This is the start of a series of one-shots about the characters in my fanfic "The Bloodstained Six." I know it's terrible to have OC one-shots, but hey maybe I'll garner more reviews and inspiration. BTW, I'm accepting beta-reading requests. (Many errors in my fics are done on purpose for aesthetic reasons.)
Hoshi was a field marshal.
She was not calm, cool, and collected during a skirmish; she was fiery and furious. However, she never let her temper get the better of her. If insults were returned as she screamed her obscenities, she ignored them. She pretended to be a green genin, volatile as a wildfire going with the wind, and when she caught you off-guard, no apologies would save you.
She didn't have Hikari's speed or Shado's ability to disappear, but she damned sure could sneak up on somebody. Enemies were so distracted by the abuse-screaming, katana-waving child that they barely noticed the knife slipped between their ribs by a silent, dead-eyed copy.
Hoshi was like a sponge; she pulled in all the pain of others without letting any of her own slip out. She brought out the best and worst in people. The rawness of this contact would leave some people mentally damaged, but it was just normal for Hoshi. Maybe that's why she made an excellent Torture and Interrogation operative. Seduction was sometimes used, but Hoshi was always one scary woman even before she grew out of childhood.
As most shinobi can attest, a blood-stained child speaking with the vocabulary and clarity of an adult can be terrifying, especially if that child is wielding a pig-sticker nicked around the edges. Of course, this probably contributed to the six's severe pediaphobia. Tenshi would rather face a jonin armed to the teeth than an innocent, smiling three year old.
Hoshi never cried where people could see. She preferred the quite solitude of her cell or in the ashes of a city destroyed.
Higher-ups always chose Hoshi to lead squads even though she wasn't as good of a fighter as some or as smart as others. She instead was charismatic, laughing constantly. She healed rifts between rivals, diffused dangerous situations, and calmed down hysteric team members. She almost seemed bipolar, cracking jokes one second, and then screaming at someone to shut the hell up while she was speaking.
Hoshi embodied the wind she used, capricious and furious, light and fierce, sweet and spiteful in the same breath.
Men may hold her, but they could never have her.
She was not a fine and precious thing. She was a girl.
— John Green, Paper Towns