Ryomaru's jutsu was the last. He summoned his power, a concentration of lightning chakra, and released it. The resulting boom was thunderous, a clear, piercing sound that seemed to shake the very earth, a mingling of sorrow and pride that echoed through the hearts of all present. Ryomaru’s own jutsu was the pinnacle, a powerful surge of electricity that climbed high into the heavens before bursting outward, a thunderclap that seemed to shake the very air. And as the last echoes of the thunder faded, rain began to fall—a gentle, weeping rain that seemed to cleanse the lingering sorrow.

The salute ended, and Ryomaru stood firm, his young age belied by the strength he had shown. He turned to the crowd, his voice carrying the newfound authority of one who had not only inherited but earned his place. "We remember Raikage-sama not just in death but in the life we continue to live, in the strength we carry forward. As his son, I vow to uphold the spirit of our village and to serve you all with honor."

There was a pause, a collective breath held by the villagers, and then, slowly, applause began to ripple through the crowd. What had begun as reluctant claps grew into a steady cascade of approval. Their initial skepticism had been washed away by the undeniable display of strength and reverence from the young Ryomaru.

As the ceremony concluded, B approached Ryomaru, placing a hand on his shoulder. "You've got the makings of a great leader, Ryo. Just like him... but also your own man."

Ryomaru nodded, a flicker of a smile crossing his face. "Thanks, Uncle B. I hope to lead not by his shadow but with his strength... and with the wisdom I learn from everyone else."

B nodded, pride evident in his eyes. "You will. You already are."

The crowd began to disperse, their conversations a blend of awe and respect. The shadows of doubt seemed to have been scorched away by the flames of the pyre and the lightning of the salute. Ryomaru stood a little taller, the weight of the day's rituals leaving him with a somber sense of accomplishment and a glimmer of what lay ahead.

After the somber funeral rites and the communal sharing of grief and respect, Ryomaru's steps drew him homeward. The day's weight was still palpable, lingering like the faint traces of rain in the air. As he approached his home, the weariness from the ceremony seemed to ebb away at the sight that greeted him.

There, weaving through the crowd, were Tsubaki, Shiromi, and Karui, making their way towards him. They had managed to slip away from their parents' watchful eyes, drawn together by a shared intent to meet their friend who had returned from a place they had only heard of in tales and whispered conversations.

Ryomaru's surprise was evident, his ice-blue eyes widening for a moment. They had grown, all three of them, no longer the children he had left behind. Tsubaki's hair was longer, tied back as always, but with a few rebellious strands framing her face, hinting at the winds of change that time brought. Shiromi’s purple hair caught the fading light, her delicate features more defined, her eyes still observant and keen. And Karui, with her fiery red hair and spirited eyes, stood with the same competitive stance he remembered, her growth evident in her confident posture.

He couldn't help the guilt that flickered within him for not seeking them out sooner. But their eyes held no blame, only an understanding that went beyond words.

"Ryomaru," Tsubaki began, her voice steady but a softness behind her brown eyes, "We are sorry for your loss. Your strength honored the Raikage-sama... your father."

Her words were a careful dance between respect and the tender threads of childhood friendship that still connected them.

Shiromi stepped forward, her voice a whisper that matched her shy demeanor. "We wanted to see you. It's been too long, and... and we just wanted to make sure you were okay."

The underlying concern was there, lightly veiled in the timbre of her voice, a testament to the bonds that not even years or distance could sever.

Karui's gaze was intense as she punched his arm lightly, a spark of her fiery spirit shining through. "You didn't think you could come back without facing us, did you? We've been training hard, you know!"

Her light-hearted jab carried the warmth of years of camaraderie, the kind that was forged in the shared dreams and sparring sessions of their early academy days.

Ryomaru's heart swelled, any remnants of ceremony-induced solitude dissipating in the presence of his friends. "I... I've missed you all," he confessed, his voice steady but revealing the underlying currents of emotion. "I wish I could have come sooner, but—"

"You're here now," Tsubaki interjected, her eyes holding his, a silent understanding passing between them.

"Yeah," Shiromi added softly, "and we have plenty of time to catch up. The village hasn't been the same without you."

Karui nodded vigorously, her hands on her hips. "And you'll have to prove if you're still the best among us, Ryomaru."

Their lighthearted banter continued for a while, their voices blending into the evening as they recounted tales of their training and the small adventures that filled their days. The conversation flowed seamlessly, with laughter and playful challenges, as they walked through the threshold of Ryomaru's home.

Miori was there, her white hair a stark contrast to the darker shades of the evening. Her ice-blue eyes, so much like Ryomaru's, sparkled at the sight of the children. Her love for her son was an unspoken melody that played in her every gesture and glance.

"Look at you four," she said, her voice filled with a warmth that seemed to wrap around them like a gentle embrace. "It's like you've all stepped out of a painting from years past, yet here you are, almost young adults."

The girls greeted Miori with respectful bows, their affection for Ryomaru extending naturally to his mother.