Kiba (Naruto)

Kabuto observed Kiba from a distance as the younger medical-nin worked, his movements efficient and deliberate.

'He performs his duties with impressive diligence,' Kabuto noted silently.

Over time, he had picked up on Kiba's initial wariness toward him subtle but present. Yet lately, that suspicion had faded, replaced by a focused professionalism. What intrigued Kabuto more was Kiba's relentless curiosity. Whenever a question arose, he sought answers without hesitation.

And his skill… that was undeniable. Kiba's chakra control was exceptional, his Mystical Palm Technique among the most refined Kabuto had ever seen.

But one detail stood out even more Anbu operatives discreetly monitoring Kiba's movements.

Curiosity piqued, Kabuto approached him during lunch. Kiba sat alone, eating while absorbed in a medical text.

"Kouhai," Kabuto greeted, his tone smooth and amiable. "Do you need any assistance?"

Kiba glanced up briefly. "I think I can manage, but I appreciate the offer."

Kabuto took a seat across from him, feigning casual interest. "You study relentlessly. What drives you?"

"I want to be like my sister," Kiba answered without hesitation.

'The same answer as before.' Kabuto's smile didn't waver, but his mind sharpened. There was something beneath those words a half-truth, carefully measured.

"I've noticed your routine work, home, repeat. Do you ever deviate?"

"Training," Kiba replied simply.

'Training?' The revelation surprised Kabuto, though his expression remained neutral. "What kind?"

"Strength conditioning." Kiba's tone was flat, but his thoughts churned. 'Better keep it vague. Feels like he's digging for information every time we talk.'

Kabuto tilted his head, probing further. "So, you aspire to be like Tsunade of the Sannin?"

"If I could, sure."

"Which of the Sannin do you admire most?"

"None, really." Kiba met his gaze squarely. "I prefer Hatake Sakumo."

The answer caught Kabuto off guard. 'Hatake Sakumo? An unexpected choice.'

Their conversation ended shortly after, and they parted ways. But Kabuto's interest only deepened. From that moment on, he made sure to watch Kiba more closely especially when duty didn't chain him to the hospital.

After his shift ended, Kiba made his way home, unaware of the distant figure trailing him through the shadows.

Kabuto maintained a careful distance, his sharp eyes never leaving his target as he observed every movement. When Kiba finally reached his destination, a secluded house nestled deep within the forest, Kabuto paused, eyebrows lifting in quiet surprise. He hadn't expected the boy to live in such an isolated place.

Knowing the ANBU assigned to monitor Kiba might detect his presence if he ventured closer, Kabuto reluctantly withdrew, melting back into the darkness before he could risk exposure.

Back in the safety of his own hideout, he meticulously recorded his observations, analyzing whether Kiba possessed the potential to meet Orochimaru's exacting standards.

. . . .

Next Morning

Kiba found himself with a rare day off, seated on his deck with nothing but the frustration of stagnant progress occupying his mind.

"My chakra control hasn't improved at all," he muttered, staring at his hands as if they had betrayed him.

For the first time, he felt an invisible wall blocking his path, something he had never encountered before in his training.

A reckless thought crossed his mind. 'Do I really need to risk my life just for a slight improvement?' He dismissed it almost immediately, shaking his head. "This isn't One Piece."

With a sigh, he leaned back, arms crossed. "Maybe I need some kind of device. Or perhaps I should start practicing aerial steps. That might work."

His fingers drummed against the wooden desk as he wracked his brain for a solution. When nothing came, he shifted his focus to genjutsu a skill he had yet to master, despite lacking any formal techniques.

Midway through his mental exercises, an idea sparked. 'What if I create an ultra-thin chakra thread from just my index finger?'

His imagination quickly spiraled. 'If every pore in my body could produce threads like this, I'd basically become Venom.' The absurdity made him snort, but he refocused and resumed training.

Hours slipped by as he worked through his usual regimen. Once finished, he headed to the market, determined to stock up on protein. He returned with a whole chicken, its raw weight heavy in his arms.

Back home, he boiled the bird, tossing in a handful of vegetables for minimal flavor. The scent was far from enticing, but he forced himself to eat, chewing mechanically. 'This is what it takes to get stronger. No protein shakes here.'

Between bites, a dry chuckle escaped him. "Kumogakure probably sells creatine. With all those muscleheads, they've gotta have something."

The bland, rubbery texture of the chicken made his eyes water, but he swallowed another mouthful. Even after months of this routine, his taste buds still hadn't surrendered.

Afterward, he spent the evening immersed in his books, studying until the hour grew late. When exhaustion finally weighed on him, he retired early. At dawn's first light, Kiba was already awake, pushing through his strength training before preparing for another day of work.

The routine repeated itself training, then work until an unexpected arrival disrupted the usual rhythm of the hospital.

The doors slid open, and Kiba turned to greet the newcomer. "Welc—" The words died in his throat as his eyes locked onto the figure being carried inside.

A wounded shinobi, barely more than a genin, hung limp in the arms of another. Blood streaked his clothes, deep slashes marring his skin. Despite his injuries, the boy's gaze remained sharp, one tomoe spinning lazily in his Sharingan.

Kiba's breath hitched. "Sasuke?"

Without wasting another second, he darted forward, guiding the unconscious Uchiha to the floor. His hands moved on instinct, seismic sense flaring as he scanned for foreign objects lodged in the boy's body. Finding none, he snapped his attention to the shinobi who had brought him in.

"What happened to him?" Kiba demanded, voice tight with urgency.

The man shook his head. "No idea. He showed up at the gate like this."

"Get the gurney, now!" Kiba barked over his shoulder.

The receptionist sprang into action, summoning additional medical-nin while wheeling the stretcher forward. Kiba's hands glowed with healing chakra, suturing wounds and sealing gashes with practiced precision. By the time the rest of the team arrived, Sasuke's injuries had already closed under Kiba's care.

He scooped the boy onto the gurney, then stepped back. "Nothing was embedded in his body. I've stabilized him, just let him rest."

The other medics nodded, wheeling Sasuke away for observation.

Kiba exhaled sharply, planting his hands on his hips as the tension finally bled from his shoulders.

— — — — —

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