It wasn't exactly a long time since Iruka'd seen the others. Maybe a couple of days, getting used to the place, talking to the locals, getting properly used to the fact that shinobi really didn't have a place in this world. As other things, probably, but not as shinobi, not as the almost-military personnel they'd used to be. Of course other skills could apply to this world - being trained killers meant that they were well versed in other applicable and transferable skills - observation, spy work, mercenary work, all that and more.
This world was violent enough that it still could use shinobi, just not shinobi under that name.
Morning was a good time for island exploration, further in, because Iruka'd heard that the island was a whole lot bigger on the inside than it looked like from the outside. Strange little details like that could trap the unwary, apparently.
But first - before any major exploration - this called for breakfast. Which meant wandering down the streets to purchase/lift/and-or otherwise obtain sustenance and possibly run into a familiar face carrying a jar of butterflies.
... What?
"Raidou?" Iruka managed to steady them both; Raidou looked none-too- steady, and not at all calm. Panicked, if anything. The little butterflies were silver, and singing something too faint to hear.
Well, it had to be the butterflies, since the flailing jar nearly smacked into Iruka's ear.
"Raidou, are you alright?" He didn't look calm at all.