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

The hot desert wind blew relentlessly, carrying fine grains of sand that pricked against their faces like tiny needles.

Every breath felt dry and scorching, as if the air itself wanted to burn its way down their throats.

All around them stretched an endless sea of sand—rolling dunes frozen in motion, vast waves of sand cresting toward a horizon where earth and sky blended into a pale mirage.

”It’s so damn hot.”

Izumo Kamizuki wheezed, the heat pressing down on him like a physical weight. Even the pack on his back seemed to have doubled in mass.

Kotetsu Hagane trudged beside him, sweat dripping down his chin. ”I think my eyebrows just melted.”

Anko turned around with a smirk, her tone merciless. ”We’ve barely crossed the border into the Land of Wind, and you two are already ready to drop? Pathetic.”

”It is hotter than last time,” Roshi said evenly, shielding his eyes from the sun.

Or perhaps he simply hadn’t noticed the heat during his previous visit—there had been no time to. That mission had been a storm of politics and urgency; the climate had been the least of his concerns.

This time, Team 5 was smaller.

Itachi had been ordered to remain in the Village due to the current delicate political situation, while Shisui was keeping an eye on him in Roshi’s absence.

If anything unexpected happened, they were to go straight to Tsunade. With those two working together, Roshi could afford to leave Konoha with peace of mind.

As for Kotetsu and Izumo, their inclusion was intentional. The mission carried less risk than his last diplomatic assignment—it was, in part, a training opportunity. Konoha needed its next generation to gain experience beyond the village walls, even if it meant roasting them a bit in the Wind Country sun.

”Now that you mention it, it really does feel hotter,” Anko said brightly, instantly switching sides.

Izumo and Kotetsu exchanged a look, too drained to roll their eyes properly.

The journey continued in silence until the familiar sight of a massive canyon came into view—Sunagakure’s outer perimeter.

Roshi raised his hand, signaling the group to stop.

Compared to their last visit, the number of visible and hidden sentries was noticeably fewer.

Either Sunagakure had loosened its internal patrols since the alliance… or something had changed in their military structure.

A small squad of Sand shinobi appeared from the canyon pass. The leader, a man only slightly older than Roshi, stepped forward.

”Konoha ninja?” His sharp eyes swept over the group before settling on Roshi. ”I am Yura, Jonin of Sunagakure. I was assigned to receive you.”

”Roshi, Jonin of Konohagakure,” Roshi replied calmly.

The two went through the standard verification process—far simpler than the last time.

Once complete, Yura gestured for them to follow. Unlike before, they were not confined to the narrow, stifling rock chamber. Instead, they were escorted directly through the canyon into Sunagakure itself.

Their assigned quarters were modest but comfortable—clean bedding, fresh water, and a steady stream of cool desert air through the narrow windows.

”Konoha representatives, please rest here for now,” Yura said. ”The Kazekage is occupied, but Advisor Ebizo will meet with you shortly.”

”Understood. Thank you,” Roshi nodded.

Without further conversation, Yura turned and left, leaving two guards stationed discreetly outside the door.

Anko glanced around the room, eyebrows raised. ”That’s it? They’re way more polite than last time.”

”The circumstances have changed,” Roshi said simply.

Last time, Sunagakure had sought to exploit Konoha’s vulnerability, applying pressure at every turn.

Now, with the new alliance sealed, diplomacy took precedence over intimidation.

”How are you two holding up?” he asked without looking back.

”It’s much better inside the village,” Izumo replied quickly, grateful for the shade. Kotetsu nodded in agreement, slumping against the wall.

”Good. Get some rest. Anko, first watch is yours.”

”Roger that,” she said, twirling a kunai around her finger.

Roshi sat down on a chair, exhaled slowly, and closed his eyes. His mind sifted through potential outcomes, rehearsing the likely conversations with Ebizo and Rasa.

Two hours later, a soft knock came at the door.

”The Honored Advisor will see you now.”

Roshi rose, adjusting his flak vest.

Ebizo hadn’t changed since their last meeting—slightly stooped, wrapped in thick robes despite the heat, but with eyes as sharp and steady as a hawk’s.

Age hadn’t dulled the man’s instincts, nor his political acumen.

”Sit down, Konoha brat.”

Ebizo lifted his heavy eyelids in greeting, his gaze sweeping lazily across the group behind Roshi.

”Hm? That quiet little brat from last time isn’t here. You’ve brought two new ones instead.”

Izumo and Kotetsu froze under his scrutiny, stiff as boards. Their nervousness seemed to amuse the old man; he gave a hoarse chuckle, deep and dry like sand scraping against stone.

”Two honest-looking kids. Not bad. And you—” his eyes slid to Anko, ”—the purple-haired girl. Where’s the other one? Don’t tell me he’s folded up somewhere in a secret Konoha mission.”

”He went back to school,” Anko said smoothly, her expression betraying nothing.

Ebizo clicked his tongue in disappointment. ”Pity. The new ones look a bit too normal.”

Roshi spoke evenly, his tone courteous yet firm. ”Even so, anyone would be tense standing before the great Advisor of Sunagakure.”

The old man’s lips curved slightly. ”Now that’s the kind of talk I like. Smart mouth, but not without sense.”

He leaned forward. ”Alright, Konoha envoy Roshi—tell me. You didn’t cross the desert just to pay an old man a visit, did you?”

