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Well. That was a bust.

Kiba had found a second home. For a whole week. Turned out, the little boy who seemed to love and adore him sneezed whenever Kiba was around, making the little tuxedo exotic a nuisance. It was worse than the first time he'd been de-homed: this time, the little boy of maybe four bawled for hours that his kitty had to be put outside. And then the boy's mother had shooed him off, like some sort of fly. At least she'd looked apologetic about it.

Kiba gave a huge, forlorn sigh and padded along the once-familiar streets, streets he'd vowed never to return to. Well...maybe he was just destined to be a stray? Eating out of dumpsters, fighting with other cats. He shivered at the thought; he'd need to find someone to teach him how to defend himself. He couldn't go back to Denali--he couldn't see Achilles' face after this. He was too darned embarrassed.

With his head and tail heavy, he braved the icy streets of the winter Ikebokuro city, trying to find an alley to keep warm in.

Kiba peeked his head inside an alley opening, shivering against the bitter wind. He was dirty, hungry, cold and tired. His black coat was slightly grungy, no matter how many times he cleaned it...it just wasn't a bath. Not that he enjoyed his master's baths...but he was never grungy.

Nope, nothing. Just garbage.

With a sigh, he padded on, only to smell the soft ginger scent of a girl. He paused, hesitating, his fight-or-flight instinct (and it was quite definitely 'flight') kicking in. There. Just outside the mouth of the next alley was a feminine little calico with flopped over ears and a long tail, looking like she'd just woken up. Kiba flicked his own ears back, taking a breath before stepping forwards.

"Um. H-Hello," he said, green eyes focused on the Fold.