He's been to the desert. He knows what heat is. But every summer, Kiba can't help but believe that nowhere else in the world could possibly be hotter than Konoha. As spring rolled out the numbers on the thermometer crept up. But in a way, the numbers were only a state of mind. They might claim something mild, even temperate. It didn't account for the humidity, for the way the forest seemed to close in around the village, baking the roads into surfaces shimmering with mirages. It didn't consider how the mountains formed around them like a bowl, buffering them from any wind that might come through and give even a hint of relief.

It most definitely didn't reflect on just how -boring- things had become, how people either stayed indoors to try (unsucessfully) to avoid the heat or braved the outdoors only to push their way through air thick as soup, the energy almost immediately sucked out from them the moment they stepped into the sunlight. Konoha was stagnant. Hot, humid, sunny, boring.

'No,' Kiba thought, 'No place on earth is hotter than Konoha right at this moment.'

He was sitting on the edge of a river, legs dunked in up to the knees to get some relief (the water was sun-warmed), upper body leaned back into the shade of a tree (which did nothing). Akamaru lay at his side panting, his fur sticking to Kiba's fingers as he reached over to play with his ears. As his dog let out a yawn, he did too. Something in the yawn released something in him, something in his chest stirred, a slight spike of adrenaline causing a brief widening of his eyes. Then the restlessness spread through him, the itch to get up, move, talking someone's ear off, anything.

Pulling at the fishnet shirt now plastered to his chest, Kiba eventually pulled himself up to his feet as well. Akamaru listlessly stood up, ready to follow, if unhappily.

It was time to go bother someone.