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

Roshi’s early return to Konoha—without even stopping at Grass Village—caught Tsunade off guard. She had been buried in paperwork when the news arrived.

Soon after, she and the Third Hokage summoned him to the Hokage’s office.

”Sunagakure’s situation isn’t good, then?” Tsunade asked, arms crossed.

Roshi gave a short nod. ”Their resources are stretched thin, and the Jinchūriki’s seal has become unstable.”

At that, Hiruzen’s brows drew together, pipe forgotten in his hand.

”…A Tailed Beast’s instability changes everything.” His voice was quiet but heavy. ”That makes Sunagakure a potential threat—both to itself and to others.”

He turned slightly toward Tsunade. ”We’ll need to keep a close watch on the Land of Rivers border.”

Tsunade understood immediately. ”If Ōnoki keeps pressing Rasa, and Sunagakure finds itself cornered, there’s no telling what desperate measures they might take.”

Her tone softened only slightly as she added, ”Since you’ve already arranged to talk again after the Chunin Exams, we’ll leave it at that for now.”

The meeting concluded shortly after, and Roshi’s team was given a brief rest before departing again the next morning.

The road to the Grass Country was peaceful—too peaceful.

The last time Roshi had come near this border was during the war with Iwagakure. Back then, the area had been a battlefield, and he hadn’t set foot in Grass Village itself.

Now that he had, the place lived up to its name: a land that bent whichever way the wind blew.

Nestled between great nations, the Grass Village had long survived by being agreeable to everyone and loyal to no one. It was neither strong nor particularly trustworthy—but it was adaptable.

Its only true claim to importance was Hōzuki Castle—a grim offshore prison used by all major villages to contain dangerous ninja they neither wanted to execute nor keep.

When Konoha’s arrival was announced, Grass Village had already dispatched two Chunin to meet them at the gates.

Everything seemed normal.

But the moment Roshi stepped inside, he sensed it.

Something was off.

The number of patrols was abnormally high—far too high for peacetime. Every few minutes, another group of Grass ninja would hurry past, faces tense and alert.

This isn’t security, Roshi thought. It’s fear.

Their official reception was handled by a polite Grass Jonin named Hayami, who welcomed them with careful courtesy.

After the initial greetings, Roshi got straight to the point. He presented Konoha’s formal invitation for Grass Village to participate in the upcoming joint Chunin Selection Exams.

Hayami listened attentively, then bowed. ”We are honored that Konoha would extend such an invitation to our humble village.”

”However,” he continued, choosing his words with care, ”this concerns the training plans for our Genin and the allocation of mission resources. I cannot decide this on my own. Once the elders have convened, we’ll be able to provide you with a clear answer.”

Roshi inclined his head. ”Of course. We understand. We’ll wait.”

Hayami’s polite smile returned. ”Please, make yourselves comfortable in the guesthouse for now.”

The lodgings were clean, spacious, and well-kept—far better than the sandy rooms of Sunagakure.

Izumo and Kotetsu both sighed in relief the moment they sat down.

”Now this is how diplomacy should work,” Kotetsu said, stretching. ”Smooth reception, friendly host, no giant monsters.”

”Right?” Izumo added. ”If every mission was like this, I’d sign up for more.”

Anko, standing by the window with her arms crossed, shot them a side glance. ”You two sure about that?”

”What do you mean?” Izumo asked.

Anko frowned slightly. ”The air here… it feels heavy. Like something’s crawling under your skin. Doesn’t it bother you?”

Kotetsu smirked. ”Maybe there’s another Tailed Beast about to lose it.”

But his smile died when he caught Roshi’s expression.

”No,” Roshi said quietly. ”Grass Village doesn’t have a Tailed Beast.”

He moved to the window and pulled back the curtain just enough to peer outside. Another patrol squad passed by, whispering to one another in hushed tones.

”But Anko’s right,” Roshi continued. ”Something’s wrong here. Their alert level isn’t normal. It’s not vigilance—it’s preparation.”

”Preparation for what?” Kotetsu asked.

Roshi didn’t answer. His eyes followed the patrol until it vanished from sight.

If this were a mission to one of the Five Great Villages, he would have stayed cautious, kept his distance, and acted as though nothing were wrong. Stirring trouble in a major power was reckless.

But this was Grass Village.

Not a power, not a threat—just a small, shifting outpost caught between giants.

And if something was happening here, Konoha had a right to know.

Roshi let the curtain fall back into place, his voice calm but resolute.

”Tonight, I’ll investigate myself.”

He turned from the window, eyes glinting in the dim lantern light.

”Anko, stay here and keep the guesthouse under watch. Izumo, Kotetsu—you’ll stay inside. Don’t move without my signal.”

The three of them straightened instinctively.

”Yes, Captain.”

Night fell swiftly over the Grass Village.

A heavy wind rustled the trees outside, carrying the faint scent of rain. Inside, Roshi left a Shadow Clone seated in quiet meditation, a perfect mimic of his chakra signature. Then, without a sound, he slipped a thin wooden tag—etched with a Flying Thunder God seal—beneath the bedframe.

A safety line. Just in case.

His hands blurred through hand signs.

Wood Release: Transformation Jutsu.

His form rippled and shifted, the light bending around him until only an unremarkable middle-aged Grass ninja remained—utterly forgettable.