”I’ve come under orders to invite the Hidden Sand Village to participate in Konoha’s upcoming joint Chunin Selection Exams.”

Ebizo’s grizzled eyebrows twitched. Then he laughed—a low, gravelly sound. ”A joint Chunin Exam, eh? Hah! Konoha sure recovers fast. Barely catches its breath from one disaster and already eager to throw a festival.”

He lifted his teacup, taking a long sip before continuing. ”Unfortunately, Sunagakure doesn’t have time to play games.”

”This exam isn’t a game,” Roshi replied calmly. ”It’s meant to foster exchange among the next generation—Genin from each village testing and learning from one another. For Sunagakure, it’s an opportunity to display its new strength before the world.”

Ebizo set down his cup with a faint clack. ”An opportunity? On Konoha’s home turf?” His tone dripped with derision. ”You’re not selling me anything new, boy. Try again. Tell me something useful.”

Roshi didn’t flinch. ”Then perhaps I should ask—has Sunagakure’s western front become so strained that even sending a few qualified Genin teams to an exam has become a burden?”

Ebizo’s eyes narrowed, the faintest glint of hostility flashing in them.

”When that old fossil Ōnoki’s feet finally step onto the sands of Wind Country,” he growled, ”then you can say that to me.”

Roshi’s voice was steady, unruffled. ”The Third Tsuchikage may not covet your sands… but he’s certainly interested in everything beyond them.”

The old man’s expression darkened.

Izumo and Kotetsu exchanged uneasy looks. The tension was so thick it was suffocating. Was this really how envoys conducted diplomacy?

Anko, meanwhile, looked utterly unfazed, idly examining her nails. That, more than anything, reassured the two rookies.

After a pause, Ebizo exhaled through his nose and changed tack. ”You talk big, brat, but sending several Genin teams requires Jonin mentors—travel expenses, protection, supplies. All that costs money. Our village can’t afford to throw ryo into the wind.”

”As the host village, Konoha will naturally cover the expenses for our guests,” Roshi replied without missing a beat.

Ebizo slammed his palm onto the table. ”Don’t get smart with me! We can afford to feed a few mouths ourselves!”

Then, abruptly, the old man grinned. ”You know what? Since you’re here, I’ll show you what real Sunagakure hospitality tastes like. Let’s go—you’re eating with me tonight!”

Anko blinked. Izumo and Kotetsu nearly stumbled.

They’d gone from political sparring to dinner invitations in under a minute.

Still, refusing wasn’t an option. Moments later, they were ushered into a modest but tidy dining hall, where dishes of roasted desert fowl, spicy grain stew, and cactus sake were already being served.

Throughout the meal, Ebizo’s earlier hostility seemed to dissolve. He laughed often, spoke freely, and tried more than once to get Roshi to drink.

”I’m underage,” Roshi said flatly, pushing the cup back toward him.

”Just a little. Builds character.”

”One of the Three Shinobi Prohibitions, Advisor. Alcohol is among them.”

Ebizo’s grin widened. ”Those are your village’s rules, brat. Not mine.”

”…”

Their back-and-forth drew faint chuckles from Anko, who seemed to be enjoying herself far too much.

Then, out of nowhere, Ebizo leaned forward. ”This joint exam of yours—it’s got Tsunade’s fingerprints all over it, doesn’t it?”

Roshi’s tone didn’t waver. ”It’s a collective initiative—meant to strengthen relations and promote exchange between the Villages.”

”Spare me the official talk.” The old man snorted. ”You’re not fooling anyone, troublesome brat.”

He rested his elbows on the table, his gaze sharp once more. ”Tell me—what’s in it for us? For Sunagakure? You expect us to send our best Genin just so your own can shine? I remember that Uchiha kid—the prodigy. He’ll be there, won’t he?”

Roshi didn’t answer, but the faintest flicker of acknowledgment crossed his eyes.

”Exactly,” Ebizo said, his tone sharpening. ”A stage built by Konoha, for Konoha. Even if our Genin are strong, they’ll just become stepping stones for yours. Tell me, how should we explain that loss to the parents who trusted us with their sons and daughters?”

”The ninja we spend our meager funds to raise aren’t meant to make your village look good.”

Roshi remained silent, though inwardly, he couldn’t help the faint sigh that stirred in his thoughts.

’You have to hand it to him. Only someone like Ebizo could say such shameless things with a straight face.’

Sunagakure’s ”academy system” was almost nonexistent—half its Genin survived purely by raw instinct and brutal training, not education. And yet here he was, lecturing him about nurturing the next generation.

Still, beneath Ebizo’s gruffness, Roshi could sense the truth. The Hidden Sand Village was cornered—its resources stretched thin, its western borders unstable, and Iwagakure’s expansion casting a long shadow.

This wasn’t pride speaking. It was negotiation.

”Don’t think this old man can’t see through it,” Ebizo said, voice dropping lower. ”Hosting this exam benefits Konoha the most. You get to flaunt your strength, measure ours, and take the moral high ground while doing it. Don’t deny it.”

He leaned back, arms crossed. ”So, if you want Sunagakure to participate… you’d better make it worth our while.”

The air between them grew still.

Ebizo’s tone softened into something almost sly. ”Give me something tangible, Roshi. A deal that makes this old man forget how hot and poor this desert is.”

His eyes glinted like sunlit glass.

”Otherwise,” he added, ”the next time you Konoha brats come knocking, you’ll find only sand.”

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