I hate mornings.
The sun was barely up, the clouds lazily drifting in the sky, and I was already being dragged toward the Hokage Tower by Ino's screeching voice.
"Come on, Shikamaru! Don't you dare pretend to be sick again!"
"Tch… troublesome woman."
I shuffled my feet dramatically, hands in pockets, making sure to look as exhausted as possible. Choji munched on a bag of spicy chips beside me like this was normal. Because, sadly, it was.
Another day, another dumb mission.
Ever since we'd officially graduated last week, life as a Genin had been nothing but one disappointment after another.
No epic battles.
No rogue ninjas to outsmart.
No daring adventures.
Just endless D-rank missions.
Dog walking.
Fence painting.
Picking up trash.
It was soul-crushing.
We entered the mission office, where Asuma-sensei sat leaning against the wall, smoking with his usual bored look.
"Yo," he greeted. "Ready for another day of essential, character-building community service?"
Ino practically sparkled. "Anything's fine, sensei!"
"Ugh," I muttered.
Hokage-sama looked up from his paperwork. "Ah, Team 10. Good timing. Today's mission — helping an old lady gather her chickens."
I swear, even the ceiling seemed to sigh.
Asuma grinned. "Think of it as tactical movement practice."
Choji whispered to me, "Do you think we'll get lunch after?"
"Doubt it," I muttered. "Unless we catch a chicken big enough to roast."
And so began the legendary Operation Chicken Round-Up.
The client, an elderly woman named Grandma Mako, greeted us with a basket of seed and a voice that sounded like she'd smoked a carton a day since the First Hokage's era.
"Now, you youngins better not scare my babies!"
Ino beamed. "Don't worry, ma'am! We'll be careful."
I already regretted everything.
We spent the next two hours chasing fat, squawking birds around her massive yard.
One ran between Choji's legs.
Another flew at Ino's face.
A third somehow made it onto the roof, crowing victoriously.
I leaned against the fence post, watching them flail, occasionally scribbling notes in my little pocket notebook.
Idea: Kasuma battles a feral chicken demon to save a princess. Possible chapter filler?
Asuma raised an eyebrow at me. "You gonna help, or just write your memoirs?"
I sighed, shoved the notebook away, and lazily formed a single hand seal.
"Shadow Possession Jutsu."
My shadow slithered across the ground like a lazy snake and grabbed two chickens in one go. They froze mid-run, heads tilting like they'd forgotten how to function.
"Got 'em," I mumbled.
Asuma chuckled. "Show-off."
"Efficient," I corrected.
Grandma Mako waddled over, beaming. "Ooooh, you're a clever one, ain't ya?"
I half-smiled. "Troublesome work's still work."
By the time we caught the last chicken, Choji had feathers in his hair, Ino had grass stains on her knees, and I was internally debating quitting ninja life to become a cloud-watching hermit.
Grandma Mako paid us in a sack of rice balls and a handful of coins.
Ino forced a smile. "Thank you, ma'am!"
Asuma sighed. "Good work, team. Meet tomorrow same time."
"Troublesome," I grumbled.
Later, on my way home, I cut through a quiet back street, past a bookshop where a display in the window caught my eye.
A new poster.
'Kasuma's Tale: Volume 5 — Coming Soon!'
I smirked.
The shop owner was setting up a stack of my own books, totally unaware their author was walking past in a sweaty, chicken-feathered shirt.
A couple of young chunin hovered nearby, peering at the cover.
"Man, Wanderer Old Hag's crazy. How does he think this stuff up?"
"Volume 4's ending nearly killed me."
I ducked my head, hiding my grin. Every word, every copy sold, every reader meant more to me than any chicken-wrangling mission ever could.
They didn't know it, but every fan they dragged in made me stronger.
And that was the real mission.
I finally reached the Nara Clan compound, where my mother was waiting by the door, arms crossed.
"You better not have slept through mission briefing again," she scolded.
I waved a hand. "Did the mission. Caught chickens. Don't worry."
She narrowed her eyes. "And those feathers?"
"…Battle scars."
I shuffled to my room, collapsed onto my bed, and sighed in relief.
Another dumb mission down.
Another note for Kasuma's adventures.
Another step toward my own quiet little empire.
I pulled my notebook from my pocket and scribbled the day's entry.
'Kasuma faces a perilous task: gathering the rogue feathered beasts of the old forest hag.'
Might as well turn today's suffering into tomorrow's bestseller.
Troublesome as it was… life was good.