☦️Bluesky☦️ :
The old shinobi were never meant to grow old. They were born into a world where silence was survival, where names were forgotten for the sake of missions that no one would ever speak of. They carried the weight of a thousand unspoken goodbyes, not because they wanted to, but because someone had to. They lived in the cracks between peace and war, never truly knowing either. They knew they would never see the world they were dying to protect. They knew the children they saved would never know their faces, never whisper their names in stories. But still, they walked into the night, blades in hand, hearts heavy with purpose. Because real peace isn’t gifted, it’s paid for in advance, with blood, with silence, with lives willingly thrown into the fire. And so, the old shinobi became the ghosts beneath the cherry trees… unseen, unheard… but always there. Watching. Hoping. Bleeding in memory, so the new generation could laugh without fear. That is the legacy. Not glory. Not fame. But sacrifice so complete, it disappears… leaving behind only peace.😔😔
2025-06-01 18:14:24