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From afar the Chuunin laid eyes upon the grand stature of the Gates. With the layout of these lands, that being they are vast and a wide open terrain, it was not difficult for the Uchiha to discover such a bold structure. The Gates were fortified, that much was easily inferred. Though, he hoped this would not matter. If his conjecture stood true, what with Iwa and Kumo still entwined within an alliance, entry would be simple. But if there was one thing that Hitokage understood most, things change... quickly. Taking hold of his headband in his hand he began to move forward with a friendly pace. What he did not want was to find the guards, vigilant, cognizant AnBu guards, to misconstrue his gallop to be hostile. Rather, wanted to convey an appearance of... friendliness. A charge, perhaps, could be interpreted in many ways other than friendly. A slow walk was enigmatic, and could be easily confused with something sinister, so he found a light jog would fall in between the two. A brisk, happy little gallop.

The Chuunin was well aware of the guards that stood guard at the Gate doors prior to his canter towards them. His Sharingan was well versed in attending to detail. Almost as sure as he was of their presence, he was sure they were sure of his. Yes, that makes sense. Moving forward, he read their movements like a book. Not only was he making his best effort to refrain from appearing hostile but was also deciphering whether they were assuming him to be hostile. Though, they were not tensing their bodies or reaching for projectiles or anything silly like that so he continued onwards. Approaching them, he flashed his headband once more if they were too brainless to pick up on it the entire time he held it out for them on his way here. Winking at the guard to the left, though the guard's face was concealed by the AnBu mask, he approached the one to the right and spoke.

"Uchiha Hitokage, reporting from Kumogakure. Am I permitted entrance as an ally to Iwagakure?"

He roamed the contours of the land...

Uncharacteristically, Hitokage found himself meandering aimlessly like that of a wandering nomad searching for a temporary shelter. He had not premeditated the whereabouts of his destination, but rather squandered through the energized streets redirecting a course this way and that upon unfamiliar avenues. Maybe subconsciously he had planned to locate himself upon this very nostalgic part of Kumogakure, upon this discrete street, upon this very sidewalk that resided next to this very distinct shop indisputably called the "High Flyer Cafe". Or maybe it was just fate. Privately, he supposed why the name had been so agreeable with him, but the notion escaped him congruently.

The scarlet fibered optics of the Sharingan beheld the nostalgic sight of the tea shop, still attaining the same renovation as his last visit close to a decade ago. It dawned upon him incredulously that it had in fact been ten years, alluring him helplessly, manipulated by its clandestine charm. Naturally, his steps lingered as his mind became haunted by a single event, a grand event: his Father's birthday, right here, in this shop, ten years ago. It had been close to half a year now since his Father passed and granted him the venerable family crested title of the Spirit of the Uchiha, but he couldn't help feel entirely vulnerable to the equivocal idea that he was undeserving, unproved, unworthy. Why? That remained to be seen.

As he approached, the palatable scent devoured his senses, painting the image upon his mental canvas with pristine vividness. So they say, scent brought back the strongest of memories; which was always disputed with incredulity from Hitokage until this very moment. It was unequivocally proven here that sight, sound, touch and taste stood meek in comparison to scent when it came to recapturing the memories of an imperative past time. It surrendered him to a spiritually naked state, as it softened or depleted his barrier that prevented people from seeing through him, transparently into his soul. As the Spirit of the Uchiha engaged the Tea Shop, a miraculously beautiful young girl sat alone separated from a various collection of couples whom were dispersed amidst the shop, each invariably sipping the steaming hot liquid with prestigious elegance.

Though her frame was shifted away from Hitokage, her radiance illuminated with peremptory, though beauty was only skin deep. To many insufficient whores dismay, (who uncontrollably found his masculine genetic makeup an undeniable necessity) he was not superficial, or shallow. He sought great depths within a woman, more attracted to her personality, culture, demeanor, intelligence, and above all, he was attracted to talent. On a separate, unrelated note, though He was not a she, it potentially explained the inexplicable bond that he and the Raikage had attained. For it was quite palpable the sheer brilliance Aburame Shouta acquired and it invoked a pure liking to the boy. He found a friendship through trust and respect, something the Uchiha intended to find in all friendships.

Though it was different with the female sex, for every man was scarred with the unavoidable sexual desire of some corrupt degree... With Hitokage, his desires were much more genuine. He was a man, cursed by desire, but always sought for trust; he could be trusted.

A flick of the eyes was darted, as swift as a snakes tongue tasting the air it slithers through, towards the boy who sat idly next to her, apparently engaged in conversation. Hostility was not among the reasons Hitokage shot such an impervious glance, but solely because he recongized his face from a brief passing that transpired between them outside the Gates of Kumogakure. Had he remembered? Highly doubtful. But the memorable Uchiha surely did. Approaching a vacant seat nearby, he sat quietly to himself, uninterested in intruding upon the conversation that was taking place between the two shinobi.

Our feelings proved mutual: the desire to abruptly end our training in further hopes of fulfilling upcoming endeavors. Though his endeavors were assuredly more prevalent than my own, I had in my future a predominant achievement awaiting my arrival. The aspect of officially becoming AnBu was tipped toward me in Shouta's concise statements. Soon, our congregation at the AnBu headquarters would further prove his intentions to my presumed promotion, and hopefully amount to a prominent chapter in my legacy.

The abbreviated remnants of disappointment trailed me somberly upon hearing the disapproval of receiving Kage Bunshin. Though, on account of being told that the aforementioned technique would be received upon a more decorated title embellished the thought of applying a greater amount of force to achieve Jounin. Though it never dawned upon me as the utmost importance, once AnBu fit into place upon the grand scheming jigsaw puzzle, ascending into the ranks amidst my fellow Kumo shinobi would be among top priority. Following after him, I would exit; departing our separate ways once clearing the tenebrous cleft that served as our training grounds.