I'm in the Dragon Clan, bound to the Naruto Counterattack System

Chapter 132 The Boy Who Crossed the Thorns

Tokyo Narita Airport, arrival and departure hall.

Ayanokouji Kaoru stood behind the counter with a standard professional smile on her face.

She still remembers the excitement she felt three or four years ago when she first landed this job. The benefits were great, the work was easy, and most importantly, she could see handsome men from all over the world every day.

But the filter of reality shatters faster than imagined.

Her daily smile had long since hardened into a mask, and having seen so many handsome men, her threshold for interest in ordinary men around her had been infinitely raised.

Her sisters joked that if things continued like this, she might have to become a nun and renounce worldly life.

Just as her thoughts were drifting, an elderly man with a full head of white hair walked up to the counter and handed over his passport.

"Hello."

Xun skillfully flipped open her passport, and the moment her gaze fell on the photo page, her heart skipped a beat without warning.

She immediately looked up, her eyes meeting those of the old man.

At the age of twenty-four, she sat in this small counter for four years, witnessing the romance of France, the passion of Italy, and the melancholy of Latin America.

Handsome faces from all over the world bombarded her eyes like a revolving lantern, eventually numbing her to beauty and ugliness.

For her, it doesn't matter whether a face is handsome or ugly, as long as it matches the photo.

At this moment, her long-dormant infatuation was as if struck by a thunderbolt, instantly revived.

The old man wore a retro brown air force jacket, and his full head of silver hair was neatly combed back, which made the hard lines of his face look like they had been carved by a knife.

However, a pair of slightly flamboyant black aviator sunglasses perched on his forehead added a touch of unruliness and flair to his rugged appearance.

"Is this your first time in Japan?" Kaoru felt her voice tighten.

"Oh no, this is the second time." The old man's voice carried a weight of years. "Last time, I also entered through Tokyo and went to Kagoshima and Hakone."

"But according to your passport records, you have no record of entering or leaving Japan."

"In 1945, I came here as a representative of the occupying forces, aboard a U.S. Navy cruiser." The old man then handed over a retired officer's ID card, the edges of which were worn. "Back then, the Japanese customs house was still in ruins."

"Oh, I see."

Xun took the officer's ID and glanced at it, unable to believe that this seemingly fashionable old man had once been a high-ranking officer in the U.S. Navy's General Staff.

A sharp screech of brakes and a flurry of hurried footsteps suddenly filled the hall.

Xun glanced at the monitor screen next to her subconsciously and was startled.

A dozen or so black Mercedes-Benz sedans, like a group of silent steel behemoths, rudely blocked all the roads outside the airport.

Immediately afterwards, men dressed in identical black suits poured into the arrival hall from various entrances.

They all had a slight bulge at their waists, and it was unclear whether they were hiding short knives or guns under their suits.

They stood shoulder to shoulder, quickly forming impenetrable human walls that blocked all exits.

Several travelers who were trying to leave were so frightened by their chilling and menacing aura that they retreated and dared not take another step forward.

Xun understood instantly.

Those are gangsters; they've blocked the airport!

Her hand immediately reached for the direct-dial phone under the table that connected to the airport security.

"Send people over here immediately! There are many of them, and they're all armed! Call the police! Report this immediately—"

The sound from the microphone abruptly stopped.

Xun cautiously raised her head and discovered that the telephone line had been cut by the old man in front of her at some point.

Angers gave the somewhat bewildered Japanese girl a smile that could captivate women of any age.

"Don't worry, they're here to see me."

Ayanokouji Kaoru swallowed hard, her mind blank, completely unable to process the unfolding events that resembled a movie plot.

Just as her mind was still reeling, an elderly man dressed in a black haori stepped out of the Mercedes that was in the lead car.

The old man had a pair of sharp, sword-like eyebrows.

From the moment he stepped out of the car, all the menacing men in black around him lowered their heads as if they were being inspected.

