It could be said that absence makes the heart grow fonder. In the case of Shigekuni Kin'emon, this was a particular understatement. A lot of people might have derided the desert as a place to call home. Kin'emon was even certain, in fact, that many of the people who already lived there did so, too. But he was not one of them. To him, the steeped cliffs and rolling dunes were home, and always would be. Missions so far away from Sunagakure were always a chore, and he endeavored to take them as little often as he could. Even his sentimentality aside, Kin'emon was, in fact, quite lazy. Traveling so far and for so long was certainly not his style. The pouring rain, beating down on his hat incessantly, left a chill that soaked him through to the bone. Even with a cloak about his form, meant to try and keep him as cozy as possible, he could feel himself weighed down by the water collecting in his clothes.
He spit out the piece of straw that he was chewing on and sighed. It wasn't as if the mission that he was on was particularly difficult. It was a routine patrol mission, and in reality it was rather low-ranked for a jounin to undertake. Had he not had other things on his mind, he probably wouldn't have taken it at all, though it was always reassuring for one of the higher-ups to go through the area from time to time, and ensure that nothing had been missed. This was about the extent that Sunagakure shinobi would patrol. Though technically outside of the Land of Wind, it was always good to have a buffer, and the Land of Rain was coerced via soft power to allow for Sungakure patrols of the area.
Placing his hand against a soft stone that he found upon the ground, Kin'emon let his fingers run softly across it, spreading black ink across the stone's surface. Carrying it with him a few paces, he smiled as he came upon a koi pond, sheltered beneath the scaffolding of a roadside inn. With a slight splash, he tossed it unceremoniously into the pool, sending ripples across the water, and losing sight of it immediately a pile of other, similar looking rocks. Sticking his foot into the water, he nudged with his foot, he buried it underneath the others, out of sight and out of mind. No amount of rain or water would wash his chakra-mixed ink from the stone's surface. Unless acted upon, he was certain the seal would remain a long while. "Gomen, gomen," he apologized to the fish of the pond, who skittered about at the disturbance, as Kin'emon removed his hat and strode towards the entrance of the inn. He could use a break.