Chapter Three

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CONTENT WARNING – GORE. I ADVISE YOU TO NOT READ IF YOU'RE SQUEAMISH.


After everyone had finished eating, Y/N had a bit of free time before he would have to sleep. After all, he had school again tomorrow, and he knew better than to stay up too late. Instead of training, he decided to do a bit of drawing.


Drawing was something that Y/N had quite a large natural talent in and was one of his more calm hobbies. It was always a nice change of pace for him to pick up a pen and just draw anything, compared to training with a sword all the time. He didn't really have any idea what to draw for the moment, so he just settled with drawing what he could see of the village from outside his window.


Y/N started by sketching out the lines of the landscape, to have a good base for him to draw the buildings on. The pleasant sound of his pen scratching against paper filled his ears, calming him. Each stroke of his pen was measured and precise, something that he had developed from drawing for as long as he had been. He gently started to sketch out the small village houses, putting as much detail as he could into the texture of the walls.


As time went on, the picture began to take shape, everything starting to come together. The school in the distance, one of the largest buildings in the village, was one of the main points of the image, standing out compared to the smaller houses. Y/N was extremely happy with how it was turning out, and he could really tell how much he had improved since the last time he sketched out the village. Not only that, but he could also tell how much the village itself had changed. It had become much more prosperous, and by the looks of it, it may even one day turn into an industrialised town. Y/N smiled, looking at his image as it took form.


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Around a few hours later, Y/N placed his pen down on his bed and looked at his notebook. He had surprised even himself with this drawing. It perfectly captured the landscape before him, along with every detail of every building in sight. His eyes lingered the most on the school in the background of the picture, comparing it to what it looked like in the distance.


"I've outdone myself this time," he thought. He flipped back a few pages in his sketchbook, taking in his other, older drawings. They all were drawn with the keen eye of an artist, and he found himself smiling at each one. Some were of different places around the village, and others contained beautifully drawn images of his family members. One that he paused on was a sketch of his father, cutting a tatami mat while wearing his full samurai armour. He looked at it for a while. The one man who he looked up to more than anyone else, was his father.


Yoshinori was extremely skilled with the sword but was more than just a brute who only used violence. He was a reasonable man, who carried his honour of being a samurai with him. Y/N wanted to be just like him when he grew older. Just as skilled at fighting, and as civilised in his heart.


"Y/N! Time for bed now, sweetie," his mother called from outside his room. Y/N closed his sketchbook and placed it on his dresser, before getting off his bed, stretching, and then getting ready for bed.


Kiyomi came into his room to tuck him in. "Good night, dear. Sleep well, you have school tomorrow," she said softly.

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