The only slightly discordant element was the white bandage wrapped around the old man's head, which added a touch of absurdity and comicality to what should have been an extremely somber atmosphere.

Angers looked at the figure striding towards him, and a smile unconsciously appeared on his face.

He gestured with his chin toward Inuyama He.

"Hey, Ahe, why are you dressed so formally to see me? Anyone who didn't know better would think you're here for my funeral, not to pick me up from the airport."

Looking at Angers, Inuyama He felt a pang of bitterness in his heart.

This is what Angers looked like when I was eighteen.

Now he is old and frail, with one foot in the grave, but Angers remains the same.

People always say that time is the sharpest knife, but this knife seems to have completely lost its effect on Angers.

It was as if time itself had a miraculous effect on his aging process; the years had left no trace on this man.

"I'm already an old man, and overly flashy clothes are no longer suitable for someone my age," Inuyama He said with a hint of helplessness.

Angers laughed heartily and stretched out his arm, just like many years ago when he was just a skinny boy wearing a loose kimono.

"Ah He, a man is a boy until he dies, don't you understand that?"

"Look at me, I'm still wearing the most popular air force jacket among young people these days, but mine is the real Flying Tigers jacket."

After laughing, Angers' gaze fell on the gauze on Inuyama He's forehead.

"Ah He, what happened to you?"

Inuyama He subconsciously touched the wound on his forehead. This old man, who was over eighty years old and controlled half of the Japanese underworld, actually showed a bit of embarrassment on his face.

He looked exactly like a student who had done something wrong and was caught red-handed by the teacher.

"He was injured by your student Cheng Sui," Inuyama He said expressionlessly.

Angers was taken aback for a moment, then laughed even harder, his hearty laughter echoing throughout the hall.

Inuyama He felt utterly ashamed.

He could almost picture how Angers would use such sharp and sarcastic language to mock him next.

Just like many years ago, when Angers repeatedly knocked him down on the training field.

To his surprise, Angers simply patted his shoulder with a stronger hand, then turned and walked toward the exit.

"Ahe, you've grown up."

Angers' voice came from ahead, calm and gentle.

"I thought this day would come later. Congratulations, you've already crossed that thicket of thorns."

Inuyama He was stunned.

He stared blankly at Angers' retreating figure.

He had expected a torrent of ridicule, but he never imagined he would receive such recognition. For this recognition, Inuyama He had waited for far too many years.

He honed his swordsmanship day after day for ten years, climbing step by step from the bottom to the pinnacle of power, carrying the entire family on his shoulders.

Although he was unwilling to admit it, deep down he did all of this in order to gain this man's approval.

But he never expected this recognition to come so suddenly.

I never imagined that I would receive this belated recognition because of a failure.

Just as Inuyama He was in a daze, Angers adjusted his sunglasses and turned to look at Inuyama He, who was still standing there, with some confusion.

"Aga, what are you doing standing there? Why don't you show me around Japan properly? It's been so long since I've been here."

"Coming, teacher!"

Inuyama He then seemed to snap out of his daze, subconsciously responding and hurriedly starting to run after him.

Angers smiled and deliberately slowed his pace, waiting until Inuyama He came to his side before continuing forward.

The gang members around them looked at each other, unsure whether they should immediately follow the two elderly men in their cars.

Many years ago.

At that time, Inuyama He was just a stubborn boy.

After each rigorous training session, Angers would wipe his sweat and ask the wounded boy lying on the ground if he wanted to go for a walk together.

Inuyama He would always struggle to get up from the ground and then run to Angers' side.

And Angers would always deliberately slow down and wait for him.

Afterwards, Angers would laugh and ruffle Inuyama He's hair, saying in a teasing tone, "This won't do, He, you need to become stronger."

Decades have passed.

It seems like a lot of things have changed, yet it also seems like nothing has changed.

The image of the master and apprentice walking side by side remains unchanged.