Having just procured the juiciest manju in the whole village, Masanori was in a decidedly good mood as he walked through the village. Skipping out on training with the clan? Naturally, and yet again for the repetition of some skill already grasped and sharpened unbeknownst to that lot. That was often the case these days with the elders dictating repetition until he showed visible improvement, which was a double-edged blade to him. On one hand, it gave him time to perfect the skill he had obtained in private. On the other, it stalled his development and often forced a compromise that involved a great deal of acting whilst eating away at invaluable time.

Today, though, Masanori was content enough to allow it. Tomorrow, he would put on yet another performance to push his lessons along. It was as he was considering that someone crossed his path and he paused, manju falling into his palm and grasped smoothly as he blinked rapidly at th oddly dressed younger boy, his eyes looking for a hitai-ate or some other identifier. Definitely not from Konoha. With that sort of fashion, he'd have known him by now, after all.

"Looking for something?" He asked, straightening and canting his head to one side curiously. Just what do we have here?