Ravens Requiem

Steam billowed out as Kage stepped from the shower, water droplets trailing down his athletic frame.

His long, spiky black hair, usually concealed beneath his mask, was pulled back in a high ponytail that reached between his shoulder blades, while damp bangs framed his face, falling to his jaw in elegant spikes.

The left side of his face bore a deep scar that ran from his forehead to his cheekbone, cutting through his permanently closed left eye—a reminder of battles long past. His right eye, no longer the intense silver of his masked persona, shone a brilliant sapphire blue that seemed to hold depths of both warmth and calculation.

His body was a testament to years of rigorous training—lean and powerful like an Olympic swimmer, with defined muscles that spoke of speed and agility rather than brute strength. Wearing only black training shorts, the most striking feature of his exposed torso was the intricate seal emblazoned across his stomach: a pair of raven's wings spread wide across his abdomen, each feather detailed with precise chakra markings that seemed to shimmer faintly in the bathroom's soft light.

The seal was both beautiful and menacing, its design suggesting both protection and power.

His living space was a stark contrast to the dark, threatening presence he projected to the world.

The underground sanctuary was surprisingly warm and inviting, with walls of polished stone interspersed with sections of traditional wooden paneling. Soft, amber lights cast a gentle glow throughout the space, creating an atmosphere of tranquility. The main living area featured a sunken sitting area with plush cushions arranged around a low table, while carefully tended bonsai trees and small rock gardens added touches of natural beauty to the underground haven.

The space was meticulously organized, with weapons displayed on elegant stands and scrolls arranged carefully on wooden shelves. A modern kitchen area gleamed with stainless steel appliances, while sliding shoji screens partially concealed a meditation room filled with the soft scent of incense.

Despite being underground, the air was fresh and clean, circulated by an ingenious ventilation system that brought in filtered air from above.

Kage moved through his kitchen with the same fluid grace he displayed in combat, though now it was channeled into a far more peaceful pursuit.

From the refrigerator, he retrieved perfectly marbled wagyu beef, its rich red color promising depth of flavor. Alongside it, he gathered an array of fresh vegetables: vibrant bell peppers, crisp snow peas, tender baby corn, and shiitake mushrooms with their earthy aroma.

With practiced ease, he reached for his chef's knife—a handcrafted blade almost as precious to him as Kurokarasu. The knife caught the amber light as he began his preparation, his movements precise and measured.

The beef was sliced against the grain into thin, uniform strips that would cook quickly and remain tender. His right eye, now that calming shade of blue, focused intently on each cut, treating the preparation of food with the same respect he gave to his martial arts.

The vegetables were next, each receiving its own specific treatment. Bell peppers were julienned into perfect strips, snow peas trimmed and de-stringed, mushrooms sliced with deliberate care to maintain their delicate texture. The steady rhythm of his knife against the cutting board created a soothing percussion that echoed softly through the underground sanctuary.

He reached for his well-seasoned wok, placing it over the flame. As the wok heated, he prepared his sauce—a careful balance of soy sauce, mirin, and a touch of honey, along with garlic and ginger he minced with swift, efficient movements. The aroma of the aromatics filled the kitchen, mixing with the gentle incense still lingering from his earlier meditation.

There was a peace in his movements now, so different from the deadly precision he showed in battle. His shoulders were relaxed, his breathing steady and calm as he began to cook. The wok hissed as he added a splash of oil, swirling it with a flick of his wrist to coat the surface. The beef went in first, the sound and smell of it searing bringing a slight smile to his usually stern features.

He was preparing Gyu-Don, but with his own refined touch—the traditional beef bowl elevated by his choice of ingredients and technique. The vegetables would go in next, each added at precisely the right moment to maintain their texture and color.

Steam rose around him as he worked, the droplets from his still-damp hair occasionally falling onto his shoulders as he moved with the same rhythm and flow he brought to everything he did.

This was his private ritual, a moment of normalcy in a life filled with shadows and violence. Here, in his kitchen, he wasn't the feared SSS-Rank ninja—he was simply a man preparing his evening meal, finding satisfaction in the simple act of creating something nourishing rather than destroying.

Steam rose from the perfectly arranged Gyu-Don as Kage sat at his dark wooden dining table, the soft amber lighting casting warm shadows across his features.

Each bite was savored slowly, methodically, a small smile playing at the corners of his lips as he enjoyed the tender beef and perfectly cooked vegetables. The quiet was broken only by the gentle clink of his chopsticks against the ceramic bowl and the distant sound of water flowing through the underground spring that supplied his haven.

After finishing what he wanted, he wrapped the remaining portion with precise movements, ensuring it was properly sealed before placing it in the refrigerator for later. His bare feet made no sound as he padded across the polished stone floor, making his way to his bedroom.

The bedroom was a testament to both luxury and practicality. The walls were lined with the same polished stone as the rest of his sanctuary, but here they were adorned with hanging scrolls featuring intricate calligraphy and traditional ink paintings of ravens in flight. A large futon dominated the center of the room, its dark sheets and plush duvet in deep shades of midnight blue and charcoal gray.

To the left, a wall of wooden shelves housed an impressive collection of books and scrolls, many ancient and rare, their spines telling tales of jutsu theory and forgotten histories.

A traditional weapons rack stood in one corner, displaying his spare masks and armor with reverence, while his primary gear hung on a separate stand closer to the bed, always within reach. The right wall featured a large abstract painting of a moonlit forest, the silver and black brushstrokes seeming to move in the room's subtle lighting.

Beneath it, a low table held a single bonsai tree—a black pine that he had trained for decades, its form expressing both strength and elegance.

The ceiling above his bed was set with tiny lights that mimicked the night sky, creating the illusion of sleeping under the stars despite being underground.

A subtle ventilation system kept the air fresh, occasionally carrying the faint scent of pine and night-blooming flowers from the surface.

Kage slipped between the sheets, their cool touch welcome against his skin. He reached over to the nightstand—a simple but elegant piece of dark wood—and touched a seal that dimmed the lights to a soft glow.

As he settled into the comfort of his bed, he took one last look around his sanctuary, this private space where he could truly be himself, before closing his eye. The events of the past few days played through his mind—the violence, the delivery of the chest, the quiet moment with Tsukiko—but gradually faded as sleep began to claim him.

In these moments, just before drifting off, he wasn't the feared Shadow of the Raven, but simply a man finding rare moments of peace in a world of chaos.