Free Shinobi in Naruto(With Divine Purple Card)

As Mikoto lay next to Kai, she noticed how he remained rigid, his posture unchanged even in sleep. It was as though he was always prepared for combat, even in the comfort of the bed.

Wanting to alleviate some of the tension radiating off of Kai, Mikoto edged closer, her movements tentative yet deliberate. She carefully pressed herself against his back, her chest flush against his solid frame. An arm wrapped around his midsection, pulling him in closer.

His body was a wall of warmth against her, a tangible reminder of the protection and safety he provided. Mikoto felt her breath hitch as she leaned in, her lips brushing against his nape in the faintest of touches. She inhaled deeply, taking in the clean, earthy scent of him - a scent that had become as familiar and comforting to her as her own.

There was an intimate silence that enveloped them, a quiet understanding. Kai didn’t protest or squirm away, but he didn't lean into her embrace either. He merely remained, accepting her contact, letting her draw the comfort she sought from his presence.

It was enough for Mikoto. She relished the contact, her heart thrumming steadily against his back. She allowed herself to relax, her fingers tracing aimless patterns over his firm stomach, feeling the rise and fall of his breaths. This was their moment, their small piece of tranquility in the tumultuous world outside.

"Are you warm enough?" Mikoto's voice was a soft whisper against the silence of the room, barely audible over the distant whispers of the forest and the slow babble of the hot spring.

"Yes," came Kai's curt response. His voice was void of emotion, but not harsh or unkind. There was a certain rhythm to his brevity, a steady familiarity that Mikoto had grown accustomed to.

"Kai," Mikoto ventured after a long pause, her voice still a whisper, "I… I want to understand you better." Her heart pounded at the admission, but it felt right to voice it out.

Kai was silent for a moment before he answered. "What do you want to know?" His tone was devoid of curiosity or annoyance, a simple prompt for her to continue.

Emboldened by his response, Mikoto asked, "Why do you keep pushing yourself so hard? You had to have been exhausted after creating this refuge, and yet, you didn't rest. You're even rigid in your sleep."

There was a long silence before Kai finally responded, his voice a mere murmur in the darkness. "It's how I survive. I can't afford to be unprepared."

Mikoto listened to his words, trying to fathom the weight behind them. The enormity of the responsibility he bore struck her, leaving her momentarily speechless. "You're not alone, Kai," she finally said, her grip around him tightening a fraction, "You don't have to bear everything alone."

His body tensed beneath her touch, but he didn't pull away. "Perhaps," he said, his voice barely audible.

—

Days melded into each other, each passing with a rhythmic regularity. Mornings began with Mito's arrival, her presence marked by a basket of food and an infectious cheerfulness that seemed out of place in the hushed stillness of the forest. Kai would rise, Mikoto right alongside him, to greet her, always with an unchanging stoic demeanour that never failed to pique Mito's curiosity.

Seated around their makeshift table, they'd share the meal Mito brought, her youthful enthusiasm casting a warm glow over the routine. She'd hang onto Kai's every word, her eyes sparkling as he regaled them with tales of his travels and battles, each one more fantastical than the last.

"Tell me again about the time you faced a hundred bandits single-handedly," Mito would often request, her voice a tremulous whisper.

"And how about the time you protected an entire village from a landslide?" Mikoto would add, her voice softer, carrying a hint of reverence. The stories, regardless of how many times they had been told and retold, never lost their charm.

In the afternoon, Mito would return to her village, her father's worries always lingering in the back of her mind. She'd come back bearing more food and an unending enthusiasm for the lessons that awaited. She was a Fuinjutsu Mistress in her own right, her teachings and techniques impressing even Kai.

He'd compliment her often, "Your understanding of Fuinjutsu is admirable, Mito." His voice would lack any hint of flattery, but the words held their weight.

Mito would beam, "Thank you, Kai. You're an excellent student."

In return, Kai would teach her Jutsu, thousands of techniques that he had amassed over time. They were never short of new things to learn, the vastness of his knowledge like an unending river.

"Pay close attention, Mito," Kai would instruct as he demonstrated a complex water manipulation Jutsu. His movements were fluid, his precision impeccable. Mito and Mikoto would watch, eyes wide with fascination.

Mito, in particular, was an eager learner, her focus unwavering. "Again, please," she'd ask, her determination shining through her earnest request.

And so, their days passed. They were a strange trio, bound by an unspoken agreement of mutual aid and respect. Despite the monotony of their routine, there was a comfort in their shared silence, a bond in their shared experiences.

Each story, each meal, each lesson - they were stitches in the fabric of their connection. Though Kai's exterior remained unyielding, there was a subtle shift in the dynamic. His interactions with Mito and Mikoto were perhaps the most prolonged and sustained he had had in a long while.

In the quiet hours of the night, Mikoto would sometimes watch Kai as he sat by the hot spring, his figure illuminated by the moonlight. His features would be etched in a deep calm, a far cry from the intensity that usually marked his presence. She'd watch him in silence, aware of the fragile tranquillity that encompassed these moments.

Kai was a man of few words, his actions speaking volumes where his words fell short. And in the silent acknowledgement of their companionship, he was indeed communicating. In his own unique way, he was expressing his comfort with their presence. There were no grand gestures, no profound declarations, but the acceptance was there. The bond was there, even if it was unlike the ones shared by others.

One evening, a month after Mito had started visiting them, the three of them were gathered around the fire, enjoying the simple pleasure of a shared meal. Mikoto was diligently tending to a pot of stew, the wild mushrooms Mito had collected and the rabbit Kai had hunted simmering together in a savory broth.

"So, you are a mother and son right?" Mito suddenly asked, her tone casual, as if she were talking about the weather.