I know you want to ask me why I was doing all this. I also had a selfish goal in mind. And those were the D-rank missions. Most of them were simple things like weeding yards or finding pets. But I wanted to focus mostly on my Fuinjutsu and learn the academy jutsus to become a real shinobi. Right now, I was one only in name. But if I had hired these kids, it would be kind of like subletting. Which was illegal. But clan missions? That was fine. If a clan accepted a mission, the unregistered shinobi could participate.
This way the kids would earn most of their keep while I earned a good record. After all, 30 children weeding a field and 3 genin doing it will probably be at similar rates, right?
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I picked up my first D-Rank mission as the clan head. It was to help clean a temple. I had chosen it because I assumed the monks would be more tolerant of the kids. And I was right. The monks were surprised but eventually happier to see children enthusiastically helping out the temple.
The next time we weeded a field. The old farmer was quite annoyed when he had to teach a class of 30 on proper weeding. But I guess he preferred talking to the hard labour.
In between all this, I noticed that the people were giving us side eyes and suspicious looks. And I was certain that if the job took us anywhere near any valuables, my little army would not be allowed anywhere near it.
Since winter had started to creep in, I decided to get the clothes I had planned for them early — better to spend now than pay twice later.
To cut costs, I went to a wholesale cloth dealer who gave me a discount on his cheapest rolls — navy blue and black. The tailor, seeing the size of the order, was more than happy to oblige. Ninety sets in total — three per kid. Three days later, when we finally set out for a mission, they all stood in matching attire: plain black pants and shirts, topped with a dark-blue kimono-like jacket.
For the sake of unity — or maybe just sentiment — I gave them a symbol to wear. A kunai and a fuinjutsu brush crossed together, Kurosawa written beneath in careful ink. They drew it themselves on the back of their clothes. Uneven, messy lines — but it was ours.
Today's task was simple — pet catching. But instead of taking official missions first, I told them to scout the neighborhood and look for any lost pets that looked like they belonged to rich owners. I stayed behind, sitting on the curb with my tag materials, working through a fresh batch.
By evening, they returned, breathless and proud — twelve animals in total. Three turned out to be official mission listings. We released the others. Still, the joy on their faces made it feel like a triumph.
Something else changed that day, too.
As I sat at the end of the street we were supposed to clean a few days later, my foldable table cluttered with ink, seals, and brushes, I noticed the way people looked at us. Before, they would glare — uneasy, dismissive, like we were dirt underfoot or thieves to be wary of.
Now, they slowed down. Some even smiled. Maybe the uniforms helped. Maybe the symbol did.
I guess dress really does make a difference.
Slowly but surely, we were clearing standard missions that shinobis generally didn't like. Cleaning, weeding, and finding. I actually found a mission that was quite good.
Many farm missions had a simple statement. Instead of an upfront payment. They will give us a part of the potato harvest come spring if we work on their fields. This was kind of a long-term investment, but I decided to take it on anyway. The landlords had way more land than they could work anyway.
I suddenly paused. This was supposed to be a strategy for me to gain D-rank missions for my record. When had it become long-term?
I returned to see the huge tent in my front yard. Sleeping bags strewn about. Some kids were cooking. The rest sat in organised lines in similar clothes. That's when I truly realised. We had actually become a clan. Not a shinobi one, yes, but if civilians had clans, they would look like this, right?
I felt good. Like I was building something. And not in the way I built tags or houses. It felt like something intangible was taking shape. I wasn't actually earning anything, mind you. In total, after tags and mission payments, I'd profit at most 5000 ryo. But it still felt good. We were unnoticed fools in the cracks of society. But had each other.
Little did I know that we weren't as unnoticed as I thought we were.
I only realised when, during the dinner, a strangely familiar man in a white, red robe appeared out of thin air. Since his hair was still black, it took me a minute to figure out that, for some reason, the most powerful shinobi in the village, the hokage himself, had decided to appear in our shitty house.
"Hoh, aren't you going to greet your supreme commander, little Ren?"
My brain.exe stopped working. Why is he here? What's happening? Is he going to reprimand me for working with the kids?
I awkwardly bowed and greeted him the best I could. I nervously offered him the stew, which, to my surprise, he decided to take. He sat down in my chair in the courtyard, for which I dared not complain, and simply began eating.
I suddenly realised what a blunder I had made in decorum. I quickly stood up and shouted, Kids, this is the Hokage, the supreme leader of the village. Stand up and greet him.
The kids obeyed and stood up, bowing awkwardly to him and murmuring out a greeting which, when overlapping with all the others, just seemed like meaningless chatter.
I smiled sheepishly and started to choke out an apology while Sarutobi Hiruzen just sat there with a twinkle in his eyes. As the silence stretched, my nervousness skyrocketed. This guy could blow me up in a thousand different ways. Actually, he didn't even need to do it himself. One word and thousands of Shinobi will stand up to do it for him. "No need to fret, little Ren. Small things like improper curtesies do not bother me." I breathed a sigh of relief.
"Breaking of laws, on the other hand, is an entirely different matter altogether."