Kiba grew up within an ancient Shinobi clan, known for the symbol of the Wolf. He knew at an early age his training would be harder than the few other children of his clan. He bore the difficult task of one day becoming the leader of the clan. Another child Tsume, Kiba’s own age and possibly of the same potential quickly became a possible rival for this position however. But he and Kiba never saw it as such, they would train together, pushing the other to the limits of their abilities. And proudly they received the traditional scar of their clan on the same day, proof they had completed their training. The scar that to this day still adorns Kiba’s face, running across his nose from cheek to cheek.

Kiba’s parents led their clan in many battles against the Shadow Lord. They won an increasing amount of victories, while sustaining very few losses. It began to be an increasing topic of conversation, among the other clans, of The Wolf Clan’s legendary bloodline. A few jealous clans spread a rumor that they had sold their soul for their abilities, but this was quickly squashed. But the truth was that for generations they had fostered and passed down an odd genetic advancement one that was now in Kiba. It mattered not to them whether this made them the center of speculation, it was for honoring of those who came before and a necessity for performing their sacred techniques. Many of the clans began flocking to them, aware of the increasing need for solidarity. The Wolf Clan kept their peace, and wondered quietly how this would further along the prophecy. The prophecy that Kiba would unite all the Shinobi in the time of darkness, and push back the Shadow Lords.

Then it happened.

They were on a routine raid, into the advancing armies�Efront lines. Not realizing it they became cut off from any hope of escape and quickly were overwhelmed. It quickly became a massacre. One by one those of the Wolf Clan fell, and a panic began to build in the back of Kiba’s mind. Then he saw Tsume his oldest and closest friend cleaved in two. Blood and guts flew on the air, bathing Kiba, paralyzing him. It was as if suddenly everything was far away. The only sound he could hear was a cry, a cry of anguish and loss and fear, it mirrored his heart so exactly and yet he was still surprised to find it was his own. He looked back towards his parents, his father was nowhere to be seen. When his mother looked at him and in her eyes he saw a deep sadness, an almost apologetic look, then she tore her eyes away and began to fight with renewed vigor. And with that last look at her, he ran. Something in his head was screaming to go back, that he could save her, but his legs wouldn’t listen. By the time he collapsed from exhaustion he had long since passed the fighting.

For days he wandered, barely eating or drinking, never sleeping for more than a few hours, too haunted by the recent memories of his family’s death. Tsume’s dried blood on his clothing a constant weight on his heart. Slowly he began to hear news of the disheartened clans already beginning to fracture. He passed through the world in a daze, as if all were just an illusion, and a layer of ice began to form around his heart. He began frequenting taverns, starting fights for the slightest insult and somewhere in his mind refusing to give in and use any of his old training.

One day, while the sun was still rising and the wet dew covered the green grass he awoke next to a river. Looking into his reflection he saw that the color of his once black hair had bleached away and become a stark red. He jumped into the freezing cold river and began scrubbing at his skull. Suddenly obsessed with the stains of blood on himself and his clothing he scrubbed till he was nearly raw. Then he spotted an old monk coming down the hill. The monk nodded politely to Kiba, and Kiba nodded numbly back. Then the monk began to disrobe, some distance from Kiba, and began to bathe. Kiba was practically mesmerized, how the old monk could put thought and focus into something as simple as bathing. He knew not for how long he stood there in the cold waters, watching the monk. Then the monk finished and put his clothing back on, nodded politely again, and walked off. Kiba felt compelled to follow, and soon they came to the monastery. Without any questions at all they directed him to his room, and told him when he was to begin study. Kiba nodded humbly and accepted.

Feeling that he needed to learn from the ground up Kiba still forbade himself use of his ninja training, and used martial arts as solely a meditative tool. Slowly he began to learn to accept even his fear and failure as a part of himself, and to calm his angry spirit. His red hair became a symbol for him to not forget, and to try his best and never look back. But still he couldn’t melt the ice around his heart. After many long months of training Kiba thanked the monks, and vowed not to reveal their location. Long since learned their view of those that needed them would find them.

However, Kiba realized that it would be hard for him to advance any further if he did not work together with people like himself. After a few weeks travel he stumbled across a group of level-headed travelers. They were strong, witty, and wise, like he saw himself. This appealed him, and he followed them secretly. He learned they called themselves the Shadow Dragons, and their leader was Tyreal. One day, one of their members was in a gruesome situation. Numerous wild beasts were ambushing a small Tarutaru bard. It seemed as if the bard was trying to tame the beasts but was too exhausted to cast any spells. It was if he quietly resigned and awaited his death quietly. Thus, Kiba took the initiative to save the poor fellow, he later came to know as Dauragon. It was like all his old instincts kicked in, and using his incredible agility, Kiba tore through almost every monster in the vicinity. Some turned and fled, and he easily suppressed the urge to chase after them. Soon after, Kiba was introduced properly to the Shadow Dragons and was offered the proposition to join them. He graciously accepted, and now travels along side the group, more loyal then ever before to his newfound friends.

Kiba’s biggest downfall is his inability to openly express his emotions. Because of his past, his aura is said to be one that seems to harbor hatred and rage. In order to prevent his emotions from overwhelming his mind and body he relies heavily on his training as a monk, but also on the icy wall around his heart. Ironically, this attracts people to him, making them want to know more about him. Unfortunately, his dark eyes, cold lips, and un-welcoming demeanor have always scared them away.

Usually by himself, occasionally sharing words of wisdom with his comrades, he has found a comfortable home among the Dragons.