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

New Harry Potter Fic

A transmigrator reborn as Damien McGonagall—the nephew of Minerva McGonagall.

Growing up beside the Marauders, Lily and Snape.

Watch as Damien becomes the de-facto leader of the group and has adventures with his friends.

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”I’ve already inspected the dispatched squad. There are no further irregularities.”

”With Rasa dead and the commissions from the Land of Rivers cut off, Sunagakure will be under financial strain for quite some time.”

”However…” Roshi added evenly, ”in this situation, the Daimyō of the Land of Wind may choose to increase funding. A weakened military arm is still preferable to a collapsed one.”

With Sunagakure’s crisis temporarily concluded—and Rasa gone—the remaining pillars of the Sand were only Chiyo, Ebizō, and a still-young Gaara.

Roshi’s presence was no longer required at the front line. He had returned to Konoha to report in person.

Yet Tsunade did not seem to be listening.

Instead, she circled him slowly, arms folded, eyes narrowed. Her gaze traveled from his shoulders to his hands, then to his eyes, then back again. She even glanced upward, as if checking for cracks in the ceiling.

Finally, she stopped.

Her elbow jabbed lightly—but not gently—into his ribs.

”You’re really fine?” she demanded. ”You brought back another pair of troublemakers, and you’re not even an adult yet. At least wait a few more years before overworking yourself.”

Roshi’s eyelids lowered a fraction.

”Filthy adult.”

Tsunade’s eyebrows shot up instantly.

”What did you just say?”

”As per agreement,” Roshi continued calmly, as if nothing had happened, ”the people of Rōran will be allowed to settle near Konoha as an affiliated community.”

”The Dragon Vein cannot be relocated. Therefore, Sara and her daughter will remain within Konoha’s jurisdiction.”

Tsunade folded her arms, sarcasm dripping from her voice.

”Lord Roshi, the man capable of killing a Kazekage, certainly doesn’t need to consult me.”

”Since you’ve already arranged everything, we’ll proceed as you wish.”

She suddenly leaned closer, lowering her voice conspiratorially.

”Why don’t you just take this Hokage seat too?”

”This position is reserved for Kakashi,” Roshi replied flatly. ”Don’t even think about slipping away.”

”Tch.”

Tsunade dropped back into her chair with a thud, leaning so far that it creaked.

”The old man dumped it on Minato without hesitation…”

She muttered about ”time served” and ”it’s been long enough.”

”The Third Hokage served for decades,” Roshi reminded her calmly. ”You, my respected Fifth Hokage, are only a few years in.”

”You’ve stopped using honorifics entirely!” Tsunade snapped, slamming her palm on the desk.

”I prefixed it with ’respected.’”

A knock interrupted the brewing storm.

Shizune cautiously pushed the door open, peeking inside.

”Lady Tsunade… Roshi… the two Advisors are here.”

Tsunade straightened slightly. Roshi shifted to stand beside the Hokage’s desk, facing the entrance.

When Koharu and Homura entered, their expressions were grim.

They were pleased with the outcome of the war. A swift victory enhanced Konoha’s prestige and stabilized its finances.

But another piece of news had accompanied the victory.

One that weighed heavily.

”…Is it confirmed?” Koharu asked quietly.

Tsunade’s voice was steady.

”Yakushi Nono’s testimony has been verified by Inoichi. It is authentic.”

Koharu lowered her gaze.

”He allowed ambition to corrode him to the point of endangering the Village…”

Homura exhaled slowly.

”In that case… there is nothing left to argue.”

Silence settled over the office.

Not tense. But final.

Tsunade looked at Roshi.

”It’s decided.”

Her eyes were firm now—Hokage, not gambler.

”You will take the Anbu.”

”Carry out the execution.”

—

Danzo’s agitation deepened with every passing second.

Inside the dim Japanese-style room, four Anbu stood motionless in the corners. Two more guarded the corridor beyond the sliding door.

Complete isolation.

No reports.

No whispers.

No sense of the world outside.

What was happening at the front?

Where was Rasa?

The silence pressed in on him like a tightening vice.

Then—footsteps.

More than one.

Measured. Steady. Approaching.

At last… they’ve come.

The paper door slid open with a soft rasp. Danzo did not move. He remained seated, eyelids lowered, posture rigid—like a monk in meditation.

Only when the incoming figure fully crossed the threshold, blocking what little light filtered in, did he slowly lift his head.

”Roshi… So you came personally.”

”Danzo Shimura.” Roshi’s voice was calm, devoid of inflection. ”By unanimous decision of Konoha’s senior leadership, I am here to deliver the final judgment.”

He did not raise his voice. He did not need to.

”Collusion with rogue ninja. Unauthorized mobilization of border supplies. Assisting Sunagakure in seizing control of the Dragon Vein. Instigating war.”

Each charge fell like a hammer strike.

”You are convicted of treason against the Village.”

A pause.

”The final order is—” Roshi’s gaze settled on the bandaged eye hidden beneath Danzo’s wrappings, ”—you are to preserve your final dignity. Commit suicide immediately.”

Danzo’s body stiffened, almost imperceptibly.

His voice, when it came, was dry and hoarse.

”The front lines… how fares the battle?”

”Sunagakure was defeated,” Roshi replied. ”The Fourth Kazekage, Rasa, is dead.”

A faint sound escaped Danzo’s throat—a thin, almost inaudible chuckle.

”This old man’s judgment was correct… With Rasa gone, Sunagakure will be forced into full submission to Konoha.”

Roshi’s expression did not change.

”If you had not acted in secret, no one would have died on the front lines. Sunagakure would have followed Konoha’s lead regardless.”

Silence.

Longer this time.

”…This old man will comply,” Danzo said at last. ”However, I do not wish for you juniors to witness my final moment.”

