"With this latest A-rank mission, your total record now stands at:
S-rank: 1 A-rank: 2 B-rank: 44 C-rank: 283 D-rank: 388."
Nara Shikazo flipped through the mission logbook, then nodded approvingly. "At this rate, you qualify for a Special Jonin promotion. Given your expertise in mechanical tools, it's a perfect fit."
"Special Jonin?"
Umino Yoru froze for a moment, his mind racing. In peacetime, he'd jump at the chance—higher rank, better privileges. But now? Bad timing.
With Danzo Shimura replacing Koharu Utatane as frontline commander, major battles were inevitable. Danzo wasn't the type to play it safe like Utatane.
For most Chunin—even some Special Jonin—patrol duty was a gamble with life and death. But thanks to his Subsonic Radar, Yoru 's survival odds were far higher.
"Shikazo-sama," he asked carefully, "if I'm promoted, will I be reassigned from Choza-sama's patrol squad?"
"Naturally." Shikazo gave him a look that said "talent like yours shouldn't be wasted."
Yoru feigned hesitation. "Then… I must decline."
"You're turning it down?" Shikazo raised an eyebrow. Most civilian-born ninja would kill for this opportunity.
"Just say the word, and I can push the promotion through today." He smirked. "I've got the pull to make it happen."
"I appreciate the offer, but without Choza-sama's approval, I won't leave the frontline patrol."
Yoru played the loyal subordinate card hard. Why trade a safe gig for a suicide mission?
"You're really set on this?"
"Absolutely. My place is with Choza-sama."
Shikazo sighed—but his eyes gleamed with satisfaction.
Good. This one's loyal.
The Ino-Shika-Chō alliance was tight-knit, and Shikazo had no intention of poaching Choza's talent. This was just a loyalty test—and Yoru passed.
That glutton Choza actually found a gem this time.
Yoru , sharp as ever, caught on instantly. He doubled down:
"If not for Choza-sama's timely rescue, I'd have blown myself up with those Sand ninja. I owe him everything. Even if it means staying a Chunin forever, I'll serve under him."
"Your dedication is commendable." Shikazo clapped his shoulder. "Stay with Choza for now. Once he's promoted to battalion commander, I'll transfer you as a captain—with the Special Jonin title."
He'd seen enough. A man willing to strap himself with explosives for Konoha didn't need further testing.
"Those mechanical tools must cost a fortune."
"They're bankrupting me," Yoru groaned, launching into a detailed breakdown of expenses.
Shikazo waved him off. "Keep the C-rank patrol pay as usual. The two A-ranks will be rated at highest difficulty. And don't worry about 'gratitude fees'—just pay the standard 10% mission tax. The rest is yours."
Normally, wartime missions came with four layers of cuts:
Mission Rating Office (30%) No bribe? Enjoy your "low-difficulty" rating and peanuts for pay. Assignment Division (10-50%) Want the safe missions? Pay up. Otherwise, enjoy suicide charges. Direct Superior (20%) Skip this, and you'll volunteer for every trap-disarming job. Konoha Tax (Fixed 10%) The only non-negotiable cut. Even clans pay.
After all that, the average grunt kept just 30% of their earnings—or even owed money on bad days.
And the higher-ups pretend they don't know?
Please. This system was by design.
Most of the "gratitude fees" cycled back into Konoha's war chest—funded by the Daimyo's treasury and the blood of low-rank shinobi.
"Wait—really? No 'thank-you' fees?" Yoru blinked. "Since when did Logistics Department turn charitable? Did Danzo scare the corruption out of them?"
Shikazo just smiled. "Consider it… investment in talent."