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Description
    A raven haired shinobi walked silently down a dirt path. The crisp autumn breeze rustled his hair around his shoulders. Cold, crimson eyes stared straight ahead; he never strayed from the line on which he walked. This time, he’d been sent to the Hidden Leaf alone. His partner had been critically injured during their last mission.
    The cloak he wore swayed as the intensity of the wind picked up. He stopped suddenly. Closing his eyes, he tilted his face toward the darkening sky. Gray clouds billowed above him; heavy rain threatening to fall. Once he’d opened his eyes, they had changed from the bright red to a dull ebony. The teen struggled to blink away the blurriness caused by the deactivation of his Sharingan. His vision cleared some and he continued down the path.
    Tracking the blurs of leaves that floated across the path, in front of him, he stopped once more.  He looked upward again, this time tiny raindrops splattered on his forehead. The droplets of water slowly rolled down his nose and eyelids. Once they reached his cheeks he wiped them away immediately. It felt too much like tears rolling down his face, and his father had always told him that tears showed weakness. I am not weak, he thought, Weakness should never be shown by a shinobi.
    As the teen continued to walk, his toe scraped in the dampened dirt. He looked down, studying the rut. I’m getting clumsy, he mused, I can barely walk without it now. But the truth was, he was almost as weak with the Sharingan than without it. The powerful kekkei genkai made his eyes sore, only after a few hours of use, and his recent bout of insomnia was not helping. I’m becoming weak, he was on the verge of panic now, I’m a disappointment.
    Sucking in a deep breath, he lowered himself to the ground. The heavy rain had begun to fall, and was now soaking even into the heavy wool of his cloak. He exhaled slowly as he pulled his hair free of his dampened neck. The shinobi slipped off the ring he wore on his right ring finger and wrapped it in his palm. He remembered when he was first handed this ring; when he was strong. A sudden crack of thunder shook him back into reality. I need to find shelter, he thought, releasing his grip on the small piece of jewelry. He now carried a deep imprint in his palm.
    He activated the Sharingan again. The shinobi cringed as a sharp pain shot through his eyes. He pinched the bridge of his nose, willing the soreness away, but it did not let up. All he could do to bring some comfort was to find a warm place to sleep right now, but he knew that was a vain thought. Warmth would not come tonight. A sigh escaped his lips as he rose from the ground. He did his best to wipe the mud from his cloak, but the only effect this had was smearing it further and caking the earth on his hands.
    The shinobi looked around, groaning, barely audible against the harsh wind. The only possible shelter he saw was under a small patch of birch trees. Having already been soaked far beyond his liking, he decided that the group of trees was as good a shelter as any. As he began walking in that direction, something caught his eye; a dull flash of red. The teen stepped closer, trying to figure out just what exactly he was seeing. Slowly the shinobi began to take note of the ragged clothing and pale skin. He sucked in a harsh breath as he realized what he was looking at.

Description
    A raven haired shinobi walked silently down a dirt path. The crisp autumn breeze rustled his hair around his shoulders. Cold, crimson eyes stared straight ahead; he never strayed from the line on which he walked. This time, he’d been sent to the Hidden Leaf alone. His partner had been critically injured during their last mission.
    The cloak he wore swayed as the intensity of the wind picked up. He stopped suddenly. Closing his eyes, he tilted his face toward the darkening sky. Gray clouds billowed above him; heavy rain threatening to fall. Once he’d opened his eyes, they had changed from the bright red to a dull ebony. The teen struggled to blink away the blurriness caused by the deactivation of his Sharingan. His vision cleared some and he continued down the path.
    Tracking the blurs of leaves that floated across the path, in front of him, he stopped once more.  He looked upward again, this time tiny raindrops splattered on his forehead. The droplets of water slowly rolled down his nose and eyelids. Once they reached his cheeks he wiped them away immediately. It felt too much like tears rolling down his face, and his father had always told him that tears showed weakness. I am not weak, he thought, Weakness should never be shown by a shinobi.
    As the teen continued to walk, his toe scraped in the dampened dirt. He looked down, studying the rut. I’m getting clumsy, he mused, I can barely walk without it now. But the truth was, he was almost as weak with the Sharingan than without it. The powerful kekkei genkai made his eyes sore, only after a few hours of use, and his recent bout of insomnia was not helping. I’m becoming weak, he was on the verge of panic now, I’m a disappointment.
    Sucking in a deep breath, he lowered himself to the ground. The heavy rain had begun to fall, and was now soaking even into the heavy wool of his cloak. He exhaled slowly as he pulled his hair free of his dampened neck. The shinobi slipped off the ring he wore on his right ring finger and wrapped it in his palm. He remembered when he was first handed this ring; when he was strong. A sudden crack of thunder shook him back into reality. I need to find shelter, he thought, releasing his grip on the small piece of jewelry. He now carried a deep imprint in his palm.
    He activated the Sharingan again. The shinobi cringed as a sharp pain shot through his eyes. He pinched the bridge of his nose, willing the soreness away, but it did not let up. All he could do to bring some comfort was to find a warm place to sleep right now, but he knew that was a vain thought. Warmth would not come tonight. A sigh escaped his lips as he rose from the ground. He did his best to wipe the mud from his cloak, but the only effect this had was smearing it further and caking the earth on his hands.
    The shinobi looked around, groaning, barely audible against the harsh wind. The only possible shelter he saw was under a small patch of birch trees. Having already been soaked far beyond his liking, he decided that the group of trees was as good a shelter as any. As he began walking in that direction, something caught his eye; a dull flash of red. The teen stepped closer, trying to figure out just what exactly he was seeing. Slowly the shinobi began to take note of the ragged clothing and pale skin. He sucked in a harsh breath as he realized what he was looking at.