New Home and New Neighbor

Pushing open the creaking wooden courtyard gate, Kyohaku Uchiha officially began his life on Konoha's eastern outskirts.

His new home was small, with only one bedroom, a little hall that served as both kitchen and dining room, and a narrow washroom. The house had some age to it; the wooden floor gave a faint groan beneath his feet, and the walls bore a few mottled marks. Still, the overall structure was fairly sturdy. Most importantly, it came with a small courtyard of roughly twenty square meters, where a half-dead old tree stretched its crooked branches from one corner, lending the place a touch of wild charm.

What pleased him most was its location. Less than a hundred meters to the right stood Konoha's towering village wall, its cold, solid stone surface rising overhead, creating a peculiar sense of boundary and... security? At the very least, it left one less direction to worry about. The area was exceptionally quiet. He could barely hear the bustle from the village center, only the rustling of wind through the woods beyond the wall and the occasional, incredibly faint calls of changing guards from the distant eastern gate.

He spent several days conducting a thorough cleanup alone, moving exceedingly slowly with the aid of his crutch. He scrubbed away years of dust, patched the drafty window paper, and turned the empty house into somewhere barely fit to live in. The process was arduous, with the dull soreness in his right foot following him like a shadow, but he enjoyed it. Building his own nest with his own hands gave him the illusion that he truly had control over his life.

While cleaning the courtyard, he noticed the neighbor to his left. It was another old house with a yard, slightly larger than his own and kept exceptionally neat. From time to time, he saw an elderly grandmother with graying hair and a stooped frame hanging laundry in the yard or tending several thriving potted plants.

Their first encounter came on the third evening after he moved in. He was struggling to drag a bag of trash to the designated pile outside his gate. Still unfamiliar with his crutch, he moved clumsily and with great difficulty.

"Careful there, child." A gentle, aged voice came from beside him.

Kyohaku looked up and saw the old grandmother standing by the fence between their homes, concern written across her face. She looked to be in her sixties, with kindly features and remarkably clear eyes.

"Thank you, Grandma. I'm fine." Kyohaku immediately slipped into character, answering softly with the obedient, slightly shy manner of a child.

"You're the new arrival, aren't you? Are you here all alone? Where are the adults in your family?" The old grandmother studied the child, who looked far too young to be on his own and was leaning on a crutch, her brow knitting slightly.

Kyohaku lowered his head, his voice becoming even quieter. "Mm... I'm alone. My parents... passed away some time ago."

Deep sympathy immediately appeared on the old grandmother's face. "Ah... poor child. What's your name? How old are you?"

"Kyohaku Uchiha. I'm five." He answered truthfully and deliberately mentioned "Uchiha." In this era, when that surname still carried weight, it could explain why he owned a house of his own and offer him a degree of protection.

"Uchiha?" The old grandmother was indeed surprised at first, then understanding dawned on her. "Oh, so you're one of the clan's children... no wonder. My surname is Uchiha too. You can call me Grandma Uchiha, or simply Grandma. My grandson is an Uchiha as well. His name is Obito, and he's two years younger than you—a terribly naughty boy." She pointed toward her house, her tone filled with affection and a trace of helplessness.

Obito! So it really was her.

Kyohaku's heart stirred, but he timely showed a faint, timid delight at meeting "someone from the same clan." "Hello, Grandma."

From then on, Grandma Uchiha began looking after him more. Perhaps she saw that he was alone and disabled, or perhaps it was the faint yet existing bond between clansmen. Whenever he cleaned his yard, the kind old woman would often offer a few pointers across the fence. And when he was clearly making do with dry provisions because of his limited mobility, she would bring him a small bowl of steaming miso soup or a few freshly steamed rice balls.

"Kyohaku, you're still growing. You can't keep eating things without any nutrition," Grandma would always say as she handed him the food. "If you haven't cooked by mealtime, come eat at Grandma's place. It's no trouble to add another pair of chopsticks."

At first, Kyohaku wanted to refuse. He was unaccustomed to owing others favors, and he worried that too much contact would bring unnecessary scrutiny. But he soon realized that this was actually a better disguise. A withdrawn, pitiable disabled orphan who accepted help from his neighbors was far less likely to arouse suspicion than a child who was completely self-sufficient and flawless.

So, he chose to accept, always appearing exceptionally grateful and polite. "Thank you, Grandma. Sorry to trouble you again."

He had also seen the little bean sprout named Obito Uchiha a few times. He was a three-year-old boy with a sturdy build and a hedgehog-like head of hair, as energetic as a little monkey. He often chased his own rolling ball around the yard, or awkwardly imitated a ninja throwing punches while providing his own "hey-ha" sound effects. Whenever he saw Kyohaku, he would stare curiously at his crutch with wide eyes, but before long something else would catch his attention and he would run off to play. His innocence and liveliness stood in stark contrast to the aged soul within Kyohaku.

With Grandma's help, his little home soon gained more of the feel of a lived-in place. She even mended his torn clothes and taught him how to light a fire and cook while using less firewood. In this secluded corner, these little acts of kindness gave off a rare warmth.

At night, Kyohaku sat on the cold tatami mats beneath the dim oil lamp and counted his assets once more. After deducting the cost of the house and various expenses from the proceeds of selling his old home and his pension, the five hundred thousand ryo in cash remaining was an enormous sum. He calculated carefully.

"If I only maintain the bare minimum for food and daily life, fifty thousand ryo a year is more than enough—enough to last ten years," he analyzed calmly. "But ninja training is a money pit. Shuriken, kunai, bandages, medicinal herbs, specialized training equipment, even chakra test paper I may need in the future, ninja tool maintenance oil... every item costs money."

His gaze swept over the scrolls left behind by his father, especially the one containing the Fire Style: Fireball Jutsu. "Training ninjutsu itself consumes tremendous amounts of chakra and stamina. My nutrition has to keep up, and food expenses will rise sharply. If I also want to buy books on medicine or herbal knowledge..."

He reached a more realistic conclusion. "At the minimum level of ninja training intensity, together with nutritional supplements, I'll need at least one hundred and fifty to two hundred thousand ryo per year. This money will last three years at most. Perhaps even less."

Three years.

Time suddenly became pressing.

He blew out the oil lamp and lay beneath the cold bedding, gazing at the faint moonlight spilling through the paper window.

His new home provided a hiding place. His kind neighbor offered a little warmth and convenience. His funds supplied the initial capital. But the road ahead remained narrow and perilous.

Within those three years, he had to find a way to increase income and cut expenses, or... find a faster path to becoming stronger.