Without disturbing even a creak of the floorboards, Roshi slid open the window and vanished into the night.

The village was far from asleep.

Dim lanterns flickered behind shuttered windows. Shadows moved restlessly across rooftops and alleyways. Patrols were everywhere—too many for a place supposedly at peace.

Roshi kept to the darkness, silent and fluid, making his way first to the meeting hall where he’d spoken with Jonin Hayami earlier.

Empty. Completely dark.

No secret meetings. No whispers.

He checked two other sites that might serve as command posts—nothing.

Strange, he thought. They’re on high alert, but not for us.

As he was about to move toward the inner district, a faint noise caught his ear—hurried footsteps and muffled voices.

Roshi melted into the shadows and watched as several Grass ninja passed by, carrying a stretcher. Someone was lying on it, wrapped in bloodstained cloth.

He followed silently, keeping to the rooftops.

”Move faster! They’re waiting!” one of the ninja hissed.

”Tch, this one’s in bad shape,” another muttered. ”Lucky for him that woman isn’t locked up in Hōzuki Castle yet.”

”She’s getting weaker every time,” a third said with a low laugh. ”Her healing’s barely working anymore.”

”What’s the problem? We’ve still got the younger one, don’t we? If the mother breaks…” He snorted. ”We’ll manage.”

Roshi’s eyes narrowed.

Hōzuki Castle. A woman with healing ability. A younger one…

Don’t tell me…

The fragments aligned instantly in his mind—red hair, special vitality, ”medicine” for the village.

The Uzumaki. Karin and her mother.

The Grass ninja finally stopped at a dilapidated wooden house at the village’s edge. The leader knocked roughly on the door.

After a moment, the door creaked open, revealing a pale woman with long, dull red hair. Her eyes flickered with exhaustion and fear. When she saw the stretcher, her expression shifted to hollow resignation. She said nothing—just nodded faintly and stepped outside to follow them.

For a brief second, as the door swung open, Roshi saw a small figure standing in the corner of the room.

A girl—perhaps three or four—her crimson hair catching the lantern glow.

She clutched the hem of her shirt tightly, staring at her mother’s back with wide, tear-brimmed eyes. Her lips trembled, but no sound came out.

The door closed, and silence followed.

Only the faint sound of a child’s quiet sobs seeped into the night.

Roshi remained still, hidden in the darkness, his face unreadable. He’d seen countless atrocities—villages burned, families slaughtered—but there were moments like this, small and fragile, that pierced even the armor of a seasoned shinobi.

And beyond pity, he recognized value.

An Uzumaki with healing chakra strong enough to sustain others—two of them, were rare assets in any world.

Still, he couldn’t act. Not here. Not as a Konoha envoy surrounded by foreign ninja.

When the Grass team returned, the man who’d been on the stretcher was already standing, healthy enough to walk. The red-haired woman, however, looked barely conscious. Her steps wavered, her face as white as chalk, fresh bite marks running along her forearm.

They left her at the door without a word.

”Mommy!”

The girl ran to her immediately, tears spilling down her cheeks.

”It’s okay, Karin… Mommy’s fine,” the woman murmured, voice thin as a thread. ”Just… a little tired.”

Her arm trembled as she stroked her daughter’s hair, and the two fresh rows of teeth marks stood out against her pale skin.

”Mommy, please, let’s go. Let’s leave this place—”

”Where could we go?” her mother interrupted softly, smiling with weary kindness. ”Outside is worse, my dear. Here… at least, we survive.”

”But you’ll die!” Karin’s voice cracked.

The woman didn’t answer. Her strength gave out, and she slumped to the floor, breathing shallowly.

Karin bit her lip to stop her cries. She wiped her tears with her sleeve, but they wouldn’t stop. Finally, she crept outside, crouching by the wall of the shack. Her tiny shoulders shook with muffled sobs.

Then—

A shadow fell over her.

Karin froze and looked up. Through the blur of tears, she saw a Grass ninja standing before her, silent and unfamiliar.

Her first instinct was fear—she stumbled backward, trembling.

But then she heard his voice.

”Do you want to leave this place?”

The words were calm. Neither kind nor cruel—just steady.

”With your mother,” he added.

Karin’s heart thumped painfully. Of course she wanted to. Every second of every day, she wanted to run. But her mother’s warnings echoed in her head: Outside is worse.

Still, something about this man felt… different. Her bloodline’s sensitivity whispered it to her—there was no malice, no hunger in his chakra.

”C-Can you… take us away?” Her voice was barely a whisper.

Roshi didn’t answer directly. He crouched down slightly, his face unreadable.

”If you want to escape,” he said softly, ”then survive first.”

He flicked his fingers lightly. A small wooden tag fell at her feet, etched with strange markings.

”This is just a chance,” he said. ”Hide it. Keep it safe. When the time comes—use it.”

Before Karin could speak again, the man was gone, swallowed by the night.

For a long moment, she just stared at the spot where he’d stood. Then she crawled forward, picked up the wooden tag, and clutched it tightly to her chest.

The tears had stopped.

She curled up by the wall, clutching the charm close, her trembling fingers wrapped around it as if it were her mother’s hand.

Somewhere deep inside, a tiny flame began to flicker—fragile, but alive.

Hope.

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Next Chapter : Sage of Six Paths Tools

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