Utakata was resting on a thick low hanging branch, blowing bubbles from his pipe. He was using the tree for shade from the blistering sun, watching as the bubbles drifted away- taken by the light breeze. He was a runaway shinobi, refusing to be anyone's weapon, nor anyone's savior. Just himself.

Utakata was roused from his lingering thoughts as he sensed the approach of a stranger, and quickly he was on guard. Slowly, he lowered his pipe as his sharp gaze scanned the foliage of the forest around him, before settling on the the approaching figure. "Hm..."