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Remaining ever alert, five minutes passed since Nagato assumed the position among his weaponry, awaiting for something to happen in the process. His clone suspiciously moved his head, glancing from place to place. He didn't grow tired of his waiting, but he knew that he couldn't wait forever, his chakra pool was diminishing with every coming second. Although he was prepared to wait for hours on end, the maintainance of the transformation jutsu would eventually bring him to a point where he wouldn't be able to mount an offensive should the hunters come forth.

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“If I continue to follow them, I could fall into a trap. I’m completely exposed out here. Not really a lot to hide under bar the grass. Food and waters gone… all they have to do is wait me out… hmm”

Nagatos mind was filled with thoughts as his eyes scanned the battlefield. His fruitless endeavor brought distaste to his mouth, but he didn’t lower the lightning conjured bow and arrow. The long grass of the land of rice covered the vast majority of Nagatos body, effectively concealing him amid the greenery. Taking a few steps back, Nagato found himself back atop the sand. After all, they were instructed to capture the Missing Ninja so it was a matter of time before they came forth to complete their mission.

Shifting back, Nagato would proceed to make his way back to where his inflamed gear had laid. The way in which he moved toward the area would be rather unorthodox; he side stepped to his intended location as it allowed him to maintain a clear view of the whole area ahead of his body. Knowing that nothing would be able to approach him from the oceans without at least a sound, he would be able to see the grass ahead of him, the location of his gear as well as the last location of the hunter shinobi, all at a heads turn.

As he moved back, he couldn’t help but notice his robe, withering away to the elemental heat. The vast majority of his attire was scorched and destroyed; only small chucks remained. The fire didn’t spend long atop the sand before a wave crept in, putting out what remained of the small flames that were scattered across the beach. The chokuto were searing red, the hilt of one was molten while the other appeared somewhat intact albeit hot as hell. The blades would be of no use, the hilts of both of the metal constructs were severely damaged as they were composed of metal and rubber which aided grip on the hilt.

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Palming the water from side to side, Nagato couldn’t help but notice a single individual in his peripherals. The mask that the individual in question wore was more than enough to put Nagato on edge. Nagato didn’t react to what he had seen, rather he slowly made his way to the shore, feeling the warm rays of the sun set on his skin. The water wasn’t too deep which allowed his 6ft 2 frame to casually walk from the depths of the sea.

As he made his way out of the sea, more and more of his body became warmer. He didn’t appear to be phased by the arrival of the individual. But keeping them figure in his peripherals, he was aware of the tasks that were undertaken by these individuals. The great nations called them the Hunter Shinobi. They pursued Missing Ninja which meant that they didn’t happen to miraculously stumble upon Nagatos location, They were following. For a brief moment, he cursed to himself for not noticing but he had been travelling for days on end with little to no rest.

That was the problem with travelling alone, you had to sleep with one eye open which wasn’t always the easiest of feats. Casually walking toward where he had buried his gear, Nagato remained alert for any Genjutsu that maybe cast upon him. The area around him consisted largely of sand, earth, water, none of which he had any control over. Having fought foes who put the aforementioned components into use, he was well aware of the elemental capabilities of the jutsu.

This was his first encounter with Hunter Shinobi. His first encounter since leaving the village; while a member of Kumogakure, he took time to read up on the affairs of the common world. The roles that each organization played in the world and quiet frankly, hunter shinobi was among the most distasteful professions that one could have chosen.

Approaching the area where he had stored his attire, he manouvered his hands out of sight forming five prompt hand seals. Nagato would then begin by equipping himself with a single Chokuto. He held the weapon by the sheath and of course, the blade was still sheathed. Using his right hand he pulled his robe from under the plethora of metal constructs. Having no time to put any other clothing on, he simply threw the robe around his back, covering his naked rear end.

As he made his way up toward the grass, positioning himself on the left side of where his explosives tags had laid. His toned abdomen exposed, he faced ahead, before checking his right for any further hunter shinobi. “Odds have it that it’s not alone. They usually hunt in groups. The explosive tags should keep my rear and right covered. ”

Filling his lungs with air, Nagato turned and faced the one that had made thyself know. He’d motion his head, chin flicking the fellow speaking out…

“So-… what were the orders? They want me dead or alive?” his nonchalant voice would radiate across the surroundings, reaching the ears of the intended.

Having taken time to knit the attire that he now wore, Nagato slipped each hand into the sleeves, ensuring that the fight was suitable for his build. Using the straps that kept his blades secure, he attached two sheaths of the chokuto with one and used the other to create a makeshift bag. In his right hand, Nagato wielded a small sheet of paper that denoted the mission he was to undertake. Glancing around his house, he eyed the plethora of explosive tags that were darted around the room. The entrance to his small house was open, once shut the explosive tag will interlock so that the next time the door is open, the house will light up in flames. Each explosive tag will trigger the next until a total of ten erupt, destroying the whole house and all of its contents.

Making his way out, Nagato went onto shut the door, nodding a couple of times in the process. On the front and back of his attire, he wore a crest that comprised of a triangle where the lower line formed a downward arch, splitting down the center. The whole design was somewhat complex but it was the representation of Nagatos new organization, The Creed. Initially, Nagato had a plan that involved the destruction of the Kage Castle, however he realized that in pursuit of his ideals, the destruction wasn’t the best course of action.

Clenching tightly to the bamboo hat, he approached the gates of the village as two Anbu members descended to greet him. Switching his gaze from one to the other, Nagato motioned to the mission details that had been written upon the paper that he held in his other hand. “I have a breach to commence. I figured I would circle around, since they’re likely to have watchmen stationed on the route through the village. ”

The masked men nodded, vanishing from sight in an instant. Gracefully walking out of the village gates, Nagato released his grip on the little sheet that contained the mission details. Taking a moment to glance back at the village, he placed the bamboo had atop his head and within a few seconds he vanished from sight. Not even the men atop the Kages tower would be able to see him.

Naturally, news would soon spread that Nagato didn’t tend to the mission he was assigned and without a doubt, a bounty would soon be put on his head. Loosening the knot that attached his forehead protector to his bicep, he slipped a kunai out, scratching through the two clouds that denoted his allegiance to the Village Hidden in the Clouds. The forehead protector had symbolic value which forced Nagato to re-tie it to his arm.

Eying the setting sun, Nagato went onto follow it, travelling West from the Land of Lightning…

[Exit]

[Enter]

“The Raikage retired.”

The words of the docile merchants froze Nagato in his tracks. He turned his head, facing the man who uttered the words and in that one moment, he felt rather sick… sick and tired. Sighing with discontent, he returned his sight to the path and went onto walk toward is apartment. Throughout the course of the journey, he muttered to himself.

“God. GOD DAMN. I have to start from the beginning. I could never please this village! Time and time again I’ve been brought to prove myself. The future Raikage won’t recognize those accomplishments. I will be doing grunt work… D rank missions until I--- AGHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH. I’m sick and tired- of do this. Do that. Do this. Do that. I could have been a member of the Anbu by now… hah… a few days before I was all set and he retires… ” he roared as he neared his house, slamming his right fist through the thin wooden wall. His hand pierced straight through the makeshift entrance and in that instant he turned on his heels, walking back toward the merchants.

Approaching a merchant on the far side of the city, he raised his left hand, gesturing the man over. As the small stocky man approached Nagato extended his hand out. “Hundred packs of exploding pouches” With that, he palmed the man some money and returned on the path home, collecting cloth and other sowing materials on the way.

In addition to the clock, he collected thick plastic and spray paint in order to aid the creation of masks.

[Exit]