1 Reborn

You have been warned!!!

Slow-paced storytelling: The novel focuses on slice-of-life events, so you should be prepared for a leisurely narrative with a slower progression of major plot points.

Memory retrieval: Ryomaru's memories from his past life(Haku) will gradually resurface over time. If you prefer a story with immediate recollection or rapid development, this may not be the right fit.

Harem elements: The novel incorporates a harem dynamic, with Ryomaru attracting the romantic interest of multiple characters. While this adds to the romantic subplot, some readers may have personal preferences or find it off-putting. I am thinking of 5 or so Harem members and not Gotta Catch 'em All

Taboo relationship: The story includes an INCEST relationship between Ryomaru and his mom. Please be aware that this may be considered taboo or controversial to some readers.

Teenage angst: As a coming-of-age story, the novel may explore teenage emotions until Ryomaru fully inherits his past life memories, including moments of angst and emotional turmoil. If you prefer a more lighthearted or action-oriented narrative, be prepared for occasional introspective and emotionally charged scenes.

Limited action and battles in early chapters: While there will be battles and action sequences, the focus of the story lies more on character development and interpersonal relationships. Readers seeking intense combat scenarios or continuous action may need to adjust their expectations.

Romantic comedy elements: Haku's rap battles with Killer B provide moments of humor and levity, but the novel also includes romantic comedy elements. If you are not a fan of romantic comedy or prefer a different genre, please take note.

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The Hidden Cloud Village buzzed with an unusual excitement that day. It wasn't often that a child of the Raikage was born, and the village was eager to celebrate the arrival of Ryomaru.

In one of the secluded quarters, Miori, a woman of ethereal beauty with traces of the Yuki Clan in her features, lay exhausted. Her pale skin was damp with perspiration, her black hair stuck to her forehead. She was flanked by several midwives, who moved busily around the room, their expressions veiled under the cloak of professionalism.

Amid the flurry of activity, Miori glanced around, her pale blue eyes searching for a particular presence. "Is he...?" she began, her voice barely above a whisper.

The attending midwife, an old woman with wisdom etched on her face, gave a solemn nod. "He chose not to attend, dear."

A soft wail from the bundled infant in the midwife's arms brought Miori's attention back. Her heart fluttered as she looked at her son for the first time, a tiny being with black hair, tinged with dark blue, and eyes that mirrored her own.

"Ryomaru," she murmured, a gentle smile curving her lips as she took the baby into her arms. The newborn blinked up at her, quieting at the sound of his mother's voice. The room was filled with the profound connection between mother and child - a moment that belonged only to them.

"You are a child of the Yuki Clan, my precious Ryomaru," Miori murmured, cradling him gently. "And the son of the Raikage. You carry within you the power of ice, the strength of the thundercloud."

In her heart, she knew the path her son would walk would be arduous. He would bear the weight of his lineage, the scrutiny that came with his unique Kekkei Genkai, and the responsibility of being the Raikage's son. Yet, she wanted him to grow up understanding kindness and empathy over power and dominance.

"I hope you'll always remember the strength in gentleness," Miori whispered to the sleeping newborn, tracing a tender finger along his tiny hand. "Never let the world make you forget the value of kindness, my darling."

In the quiet solitude of her chamber, Miori glanced at the newborn sleeping peacefully in her arms. The room was cloaked in a hushed reverence for the life that had just begun. Outside, the Hidden Cloud Village was undoubtedly abuzz, the excitement of the Raikage's newborn heir palpable even behind these walls.

A knock on the door tore her from her thoughts. Her heart stuttered in her chest as she turned towards the sound. "Come in," she called, her voice a fragile whisper against the silence.

The door opened slowly, the creaking sound slicing through the air, and a towering figure stepped in. Raikage, or A, as he preferred to be called, was an imposing man, with powerful muscles rippling beneath his skin. His eyes, though, had always been the feature that struck her the most - piercing and full of a hidden storm. She had often wondered if the tumult within his gaze was a reflection of the storm brewing inside him.

"Is that him?" A asked, crossing the room in a few quick strides.

"Yes, Ryomaru," she replied, her eyes never leaving the infant in her arms.

A bent down, his eyes scanning the newborn, a mix of curiosity and appraisal in his gaze. "Does he have it?" he asked, not bothering to veil his eagerness. It was clear to Miori that his interest laid not in the child himself but the potential power he harbored.

"Yes, he has the Yuki Clan's Kekkei Genkai," she answered, her tone flat. Her heart clenched at the look of satisfaction that spread across A's face.

