𝐏𝐫𝐨𝐣𝐞𝐜𝐭 𝐒𝐮𝐤𝐢 | ɴᴀʀᴜᴛᴏ ꨄ︎ ꜱʜɪᴘᴘᴜᴅᴇɴ

[1/4] Kumo Sanjiro

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A young boy - around five-years-old - sat atop a hill underneath a thick, ancient tree. In his traditional grey robes, he hugged his knees to his chest and wept silently.

"Oh, there you are." The soft voice from a motherly woman came rushing up the hill while holding up her kimono with each unsteady step.

Her appearance made the young boy quickly wipe the remaining evidence of his sorrow from his cheeks and look up to the beautiful woman. The ends of her lovely dress were becoming stained by nature's touch. Although he acknowledged his mother's efforts toward him.

"Sanjiro-chan..." She fell to her knees in front of him, concern stretching along her tired face. "Whatever are you crying for?"

He winces at her affectionate term, torn between feeling either appreciative or embarrassed. "Don't soil your dress for me, mother."

The mature woman only snorts, her slender fingers reaching to cup his cheeks and caress the wetness away. "That doesn't matter. So, just tell me what's wrong." She insisted.

As Sanjiro parts his lips, he finds himself unable to continue. Seeing this, his mother settles next to him, on both her knees with an elegant posture against the thick tree. He slowly lays his head down on her lap, staring out at the open compound.

It buzzes with life inside. Multiple blonde-headed Kumo's with the semi-realistic cloud symbol on their backs. The setting sun casts a beautiful orange hue.

In that very moment, Sanjiro knew peace. Away from the abuse of his elder brother and away from the expectations of his father.

But peace was never completely on his side. A warm liquid smacks onto his cheek, completely different from the sensation of tears. Sanjiro rolls his head up to meet his mother's.

She's hunched over, unlike her perfect posture, with a hand covering her lips in a slap. Repeatedly, she harshly coughs like her life depended on it.

"Mother?" Sanjiro's face falls into similar worry.

He could be her twin, were it not for his opposite sex. They both had such appealing long blonde hair, both tied in low pony-tails, and their soft grey eyes were in the same lidded shape.

She kept coughing and coughing and coughing until it eventually stopped. The nature around them stills just as quick, and the rustles from the tree behind them calmed.

"I'm alright, Sanjiro-chan." And like it never happened at all, she kept her palm hidden away when dropping it from her face. Behind her, she rubbed it against the grass before it appeared into his view.

Her normal palm.

"Shall I go bring you water?" He suggests, pushing himself up from her lap.

The familiar hot liquid runs down his cheek, but his mother's hand wipes it off in a blink before he can see. "It'd be best if your father doesn't notice this area." She shook her head.

Sanjiro's shoulders slumped as she pushed herself up from the ground and extended a hand for him to take. He gladly does to stand by her side.

"It's okay if you wish not to speak your troubles. But don't let it get bottled up, or it'll consume you." She wisely stated, running her hand through his blond hair. "We all have our secrets."