Despite his usual clothing being fairly large and covering his limps well enough, the cold didn't care about the size of his coat, or the durable material it was made of. At the moment he looked a bit ridiculous, almost puffy, as he had a shirt under his usual vest, thick socks very obviously sticking out, and gloves which he quite frankly hated wearing, even if temporarily. Unfortunately he wasn't much for tea and carriage rides, separately sure, but he had far too many rides that ended up with a very uncomfortable lap and burnt thighs. Unfortunately the conversation was in limited supply, so his clothes were doing some heavy lifting in this situation, but he was distracted enough with the thick notebook his eyes were glued to, going over the information for this mission yet again, and would go over it an uncountable amount of times before they arrived.
"Ishi...gakure."
Mumbling under his breath he pulled a small pinky sized pencil out of his sash, managed to drop it multiple times, before grumbling, whipping off his glove as he grabbed it, made a few notes, and stuffed it back in before quickly putting the glove back on. As he looked down he stared and gave a quiet sigh, feeling naked in a sense. Normally he would have had his headband wrapped around his sash in plain view, but for obvious reasons he didn't want to be announcing himself as a shinobi from Kirigakure for this mission. The other unfortunate thing that completed the set of feeling completely out of place was the lack of his Uemori blade, locked away at home.
As much as the headband was clear for everyone to see, it was likely a weapon such as the Uemori was a beacon of a different sort, and one he simply couldn't risk being spotted with as much as he hated the idea of being without it. If things went to plan he wouldn't have been using it anyways, but it was as much a part of him as an arm these days, and he hated not having it in his hand.
Every time he read through the information for the mission he would look up at Hisako, never saying anything even if they made eye contact, but simply letting them know they weren't being ignored. Every time he would look for just a few second, perhaps give a nod, them immediately start again reading the mission briefing, wanting every word repeatable in his mind. Finally after a bit of reading he groaned and pulled off his gloves, then his coat, and inside the not terribly large carriage began to get changed. In truth he wanted to be seen leaving the village if anyone was watching, but clearly didn't want to be seen anywhere between there and their next destination before even reaching the docks. Some half way to their destination he managed to have the cart driver pull over as he ran out into the rain to a nearby tree, stuffing his clothes wrapped around his notebook into a barrel, turned it upside down, gave it a loud slap, and ran back to the carriage. He was fully dressed with two hand axes well hidden under his clothes, and his small kobun blade strapped to his hip. He had no other weaponry as he didn't intend to need it, making sure to have his clothing as well as his notebook, for all he hated to part with it, picked up at the earlier drop off point and sent back to the village by a trusted third party after having parted with far more coin than he cared to admit out loud.
Across Masshiro's chest was a pouch that blended in perfectly with the rest of his disguise, holding his documentation so he wouldn't have to make anyone nervous reaching into pockets out of sight. If anyone was to look inside they'd find nothing but the information pertaining to his fake identity, and if the worst were to happen the axes could be explained away as a part of a juggling trick. In the meantime they were well hidden, as were his real intentions with the disguise, fake identification, and the smile plastered across his face for anyone new he met.
When they were eventually stopped, he let Hisako do his talking, his identification already in hand by the time it was asked for, smiling so wide his eyes were starting to close a bit and holding it out for the closest arm to grab.
"Heeeeere ya go!"
He hoped either his cheerful put on persona would grab enough positive attention, or this sour looking man would be in no mood to deal with it and want to be done with him that much quicker, so he kept smiling, making eye contact, and waiting for him to take his scroll.
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