Narrative Biography of a Teenage Assassin

ok first of all i am not done with this story but soon i am not exactly one of those people who like to plan so it will take a bit and help may be nesasery. hope u like an please reviews are very much loved so please be kind review.
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Name: Oni Kokoro
Age: 17
Occupation: assassin



Hello, my name is Oni. There are a lot of things I can tell you about myself. For example, I’m one of the best in my class, popular, good-looking, and also smart. Right now, I live in an apartment that looks more like a house in New York by myself, with no parents. There are times when people ask me where they are, my answer is “they are gone and wont be coming back” Then I explain to them that father died of sickness and my mother killed herself after dad died. How I can support myself is a secret only known to those who are dead and the people that pay me. I am an assassin. I was not born as one and the story of my life is a big part of why I am an assassin. It’s a story of faith, depression, and anger.




Mother and father were both famous lawyers and some how saw each other as rebels. Both their companies were having a get together where they both met for the first time. They were very rude to each other at first until they finally got to an argument, and my father, to shut her up kissed her. After that they fell in love and got married. Two years later they had me, they took care of me like I was the queen of England. When I was four, they had another child, my brother Kami. I was jealous at first but got use to the fact that he was indeed my brother and learned to love him. My parents didn’t forget about me either. I had the perfect childhood in fact. We were the perfect family. I dropped my ice cream cone once and before I could cry my dad gave me his and bought a new one for himself. I was really small at the time and when I tried to push my brother on the swings I fell strait on my face, but my father wouldn’t help me he said that if I wanted to succeed in life I would first have to learn to be strong and gave me a smile that kept me trying.




When I was five I went to martial arts classes as a hobby of dad’s and mine. He was really good at it and I who wanted to be just like my father tried my best at it too. I won many competitions that made my father proud, but when I won and I looked for him, he gave a look like he was proud but in a way disappointed. My grandmother who died at a young age was Japanese, and from the description my father gave me of her, she was a very noble person. I dreamed of her most every night wondering what she was like and if I was anything like her. He never told me what she did for a living or what she died from, but he would tell my brother and me stories about her. Mrs. Kokoro people called her while my father called her mother.




When I was seven I was really strong in body and mind. Kids over fourteen challenged me in hope that I was just a little hopeless kid and not a really tough fighting monster like the rumors. “Is it true, am I really a monster”, I asked my self almost every day. So I started to say no when some one challenged me. one time a kid my age ame all the way from Japan just to fight. I said no at first, but my dad saw something in her eyes and told me I should try her out. I agreed to fight her. It was a battle of the body, mind and soul. We fought for four hours straight as people watched two equally challenged seven-year-olds fight. Sweat dripping from both of us till I remembered my training I got from dad that gave me the power to meditate and give myself the increment to keep trying and to find a way, her weakness, to look back in the battle, to beat her. I got up from my meditation and made one simple move that got her on the floor and made me the winner. She got up and we shook hands, bowed, and thanked each other for the match. As she left she said that I was good and that someday she would be back but in better condition and that then she would beat me. After that my training got harder.




By the time I was ten I was almost as good as my father who was in martial arts all his life and a master at every form. I started taking gun training at home. We had a room in our big house special for gun shooting. I would have to practice every day in that all alone but I enjoyed it. I learned to use tools like paper clips and such as a weapon, and to make almost any appliance with things I find on the floor. I was a master in search and destroy and silent killing. I had education in technology, I could make things like computer- controlled bombs, computer programs, and even make weapons unbelievable to the human eyes. I could even hack into any company database such as the FBI’s and they wouldn’t even know about it.




At school I was very quiet and no one came close to me. but every so often I would get love letters, but I would trough them away and say sorry. Those were the only words any of them heard out of me. my brother was in 4th grade and got picked on a lot so I had to watch over him. But soon he got very sick and ended school all together. I would hury home all the time just to play with my brother, my only friend, every day befor I had to go to my bizzy life. but one day he wasnt there.