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

Roshi had arranged a new assignment for Anko, properly settling Fū—who had followed Shibuki to Konoha—and wrapped up a number of other minor follow-up matters.

On the third day after returning from Takigakure, he headed for the western outskirts of the village.

He wasn’t going back to his house.

He was going to Kabuto’s laboratory. After taking over the God Tree experiment, Kabuto had found an empty three-story building on the west side of Konoha.

When Kabuto’s proposal was submitted, Roshi approved it.

Renovations, equipment transfer, supply procurement, and barrier installation followed in quick order. Backed by Konoha’s highest-level support, the once-abandoned building had been transformed into one of the top experimental facilities in the shinobi world—at least in terms of performance.

A wooden sign hung over the entrance: ”Konoha Medical Research Institute.”

After passing personnel checks, barrier inspection, and chakra verification, Roshi stepped inside.

Kabuto was currently in the underground isolation lab.

In the center of the room, several cylindrical cultivation tanks stood in a neat row, each filled with pale blue nutrient solution where different tissue samples floated in suspension. Rows of workbenches lined the walls around them.

Kabuto stood at the innermost bench.

He wore a white lab coat; his light gray hair was tied back in a short ponytail, and his familiar round-framed glasses rested on the bridge of his nose. He was writing something down.

Roshi didn’t speak to interrupt him.

He simply walked up beside the workbench, his gaze dropping to the scroll Kabuto was recording on.

”Lord Roshi.”

”Good work.” Roshi nodded. ”It seems you’ve gained quite a lot.”

”Yes.” Kabuto set the scroll he had been writing on in front of Roshi and picked up another, already-organized report from the side. ”Regarding the White Zetsu samples brought back from Takigakure—this includes the comparative analysis of active and dead specimens, as well as the preliminary comparison with the First Hokage-sama’s cell samples—everything has been compiled.”

He unfurled the report scroll and pointed to a set of side-by-side data charts.

”As you can see, in terms of biological activity and chakra aggression, the First Hokage’s cells are far superior to the White Zetsu cells.”

On the chart, the curve for Hashirama’s cells climbed sharply, while the line for the White Zetsu cells remained much flatter.

”Even when we culture secondary samples through dilution, their chakra still shows a strong tendency toward assimilation and proliferation in an ex vivo environment.”

Roshi studied the illustrations. In the diagrams, clusters of Hashirama cells spread through normal muscle tissue like roots; wherever they passed, the color and structure of the host cells visibly changed.

”As for the White Zetsu cells,” Kabuto flipped through a few more pages and revealed another set of comparison charts. ”According to the intelligence you provided, they’re products created from the Gedo Statue and the cells of Shodai-sama. Their true origin lies in the living beings that were absorbed and assimilated by the Divine Tree.”

”In terms of their nature, they’re much milder and easier to control.”

In the images, the White Zetsu cells were also proliferating, but their borders remained clear, without that wild, invasive spread.

Kabuto pushed his glasses up, the light on his lenses reflecting the neat rows of data.

”There are two possible explanations for this.”

”First, the original material used to create White Zetsu was made from living beings that had already been digested once by the Divine Tree. Their independence and resistance had already been greatly weakened. You could say that in the process of becoming ’White Zetsu,’ they were ’formatted’ once.”

”Second, during the later stages, Akatsuki may have applied some kind of stabilizing procedure. The exact method is still unclear, but judging from the uniformity and stability these cells display, this is definitely not the result of natural evolution.”

Roshi nodded. ”So, White Zetsu cells can be seen as a ’domesticated version’ of Hashirama cells.”

”That’s one way to look at it. Their vitality and power are diminished, but the corresponding risk is also much lower.”

Roshi thought for a moment, then asked, ”Since there’s a more controllable version, is it possible to use White Zetsu cells as a template to develop a safer method of Hashirama cell implantation than what we currently have?”

Kabuto’s smile faded a little. He didn’t answer immediately; instead, he rolled up the report scroll in his hands.

”Lord Roshi,” he said, deliberately slowing his words, ”please allow me to speak frankly.”

”Go ahead.”

”The spread of this kind of power may not be favorable to your control over the situation.”

Kabuto chose his phrasing with care.

”Of course, besides you, the village already has another Wood Release user. But all of Yamato’s abilities were developed from the Shodai cells in his body; compared to you, he’s on a completely different level.”

