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

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Kakuzu’s gaze swept lazily over the two newcomers.

One was a white-haired, red-eyed man with a gloomy air, brought in by Konan. The other was a large, powerfully built man led by Zetsu, his face fixed in an artificial, overly kind smile.

One was a former Konoha ninja who had defected years ago.

The other… didn’t even exist on the black market’s bounty lists.

Kakuzu rapidly cross-referenced their faces with the mental catalog of targets he’d memorized over decades and reached a swift conclusion:

’Limited value.’

”If we’re forming teams like usual,” he muttered to himself, ”pairing me with that Hidan guy wouldn’t be bad.”

Hidan still carried a respectable bounty, and his strength was nothing special. With someone like that, ”accidents” during missions were both easy to arrange and profitable.

”Orochimaru.”

Pain’s voice echoed through the hollow cavern, cutting off Kakuzu’s train of thought.

”You will be teamed with Kakuzu.”

The faint spark of calculation in Kakuzu’s eyes died instantly.

Orochimaru was not someone who could be ”accidentally” killed. Though undeniably valuable, he was nearly impossible to convert into money. Teaming with him meant one fewer income stream—an unacceptable loss.

Since new blood was clearly welcome, Kakuzu made one last attempt.

”Then why not let that reserve member, Tobi, become official?” he said flatly. ”He helped me out before.”

Kakuzu disliked owing favors—and preferred to settle debts quickly.

”He is not ready,” Pain replied without hesitation.

”Hiruko,” he continued, shifting his focus, ”you were recommended because of your thirst for power and the jutsu you developed. The Akatsuki will provide you support—once, and only once.”

Hiruko’s red eyes flicked coldly toward Orochimaru.

He had been carefully concealed, wholly devoted to perfecting his Chimera Technique, when the Akatsuki suddenly came knocking. There had been no room for refusal.

Shinno’s gaze also carried a trace of scrutiny—and displeasure.

Orochimaru, however, paid neither of them any attention.

His eyes were fixed entirely on Pain.

More precisely—on Pain’s eyes.

The Rinnegan.

And that face…

’What an irony of fate, Jiraiya.’

’The child you sheltered in the Land of Rain now commands those legendary eyes…’

The first time Orochimaru had met Pain, greed had overtaken caution. He had attacked without hesitation—only to be utterly crushed by the power of the dōjutsu.

”This is the last time, Orochimaru.”

Pain’s voice at the time had been cold and absolute.

Having personally tasted the power of those eyes, Orochimaru believed that without a shred of doubt.

”Hiruko,” Pain said, returning to the present, ”you will be teamed with Biwa Jūzō.”

”Shinno, you will work with Zetsu.”

With that, the team assignments were finalized.

”Until further notice,” Pain concluded, ”you will act independently. Await the order to assemble.”

The cavern fell silent once more.

—

”A slight miscalculation,” Roshi concluded after sampling the butter hotpot.

The milky aroma was undeniably rich, but even seasoned with salt, the base itself felt thin. Aside from accentuating the natural sweetness of high-quality beef, achieving real depth still depended heavily on dipping sauces.

”Delicious! Roshi, this butter hotpot is amazing!”

Unlike his overly critical palate, Anko looked thoroughly satisfied. A faint sheen of sweat dotted the bridge of her nose as she ate with gusto. Beside her, Itachi maintained his usual refined composure, but the steady rhythm of his chopsticks suggested he’d accepted this novel flavor without complaint.

The Forest of Death’s elimination phase had concluded smoothly, without major incident.

Granted a rare night back in the Village, the three members of Team 5 had gathered once more at Anko’s apartment.

Roshi said nothing. He rose quietly, walked into the kitchen, and prepared two additional dipping sauces for himself—one sharp with sourness and spice, the other rich and savory.

”By the way,” Anko said after swallowing a mouthful of tender beef and washing it down with cool tea, ”Roshi… I want to apply to join the Anbu.”

The atmosphere at the table stilled.

Roshi set the small bowls of sauce before him, sat back down, and met her gaze. ”Why?”

”It’s just…” She nudged the food in her bowl with her chopsticks, her voice lowering. ”I feel stuck. Regular training doesn’t break through the bottleneck anymore.”

”It’s too comfortable.”

If Team 5 stayed like this, it wouldn’t be bad at all.

But Itachi had already entered the Anbu. Roshi, too, was increasingly consumed by matters tied to the Village—and to his own research. Missions, responsibilities, and goals stretched endlessly ahead.

She could remain here, taking the occasional assignment, eventually becoming a jōnin or a special jōnin without much difficulty.

