New Home and New Neighbors

Pushing open the creaking wooden courtyard gate, Kyohaku Uchiha officially began his life on the eastern edge of Konoha.

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 floorboards groaned softly underfoot, and the walls bore a few weathered stains. Still, the overall structure was fairly sound. 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, adding a touch of wild charm.

What pleased him most was the location. Less than a hundred meters to the right stood Konoha's towering outer wall, its cold, solid stone face stretching skyward and lending the place a strange sense of being at the border... and a sense of safety? At least there was one less direction to worry about. It was exceptionally quiet here, with barely any of the village center's clamor audible. There was only the rustling of wind through the forest above the wall and, from the distant eastern gate, the occasional faint call of a changing guard.

He spent several days conducting an extremely slow, thorough cleaning by himself, relying on his crutches. He scrubbed away years of dust, patched the window paper that let in drafts, and turned the empty house into somewhere barely fit to live in. The process was arduous, and the aching soreness in his right foot followed 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 on his left. It was another old house with a yard, slightly larger than his own and kept spotlessly clean. Every so often, he saw an elderly woman with graying hair and a bent back hanging laundry in the yard or tending several thriving potted plants.

Their first meeting came on the evening of his third day after moving in. He was struggling to drag a bag of trash to the designated collection spot outside his gate. Still unaccustomed to using crutches, he looked clumsy and awkward.

"Careful there, child," a gentle, aged voice called from beside him.

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

"Thank you, Grandma. I'm fine," Kyohaku replied softly, immediately slipping into the role of a well-behaved, slightly shy child.

"You're the one who just moved in, aren't you? Are you all alone? Where are the adults in your family?" The old woman studied the child, who looked far too young and still needed crutches, her brow faintly furrowing.

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

Deep sympathy immediately filled the old woman's face. "Oh... what a poor child. What's your name? How old are you?"

"Kyohaku Uchiha. I'm five," he answered honestly, deliberately mentioning "Uchiha." At a time when that surname still carried weight, it could explain why he owned property independently and offer him some degree of protection.

"Uchiha?" The old woman was indeed surprised, then understanding dawned on her. "Oh, a child from the clan... 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—such a mischievous little thing." She pointed toward her own house, her voice filled with affection and a trace of helplessness.

Obito! So it really was her.

Kyohaku's heart stirred, but he put on the timid delight of meeting a fellow clansman at just the right moment. "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 clan members. Whenever he cleaned his yard, the kind old woman would often offer advice over the fence. And when he was clearly making do with dry food because of his limited mobility, she would bring over a small bowl of steaming miso soup or a few freshly steamed rice balls.

"Kyohaku, you're still growing. You can't keep eating food with no nutrition," Grandma would always say as she handed him the food. "If you haven't cooked when it's time to eat, come have a bite at Grandma's place. It's no trouble to set out another pair of chopsticks."

At first, Kyohaku had wanted to refuse. He was not used 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, pitiful disabled orphan who accepted help from his neighbors was far less suspicious than a child who was completely self-sufficient and flawless.

So he chose to accept, always appearing especially grateful and polite. "Thank you, Grandma. I'm troubling you again."

He had also seen the little boy named Obito Uchiha several times. He was a three-year-old boy with a round, sturdy build, a spiky hedgehog-like haircut, and energy like a little monkey. He often chased a ball rolling around the yard or clumsily imitated a ninja throwing punches, adding his own "hey-ha" sound effects. Whenever he saw Kyohaku, he would widen his eyes curiously at the crutches, but he would soon be distracted by something else and run off to play. His innocence and cheerfulness formed a sharp contrast with the old soul within Kyohaku.

With Grandma's help, his little house quickly gained more of the warmth of everyday life. She even mended his torn clothes and taught him how to make a fire and cook while using less firewood. In this secluded corner, each small 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 buying the house and covering various expenses, the five hundred thousand ryo remaining from the sale of the house and the compensation payment was an enormous sum. He calculated carefully.

"If I only maintain the bare minimum of food and daily necessities, fifty thousand ryo a year will be more than enough. It can last ten years," he analyzed calmly. "But ninja training is a money pit. Shuriken, kunai, bandages, medicinal herbs, specialized training equipment, perhaps chakra test paper in the future, ninja tool maintenance oil... every single item costs money."

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

He arrived at a more realistic conclusion. "At the minimum intensity for ninja training, plus nutritional supplements, I'll need at least one hundred fifty to two hundred thousand ryo per year. This money will last three years at most. Maybe even less."

Three years.

Time suddenly became urgent.

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

The new home gave him a hiding place. His kind neighbor offered a little warmth and convenience. The money provided startup capital. But the road ahead was still narrow and perilous.

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