Nine months old, and I was getting restless. My mind raced with plans and knowledge, but my body? Still frustratingly limited. I knew I could push it further, faster. But that way lay suspicion, questions I couldn't answer. So I played the long game, carefully pacing my development.
Today was crawling day. I'd been building up to it, showing more interest in moving around, reaching for toys just out of grasp. Time to take the plunge.
I positioned myself on all fours, Akamaru watching curiously from nearby. Tsume sat across the room, pretending to read a scroll but watching me like a hawk. Here goes nothing.
I rocked back and forth, feigning uncertainty. Then, with exaggerated effort, I pushed forward. One hand, then knee. Other hand, other knee. I made it about two feet before dramatically face-planting.
"Oh, good try, pup!" Tsume encouraged, barely concealing her excitement.
I pushed myself up, mustering my best determined baby face. Try again. This time, I made it a bit further before toppling sideways.
This went on for a while. Me, pretending to struggle with something my adult mind found laughably simple. Tsume, alternating between effusive praise and narrowed, thoughtful looks.
Finally, I allowed myself to crawl smoothly across the room, making a beeline for Akamaru. The puppy yipped excitedly, tail wagging furiously as I reached him.
"Would you look at that," Tsume mused. "Barely an hour and he's got it down pat. You're something else, aren't you, pup?"
I gurgled innocently in response. Just your average genius baby, nothing to see here.
The weeks that followed were a careful dance of progress and restraint. I'd show improvement in bursts, then plateau for a while to avoid suspicion. It was maddening, but necessary.
Then came walking day.
I'd been pulling myself up on furniture for a while, taking wobbly steps while holding on. Time to kick it up a notch.
Hana was with me this time, holding my hands as I stood. Tsume leaned against the doorway, trying (and failing) to look casual.
"Okay, Kiba," Hana cooed. "You can do it! Walk to mom!"
I took a deep breath, steeling myself. This was going to take some acting.
First step: Wobbly, exaggerated. I let my knee bend too much, relying on Hana's grip.
Second step: A little smoother. I straightened my back, found my center of gravity.
Third step: Released one of Hana's hands, arms out for balance.
Fourth step: Let go completely, swayed dramatically.
"Oh!" Hana gasped. "Careful!"
But I caught myself. Stood straight. Took another step, this time with perfect balance.
Tsume's eyes narrowed.
Crap. Too much, too fast. I quickly stumbled, almost falling.
"I've got you!" Hana lunged to catch me, but I regained my footing at the last second. Took two more steps.
Right into Tsume's waiting arms.
"Well done, pup," she murmured, but her tone was thoughtful. Evaluating. "You're full of surprises, aren't you?"
I babbled nonsense in response, playing up the baby act. Inside, I was kicking myself. I needed to be more careful.
The real challenge, though? Talking.
I'd been holding off, knowing that once I started, it would be hard to hide my adult vocabulary and speech patterns. But I was pushing the boundaries of what could be considered normal development. Time to bite the bullet.
I chose my moment carefully. Tsume and Hana were in the kitchen, Akamaru napping nearby. I crawled over to him, made a show of patting his fur.
"Ah... Ah..."
Tsume's head whipped around so fast I thought she might get whiplash.
"Ah... ka... ma... ru."
Silence fell. You could have heard a pin drop.
"Did... did he just...?" Hana whispered.
Akamaru's eyes opened. He cocked his head, looking at me curiously.
"Akamaru," I said again, clearer this time. I grinned, patting the puppy's head. "Akamaru!"
Chaos erupted. Hana squealed, scooping me up and spinning me around. Tsume was there in an instant, pride and something else – concern? – warring in her eyes.
"His first word," she murmured. "And it's his ninken's name."
I pretended not to notice her scrutiny, focusing instead on repeating Akamaru's name and giggling at Hana's excitement.
From there, it was a whirlwind of language acquisition. Hana took it upon herself to teach me every word she could think of, pointing at objects around the house.
"Can you say 'cup', Kiba? Cup!"
"Cuh," I mumbled, deliberately mispronouncing it.
"Good try! How about 'dog'? Dog!"
"Doh!"
It was an exercise in restraint. Every fiber of my being wanted to speak clearly, to express the thoughts swirling in my adult mind. But I bit my tongue, fumbled my words, played the part of a learning child.
Weeks passed. My vocabulary grew, carefully curated to seem impressive but not impossible. 'Ninja' joined my repertoire early on, much to Tsume's amusement. 'Love' came soon after, strategically deployed for maximum heart-melting effect.
Then came the day of my first steps outdoors.
Tsume held my hand as we stepped out of the Inuzuka compound. Akamaru trotted at our heels, nearly tripping over his own paws in excitement.
The sensory onslaught was immediate and overwhelming.
Scents assaulted my nose – street food and sweat, metal and leather, a thousand different people and animals. My enhanced senses, which I'd grown accustomed to in the relatively controlled environment of home, were suddenly in overdrive.
Sounds bombarded me from all directions. Voices haggling at market stalls. Ninja leaping across rooftops. The distant clang of weapons from a training ground.
And the chakra. God, the chakra. It was everywhere, a constant hum of energy that made my skin tingle. I could sense the ebb and flow of it, stronger signatures standing out like beacons.
I must have swayed, because Tsume's grip on my hand tightened.
"You okay, pup?" she asked, concern lacing her voice.
I nodded, not trusting myself to speak. Took a deep breath. Focused.
One step. Then another. I made myself put one foot in front of the other, fighting against the urge to curl up and hide from the sensory overload.
We made it to the end of the street before my legs gave out. Tsume scooped me up, her brow furrowed.
"That's enough for today, I think," she murmured. "You did well, Kiba."
As we turned back towards home, I caught a glimpse of something that made my breath catch.
The Hokage Mountain. Massive stone faces looming over the village.
It hit me then, harder than ever before. This was real. I was here, in Konoha. A world of wonders and terrors, of power beyond imagination and dangers lurking in every shadow.
I buried my face in Tsume's shoulder, inhaling her familiar scent. Felt Akamaru's worried whine by my feet.
One day, I'd walk these streets with confidence. I'd harness the power humming in my veins, use my knowledge to reshape this world's future.
But for now? For now, I was a child. Overwhelmed, out of my depth, clinging to the safety of my mother's arms.