Bab 5: chapter 5
The school bell rang, signaling the end of another day at school. Students poured out of the gates, their chatter filling the air. Rudra was walking alongside Evan and Joy, listening to their usual banter. He didn't notice the car at first—Kushina's familiar, sleek sedan parked just outside the gate.
"Hey, Rudra," Joy said, nudging him. "Isn't that your aunt's car? She's here to pick you up?"
Rudra stopped in his tracks, squinting at the car. It was indeed Kushina's. She almost never came to pick him up. With her busy schedule, she usually relied on a driver or expected him to take public transport.
"Yeah, that's her," Rudra muttered, his tone tinged with confusion. "Weird. She doesn't do this."
Evan adjusted his glasses. "Maybe it's a special occasion? Or maybe you're in trouble?"
"Shut up," Rudra replied, rolling his eyes. But he couldn't deny the small knot of worry forming in his chest.
As he approached the car, the window rolled down, revealing Kushina's warm smile. She looked calm, though there was an unusual softness to her expression.
"Hey," she said. "Hop in."
Rudra hesitated for a moment before opening the door and sliding into the passenger seat. "You okay?" he asked, buckling his seatbelt. "This isn't like you."
Kushina chuckled lightly, her hands steady on the wheel as she pulled away from the school. "What? Can't I pick up my nephew from school every now and then?"
Rudra raised an eyebrow. "You're not 'every now and then' kind of person. You're more 'I'm too busy' kind of person."
She glanced at him, her smile widening just a bit. "Fair enough. My schedule cleared up today, and I thought I'd surprise you. Besides, it's been a while since we've had a proper conversation, hasn't it?"
Rudra leaned back in his seat, studying her. She wasn't wrong. Between her work and his own routine, they rarely had time to talk. Not that he minded much—Kushina had always been there for him, but their relationship wasn't exactly overflowing with heart-to-hearts.
"Guess so," he admitted.
The car hummed quietly as they drove through the bustling city streets. Outside, people moved about their lives, oblivious to the faint tension lingering inside the vehicle.
"So," Kushina began, her tone casual but probing, "how's school? Everything okay?"
"Yeah, it's fine," Rudra replied with a shrug. "Same old stuff. Evan's still a nerd, Joy is... Joy."
Kushina laughed at that. "And you? You're still... Rudra?"
"Last I checked."
She shook her head, amused by his nonchalant attitude. For a moment, the conversation lulled, and the silence between them felt oddly comfortable.
When they finally pulled into the driveway, Rudra noticed the slight hesitation in Kushina's movements as she turned off the engine. It was subtle, but he caught it—like she was working up the courage to say something.
As they stepped out of the car, Kushina locked the doors and turned to him. "You know," she began, her voice carrying a gentler tone than usual, "since my schedule's clear today, why don't we go out for dinner? Just the two of us."
Rudra blinked, caught off guard. "Dinner? Like, a proper dinner?"
"Yes, a proper dinner," she said with a faint smile. "It's been a while since we've done something like that. Don't you think?"
He scratched the back of his neck, unsure how to respond. It wasn't like her to suggest something so... casual. But he wasn't going to complain.
"Sure," he said, his tone casual but tinged with curiosity. "Why not?"
As they stepped inside the house to freshen up before dinner, Rudra couldn't shake the feeling that something was shifting between them. Kushina's effort to spend time with him felt genuine, and for once, he wasn't going to question it.
"Maybe this won't be so bad," he thought, heading to his room.
In the background, the faint hum of the television carried news of unusual weather patterns, but neither of them paid it any mind.
The restaurant Kushina chose was a cozy, family-owned spot nestled in the quieter part of the city. Its warm lighting and soft music gave it an inviting charm. Rudra followed her inside, glancing at the small crowd already seated.
Kushina had picked a corner table, away from the bustling main area. As they settled down, she smiled at him. "I used to come here a lot when I was younger. It hasn't changed much."
Rudra raised an eyebrow. "You? Going out to places like this? I thought you'd always been the workaholic type."
She chuckled. "Not always. There was a time when I was just...A carefree girl with dreams you know."
As they waited for their food, Kushina leaned back, her gaze drifting to the center of the table.
"Your mom and I... we were inseparable growing up," she began, her voice tinged with nostalgia. "She was the loud one, always dragging me into trouble. And me? I was the one trying to talk her out of it."
Rudra smiled. "Sounds familiar."
Kushina laughed softly. "Oh, you have no idea. There was this one time—your mom convinced me to climb the neighbor's mango tree. I told her it was a bad idea, but she didn't listen. We both got caught, and I was the one who had to explain to the neighbor why his prized mangoes were suddenly missing."
"What did my mom do," Rudra said.
"She left me to take the blame" Kushina said, shaking her head. "But she made up for it by sneaking an extra slice of cake for me at dinner that night."
Her smile faltered for a moment as the memories brought a twinge of sadness. "It's hard sometimes, thinking about those days. Knowing we can't go back to them."
