Arriving at the Hidden Cloud Village.

The journey was not as challenging at Satoru had assumed. Having left the Hidden Sands Village, he was adamant about keeping to the road, ensuring that he didn’t step out of line with conversing with the merchants or the locals of the villages that he passed through. Still wearing a jet black cloak that encased him from head to toe, his head and face covered in a black scarf revealing only a set of bright orange eyes, his posture similar to that of the hunch back of Notre Dam. He held a short wooden cane that supported his skewed posture, with a small bag containing his belongings tied to his waist, standing at a total height of around 5ft 5, he slowly made his way up a tall mountain range towards direction of the Hidden Cloud.

Within a matter of hours, he found himself in a small crowd of travelling merchants, all of whom moving at a slower pace to that of the male who had been travelling under the guise of an old man. “Slow down, ol’ timer. You’ll pull a muscle.” shouted one of the merchants as the group cleared a hill, exposing the massive gates of the Hidden Cloud Village. Taking the advice on-board, Satoru slowed his pace, slowly approaching the village entrance. Every fibre of his being was screaming ‘Danger’ and yet he remained composed, the hairs on his back standing ever higher with every step that he made. With his blood pumping aggressively through his body, his mouth quickly dried but he remained on guard. His right hand was over the two weapon pouches that were mounted on his hip while his left was tensed into a fist, naturally both aspects of his demeanour hidden by his oversized cloak.

“You.”

Satoru froze in his tracks, turning his attention to the rather young male, he had a good stature about him, standing at a height of what Satoru estimated to be 6ft 3 at first glance. He possessed an impressive physique, and looked quite intimidating from afar. Had Satoru crossed this man earlier in his journey, his first instinct would have been to run but having gone through the trials and tribulations in the Wind Country, he developed resilience. As the guard motioned Satoru to one side, the young Jugo broke away from the pack of merchants that he was traveling with, gracefully moving in the direction of the cabin along with the guard.

Clenching his jaw at the first request made by the guard, Satoru responded with a rather old and frail sounding voice, a rouse he had developed to near perfection over the past few months. “Aaihh… have. It’s not a pleasant sight, sir.” He responded tentatively, mid-sentence, he recalled how Mizuki reacted to his lie and considering the fact that he wanted to learn and develop within the Lightning Country, he thought it best that he spoke naught but the truth. During this period, he maintained a firm grip of his left hand on his makeshift cane, with his right hand holding the base of his scarf in the event that the man decided to snatch from his face the same was as the Kazekage.

Naturally, the Jugo didn’t want to reveal his identity too early. While this was a village focused on strength and power, despite being sent by the Deputy Kage, he wanted to first understand more about the village, the villagers and kind of Shinobi that operated around these parts. Fundamentally, he was still conscious of the fact that the Jugo Kekkei Genkai was long sought after throughout the lands and despite the guards instructions, he wasn’t about to remove the scarf like some obedient dog without first knowing what the future held.

Preventing the guard from continuing on, Satoru quickly chased his previous sentence with “The one eyed redhead sent me...”

“Closest friend?” Satoru thought to himself as the black haired male continued to talk. Satoru never really had a relationship that lasted, every time someone got closed to him, his inner berserker made quick work of them. The curse that he carried in the form of his Kekkei Genkai was one that he truly despised. “Maybe it’d be better if my organs did get poached… maybe that way no one else would die.” He thought once more, partially zoning out as the man asked him about the specifics of the mission that Satoru and Noboru had completed.

Still zoned out, he looked down, the black haired male continuing on with a bit of background about Noboru. “So he wasn’t lying.” a thought that was followed by a sense of relief stemming from the back of the confirmation that the man was in fact the Deputy Kage. Satoru found his fortune changing for the better, not only had he the unique pleasure to first meet the Kazekage of the Hidden Sand but to have also stumbled across a Deputy Kage from a village that was situated hundreds of miles from the Sand was a rarity, the odds of the two events occurring within a short window of a few weeks simply baffled Satoru.

Taking a deep breath, he turned his attention back to the black haired male. His throat feeling ever so sore from all the acting. His sight periodically drifted to a small bottle of water located within the cabin, the layer of moisture covering the bottle itself looked ever so appetising. With the man going through the options that were available to him the Jugo could not help but think back to the “Strong don’t hide” phrase that Noboru uttered to him at the time of their meeting.

Chasing the guards final sentence with a sigh. Satoru took a further breath, briefly shaking his head indecisively, “This was a mistake… Clearly the one eyed red head didn’t carry enough authority in this village for his name to mean anything.” he thought to himself.

The man in front of Satoru, the guard in this scenario appeared strong, so much so that the Jugo couldn’t quite see himself being able to compare to the male. It was quickly evident, from the mans body structure, general demeanour and confidence that he was among the strong that the Red Head spoke off. But Satoru couldn’t figure out whether or not he’d fit into the village dynamic, he couldn’t figure out whether or not he was strong and most importantly he didn’t know why he had come to the Land of Lightning. He had a lot unanswered questions that he had hoped to get to the bottom of in this village but it was quickly evident that Kumogakure wasn’t as welcoming to strangers as the other major villages.

He was mentally exhausted from his travels and simply wasn’t in the frame of mind to explains the fact he was a nobody. A mere stain in the grand scheme of things, another runt of the litter, the son of the whore. There wasn’t any options in his mind, he couldn’t discern whether he was strong or week be it physically or mentally. “Perhaps it was a fluke.” He thought to himself thinking back to his interaction with Noboru.

Releasing a heavy sigh, he cleared his thread. “Pardo—.” Biting his tongue mid-sentence, he shifted his gaze back to the man. His eyes glowing orange, he stood, straightening his posture while releasing grip of his makeshift cane. Straightening his shoulders while pinging his hood back with a simple chin flick he would come to stand at a height of 6ft 7, approximately 5 inches taller than the guard at standing height. His palm slowly tugging at his scarf, effortlessly pulling from his head to expose his bright orange eyes and assortment of facial tattoos.

To an attentive onlooker, the series of black lines that were tattooed on Satorus face only served to camouflage the abuse that he had experienced as a child in a Berserker testing facility. That tattoos disguised a series of cuts, traditional and chemical burns along with deep tissue bruises that never recovered. They covered his face, nose, cheeks, arms and torso…

"Now we're talking. That wasn't so hard, was it?"

Suddenly, Satorus anxiety subsided with the guard briefly glossing over the topic of tattoos before questioning weather Satoru would feel more comfortable with the scarf on to which the young Jugo responded with a light shake of his head. After a couple of minutes of silence, Satorus lips perked as he tried to ask a question but the guards query into what Kaito had said about the village too precedence over Satorus question. “Strong don’t hide here he told me. I read you have one of the strongest academic pro—.” he responded casually his rhetoric interrupted by a pale skinned male who appeared approaching the duo at a steady pace.

At first the male addressed the guard, his eyes appearing quite sleep deprived yet there was something about him that naturally calmed Satoru. Despite not having interacted with this man, the vibe that he got from him was calm and tranquil. After the guard and the man shared a brief exchange of words, the new arrival turned his attention to Satoru.

Having asked the Jugo a quick question the male reached for a fan, extending it open quite effortlessly. Satoru was wearing multiple layers and even he didn’t think that there was any form of warmth up in these mountains, especially not enough to warrant the use of a fan. Nevertheless, the logo on the fan was one that Satoru recognised from a book he was browsing in the Sunagakure market, but his memory was hazy and he couldn’t quite pin point what it represented.  

“Going well, thank you.” He extended his right palm out to the male, effectively offering him a handshake. “I’m Satoru.”