MY NAME IS MUSASHI
The man walked on the anguished land of Konohagakure - his beloved village that he had been attached to only a few moments ago. There was a sudden change in his appearance, posture, and choice of wear. His dark brown hair looked as if it was inked into a black color, and less starkly is his hair style, which although he retained his ponytail, it is now shorter but more wild in how the ringlets are grouped together, instead of the longer, smooth, flowing tail that he had. His long strands of hair that stuck out in front of his face were cut and now the man had many short locks flowing from the front edges of his hair, almost concealing his face. And the rest of his hair, well they lost their composture. They looked as if they were more loosened wildly - pulled back by his ponytail. This look resembled more that of the traditional Japanese samurai, and he had become a bushido man now. This wasn't drastically different from his hair style before, but it was definitely noticeable and would have caught more the number of glances that exceeded the bothersome limit. He had also grown a thicker, longer beard now. The thin moustache that was spread across his face now came down from under his nose and curved right around the corners of his mouth and joined the small goatee that was growing on his chin outwards across his jaw. And his eyes.... oh his eyes. Sharp like a hawk, rigid like a man.
The man no longer had his white shitagi or his pink kimono. They were relics of the past, symbols of his status as Hokage which he had retired from, leaving it into more capable hands. With the political changes in the other villages, he also agreed that the village needed a new perspective when his did not work out, and that the new generation needed a new leader. And as the village changes, he will change along with it. The man had on him, instead, a bag containing money, food, water, emergency supplies, and a straw hat. A dark blue piece of fabric, that looked like a blanket that could be worn on the man himself, was folded and draped along his right shoulder. His black kosode was larger, especially where the sleeves were, but those were also a bit shorter. His black hakama complemented his top-wear, and overall his current outfit was fitting for a master swordsman. The sash was tied tightly around his waist-line like a belt, and it carried the twin Takashi in their usual positions. Wearing black socks along with sandals, the man felt he was ready to go out - to Sunagakure, where Kazekage Ryo Terumi awaited him. He wanted to know where Tear's legacy lied, and what had become of him exactly. If he was to dish out the hand of judgement, then he will do so mercilessly.
Like this.... like that... A few black spirals clouded the man now. He envisioned himself, walking through the plains as a ronin would, a samurai without a master, a swordsman without a friend, on a quest of personal vengeance. He would become one with nature, learn the true way of the sword, and enlighten his spirit. But he would not do that as the Hokage of the Leaf. Or the master swordsman of the Nakata clan. The three Chunin he sent out..... well, the new Hokage would have to deal with them. Hopefully, they'll be back for them to be dealt with. Their identities have been carefully, meticulously, and extensively handled. Their names were marked out on anything that had it on them. Their files have been taken out, adding on to the final steps of erasing their identity from Konohagakure history. They weren't the best known, so their families could be dealt with easily. Remaining hidden and secret, it is so that their origin cannot be traced back to the village. Instead, if anything, faux documents have been set up to pinpoint them as Kumogakure ninja targeted for a Konohagakure mission. Ryuho buckled everything in place and clapped his hands together in a praying posture, before bowing in front of the gates. He paced and stepped outside of the entrance, taking on his new life, identity, perspective, and name with him. Musashi continued to walk away from the village, and onto the new land that his feet brushed the dust off long ago...