Spoiler:

Really, was it so surprising that he'd finally run out of funds? For a year (or was it longer? he wasn't even sure anymore…) he'd scraped by on the funds from his last job, the meager deposits to his accounts by his clan; but those had long ended, he had to work to get paid by them after all, and his last turn in was long paid off. Oh sure, he could half ass a few short scripts, transcribe a book or two, maybe write up a report on a local temple or whatever…
What was the point?

He was pretty mentally broken by this point; after Sam disappeared, the shit with Dakuman… he still woke up with night terrors and cold sweats more often than not. More so now, he'd only just started to look into work, picking him up from this black depression when the news of what happened to Suna hit. He had no way of knowing, but his irrational fears screamed that Sam had been caught in the crossfire and was dead; which was stupid because he ‘knew’ that the man had fled the village not long after they'd had lunch. The last time the albino could remember being… happy. He couldn't face the idea of the other being dead, even as a possibility; not could he really focus on why he felt that way, either. Too many years of emotional and mental torture left him unable to process the idea of ‘love’, or even simple fondness.. or… er, friendship? Something like that. He didn't know what he felt anymore. He just knew it was to much to think about; but he couldn't stop fixating.

Still, this had to stop. He was small, he was well accustomed to starving, but there was a limit; one he'd hit, smashed out the ballpark with a world record home run, and was reaping the benefits thereof. Namely, his hair was falling out, his skin was so damaged that he was wrapped in layers of bandaging (which to be fair, gave him some appearance of bulk, which kept eyes off his emaciated state), and he was unable to use the last of his supplies to grab work in the brothels. They didn't work anymore, outside of dissolving his flesh more than it already was. Scary, or would be, in his right mind. Still, he was able to find enough coin for a last meal of rice gruel; a few bites enough to fill his sunken stomach and allow him to do simple work, temporarily.

So it was, he'd dug his ninja ID out of his bag and gone to the local dispensary to see if a) he'd even be able to do ninja missions in this country using his ID (yes, apparently), and b) what was available in the quick, easy, and low physical effort categories. Herb ‘hunting’. Well, that would have to do, for now. He was certain he could handle chasing lost pets, or even basic escorts and fetch missions right now. This herb gathering he could do slowly, at his own pace. Simple. So long as no one asked awkward questions about his bandaged hands and cracked skin, he'd be okay.

He was lucky enough to have a few days left before the boarding house style hostel would kick him out;  he'd paid out the nose to get as much time as he could on his last chance, so that was a thing at least. He was able to leave the last of his belongings behind, taking only his IDs, shakujo, and the two kunai he kept around to use as tools so that he could preserve the blades and hidden nature of his tanto. These kunai were simple, cheap, iron blades that any poor ninja would use, so they'd raise zero questions. His shakujo might, but he needed a walking aide at this point, so he was brining it. More so, it was his only cherished possession, so it went with him everywhere.

His walk across town to the hospital was exhausting, but he'd have to push through. Finding a little table set up in an alcove off the main information desk room, he turned in the paperwork showing his approval to undertake this mission, receiving a small, marked map and collection bag in return. No questions, no problems; the nurse, he was going to assume the man was a nurse, or a medic ninja of some sort; seemed far too bored to care about a kid with bandaged hands, red eyes, and grey hair asking to play fetch with medical herbs. Fun times.

Thankfully, the actual field he needed wasn't horrifyingly far away from the hospital; there was a spot in one of the forests not far outside of town. Likely wouldn't be much left there, but he could rest if needed and move on from there. The sun was roaster hot, to him anyway, and he was sweating bullets pretty damn quickly. Still, he pushed on, covering the short three or so kilometers in roughly two hours. Slow, but passable as leisurely. Tightly packed storefronts and houses gave way to larger estates and parks, then to fields and and finally to forests. Thin, bright forest, but forest nonetheless. The field, or rather, meadow, he needed was pretty obvious; there were dozens of truncated plants dotting the area, showing where others had already passed through. However, this was a fast growing plant, and there were dozens of fresh, brightly green specimens floating about. Kunai were grabbed, and a small bag pulled from a pocket in his robes, and he got to work. He hunched over the plants, using the blade of his kunai to slice cleanly through stems in a way that allowed the plants to grow back after a few days of rest and a good rain shower. It took him several hours, but he was able to get just enough without having to move to another spot. It was pushing sundown by the time he got back to the hospital; it had been mid-morning when he'd initially left the hostel; but the intake person was still there, so he still got paid, thankfully. Now off to buy some food, maybe.

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