Storm Uchiha breathed in deeply while his eyes fixated on the road ahead of him. Right before him was a pathway that led back to his village, the hell from which he was born. His mind raced with memories of his past life, of his wife and daughter that were murdered, of what could have been had he taken different actions. Storm did not like looking back, not as much as he did not like looking forward, but he had to because of how embedded the memories where inside him.

For now, he closed his eyes and allowed his mind to remain calm before he grew a large headache. Why was he even planning on going back there? Surely he had made a vow to never step a foot closer to that Uchiha spawn, that wretched village since the day of his tragedy. So what would be so powerful enough to make him want to force his body to move an inch down the road to hell?

The answer was simple, a job. A job was all he needed to force himself to move, a job involving possible riches. It was sad, he thought. To sell himself so low that he would disregard his own promise to himself. If he could not keep a promise to his own person, what was the point of keeping a promise at all?

Storm looked to the skies, his heart pounding with sadness. He didn't want to move, but he needed to. He had a job he needed to do, he had people he needed to kill. The organization he joined was given a killer, not a weakling who failed at a mission given to him just because of his emotions. He had to do this, there was no other way around it.

Storm looked among the road one more time, his eyes colder than Hyougagakure's waters. If doing this mission meant becoming chill to the touch, then he would be solid ice. One foot moved, then the next. Soon he was moving in full sprint towards his destination.

Word Count: 332