Bab 28: Heroes of Different Times(Worlds?)
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The room was once again filled with the sounds of eager scribbling, as students jotted down notes. Ryomaru's hand moved deftly, his eyes focused on the words he was inscribing. Each tale of valor and virtue etched itself into his heart, their echoes resonating with his burgeoning sense of duty and honor.
"Now," Aoba declared, her voice ringing out clear and strong, "it's time for you to reflect on these tales. Remember, young shinobi, these are not just stories. These are the guiding principles of a Kumo shinobi, and they should guide your path as you train, grow, and eventually serve our village."
Aoba's words hung in the air, imprinted on each young mind. Ryomaru, Karui, Shimori, and Tsubaki, they all sat in silent understanding, the essence of their future paths becoming clearer. The tales of Bon, Luffy, and Iroh would be the pillars guiding them, the embodiments of Kumo's will. Their training had only just begun, but in their hearts, the seeds of the Will of Lightning had already been sown.
Months whirled by in a symphony of routine and growth. The life of a shinobi was never idle, and Ryomaru, now a strapping young lad of nine, was no exception. Time, like a master craftsman, had subtly refined his youthful features, bringing a mature gravity to his ice-blue eyes and sharpening his cheekbones. His black hair, once wild and untamed, was now neatly tied back, a faint echo of the child he once was.
Ryomaru's relationships had matured with him. The strong bonds with his classmates, Karui, Shimori, and Tsubaki had deepened, each connection a unique and cherished part of his life. They were not just his peers but his family.
Shimori, with her wavy purple hair and a contagious smile, held a soft spot for Ryomaru. Her feelings were a budding crush, a blush always finding its way to her cheeks whenever his ice-blue gaze met her eyes. His friendship with Tsubaki, the studious girl with sleek black hair and sharp brown eyes, was a contrast, built on mutual respect and admiration.
With Karui, it was different. The girl with the crimson hair was a blazing sun, her vitality and spirit a stark contrast to Ryomaru's calm and collected demeanor. She was fiercely protective of him, a lioness in a world of wolves, her affection unspoken yet palpable.
His weekly meetings with Samui and Mabui were like a salve to his growing responsibilities, their older wisdom a beacon in his young life. His rap battles with B were still a hot demand among their circle, the lyrical duels only serving to deepen their connection.
The Uchiha family, too, had found a home in Kumo. Sasuke and Itachi, with their parents, had settled, a beacon of hope and new beginnings for a village once torn apart by mistrust. A year later, the village was overjoyed when a new addition to the family arrived, a girl. Her name was Akari, meaning 'light', a symbol of hope and a new dawn.
Life was good. Yet, through all the changes, one constant remained: his mother, Miori. The name was a whisper of warmth, an echo of love that resonated in the deepest chambers of his heart.
Miori, his rock, his sanctuary. The tender look in her eyes when she watched him train, the soft lullaby of her laughter when he told her about his day, the warmth of her arms when he felt overwhelmed - everything about her was home. Her love was a pulsating, vital part of his life, wrapping around him like a comforting blanket, providing him with a strength that even the most brutal of training sessions could not.
Despite the painful past that tethered her to the Raikage, Miori had always been a beacon of warmth and tenderness for Ryomaru. His respect for her was monumental, his affection for her immeasurable.
"Ryomaru," Miori's voice rang out, her silhouette framed by the soft, orange hues of the setting sun.
"Mum," Ryomaru responded, turning to face her with a loving smile.
"I heard from Samui, you did well in your training today," Miori said, her voice heavy with pride. Her gaze softened as she watched her son, her hand brushing against his black hair, his blue eyes shining with gratitude.
"Thanks, Mum," Ryomaru replied, a warmth spreading through him at her words. "I couldn't have done it without you."
It was true. Miori was his unwavering support, her love a driving force that propelled him forward, pushing him to strive and excel. His victories were hers, his joys a mirror of her happiness.
Despite the weekly meetings with Raikage, their relationship remained cool and detached. The man was a towering figure in Ryomaru's life, yet an absence in his heart. To the Raikage, he was not a son but a pupil, a successor being groomed to uphold the pride and honour of their clan.
Ryomaru's life was a beautifully complex tapestry, woven with the threads of friendship, duty, and love. Despite the challenges, he was content. His path was becoming clearer with each passing day, the guiding principles of Kumo etched into his heart.
And as the sunborn, painting the skies with hues of red and gold, Ryomaru and Miori stood side by side. The soft, comforting hum of Miori's lullaby still lingered in the air as Ryomaru prepared to leave for his weekly meeting with the Raikage. She fussed over him, straightening his clothes and tugging at stray threads. His outfit was modest but clean, mirroring the respect and dignity his position as the son of the Raikage demanded.
"Make sure you've got everything, Ryo," Miori urged, pressing a small lunch box into his hands.
"I've got it, Mum," he assured, holding up the lunch box in response.
With a loving smile, Miori cupped his face, her hands gently brushing the strands of hair away from his eyes. "You're growing up so fast," she murmured, a hint of nostalgia tugging at her words. Her eyes met his, a silent understanding passing between them. It was their quiet acknowledgment of the challenges and responsibilities that lay ahead.
Miori leaned down, peppering his face with soft kisses. Ryomaru couldn't help but laugh, his youthful chuckles ringing out against the morning's tranquil silence. His heart swelled with the warmth of her love, a feeling so tangible, he could almost reach out and touch it. He accepted her embrace, pressing himself into her arms one last time before pulling away. With a soft sigh, he bid her goodbye, the lingering warmth of her touch his steadfast companion for the day.
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Status Power Mingguan
-- Peringkat
Power 
-- Power
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