One Piece

R’tari is a 19-year-old human monk with long, dark hair tied in ceremonial triangles framing his sharp features and piercing eyes—eyes that reflect a past filled with loss, shadows, and discipline. He wears traditional Wano shinobi garb: dark, fitted, and laced with silver-threaded patterns resembling flowing water. A silk neck mask conceals the lower half of his face, and a mourning headband is tied around his left arm. At his waist rests a sturdy belt bearing ten tri-pointed kunai, each ready for swift use. His black hakama is worn but dignified, and a fearsome oni mempo mask—crafted to strike terror—hangs at his side. A blood-moon gemstone ring glints faintly on his finger. His gait is silent, graceful, and full of tension, like a blade that never sleeps.

Then (childhood): Wild, playful, chaotic, unbothered by others’ opinions. Now (adulthood): Gloomy, quiet, watchful, with a deep well of loyalty beneath the surface. Loyalty: Absolute to those he trusts, indifferent or cold to all others. Flaws: Follower mentality, depressive isolation, self-worth tied to others’ goals. Hobbies: Training in shadow techniques, silent walks at dusk, occasionally dancing alone when no one is looking. Triggers: Mentions of Wano’s fall, manipulative leaders, or false “honor”.

R’tari grew up an exile from Wano in the calm East Blue, but bitterness never defined him. Even as a child, he carried a strange, manic joy—eyes burning with wild fire, a grin always lurking beneath the surface. The son of elite shinobi from a forgotten Wano clan that opposed Orochi and Kaido, R’tari fled his homeland after its collapse, smuggled to Shimotsuki Village where he never quite fit in. Born of blood and shadow, he clashed with its peaceful traditions. He danced at dusk, sparred until bleeding, and laughed too loud. But when news of Wano’s fall reached him, something broke. At fourteen, the dancing stopped. His laughter faded. He grew quiet, brooding, and began tying his headband around his arm in mourning. He no longer sought the spotlight, following instead of leading, convinced the world didn’t need another ghost chasing glory. By eighteen, he was lethal—his ninjutsu refined, his purpose cold and clear.