A

After a delightful dinner filled with lively chatter, a sated Ryomaru laid his head on Miori's lap on the couch. His eyes were half-lidded, still radiating the excitement of the day, but the fatigue was beginning to creep in.

Miori ran her fingers gently through his tousled hair, untangling the little knots with a tenderness that bordered on reverence. As her cool fingers grazed his scalp, Ryomaru's eyelids grew heavy. His small body relaxed, lulled by the rhythmic motion of his mother's hands and the comfort of her presence.

"Mom…" he murmured, his voice trailing off, his eyes fluttering shut.

"Yes, my precious?" Miori responded softly, her eyes fixed on his cherubic face. Her heart ached with an overwhelming affection.

"Lullaby…" he mumbled, a small yawn escaping him.

Miori's lips quirked up at the corners. She knew he loved the ancient lullaby of their clan, the Yuki. It was a tale of their lineage and glory, a promise of a radiant future. And tonight, she was going to sing it for him again, her voice filling the quiet room with the ancient melody.

"Snow and ice, pure and bright," she started softly, her voice barely above a whisper, "Born of Yuki, in moon's light."

Ryomaru hummed in contentment, a small smile gracing his lips. Miori's voice was like a soothing balm, wrapping him in warmth and love, chasing away the shadows of the day.

"In the heart of winter's night," Miori continued, her fingers lightly tracing the contours of his face, "Emerges a child, with soul so bright."

Ryomaru's lips curled up into a soft smile, the simple verses of the lullaby painting a vibrant picture in his mind. He felt the chill of winter's night and saw the brightness of his soul reflecting off the snow.

"Bearing the name of sea's roar," Miori sang, the ancient melody rising and falling in her throat, "Ryomaru, forevermore."

Her gaze was fixed on her son's face, the lantern light casting dancing shadows over his features. His eyes were closed now, his breaths slow and steady, but she knew he was listening.

"With heart as warm as the sun's glow," she continued, her voice steady and soft, "In a world where winds of change blow."

The verse was a promise and a reminder, a testament to Ryomaru's potential. It spoke of his warm heart, his resilience, and his inherent ability to shine in the face of adversities.

"Rising above, like a bird in flight," Miori murmured, her voice carrying the weight of her faith, "My Ryomaru, a radiant light."

Her words were imbued with hope, a mother's silent prayer for her child. She wished for him to soar high, to shine bright, to become the embodiment of everything the Yuki clan stood for.

"Growing stronger with each new day," she sang, her voice dropping to a mere whisper, "Ryomaru, you'll lead the way."

Her hand gently traced the curve of his cheek, a silent vow lingering in the air. She believed in him, in his strength, in his ability to lead and inspire.

"Through snow and ice, you'll find your path," she finished, her voice trailing off into the silent room, "My Ryomaru, the world's hearth."

The lullaby was more than just a song to put her child to sleep. It was a story. It was a promise...

The next morning dawned with a crispness that was typical of Hidden Cloud. Miori stood at the door of their humble dwelling, holding Ryomaru's hand. His ice-blue eyes, the mirror image of her own, watched the path that led up to the grand Raikage residence. Today was their customary day of bonding – a day when A, the Raikage, would imbue Ryomaru with the rich history and ideologies of their clan.

"You'll be fine, my precious," Miori murmured, her gaze fixed on the path ahead.

Ryomaru nodded, his small face serious. "I know, Mom."

A fond smile tugged at Miori's lips. At such a young age, her son was already carrying the weight of their clan's history and expectations. He was growing up too quickly for her liking, but she knew it was inevitable.

As they walked up to the Raikage's residence, Miori couldn't help but feel a pang of regret. She had longed for a normal childhood for Ryomaru, a life without the burdens of their clan. But that was not their reality. They lived separate lives, and the Raikage was more of a distant figure in Ryomaru's life than a father.

They arrived at the grand study, and Miori gently nudged Ryomaru forward. A looked up from his desk, his gaze softening as he spotted Ryomaru.

"Ryomaru," he greeted, his voice echoing in the room. A was an imposing figure, a man who commanded respect with his mere presence. But in this moment, he was just a father addressing his son.

"Raikage-sama," Ryomaru responded, his voice steady. There was respect in his tone, but none of the warmth he displayed towards Miori or Killer B.

A nodded, gesturing for Ryomaru to come closer. "Today, we'll discuss the Third Raikage," he started, his voice falling into the familiar rhythm of their weekly sessions.

Ryomaru listened attentively, his curious eyes never leaving A. The tales of their ancestors, the previous Raikages and other notable figures of their clan, were fascinating. Each story was a testament to the strength and resilience of their clan.

However, Ryomaru couldn't help but feel a distance between himself and A. His interactions with the Raikage were always formal, almost detached. A treated him with respect and kindness, but the emotional warmth that Ryomaru felt with his mother or Uncle B was missing.

Nevertheless, Ryomaru knew the importance of these sessions. They were not just about learning their clan's history. They were about understanding their identity and responsibility.

The session continued for a few hours, with A narrating tales of their clan's glorious past and their ancestors' bravery. Ryomaru listened, his young mind absorbing the information. The ideology of the Cloud and the Will of Lightning were not just concepts to him, they were a part of his lineage, his legacy.

As the session concluded, A looked at Ryomaru, his gaze thoughtful. "You understand, Ryomaru?" he asked.

Ryomaru nodded, his face serious. "Yes, Raikage-sama."

There was a silence, filled with unspoken words and suppressed emotions.