The Royals weren't thrilled, but they didn't seem surprised either. I guess I wasn't their first Rodeo. But by the time they left, I had a paper plant. More importantly, I had the Hokage's word that for the next 3 years, the association can not sabotage it. With this, I had everything. It had cost me almost all of the reserves, and I had to take a few loans. But it was worth it. In a few months, we will have a stable supply of paper and ink.
I expanded a section of the workshop and turned it into the ink production workshop. It was, by and large, automated, so we didn't need to do much. But my main mansion's backyard was now filled with ink herbs.
The maintenance of the garden and the plant was handed over to the Spring legion, while winter still focused on research. All my legions had finally specialized.
Summer - Medic and administration
Fall - The fighters
Spring - The farmers cum fuinjutsu experts
Winter - The advanced Fuinjtsu experts
------
Over the next few months, the sabotages were minimal and petty. A few tags going missing, a few tantrums near our shops, but nothing major.
They must be planning something. The overall picture of the village was this. The major clans were too busy with each other to look down. The Civilians had no stake and no idea. The clans were just happy to have cheaper tags. The Hokage was too busy curbing the Daimyo's influence, and the elders were busy muddying Hatake Sakumo's reputation. It was a very strange flow. He was losing reputation in Konoha as fast as he was gaining it in the capital.
But he was a good and capable Shinobi. So the movements of opinion were very slow. It will take a few more years to turn. But I knew that the accursed mission would come first. I wanted to help him. But I was too busy with my own problems right now.
-----
I stood up from the table after a hard day's research. I was in a good mood today. Our clan was finally stable again. Although not growing like before. Most of our income was through missions now. But what made me happy were Sayuri and Mina. They had just completed the speed enhancement seals on long boots. The Yami were serious research cheats. I had examined it. It was crude and rough. But in a year or two. It would be combat-ready.
The SS tag was giving me trouble. I had suspended it. It was good at blowing up. Too good. There was no stability to it. I could not mix my chakra with it, or it would just latch on and jump back into me. The energy control has made my control of it quite good. Before, I could only feel it. Now I could manipulate it in a basic way. 1 or maybe 2 SS accumulated, but then blew up. I had tried thousands of times last year. So this year I hung it. Instead of wasting SS. Let's first get energy control and then try again.
So I focused on refining the armor enchantments and other seals. But our main focus was armor. Mostly because all other seals had too much research on them. Shinobi enchanted armor was kind of rare. It had more possibilities of giving us an edge.
My thoughts were interrupted by Taro. "Lady Rina is here to meet you."
------
I looked up from the glowing seal diagram and rubbed my eyes. "She's early," I murmured, then straightened. "Send her in."
The door slid open with a soft scrape.
Rina stepped in — not in formal gear, not even her flak jacket, just a dark shawl and travel boots still dusty from the road. There was a steadiness to her presence I hadn't noticed before.
"You look worse," she said dryly.
I laughed. "You always open with that."
"It's always true," she said, lips curling faintly.
I motioned toward the low table. "Tea?"
"If it's not that black sludge you call tea."
I poured her a cup anyway.
She didn't refuse.
-----
We sat for a while in silence, steam rising between us. Outside, the soft hum of the ink machines filled the air, rhythmic and oddly calming. The whole compound smelled faintly of herbs and burnt resin.
"I passed by the old training grounds today," Rina said suddenly. "They've built new targets there. The ones we used are gone."
I smiled faintly. "Time doesn't like to wait for sentiment."
"Maybe not. But I still remember Souta yelling at me for missing my throws." Her voice softened — just a little. "He was insufferable. But he was kind."
I nodded slowly. "He'd have been proud of how far you've come."
She looked away. "You think so?"
"I know so."
There was quiet again — comfortable this time. She sipped the tea, frowning slightly at the taste but not complaining.
Then, more quietly, she said,
"I decided to bond with another partner again."
That made me pause. "Are you sure?"
"Not really," she admitted. "But I think… It's time."
Her eyes drifted toward the window, where the last glow of sunset lingered over the rooftops. "When Shiro died, I swore I'd never take another partner. But lately, it feels like I've been punishing myself for surviving. He wouldn't have wanted that."
There was something brittle in her voice, like paper left too long in the rain.
I said softly, "Then don't do it for him. Do it for you."
She smiled faintly, the kind that doesn't reach the eyes but still means something. "You always did talk like an old monk."
"I prefer 'wise entrepreneur.'"
She laughed — really laughed this time, the sound echoing lightly through the workshop. It had been too long since I'd heard it.
Later, we walked through the gardens. The ink herbs glowed faintly in the moonlight, silver veins pulsing as they drew chakra from the air. Rina reached out to touch one of the leaves, her expression curious.
"They hum," she said.
"They're tuned to the flow of the Chakra in the wind. It helps them grow faster."
She tilted her head, listening. "It's beautiful. And eerie."
"Like most things that work."
We wandered for a while, saying nothing. The night was cool and smelled faintly of damp soil and iron. Somewhere far off, a ninken barked once, twice, then fell silent.
After a long pause, she spoke again.
"Do you ever wish you hadn't taken all this on? The clan. The legions. The politics?"
"Sometimes," I admitted. "But then I remember — if I hadn't, someone else would have. And they'd have done it worse."
She gave a small, tired smile. "That's a very Ren answer."
"And yet, you're still here listening to it."
She shrugged, brushing a stray hair from her cheek. "Maybe I like difficult men."
I chuckled. "Then you're in the right village."
We stopped near the small footbridge that led toward the ink vats. The moonlight shimmered faintly on the surface of the water below.
Rina looked down at her reflection, then said,
"I'll be leaving next week. To our ancient clan grounds for inspecting the new batch of Ninken. Maybe I'll find one worth bonding with."
"Then take a good one," I said quietly. "Not the biggest. Not the fiercest. The one that listens."
"That's what Souta said once," she murmured. "Right before…"
Her voice trailed off.
Neither of us finished the sentence.
-----
When she finally turned to leave, she said softly,
"You've changed, Ren. You smile less now."
I looked back at the glowing vats, at the soft hiss of the seals feeding chakra into the pulp.
"I have more to lose now," I said.
She nodded once, as if that made perfect sense, and walked away.
Her figure disappeared down the moonlit path, steady, certain — and somehow lonelier than before.
That night, as I returned to my workshop, the glow of the seals reflected faintly off the ink vats, like captured stars trembling on black water.
For the first time in months, I felt the quiet press of something I hadn't let in for a long time.
Not fear.
Not even anger.
Just the awareness that peace — real peace — had never belonged to people like us. Chains? huh? Should've listened to that scheming old man.
And that was fine. Because if we couldn't rest, we could at least build something so that ours would.