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It was a fitting name, the Village Hidden in the Rain. The cold, damp air was quickly drowned out by an endless stream of droplets from the heavenly skies, clouds covering the blue wonders above. As if a steady flow of tears, the rain crashed down against the asphalt relentlessly, never to stop, never to falter. Joined only by the soft trickle of a passing breeze, the rain would proceed to blanket one's sight in its obfuscation, erasing the distance with a shroud of blur. There was a beauty in it, for sure. A soothing sound of rainfall had managed its way into normality for the young ninja, easing him into sleep when darkness came to blanket the already grey sky. Indeed, such harmony would not shy away from dotting open eyes, all the same. It drowned out the clashing of steel, washing away impurities of war and guided blood towards obscurity.

The tall buildings were a sight in themselves, offering a view most would consider astounding, was it not for the less than charming architecture of iron, and steel. 

His name was Natsu Ketsueki, the boy whose adventures lingered behind a corner yet undiscovered. Acquiring the rank of chuunin somewhat recently, Natsu was still growing used to the position now allowing for daring missions and life threatening scenarios. Quite exciting, wasn't it? Indeed, it would be a foolish endeavor to assume this boy innocent, as it would follow the same faulty logic with any ninja. He sat on the floor, leaning against the wall in silence as those crimson red orbs remained fixed on the cloudy sky. Soft, recurring sounds of porcelain on wood would reach his ears and remind him of the life still lingering within the tavern Natsu had taken shelter. An empty bowl colored beige from the ramen once within its confines stood besides him, a pair of chopsticks neatly placed along its length to mark his finished meal. Leaving the temple was quite a step, one Natsu had looked forward to, but seemed all too real now. A pilgrimage, they called it. See all the colors of the world, and return to us with stories to tell. It was a phrase often repeated, and more often still looked towards. 

Gently undoing the strap buckled together across his chest, Natsu placed his sword in his lap, hugging it as he pushed his knees up and breathed out. There would be combat, down the line. Nothing he wasn't used to, but rather, in a fashion unlike the world of a genin. Life and death was never quite as present when chasing cats down the endless streets. Facing an opposing ninja however, would earn the young shinobi a notch on his belt, as they say. "Finished, with that?" A voice pulled Natsu from his thoughts, turning his gaze towards the tavern owner before he lowered his attention to the empty ramen bowl. 

"Yeah," the boy returned, reaching a pale hand towards food ware and handed it to the approaching man. "Thank you," a soft, quiet voice finished. 

"Need anything else?" The conversation continued.

"No, thanks." Natsu shook his head, before shifting his gaze towards the open porch only inches from where he sat. It was a difficult path to tread, when you had little knowledge of where to start. However, placing one foot in front of the other would eventually land the shinobi in a situation he could consider noteworthy.