Today is my birthday.
I am officially eleven.
I don't know about this body, but my soul turns a year older today. Twenty-two. Funny how that number means something when you've already lived two lives. I woke up expecting… I don't know — maybe a small "Happy Birthday" from someone? A bit of cheer? I even imagined the kids trying to surprise me somehow. But by the time the sun started setting, reality hit me like a kunai to the chest — nobody even knew.
And whose fault was that? Mine, obviously. I had never told anyone.
How were they supposed to know?
I sighed, got up from my workbench, and packed the tags into a neat stack. Fifty perfectly inscribed explosion tags. It was payday, at least.
Grabbing my pouch, I walked toward Murata's shop. The streets glowed orange under the sunset — the same dull warmth that Konoha always wore when it tried to look peaceful. The kids were all in training, the new instructor drilling them in chakra control exercises. It was strange — I was their clan head, but at times, they felt more like my responsibility than subordinates. Family, maybe.
I stepped inside the shop.
Murata looked up from his ledger. "Good evening, Kurosawa-san. Have you brought the quota?"
"Yes," I said, placing the bundle on the counter. "Fifty tags, all fresh and stable."
He smiled, inspecting them one by one. "Perfect lines, balanced chakra density. You're getting faster every week."
"I'd hope so. I spend most of my waking hours with chakra ink."
Murata chuckled and pushed a small bag of coins across the counter. "Here's your pay. Keep up this consistency, and you'll be richer than me in no time."
I smiled faintly. "That's not a very high bar, Murata-san."
He grinned. "Hah! Fair enough."
As I tucked the money away, a pang of melancholy hit me again.
If it had been tomorrow, after the team evaluation, I could've celebrated with Souta and Rina. But tonight… it felt lonely. I could tell the clan to organize something, sure — but that would feel forced. Like ordering them to pretend happiness for me. No, if I was going to do something, it had to be genuine. Something that mattered.
I lingered there, staring at the wooden floorboards, thinking.
What could I do that everyone would enjoy?
Training? Too tiring.
A feast? Too expensive.
A break day? Tempting… but maybe useless.
Then it hit me — when I was a kid, back in my old life, birthdays weren't about gifts. They were about sharing. So… envelopes. Money. Something simple. Everyone could use that. I chuckled at the thought. Maybe it was the most traditional elder move possible, but maybe… this could become a Kurosawa clan custom. A day when everyone got something small, just for being part of us.
I had decided. 50 Ryo each. Affordable. Symbolic.
The first Kurosawa Clan "Founding Day." They didn't need to know it was my birthday.
Just as I finished planning it out in my head, the door opened again.
"Hey, Handa! Long time no see," I called. "You here for tags too?"
The tall, lean man walked in, carrying a scroll tube slung over his shoulder. "Ah, Ren. You've been hard to find lately. The Cretins keeping you busy?"
"Something like that. Clan work, tag quotas, and a bunch of kids to feed. You know the drill."
Handa laughed. "Right, right. I heard about that, actually. A whole bunch of orphans running around calling you boss. You've made quite a name for yourself."
"Yeah," I said dryly. "A name that comes with no holidays, no privacy, and constant paperwork."
He smirked. "That's adulthood for you."
Murata passed him his own order, and we stood there for a while, talking about small things — weather, tag ink, the latest rumors from the border. Nothing serious, but somehow it felt grounding.
At one point, Murata poured us tea. The three of us sat at the counter, sipping quietly.
Handa glanced at me. "You look down. Has something happened?"
I hesitated. "Not really. Just… It's my birthday today."
He blinked. "Wait, seriously? And you're here delivering tags?"
"Yeah."
He snorted, then reached into his pouch. "Hold on." He placed a small wrapped parcel on the table. "Come with me then. There's a restaurant I was meaning to go to."
I smiled despite myself. "I didn't mean to…"
"Too late to refuse," he said, grinning. "We're going"
Murata joined in, rummaging through the shelves. "I can't let this pass either. Here—" He handed me a small sealed ink bottle. "High-quality chakra ink. For your Fuinjutsu work."
"Murata-san…" I was genuinely touched. "Thank you."
He waved a hand. "Don't get emotional, kid. You'll ruin my reputation."
We found the restaurant soon enough. This one was a lively place. With people laughing and enjoying. We found a table and ordered the best dishes we could find. Talking about things that had happened. Apparently, Handa had also learnt the barrier tag. We exchanged some insights. At the end, he insisted that he pay for the meal. Told me to treat him on his birthday. For a brief moment, it felt like home. Not the house, not the war-torn land — but a sliver of warmth I hadn't realized I'd missed.
When we parted, Handa clapped my shoulder. "Don't work too hard, Clan Head. Go have a drink. Or whatever eleven-year-olds do."
"I'll keep that in mind," I said with a small laugh.
On the way back, I stopped at the confectioner's stall. The smell of sugar and rice flour hung thick in the air. I bought a big box of sweet mochi, the kind that had soft red bean filling. The owner gave me a curious look when I asked for thirty servings.
"Clan celebration," I said simply.
The walk home was calm. The streets were lit with paper lanterns, and the autumn air carried that cool bite that hinted at the coming winter. I found myself smiling slightly — maybe this day wasn't so bad after all.
When I entered the compound, the kids were gathered in the courtyard, training under the dim lights. Haruto noticed me first. "Sire! You're back early."
"Yeah," I said, placing the box on the table. "Everyone, stop for a bit. We're celebrating something today."
"Celebrating?" Reina tilted her head, confused. "What for?"
"Does it matter?" I smiled. "Here—take one each."
The children gathered around, eyes wide as they opened the boxes and saw the sweets. The simple joy on their faces made me feel light. "And before I forget—" I reached into my pouch and began distributing small envelopes.
"Fifty Ryo each. Call it a… Founding Day gift. For the Kurosawa Clan."
So far, I hadn't actually given them an allowance. It was just food and basics. The inflow of money sparked huge unrest.
A murmur spread through the courtyard — disbelief, then excitement.
"Fifty?!"
"Seriously?"
Sayo tugged at my sleeve. "Sir, we can't—"
"You can," I interrupted gently. "And you will. No arguments."
They bowed deeply, still a bit dazed. I sat down on the steps, watching as they laughed, shared sweets, compared envelopes, and made plans. Emiko had cream smeared all over her face, and Haruto was pretending to scold her. Even Souta, who rarely smiled, looked a little less gloomy tonight.
And for a brief moment, I forgot about everything — the coming wars, the loneliness, the missions.
This was enough.
As the laughter filled the air, I leaned back, staring at the stars above the courtyard.
Maybe it wasn't the kind of birthday I used to dream of.
But it was better — quiet, genuine, and mine.