Chapter 2: Stigma of the Akatsuki

As they entered, their eyes fell upon Renjiro Akatsuki, who entered the dojo right after they did, the formidable Sensei of the dojo. Renjiro stood at the front of the room, his presence commanding attention. His muscular physique spoke of years of training and battle-hardened experience, while his long, ebony hair was neatly tied back in a traditional topknot. But on the tip of every strand of his hair, his ebony hair was painted silver. Every aspect of his appearance exuded strength and discipline, from his sharp, angular features to the unwavering gaze of his piercing eyes.

Reyoma and Aimi exchanged a quick glance, silently acknowledging the imposing figure before them and parted. With a shared determination, Aimi moved to join her fellow students, attempting to blend in seamlessly with the practiced ease of those who belonged.

Reyoma's movements were smooth and controlled, his demeanor calm and composed as he went through the motions of stretching and warm-up exercises. He met Sensei Renjiro's intimidating gaze with unwavering confidence, his resolve unshaken by the weight of the elder warrior's presence.

Beside him, Aimi struggled to maintain her composure, her nerves betraying her as she fumbled through the motions of the exercises. Her attempts to mimic Reyoma's poise were met with mixed success, her movements lacking the grace and fluidity of her counterpart.

Sensei Renjiro observed the dojo with a keen eye, his expression unreadable as he took in the sight before him. His gaze swept over each student, assessing their readiness and determination with a practiced scrutiny.

After a moment of silent observation, Sensei Renjiro cleared his throat, commanding the attention of the room.

Renjiro Akatsuki's voice cut through the dojo like a blade through silk, commanding the attention of every student within earshot. His words were measured and authoritative, carrying the weight of years of experience and wisdom.

"Listen, everyone," Renjiro began, his tone firm but not unkind. "This year is drawing to a close, and with it, your childhood. As you approach adulthood, it is imperative that you take your training seriously."

His eyes swept over the assembled students, his gaze piercing and unwavering. "Each of you is on the cusp of entering your fifteenth year, a significant milestone in the life of a seeker. It is time for you to prove yourselves worthy of the Akatsuki name."

Renjiro paused, allowing his words to sink in before continuing. "In the coming days, you will undergo your final physical examination. This will test not only your strength and skill but also your discipline and resolve. I expect each of you to give it your all, to show me that you are ready to graduate and become true warriors of the Akatsuki clan."

There was a sense of gravity in his words, a reminder of the responsibilities that came with being a member of the clan. Renjiro's gaze lingered on Reyoma and Aimi for a moment longer, a silent reminder that they, too, would be held to the same standard as their peers.

"Remember," Renjiro concluded, his voice firm but not unkind. "The path of a seeker is not an easy one, but it is one that you have chosen. Embrace it with courage and determination, and you will find that greatness lies within your grasp."

With those final words, Renjiro turned and walked away from the lime light while observing and guiding, leaving the students to contemplate the weight of his words and the challenges that lay ahead. As they dispersed to resume their training, Reyoma and Aimi exchanged a knowing glance, silently reaffirming their commitment to each other and to their shared goal of graduating from dojo of Akatsuki clan.

As Reyoma picked up his sword and began practicing the basic forms with precision and focus, his peers around him started to engage in the intricate katas, their movements fluid and graceful.

One of the students, Kenji, glanced over at Reyoma with a sneer. "There he goes again, always sticking to the basics like a beginner. Doesn't he realize that katas are what truly showcase our skill and mastery?"

His friend, Michiko, rolled her eyes, her tone laced with contempt. "Reyoma's too afraid to step out of his comfort zone. No wonder he's always lagging behind."

Kenji nodded in agreement. "Exactly. It's like he's content with mediocrity. I don't understand why Sensei even bothers keeping him around."

Michiko's lips curled into a disdainful smirk. "Sensei probably feels sorry for him, being the cursed child and all. But that doesn't excuse his lack of progress. If he can't keep up, he should just leave and spare us the embarrassment."

Reyoma remained focused on his practice, his movements steady and controlled despite the harsh words being exchanged around him. He knew that mastering the basics was essential to his growth as a warrior, regardless of what his peers might say.

Aimi felt a twinge of frustration as she observed the conversation unfolding around Reyoma. The urge to defend her friend bubbled up within her, but she quickly suppressed it with a heavy sigh. She knew all too well the consequences of challenging the status quo in the dojo of the Akatsuki clan.

With a resigned shake of her head, Aimi redirected her focus to her own kata practice, determined to block out the toxic chatter surrounding her. She moved through the forms with precision and grace, each movement a testament to her dedication and skill.

Though her heart ached for Reyoma, Aimi understood that they couldn't talk to each other in front of everyone. Even in the corridor, they weren't supposed to talk; they weren't supposed to reveal their friendship to anyone, as Ayaka had told them. The only reason they talked was because of the absence of people. So, she would show her support for him not through words, but through her actions, striving to excel in her own training and prove the naysayers wrong.

Reyoma always waits for Aimi in the corridor, not to talk to her, but just to walk with his childhood friend among the people who avoided him. Even though there was a considerable distance between them when they walked, and neither of them uttered a word, it was still peaceful for Reyoma.

Reyoma, being considered a cursed child as they say, had already learned to find peace in silence. Now, without clearly knowing it, he had started to enjoy it.

As she lost herself in the rhythm of her kata, Aimi pushed aside the distractions and doubts that threatened to undermine her resolve.