The days that followed were like a brutal tug-of-war.
Neji rose at dawn every day, using a broken clay pot to boil the wild vegetables he had gathered, calculating the number of chews for every bite to maximize his sense of fullness.
He discovered several edible mushrooms growing in a damp, shaded corner by the wall—knowledge the original owner's mother had inadvertently revealed before her death.
By the end of the first week, Neji could finally stand steadily, and the illness had receded.
He tried some basic taijutsu, only to find that this body's meridians were like a dried-up riverbed. Even the faintest flow of chakra caused excruciating pain.
"Looks like I need to solve the food problem first..." Neji stared at his still-gaunt reflection and decided to go out in search of work. Konoha's commercial district was far warmer than the slums, the lanterns hanging outside the shops forming an orange-red river of stars in the dusk.
"Get lost, brat!" The butcher waved a bloodstained cleaver. "I don't hire child labor!"
The hiring notice at the ninja tool shop clearly stated, "Strength required," while the florist owner rejected him with a smile. "We only take girls. Boys would scare away the customers."
Several days of rejection left Neji biting his lips until they bled. He squatted at the mouth of an alley, chewing his last ration of relief food, when he suddenly overheard two Chunin talking:
"...The Akita Family's Explosive Tag Workshop blew up again..."
"...Serves them right. Who told him to keep docking the apprentices' wages..."
Neji's eyes lit up. Explosive Tags—strategic supplies that were forever in short supply in the Ninja World—might become his turning point.
Early the next morning, Neji put on his cleanest hemp clothes and carefully tied back his pale hair. The Akita Explosive