Itaken approached the gate slowly, his feet pretty much dragging on the ground he was so slow. It had only been a couple days since his triumph over the previous Senju clan head, a feat that had taken much of his remaining strength from him. Over the course of his personal mission he had neglected to really eat or exercise the way he should. Mostly he had just trained his body's ability to take abuse to an absurd level, one almost unheard of among people who didn't use a technique to enhance their body. Now he was tired, his body emaciated to look as if he was near starvation. His ribs showed, his muscles were leaner than usual, and his face was more drawn and hollow than usual. Despite that appearance, Itaken was a man among men. He could take abuse without it fazing him, brushing off attacks every other person living would consider potentially fatal without a means of protection that was not their own flesh.
He had on no shirt, preferring to feel the sun on his back since he had spent so long in horrible conditions. It felt good and he cared little for the looks of pity and horror people gave him as he passed them. One could tell he used to be in near perfect physical condition, but that would take time to get to again. A Konoha headband was tied around his forehead, keeping his surprisingly healthy locks of hair in line. Navy blue pants that used to fit his form well hung loose, a sash tied tightly around his waist to keep them from falling. They were ripped off just below the knees, giving him a rough look. His spiked gauntlets were on his hands, seeming slightly too large for a form that was as malnourished as his was. His body had been so busy healing the damage caused from the terrible conditions he put himself through that it had neglected to keep his weight on his bones, a sacrifice he was willing to make. This was the result of his focus, and it was a consequence he could fix. He wore no sandals either, making his appearance rather bland when compared to many of his peers.
The Unbroken got to the gates and rested his back against the wall near the entrance to the village, waiting for his team members for the mission. His manner of coming home had caused the village to want to use him immediately, though his appearance made them reluctant to put him in the field alone for fear he would die on them. It was preposterous of course, there was nothing that could kill him. Itaken folded his arms across his shallow chest, patient as a stone. He had been matched with an Uchiha jonin and an Uchiha genin apparently. For a group of bandits, two jonin and a genin from renowned clans was overkill with a peanut gallery in his mind. But, he didn't make the decisions. He just followed orders. Once they got there, Itaken would greet them with each with the same greeting. Too bad he was socially awkward.
That was it. No fancy "how are you's" and "You ready to kill some bandits". Just his name and a nod. Once the two had arrived, Itaken would head out with the two of them. Hopefully they didn't go too fast, his legs just weren't working like they were supposed to it seemed.