Even at just ten years old, my father was holding me tightly… I think that, despite knowing my strength—which is not inferior to that of a normal, even relatively well-trained adult—and my access to special abilities, such as certain skills, energy control, and Shady, he must have still been worried. After all, I'm still a child. And of course… there's the usual paternal concern.
"Dad… you're squeezing too tight…"
"A—ah, sorry, son," he replied, loosening his grip slightly.
"It's okay," I smiled at him, but I noticed his aura shift slightly.
"We still need to talk about you acting without communicating, son," he said with a smile that wasn't quite a smile. "Regardless of your abilities, you're still a minor—not even a teenager yet."
I didn't argue because I knew he was right. It wasn't exactly the most responsible thing to do, even though I had told them about it on the way here. But my duty and the trust placed in me still pushed me to act…
Cough, cough. "Dad, where's Mom?" I asked, changing the subject.
He looked at me for a moment, then turned toward a nearby security guard before answering. "She was worried, but she went to see your aunt. I already sent her a message that you're safe."
"Okay, Daddy."
He kissed my forehead before going off to handle things, ensuring everything was safe. I watched curiously, wondering which organization my father was associated with and what position he held in it—especially given the coordinated movement of the police. I also got the impression that he showed different identification depending on who he was talking to…
After my father decided to head back to my mother, I finally saw her. Her black hair and golden-yellow eyes shone like light as she spoke with another woman standing beside her. The woman was of African descent, about the same height as my mother, dressed in an elegant black dress with a beautiful stone necklace adorned with symbols and inscriptions.
Like my mother, she also had white hair—not from age, as her youthful skin was smooth and unblemished. It didn't seem dyed either but rather a natural and striking trait.
More notably, as I passed my Haki over her briefly, I felt a strong, innate energy—no weaker than my mother's. It was an immense power, clearly biological, and for some reason… it reminded me of a storm.
She seemed to sense it too. Her gaze shifted toward me, and our eyes met.
Noticing her friend's attention drift, my mother followed her gaze—and our eyes met as well. After a moment, she let out a relieved sigh, her expression softening before becoming piercing once more.
Then, she walked toward us.
When she reached me, my father gave her a quick kiss, and my mother pulled us both into a hug.
Of course, it didn't last long… because soon enough, she was looking at me seriously—though still smiling in that saintly way that left no room for negotiation.
"Adrian, we'll talk later, okay?"
"Okay… Mommy…" I could only nod, lowering my head slightly as I pretended not to see the pleased expressions on my parents' faces. Meanwhile, I desperately tried to think of a way to justify myself—at the very least, to reduce whatever punishment was coming.
Then, taking my father's hand, my mother led us toward the white-haired woman from earlier.
"Sweetheart, this is a friend of mine," she introduced with a smile. "Her name is Ororo."
The woman stepped forward, lightly brushing a hand over my hair.
"Nice to meet you, Adrian, right? I'm Ororo," she said, wearing a gentle smile—one that carried an air of royalty.
"And from what I saw today and…"
She paused, studying me as if recalling the sensation of my Haki.
She's very perceptive. I should probably avoid using it carelessly… I might end up offending someone without meaning to. Pretending not to notice her scrutiny, I kept my expression neutral.
"A boy without a doubt special and unique… even taking on missions at the airport," she remarked.
"It's a pleasure to meet you, Auntie! You have beautiful hair and a lovely necklace," I responded sweetly with a smile, smoothly changing the subject—hoping to avoid digging myself into a deeper hole.
"Thank you, dear boy," she chuckled, touching her hair. Thankfully, she didn't push the previous topic any further.
"I also have many stories about your mother's past. You wouldn't think it, but she used to be quite the troublemaker… For example, there was this one time when we went on a mission to protect some young mutants from a group of extremists, and she—"
"Ahem!" My mother cut in quickly, coughing lightly. "Let's not tell that story now, okay, Oro? And, well… it's not exactly necessary to bring that up either."
Ororo held back, at least for now.
But I was dying to know.
My mother definitely had the face and backstory of a revolutionary. My father had shared bits and pieces of what he'd heard about her, just as my mother had told me stories about him. Apparently, he was a bit rebellious in his youth, though he carried a more serious and military-like demeanor…
I always found it funny—and kind of beautiful—how they shared stories about each other, even if they hadn't been there to witness them firsthand. And, of course, they also had plenty of stories of their adventures together…