A goldfish is many things, but mostly it is underestimated, just as the time when people mistook them to have poor memory. Small and easily misunderstood, it blends into life like another face in the crowd.
There was an ordinary little boy in a Fire Tribe village, a place burnt out, a place filled to the brim with poor people struggling to survive. And he wasn't a good thief, not so good at stealing at all despite every grumble from his belly.
Though he could read a little and knew a little bit about making medicine. But his life was running out of time, because he had no way to cure his hunger. He had nothing to sell or trade, and there were no jobs to be had. And his attempts at thievery were going nowhere.
Like a goldfish, no one would see potential in a little boy like him, but an exiled priest stumbled upon him regardless. And life started to look up.
Suddenly, this boy was taught how to make straw sandals and ended up being quite good at it. He had something to either sell or trade now, and slowly he'd learn more from the wandering priest and from any book he was given to read.
He grew better at medicine and reading, learned newer, more lifelong ways to survive. He could barely believe all he'd come to from so young to fifteen now. His whole life now looked up, taller than he is.