Rudra stayed silent, sensing her shift in mood.
The food arrived, and for a while, they ate in comfortable silence. Then Kushina spoke again, this time her tone lighter.
"You know," she said, "your parents weren't exactly the most... conventional when it came to parenting. They were more like kids themselves, jumping from joy to joy. Your dad, especially, was ridiculously protective of your mom. I remember when she was pregnant with you—he refused to let her carry anything heavier than a pillow. He even tried to ban her from cooking because he thought the stove was too dangerous."
Rudra chuckled at the image. "That does sound like him."
Kushina continued. "One time, he set up this elaborate baby-proofing system around the house... three months before you were even born. Your mom teased him endlessly about it, but you could tell she loved how much he cared."
She paused, a fond smile playing on her lips. "And when you were finally here... the two of them were over the moon. Your dad swore he'd protect you and your mom no matter what. And your mom? She'd just laugh and say, 'Who's going to protect us from you?'"
They both laughed at that, the moment light and warm.
Kushina set her fork down, her expression turning serious. "Rudra, I know I haven't been the best... since the accident. I've been distant, throwing myself into work because it was the only way I knew how to cope. And in doing that, I've neglected you. I'm sorry."
Rudra looked at her, surprised.
She reached across the table, placing her hand over his. "I want you to know that even though your parents aren't here anymore, you're not alone. I'm still here, and I always will be. I love you, Rudra. You're my family, and nothing will ever change that."
For a moment, Rudra didn't know what to say. He'd always understood, even before regaining his memories, that Kushina was dealing with her own pain. He never blamed her, not even once. But hearing her say those words—it moved him in a way he can't put into words.
"I know," he said softly. "I know how hard it's been for you. And I never blamed you, not once. You've done more for me than I could ever ask for."
Kushina's eyes glistened with unshed tears, and she smiled. "Thank you, Rudra."
He gave her hand a reassuring squeeze. "You're a good aunt, Kushina. And I'm lucky to have you."
The rest of the dinner was filled with lighter topics, their laughter filling the cozy space around them. For the first time in a long while, they both felt a sense of peace—a connection that had been strained but never broken.
As Rudra and Kushina stepped out of the restaurant, the cool evening air greeted them. The soft hum of city life surrounded them—cars honking in the distance, chatter spilling out from nearby shops, and the occasional laughter of pedestrians.
Rudra glanced at Kushina, who was smiling softly, seemingly at peace after their heartfelt dinner. He felt a small pang of gratitude for her effort to reconnect.
But then, something unusual happened.
A single drop of rain struck Rudra's forehead. It wasn't the cool, refreshing sensation he expected. Instead, it felt... heavy.
He paused, narrowing his eyes as his sensory rune activated instinctively. The world around him shifted.
To his eyes, the mundane world faded, replaced by a vibrant tapestry of colors. Streams of aura began to flow outward from the single drop of rain. It spread rapidly, coloring the once-empty void of his sensory perception into a vivid, living canvas.
"What...?" Rudra murmured, staring at the sky.
"Rudra?" Kushina asked, noticing his sudden stillness.
He didn't respond. The sensation was overwhelming. The aura wasn't just spreading—it was transforming the world. He could feel its energy, raw and unrestrained, flowing through everything it touched.
It was beautiful, yet unsettling.
Then, just as abruptly as it had begun, the rain stopped. The vibrant aura continued to linger, weaving through the air like threads of silk. But before Rudra could process it further, something darker emerged.
A chill ran down his spine as his sensory rune picked up a presence—one vastly different from the aura around them. It was suffocatingly dark, pulsating with malice.
Rudra's gaze shot upward, his heart racing.
In the sky, far above the city, he saw it: a crack in the very fabric of space-time. It was faint at first, a barely noticeable tear. But as he focused, it began to widen, leaking tendrils of dark aura that spread like ink in water.
"What is that...?" Rudra whispered, his voice barely audible.
Suddenly, from the crack, objects began to fall. At first, they appeared as mere silhouettes, small and insignificant. But as they descended closer, their forms became clearer.
Fishes.
Rudra's brow furrowed. To ordinary eyes, it might seem like an inexplicable phenomenon—a bizarre rain of fish. But through his sensory rune, he saw their true nature.
They were not ordinary. These creatures swam gracefully through the aura, their movements elegant and unearthly. They didn't fall to the ground but floated, their fins cutting through the air as if it were water.
The sight was mesmerizing. But Rudra couldn't shake the unease growing in his chest.
"Kushina," he said suddenly, his voice tense. "We need to get home. Now."
She turned to him, confused by his urgency. "Rudra, what's wrong?"
But he didn't answer. His eyes were locked on the sky, where the crack continued to widen, spilling more of the dark aura into the world.
Something was coming. And whatever it was, Rudra knew it was only the beginning.
Status Power Mingguan
-- Peringkat
Power 
-- Power
stone