"Excellent," he muttered, more to himself than her, as he straightened. His eyes were alight with the prospect of his son, bearing a powerful bloodline ability, leading the village someday.

The cold silence stretched between them like a chasm. Miori turned her gaze away from A, focusing on the soft, delicate features of her son. The pain of her forced separation from her clan and the life she'd been coerced into living gnawed at her, poisoning her thoughts. Despite the circumstances of her life here in the Hidden Cloud Village, she found comfort in the small, warm body cradled in her arms.

"Miori," A began, his tone attempting warmth but falling short. "You've given the Hidden Cloud Village a valuable asset. For that, you should be proud."

"Proud?" Miori scoffed, her eyes flashing with defiance. "You kidnapped me from my clan, made me bear a child, not for the sake of being a mother, but to breed a weapon. And you ask me to be proud?"

A stiffened, his eyes narrowing. "Your circumstances were unfortunate, Miori, but you've done a great service to this village."

Miori turned her gaze back to Ryomaru. Her heart ached for the future that awaited him, for the pressures and expectations that he would carry as the son of the Raikage and a Yuki Clan descendant.

"His name is Ryomaru," she said firmly, ignoring A's previous statement. "And I want him to understand the world, not as the Raikage's heir or the Yuki Clan's weapon, but as a person."

A regarded her for a moment, a strange expression in his eyes. It was as if he was seeing her for the first time, not as a captive or an instrument, but as a woman fiercely protective of her child.

Finally, he nodded. "Very well, Miori. But remember, we are in a world of shinobi. Strength is what keeps us alive."

The room was filled with an uneasy silence following A's departure, leaving Miori alone with her thoughts and her newborn son. Her gaze softened as she looked down at Ryomaru. His tiny face was the perfect mix of serenity and innocence, devoid of any understanding of the complexities of the world into which he had been born. Miori let out a sigh that held a mixture of love, fear, and resignation.

She began to hum softly, a soothing lullaby from her childhood in the Yuki Clan. It was a poignant reminder of the life she had once led and the home she had lost. She looked down at Ryomaru, wondering what traces of her past he might carry within him.

Ryomaru's eyes fluttered open, revealing a clear, pale blue gaze. His eyes were unusually alert for a newborn, filled with a quiet intensity that belied his age. Miori was struck by how perceptive they seemed. His eyes fixed on hers, and she felt a shiver of surprise - it was as if he was trying to understand her, to communicate something beyond the capacity of his tender age.

The room filled with the soft melody of her lullaby and the hushed rustling of her clothing as she rocked him gently. The silence of the world outside her quarters seemed to respect the sanctity of their bond. Each note of the lullaby seemed to carry her love for him, wrapping around them like a warm embrace.

"Mama's here, Ryomaru," Miori whispered, her voice filled with tenderness. "You're safe."

As she continued to hum, Miori noticed Ryomaru's eyes. They seemed to light up, not just with awareness but with understanding. It was an uncanny sight, making her heart beat a little faster. Her words seemed to resonate with him, like ripples on the surface of a still pond.

She held her breath as she leaned closer to him, her eyes never leaving his. "Can you... understand me, Ryomaru?" she asked hesitantly, feeling foolish even as the words left her lips.

She expected nothing more than a coo or a gurgle, the usual sounds that newborns made. Instead, she got a silent, but clear response - the soft fluttering of his eyelids, his small hands reaching out to grasp hers, and his eyes, those beautiful pale blue eyes, filled with a curious intensity.

Tears welled up in Miori's eyes, spilling over to leave wet trails down her cheeks. She let out a soft, disbelieving laugh. "You really can, can't you?" she whispered. "You're amazing, Ryomaru."

Miori held her son closer, her heart swelling with love and admiration. Even as an infant, Ryomaru was demonstrating an intelligence far beyond his age. She couldn't help but wonder what the future held for him. The path he was destined to walk was undeniably fraught with challenges, but with such awareness, perhaps he could also find joy, love, and purpose in his journey.

"Ryomaru, you have your father's strength and my lineage," she said, her voice filled with resolve. "But you are not just a weapon or an heir. You are Ryomaru - my son, an individual with his own path. I hope you never lose sight of that."

Despite his tender age, Ryomaru seemed to comprehend his mother's words. He stared at her intently, his little fingers clutching hers in a grip that was surprisingly strong. He didn't make a sound, yet the connection between them was so palpable that it needed no words.