Shin Uzumaki. Truly a stark and terrifying presence. It had caused Goro to swallow the tobacco in his mouth, the tingling and burning sensation sliding down into his stomach and joining the feeling of awe that swirled there. While he may have made his appearance one of power and ability mostly for the sake of the young ones, it was the legend that preceded him that caused Goro to stand at attention. The raw power that must have resided inside him in his youth, now refined into a earth-shaking strength that Goro hoped to achieve himself. 

Just as Shin vanished, so too die Goro depart from where he stood. Moving just to the outskirts of the group of shinobi who had just witnessed Shin's commands, he placed his wrapped right arm on his hip, his eyes flashing over the group to single out his pupils.

Myth Okiyama. Goro's eyes landed on him for a moment. He hadn't been made aware of anything spectacular about the boy. Kind of frail and skittish, something Goro found himself disliking more than he should. Still, he wasn't here to have an opinion on these sapling shinobi, he was here to ensure they grew and rooted themselves deep into their potential. He would make sure Myth got whatever kind of training he needed to become steadfast and sturdy.

Amaya Fuwa. Those eyes. That hair. It was almost unmistakable. Although Goro had always been careful when listening to tales of grandeur, he knew of the Red Eyed Reaper; A swordsman, medical nin, and resistance fighter. Someone that Goro would have been proud to be the descendant of. Amaya didn't seem to be the overly enthusiastic or proud type, however. It caused Goro to wonder what kind of hollow had formed inside of her after her father had not returned from conflict. If there was rage to be harnessed, then there was fuel ripe for burning the fires of combat.

Seiga Tomoe. Another war orphan. Though what made her situation so troubling was that she was orphaned after the fact. She had promise of living in a time without worry and despair and that promise was ripped from her hands. Goro had known her parents, if only in passing and name. They had done well to raise their daughter, and he had heard word of her being trained from a very young age. While Goro wasn't keen on forcing someone's fate from such an early age, he knew that this meant he would have no problem defining and sharpening the skills ingrained into her by her parents. Goro was honored to have such a duty.

Shoving his hands into the zippered pockets of his flak jacket, Goro proceeded to take initiative by stepping before the group slightly. "Fuwa. Tomoe. Okiyama." Was all that came from his mouth, followed by his hand beckoning towards himself. Prior to their assembly, Goro stuck the opposite hand into his satchel, his fingers grasping a short plug of tobacco and shoving it into his cheek as he waited patiently.