The Kuto’s life was filled with disdain. He was in Comoros, and had a scar haircut. His hair color was black, and he wore oversized round silver sunglasses. He also had a Balbo beard. He wore a green bomber jacket, and his life seemed to be nothing but trouble.
Kuto was born on a small island in the United States Minor Outlying Islands. The island was so small that it didn’t even have a name. It was just a rock in the middle of the ocean. Kuto’s parents were poor and they could barely afford to feed themselves, let alone their child. Kuto grew up with a lot of disdain for his life and for the people around him. He hated his parents for being so poor and he hated himself for being born into such poverty.
As a teenager, Kuto began to express his hatred in more destructive ways. He started vandalizing property and getting into fights with other kids on the island. His parents tried to control him but it was no use. Eventually, they gave up on him and kicked him out of the house when he was 18 years old.
With nowhere else to go, Kuto decided to join the military. He figured it would be a way to get away from his crappy life and see some new places
Kuto woke up to the sound of birds chirping. He lazily got out of bed, wondering what could possibly be making such a racket so early in the morning. As he walked to the window, he caught a glimpse of himself in the mirror and did a double take. His hair was now a bright terracotta color, and his once neatly trimmed beard was now completely gone, revealing a scar that ran from his forehead all the way down his cheek.
He touched his face gingerly, feeling the rough stubble that covered his skin. It was then that he realized he wasn’t in Uzbekistan anymore. He didn’t know how or why he had ended up here, but there was no mistaking it; this was definitely not home.
As he looked around more carefully, he noticed that everything seemed oddly familiar yet also completely foreign at the same time. The furniture and decor were certainly not anything like what he remembered from home, but there were elements that felt eerily similar nonetheless.
He shook his head clear before making his way downstairs cautiously, half expecting someone to jump out at him and demand an explanation for why he was here. But thankfully no one did; instead it appeared as if whoever lived here simply wasn’t home at the moment.
When Kuto was just a youngling, his life was filled with sadness. His parents had died in a fire that burned down their home, and he was left all alone in the world. He made his way to Heard Island, where he found work as a fisherman. It was hard work, but it kept him alive.
One day, while out fishing, Kuto’s boat capsized in a storm and he was washed ashore on an uninhabited island. He managed to build himself a shelter from the wreckage of his boat and survived on whatever fish he could catch. But after months of being alone, Kuto began to go stir crazy.
In desperation, Kuto carved out a crude raft from some driftwood and set sail for any land that might be nearby. Miraculously, he washed up on the shores of McDonald Islands – an even more remote and barren place than the one he had come from.
Kuto did his best to make do with what little resources were available to him on McDonald Islands, but slowly starvation began to take its toll on him. His hair turned dark golden brown from malnutrition; his once handsome features became gaunt and haggard; and worst of all – he developed a large scar across his forehead when an accident with one of his makeshift fishing spears went wrong.
Kuto awoke with a start, his heart pounding in his chest. It took him a moment to remember where he was – he was in Slovakia, on vacation with his family. But what had caused him to wake up so suddenly?
He looked around the room, trying to see if anything was out of place. Everything seemed normal, but something felt wrong. Kuto couldn’t shake the feeling that something bad was about to happen.
Suddenly, there was a loud crash from downstairs. Kuto’s heart jumped into his throat and he froze in fear. Was someone breaking into their house?
He slowly got out of bed, careful not to make any noise himself. He crept towards the door of his bedroom and pressed his ear against it, trying to hear what was happening below. There were voices – multiple people, speaking in Slovakian too quickly for Kuto to understand them clearly. They sounded angry and aggressive…and they were coming closer!
Kuto’s mind raced as he tried to think of what to do next. Should he hide under the bed? No, that would be the first place they would look…should he try and escape out the window? But it was three stories up…there was no way he could survive a jump like that…
Once upon a time, there was a young man named Kuto who lived in the Faroe Islands. He was filled with anger and had a scar across his forehead. His hair was light blonde and he wore a black hoodie. He also had a lumberjack beard. Kuto’s life was not an easy one. He often got into fights with other people and always seemed to be on the verge of losing control. One day, Kuto went into town to buy some supplies for his home. While he was there, he got into an argument with another man. The man insulted Kuto and called him names. This made Kuto so angry that he attacked the man, hitting him in the face with his fist. The man fell to the ground, unconscious
