The white, wollen shirt underneath his armor did little to lessen the pain Hawke felt at that moment, though it did stop the bleeding. To an outsider, he must've looked like a drunkard, stumbling through the streets of the dusty village, eyes empty and his clothes soaked in sweat. At that moment, the middle-aged Shinobi looked nothing like the warrior he was known to as back in Iwagakure. A tiny bit of drool escaped the corner of Hawkes' mouth, but he quickly wiped it away with the back of his ungloved arm as his eyes scanned every inch of the village visible to him, seemingly in search of nothing and everything simultaneously. Without a warning, Hawke bend over and let out a single, rattling cough, allowing a small pool of blood seep onto the ground though his half-open mouth. Had anyone been able to see through the wild, untamed bangs covering the hopeless expression on his face from the world around him, they would've seen nothing but the husk of a man.