The storm clouds brew in the sky, threatening rain in the coming minutes upon those misfortunate enough not to find shelter. The trees rustle in the harsh breeze, the forest growing dimmer as the skies darken.

"Are you lost?" Hashirama asks curiously as he peaks between the leaves, watching the traveler resting against the roots of his tree, the strong branches of the old oak providing safety from the gentle droplets of rain as they fall from the sky and dampen the grass around them.