Naruto: Being a Shinobi with no System But...

”Thank you for the food, senpai. I’ll take my leave now.”

Itachi declined to share in Shinmi’s ill-gotten gains. He calmly stated that he had not contributed to the matter, nor had he been part of the initial agreement for remuneration. He accepted only the 20,000 ryō stipulated by the mission. In turn, Roshi quietly settled the bill.

As dusk deepened, Roshi rubbed his aching shoulders, preparing to resume his training. Just as he turned a corner, a figure in an animal mask appeared soundlessly, cloaked in shadows.

”Hokage-sama requests your presence.” The Anbu’s voice was flat, devoid of emotion.

Roshi scratched his head helplessly and glanced up at the crimson evening sky. The feeling was all too familiar—like being called in for overtime in his previous life. With a weary sigh, he followed the silent escort, his figure soon swallowed by the night.

Inside the Hokage’s office, the final rays of the setting sun spilled across the room, gilding it in warm gold. Hiruzen Sarutobi stood with his back to the door, the hem of his robe stirring gently in the breeze. Hearing footsteps, he turned slowly. Smoke curled lazily from his pipe, rising into the beam of light.

”This mission was carried out well. You’ve worked hard,” the Third Hokage said, his voice gentle, though his seasoned eyes remained piercing. He tapped the pipe lightly, scattering a few ashes onto the tray.

”Hokage-sama, you flatter me.”

”No—it’s the truth.” Hiruzen’s tone softened, but then shifted. ”When you were on border duty before, you didn’t display such talent…” His eyes narrowed slightly. ”Roshi, what do you think of that boy, Itachi?”

”His talent is exceptional—far beyond his peers.”

”That child has lost his comrades, as have you.” The Hokage’s voice grew heavier. ”Since you work well together, why not continue? As for the missing member of the squad, I’ll arrange a suitable candidate.”

Roshi frowned. ”With my qualifications, I’m afraid I’m not yet suited to be an instructor.”

By Konoha’s tradition, such a team arrangement left only two options: either he would lead as captain with two Genin under him, or else a Chunin—or even a Jonin—would be transferred in, and the squad’s missions would immediately escalate to B-rank or higher.

”This is Itachi’s own request,” Hiruzen explained, his gaze shifting toward the twilight outside. ”He no longer wishes to be paired with Genin…” The sentence trailed off, but Roshi understood. After witnessing his comrades’ deaths, the young Uchiha no longer wanted to experience that pain.

”If you’re unwilling, I won’t press the matter.” The Third exhaled a smoke ring, fingers tapping softly against the desk. ”It’s not fair to involve Genin in high-level missions. Nor would it be responsible for you.”

The office fell into silence, broken only by the faint crackle of burning tobacco. Then, with a sudden movement, the Hokage stood, his robe sweeping across the floor.

”Still…” His expression softened, his tone earnest. ”I hope you’ll think it over. If you refuse, there are Uchiha willing to take him on missions. But if possible, I’d rather their children not limit themselves solely to the clan.” A flicker of complexity passed through his eyes.

Roshi asked cautiously, ”And his father? What is the Uchiha clan’s stance?”

”Fugaku will not object,” Hiruzen replied evenly.

”In that case,” Roshi inclined his head, ”I have no objections either.”

The Hokage’s expression eased, a rare smile tugging at the corners of his lips. ”As expected… Roshi, how is Lady Momoka’s health?”

”Very good,” Roshi answered simply.

Hiruzen nodded, then pulled an old file from a drawer. Roshi caught a glimpse—it was his own record. Without a word, the Hokage uncapped his pen and wrote on it before Roshi’s eyes.

”For the time being, you won’t need to accept new missions,” he said. ”Use this period to prepare for your promotion… to Jōnin.”

”Jōnin?” Roshi’s eyes widened in genuine surprise.

The word carried weight. Jōnin were the backbone of Konoha, the true core of its strength, second only to the Hokage. Each one possessed the qualifications, at least in theory, to contend for that very seat. It was not a title granted lightly. And its numbers were always kept few.

Throughout Konoha’s history, only a handful had ever risen to the rank of Jōnin while still in their teens—Kakashi Hatake, Might Guy, and, in the years to come, Hyūga Neji. Such promotions demanded not only extraordinary talent and the strength to match, but were often tied to unusual circumstances or bitter sacrifices. Kakashi’s father, the White Fang, had died under mysterious circumstances; Maito Dai gave his life to save his son, crippling the Seven Ninja Swordsmen of the Mist in the process; and Hyūga Hizashi willingly surrendered himself to prevent a war.

Konoha’s promotions, then, were not always decided by merit alone, but sometimes as gestures of recompense… or appeasement.

”Just Special Jōnin,” Hiruzen said at last, breaking Roshi’s thoughts.

Roshi let out a quiet breath of relief. Special Jōnin stood in a class of their own. Unlike full Jōnin, they were not promoted for all-round excellence, but for mastering a particular field or possessing talents too valuable to ignore—keen sensory perception, unrivaled medical Ninjutsu, or advanced sealing techniques. Their authority was lower than that of standard Jōnin but higher than Chūnin, often tasked with specialized missions or serving as expert advisors.

This arrangement also spared him the political wrangling a direct Jōnin promotion might stir.

”Understood,” Roshi replied evenly. In truth, Special Jōnin suited him better: greater mission authority and higher pay, with fewer administrative chains tying him down. It was, in many ways, ideal.

The Third Hokage slid the file back into the drawer with a muted scrape. ”Someone will inform you of the promotion process. You’ll need two letters of recommendation from active Chūnin or Jōnin, and you’ll have to pass an assessment in your area of specialty.” His eyes lingered on Roshi, carrying a silent weight. ”With your ability, I doubt it will pose a problem. As for the recommendation letters…”

Roshi understood immediately. His parents had fallen on the battlefield. His Jōnin instructor had died during the Nine-Tails’ attack. His comrades from border duty had perished against Kumogakure. The most obvious candidates to vouch for him were all gone. If necessary, Hiruzen would arrange replacements—but Roshi preferred to rely on his own strength.

”I’ll handle it myself,” Roshi said firmly.

Grandma Momoka could likely contact some of the Senju who had gone into seclusion. Though many had changed their names and blended quietly into Konoha’s fabric, they had once been the village’s core strength. He had seen them at family gatherings during festivals. Several of them still held the rank of Chūnin or Jōnin—securing their recommendations should not be difficult.

Hiruzen gave a small nod. ”Very well. Prepare yourself. As for Itachi’s team—once it is complete, the Anbu will notify you.”

”Yes.” Roshi bowed, then turned and took his leave.

By the time he stepped out of the Hokage Building, night had already claimed the village. Lanterns flickered along the streets, casting warm halos across the cobblestones. A cool evening breeze brushed against his face, carrying with it the faint traces of tobacco smoke from the Hokage’s office.

Promotion to Special Jōnin… The title itself meant little to him. But the freedom, access to higher-level missions, and more generous pay—those were things he could use. And for now, that was enough.