Once, what she couldn’t bear to leave was a home she’d only just found.

But now… even if they weren’t on the same team anymore, the three of them would still sit together like this.

”Maybe,” Anko said softly, eyes downcast, ”I’ll find something different in the Anbu. In their missions. In that environment.”

Roshi placed several beautifully marbled slices of beef into the bubbling pot, watching as the edges quickly pale and curl.

In the future, he would be going on fewer and fewer field missions. Until his Tailed Beast Chakra experiments were complete, most of his time would be consumed by research. Even his trips outside the Village would be official assignments.

If Anko wanted comfort, staying in Team 5 would be fine. As for her obsession with killing Orochimaru… life like this had dulled its edge.

Even if it hadn’t, it was still a goal with no clear endpoint.

But if she still wanted to move forward as a ninja, then the Anbu was a valid path.

”I understand,” Roshi said at last, lifting a slice of beef into his bowl. ”I’ll submit the application for you.”

”And I’ll also think about your future training.”

Without relying on Orochimaru’s Cursed Seal, Anko would need a new direction.

The fact that she had once adapted to the Cursed Seal suggested a degree of compatibility with natural energy. In other words—she might possess latent potential for Sage Mode.

But her chakra reserves…

They might not be sufficient for independent training.

Borrowing chakra through Katsuyu to help her cross the threshold?

That raised its own issues.

Orochimaru’s Cursed Seal was derived from Jūgo’s bodily fluids, and Jūgo’s innate Sage Body aligned more closely with Ryūchi Cave’s model—its power focused on physical reinforcement and mutation.

That path was different from Mount Myōboku’s… and different from Roshi’s own approach, which emphasized pure chakra quantity.

If he helped Anko along this road, would the end result resemble Ryūchi Cave’s Sage Mode?

And during training, what unpredictable effects would Orochimaru’s lingering influence introduce?

…It seemed another research topic had just been added to the list.

Roshi glanced down at the beef in his bowl, glistening with golden oil, and dipped it silently into the sour-spicy sauce.

—

Inside Amegakure’s towering buildings, cold rain lashed endlessly against the stone walls.

Obito stood by the window, wearing the mask of ”Uchiha Madara.”

Disrupt Konoha’s joint Chunin Exams?

Was it possible?

Yes.

The method itself was brutally simple.

Spare no cost. Assassinate every traveler, wealthy merchant, noble, and even Daimyō bound for Konoha. Turn every road leading to the Leaf into a corridor of fear and corpses.

Without spectators, the grand competition would lose its meaning. Without profit or prestige, Konoha’s motivation would collapse on its own.

But Iwagakure would never approve such an act—nor would it shield Akatsuki afterward.

Conflicts between ninja villages existed for one purpose: plundering resources. As military entities that produced nothing themselves, indiscriminate slaughter of merchants and civilians—the very class that sustained the world’s economy—would ignite universal outrage.

That old fox Ōnoki would sell out Akatsuki at the first hint of danger.

A Five Kage Summit would follow. A unanimous decision. A joint extermination campaign.

With Nagato’s Rinnegan, it might be possible to forcibly annihilate a single village, enough to terrify the rest into hesitation.

But after that?

Endless pursuit. Relentless attrition. Open and covert attacks spanning the entire Ninja World.

Even then, Akatsuki wouldn’t truly be destroyed. He still possessed the ultimate trump card—the resurrection of the real Uchiha Madara.

But invoking that power meant surrendering control.

And Obito had no intention of becoming a pawn in someone else’s game.

For now, Akatsuki’s survival depended on remaining a blade—one wielded by others. Let the Five Great Ninja Villages clash, scheme, and undermine each other while Akatsuki harvested the fallout.

As long as inter-village conflict remained the world’s dominant theme, Akatsuki—cheap, deniable, and expendable—could continue to grow in the shadows.

So the first method was unacceptable.

What about the second?

Assassinating the Genin teams participating in the Chunin Exams?

That, too, would instantly make Akatsuki the enemy of every ninja village. The result would mirror the first plan—only faster.

Unacceptable.

Then the final option: directly attacking Konoha.

With Shinno now among Akatsuki’s ranks, mobilizing the remnants of the Sky Ninja Village was feasible. An aerial assault, launched without warning, could devastate Konoha—even now.

But that card could only be played once.

Once revealed, it would never work again.

To expend such a weapon merely to sabotage a single Chunin Exam?

Not worth the price.

Obito turned away from the rain-slicked window.

”Reject Ōnoki’s request.”

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