Roshi studied him for several seconds.

Then he raised his hand.

The four Anbu withdrew soundlessly. Only one remained—the one who had accompanied Roshi.

Without another word, Roshi stepped outside and closed the sliding door behind him.

The wait was brief.

Moments later, the remaining Anbu reopened the door and gave a subtle nod.

Roshi stepped back inside.

Danzo lay collapsed on the tatami.

A short blade was buried deep in his chest. Dark blood pooled outward, soaking into the floor. His left hand still gripped the hilt, frozen in the posture of self-inflicted death.

Roshi stood beside the body.

Watching.

One second.

Two.

Ten.

Thirty.

A full minute passed.

He did not blink.

He did not move.

Then—

The corpse dissolved.

Like a reflection on disturbed water, it flickered and vanished.

In the same instant, a blade screamed through the air from Roshi’s blind side, cutting toward his throat with lethal precision.

It struck.

But the sensation was wrong.

The ”Roshi” that had been hit exploded into hardened wooden branches, twisting and lashing out like serpents. They wrapped around Danzo’s real body—who had materialized mid-strike—binding him in a crushing grip.

Before Danzo could react further, the Anbu who had stood quietly outside appeared before him.

Scarlet eyes opened.

Three tomoe spun slowly within the Sharingan of Uchiha Itachi, their cold gaze locking onto Danzo’s single exposed eye.

In that fractional lapse of focus—

Steel flashed.

Itachi’s short blade arced cleanly.

Danzo’s right arm fell to the tatami with a dull thud, severed at the shoulder. A suppressed groan tore from his throat as the wooden restraints tightened mercilessly around him.

He had not even managed to release the seals restraining the eye hidden beneath his bandages.

Roshi stepped fully back into the room.

”You seem unwilling to preserve your dignity, former Advisor Shimura.”

His voice remained even.

Calm.

Unmoved.

”Once. Twice.”

”It is difficult, it seems, for you to accept goodwill from others.”

Roshi’s gaze drifted to the severed right arm lying on the ground.

He didn’t know exactly how many Sharingan Danzo Shimura had implanted by now—but he did know one thing.

Three years ago, when he had last seen him, Danzo had already appeared to be missing an arm.

Yet before the Nine-Tails’ attack, he had still been whole.

Which meant the transplantation had begun early.

Even before the Uchiha Clan’s extermination.

Danzo might not have had many eyes at first—but he had been preparing.

Preparing contingencies. Preparing sacrifices.

Preparing to cheat death.

Roshi had anticipated that.

That was why he allowed Danzo to stage his feigned suicide—to burn through at least one Sharingan he could activate instantly.

Better to consume a hidden card cleanly… than allow it to detonate at the worst possible moment.

Danzo’s single visible eye narrowed.

”…Was it Hiruzen?”

He did not understand when his possession of Izanagi had been exposed. Nor how knowledge of his implanted Sharingan had spread.

From the very beginning, Roshi’s arrangements had targeted his ”disabled” right side.

That meant someone knew.

After turning it over in his mind, only one name surfaced.

”Hiruzen Sarutobi.”

”Where is Hiruzen?” Danzo pressed.

”The Sandaime remains stationed in the Land of Grass.”

A sneer tugged at Danzo’s lips.

”He doesn’t even dare face me?”

”Everything I did… was for Konoha. This so-called ’treason’ is laughable.”

Bound by living wood, Danzo struggled upright, glaring at Roshi.

”And that woman—Tsunade—who abandoned the Village for years… does she have the right to judge me?”

Roshi did not respond.

He merely inclined his head slightly.

Behind him, Itachi silently retrieved the severed arm.

Without another word, Roshi turned and walked out.

The trees restraining Danzo twisted and followed, dragging him through the corridors of the Shimura estate and into the open courtyard.

The sky above was pale.

Cold.

”Fall back ten meters,” Roshi ordered.

The surrounding Anbu withdrew instantly, forming a loose perimeter along the courtyard’s edge, leaving the center completely exposed.

Only Itachi remained, holding the severed limb, silent as a shadow behind Roshi.

The wooden restraints loosened just enough for Danzo to stand—but not enough to move.

His chakra was suppressed.

His body immobilized.

The air felt thick.

Danzo had long believed he did not fear death. His scarred body was proof enough of that.

But as Roshi slowly raised his right hand—

memories surged.

Competing with Hiruzen in their youth.

Commanding Root in the dark.

And finally—the firm, unyielding back of the Second Hokage, Senju Tobirama, standing against overwhelming odds to cover their retreat.

”Wait!”

Danzo roared.

He could not die like this.

Not branded a traitor.

Not executed like a stray animal in his own courtyard.

”With the contributions I have made to Konoha—!”

At least let him die on a battlefield.

At least let him die as a shinobi—

He never finished.

Several wooden spears burst from the very trees binding him.

They punched through his torso without hesitation.

Danzo’s body convulsed violently.

Blood erupted from his mouth, splattering the stone beneath him.

Pain flooded his senses like a tidal wave. He felt his life spilling out with every heartbeat. The wooden spears twisted slightly inside him—ensuring there would be no second miracle.

”In this Village,” Roshi’s voice was steady, almost indifferent, ”who is not covered in merit, former Advisor Shimura?”

”You were given chances.”

”More than once.”

Danzo’s vision blurred.

He still had one final option—the Reverse Four Symbols Sealing Technique.

He could take them with him.

He could die spectacularly.

But he did not activate it.

This… should not have been my end…

Tobirama-sensei…

Hiruzen…

I should have led Konoha toward—

His eye lost focus.

His body swayed.

Then he fell forward.

Still.

Silent.

Roshi did not move.

He stood there, watching.

One minute passed.

Two.

”Has it been five minutes?” he asked quietly.

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