily routines for the boy. Every day the boy was dragged out of bed before the sun even rose, followed by hours of the same exercises; stretching, sitting in stances, perfecting the slightest of mistakes in his combat form. He spent plenty of time watching his family's sparring matches, picking up on the subtle movements they made and what techniques they had labeled as 'effective' and not just 'flashy.'

After finally coming of age, Hashi was thrust into the ninja academy at the wishes of his father. He personally didn't mind all too much, and really didn't have much trouble with the lessons he was taught. And from that stemmed the problem that most of what he was being taught he had already learned years ago. As such he became the class clown; always making jokes and overall becoming the center of attention. He was relatively well liked by both his fellow academy students and his instructors, who grudging admitted that he showed promise as a shinobi. His taijutsu skills were naturally far above average, and while his ninjutsu were unpolished they showed signs of promise. His genjutsu weren't bad - he just didn't really care about them. Hashi preferred to be in the middle of the fight, not sitting on the sideline serving as a distraction.

Graduation felt relatively insignificant to Hashi, who considered it a relatively simple task. He graduated near the top of his class, and probably would have been at the top if he had honestly cared about his written exams. Merely a week later the boy found himself thrust onto a team with two of his fellow genin and his jonin-sensei. Teamwork was something came naturally to Hashi; his already outgoing and open personality, combined with his considerable skill, made him an excellent companion during missions. Yet, he always remained detached from his team in the sense that he rarely honed his skills while he was with them. Instead he found himself under the tutoring of his family, who were more than eager to jam his head full of a multitude of wind-element jutsu as was custom. His skills with a blade continued to grow under the tutoring of his father, yet for all the work Hashi put into his ninja career he never received the 'respect' his father claimed he had not yet earned it.

After two or so years of playing genin Hashi rose to the rank of chuunin, breezing (literally, lol wind jutsu puns) through the exams. He had grown close to his teammates - so close that he actually considered them like an extension of his family. He had long since abandonned his family's training methods for those of his own, which involved plenty of two-on-one action. They did everything together - eating meals, training, relaxing, there was hardly a minute in the day where they weren't together. Then a simple mission - delivering some supplies to trading company - went horribly wrong. A group of missing-nin attacked his squad, seriously wounding Hashi and fatally wounding his teammates. Needless to say, after being released from the hospital Hashi was undergoing a slew of emotions he was unfamiliar with.

He parted ways with his sensei, wishing to spend more time honing his skills with the blade and ninjutsu than what they could provide. However, he also wanted time to cope with his own feeling, to grieve so that he could get on with his life. He returned to the training he had undergone as a child, only intensified tenfold. He found himself spending hours working on his footwork, combining this training with that of tree and water walking to help boost his chakra control and reserves further. As such he found himself returning to the art of dance once again, no longer embarrassed by this very effective training style and occasionally hurling gale-force winds in the direction of those who looked down upon this 'effeminate' training.

Sure enough, as time passed Hashi overcame the grief for his fallen comrades. The change in his personality was immediately noticeable - he once again became cheery and borderline-psychotic, every bit the ninja he had been as a child. Determined to get back on track, Hashi contacted his old sensei and relayed his desire to continue doing missions together. Oddly enough they became a two-man squad, occasionally aided by another Jonin on higher-ranked missions, and continued the work they had left behind. Hashi continued to grow and develop his skills, now finding himself pushed by his sensei’s constant reassurance of ‘if you screw up I’m going to disown you.’

Eventually, upon turning seventeen, his father bestowed his family's blade – Sorakiri – upon his son, claiming that he was too old to carry the damned thing around and that he couldn't let it just gather dust in the corner. With this weapon came a scroll depicting the various jutsu he was to learn to make effective use of the blade, including the signature jutsu of his family - Fūton: Neji no Tendou. Also came the storage necklace which allowed for the blade to be stored with ease. Armed with this knowledge, Hashi's training shifted towards a more weapon and ninjutsu-oriented style, focusing on building his chakra reserves and further developing his skill with the blade.

With these new techniques in his arsenal, Hashi quickly rose through the ranks and became a full-blown jonin at the age of nineteen. This was the crowning moment of Hashi's life; he had surpassed all of his former classmates in both raw skill and power, enough so that he could actually defeat his former sensei and father, who had once been one of the village's most prominent ninja. Well, technically he wasn't able to defeat his old sensei, though most every sparring match they had ended in a dead-even tie. His years of training had paid off; he was one of the fastest shinobi in the village, and even those who could keep up with him were thrown by his chaotic and haphazard movements.

And then for the next six months Hashi felt something he had never felt before. Emptiness. Boredom. He had basically attained all his life's dreams, and now had nothing left to do but hone his skills and improve what areas he lacked in. Sure, he spent a good deal of time wandering around the village and seducing women all the while, but after a few months his morals finally kicked in and forced him to find something better to do with his time. He tried training, but without a partner that he wasn't used to fighting it felt incomplete. And so to the objection of his fellow shinobi, who were aware of his borderline-suicidal training routines, he submitted his application for a genin team.

Over the course of the transition between the ranks of the Fire Country, Hashi has lost a few screws. While it was granted that any path of power is that of insanity, it probably wasn't briefed all that correctly to fate, or perhaps there was a typo, for where most would simply lose it and go on a rampage, Hashi has actually drawn from the deranged thoughts and created something similar to a "kings complex". While most might think it's fueled by his arrogance or stupidity, it isn't anything but, infact, the only reason why Hashi isn't completely off the deep end is because he keeps his mind in-tact by thinking less of the people around him and bringing them below him, which allows him to keep a sense of security overtop what's possibly just a bundle of sticks with a bunch of oil over it prepared to be lit aflame. There's a couple of theories as to why or how Hashi came into this state, but the one that he seems to verify is how he soaked up both of his inner demons to the point of nearly becoming, the gleeful violent Jester and the strict Knightly thoughts perhaps keep him afloat in very white waters, but whatever the case may be, it certainly isn't healthy.

Hashi's voice, albeit really low, sighed heavily over his late fiance's tombstone. "Sakura ..." His usual gleaming smile which is filled with confidence in himself, was a horrible frown which littered his face. Looking at the stone tablet which is the last testament to his dearly beloveds life. Taken away from him to soon, in the midst of him completing a mission he came home to find his entire humble abode ransacked and demolished in the middle of the night. Calling out to Sakura, yell after yell, with no reply. he ran to the back room where they both stayed. A scene drenched in red, blood splattered every where. Hashi dropped to his knees, with tears falling from his face. She was carved out with a blade, different body parts laying across the scenery. This moment forever haunts Hashi, and attributes firmly to his new attitude. Not that he doesn't believe himself to be lethal, but he will always second-guess or doubt something, never letting something go to rest until it's head is spattered against a wall, and from what he's learned, sometimes not even then. Enrooted somewhat in his own doubts, he lacks the ability to trust or care for anything much anymore, the only thing that has semblance is interest in a topic or perhaps a person on special occasion, but this only happens if he cannot wrap his mind around them or can see potential, which is rather rare because the only people he's seen who have had potential ended up being torn to bits a few months later. He is also pretty distant because of this, but not introverted or socially inept, well, perhaps socially inept. If something is needed, he will drop the distant bullshit and vocally -- or perhaps physically -- greet the need or greet the needy if it's on the other end of the spectrum.