Kiba trudged toward the fish market with a large bucket strapped to his back, its contents half-filled with fish carefully packed in cooling mud. The unusual sight drew glances from passersby, but he ignored them, focused on his destination.
When he arrived, the middle-aged fish vendor looked up in surprise at the small, shoeless boy approaching his stall.
Kiba set the bucket down with a thud. "I want to sell these," he announced. "Fresh catch."
The vendor's eyebrows rose as he observed the fish encased in hardened mud. "Mind if I take a look?"
"Go ahead," Kiba replied.
Kneeling, the man ran his fingers over the unusual packaging, noting how cool the mud remained despite the morning heat. His eyes then traveled from the fish to Kiba's dirt-streaked clothes and bare feet.
"You really caught all these yourself?" the vendor asked, skepticism giving way to something softer.
Kiba simply nodded.
After a moment's hesitation, the vendor made his decision. "Tell you what, kid. I'll give you 200 ryō for the lot."
"Deal," Kiba said without hesitation.
The man stood, pulling a worn wallet from his pocket and counting out the coins. As Kiba pocketed the payment, he added, "I'll be back tomorrow."
"Bring more if you can," the vendor called after him.
Kiba was already walking away when his attention caught on a nearby stall selling simple clay bowls. An idea took root as he studied the earthenware.
'I could make these too,' he realized. 'Good backup for winter. And decent training.'
After returning from the market, Kiba immediately began practicing with clay. Using his earth-natured chakra, he transformed patches of soil into workable clay and attempted to shape his first bowl.
The initial results were disappointing - lopsided and brittle, collapsing when he tried to lift them.
"This is harder than I expected," he muttered to himself.
After ten failed attempts, his chakra reserves ran dry. Exhaling deeply, Kiba wiped his muddy hands on his pants. "Not as easy as it looks."
Rather than waste time, he retreated to his shelter and pulled out his notebook filled with carefully organized notes - primarily on medical ninjutsu and fuinjutsu. These were his focus; other techniques seemed less immediately useful.
'Fuinjutsu requires too many materials,' he thought, flipping through pages. 'Ink alone would cost more than I can afford right now.' The realization made him sigh. 'At least making money comes first.'
A wave of frustration washed over him. Every path to strength seemed blocked by some obstacle. For a moment, he regretted his harsh words to the Inuzuka clan, but shook his head clear. Now wasn't the time for second thoughts.
Gathering his things, Kiba left the riverbank and headed straight for Konoha's public library. He beelined for the civilian medical section, the shinobi-only areas were off limits to an untrained child like himself.
Hours passed as he devoured every relevant text, only noticing the time when sunlight faded through the windows. As evening approached, he returned home to light a bonfire and prepare the day's catch, roasting several fish for his evening meal.
. . . .
A month had passed.
"Tsk, I only have 500 ryo left," Kiba muttered after buying supplies for his Sealing Jutsu training. He had stocked up on cheap ink and stacks of paper, but his funds were dwindling fast. "I'll have to cut back on training if my income stays this low."
His earnings relied entirely on the fish he caught, and with the seasons changing, his income was unpredictable.
"I might have to stop altogether," he thought, frowning. "Winter's only a few months away, and I still need to buy coats." His eyes drifted to his makeshift house, a flimsy shelter with no door and no proper chimney. "If I want to survive the cold, I'll need to fix that."
For now, he focused on practicing the kanji used in Sealing Jutsu. The basic techniques he had learned came from his sister, one of the few things she'd left behind.
His mother, too, had passed down a few skills, low-level Earth Jutsu while his sister had given him the Mystical Palm Technique along with the Sealing Jutsu scroll.
His calligraphy was still a mess. The strokes were uneven, the characters barely legible, sometimes even he couldn't decipher what he'd written. But he kept going, pushing through until his hand cramped and refused to move.
Next was chakra control training. He waded into the shallow part of the nearby river, not yet confident enough to venture deeper. The flowing water made the exercise far more difficult than standing still.
"Come on, you can do this," he muttered, steadying himself as his feet threatened to slip.
A second later, he lost his balance and plunged into the water. Soaked and shivering, he dragged himself back to land, his face blank with resignation.
With a sigh, he wiped his face. "Again."
After this, he'd need to start a fire or risk catching a cold. Medicine was expensive, and he couldn't afford to waste money.
A few hours had passed.
Kiba sat wrapped in a blanket, his body still trembling as he huddled near the bonfire.
"I should've thought this through," he muttered through chattering teeth.
He flipped the fish roasting over the flames, the skin crisping to a golden brown. Once it was ready, he tossed the blanket aside to keep it clean. "Guess I can eat now."
After his meal, he carried the scraps to the river and tossed them into the current. When he returned to the fire, something caught his eye, a small plastic bag resting near the flames. Inside was medicine.
A faint smile crossed his face as he took the pills and washed them down with a sip of water.
The scent clinging to the bag was unmistakable.
'Kaa-san... Thank you.'
Perched high among the tree branches, Tsume watched her son train below.
A deep unease settled in her chest - this was different from her usual worries. Whenever Kiba had been alone before, her ninken or Hana's ninken had always kept watch over him. Now, there was no one guarding him but the empty forest.
Her mother's instincts screamed at her to stay, to protect. But duty called elsewhere. With one last glance at her determined son, she vanished in a flicker of movement.
Before settling in for the night, Kiba resumed his training. Using the leaf concentration technique, he carefully balanced several leaves across his body to hone his chakra control.
'Once I master the Mystical Palm and learn to make proper clayware,' he thought, 'I can train without worrying about money.'
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