”At present, everyone with clearance to know about this experiment is either high-level village leadership or a designated special candidate. They already possess considerable power and status. Once the White Zetsu implantation experiments succeed, even if they still can’t compare to you, there will inevitably be new variables you can’t fully control.”

”Power changes a person’s mindset, Lord Roshi. Even a tiny increase might give someone the illusion that ’perhaps I can go one step further.’ And once that illusion takes root and begins to resonate among multiple people…”

He let the sentence trail off.

The implication was already obvious.

Roshi listened quietly, then suddenly laughed.

”Don’t flatter me like that, Kabuto.” Rōshi shook his head. ”I know I’m just a mediocre person. Reaching where I am now… luck and the times probably played a bigger role than my own ability.”

”You are too modest.” Kabuto gave a slight bow, but his tone stayed firm. ”Your prestige indeed does not come from power alone. But the spread of power can still breed needless ambition and challenges.”

”Moreover, even with the relatively mild nature of White Zetsu cells, the requirements for a host are still quite high.”

”Carrying out implantation experiments is inherently risky. If they fail, we don’t just lose precious combat strength for the village—it could also trigger a chain reaction.”

Kabuto stopped there, waiting for Rōshi’s reply.

Silence settled over the laboratory again. In the cultivation tanks, bubbles rose lazily and burst at the surface with soft pops.

After a long time, Rōshi finally spoke, his voice low.

”Kabuto.”

”Yes.”

”Let me say something a bit irresponsible.” Rōshi’s gaze drifted to the tissue samples floating in the distant nutrient solution. ”Whether I can grow stronger now also depends on your research.”

”And the power gained from implanting White Zetsu cells can’t compare to that.”

”So don’t worry about those issues. Just focus on coming up with a suitable plan.”

Kabuto fell silent for a long moment.

He lowered his head, staring at his open palm before slowly curling it into a fist.

”...I understand.”

”As for the specific research direction, I’ll submit a feasibility report as soon as possible. Also—”

Kabuto walked toward an isolation door deeper inside the lab.

After several layers of verification, the door unlocked and slid open. In the center of the room stood a single dark brown tree, about as tall as an adult.

”The mother plant is currently stable.” Kabuto stood at the threshold without stepping in. ”I’ve already implanted your cells.”

Rōshi stepped into the room.

The moment he crossed the boundary, the tree seemed to stir awake. Even so, it showed no intention of attacking.

”Now, you can form a Summoning Contract with it.”

”Although it’s still worlds apart from the true God Tree, at the very least, it’s a living tree infused with Tailed Beast chakra. It gives you one more option in battle.”

—

Answering an emergency mission for the village, rushing out in haste, then returning to the Ninja Academy in a blaze of glory after completing the mission—

Many Academy students had dreamed of something like that. Karin was not one of them. She had no interest in becoming the village’s hero, and that hadn’t changed even after an emergency mission.

Yet as she stood at the school gate, she couldn’t help feeling a little dazed, wondering if everything that had happened over the past few days had just been a dream.

The sunlight was the same, the academy gate was the same, and the chatter and laughter sounded just like they had for the past few years.

Thinking back on what had happened in Takigakure, and the request she’d received, now felt almost unreal.

She walked into the academy and slid open the classroom door.

”Karin!”

Her friends immediately swarmed around her.

Ino was the first to rush over. ”You’re back! Where have you been these past few days? You suddenly took a leave of absence—we were worried sick!”

Sakura hurried up as well. ”Yeah, you disappeared for several days all of a sudden… Is your health really okay?”

Shion stood a little farther away, her purple eyes fixed on Karin in quiet silence.

”It’s… it’s nothing… just some temporary…” Karin mumbled, unsure if she was even allowed to talk about the mission.

”Eh—really?” Ino narrowed her eyes suspiciously. ”Don’t tell me it was some kind of secret special training? All the strong guys at school have been joining the Special Training Classes lately.”

”Even that guy Naruto is training like crazy to get in.”

”No…”

Karin wanted to deny it, but then remembered that even though she was still attending regular classes, she’d already been assigned to the Sensory Unit for after-school training to develop her abilities—and the words caught in her throat.

Ino caught that tiny hesitation. ”I knew it. You were selected, weren’t you, Karin? Is it a Special Training Class?”

Sakura covered her mouth. ”C-could it be an early internship at the hospital? But Karin, you’re only in your second year…”

The school bell rang, rescuing her.

”Ah, class is starting!” Karin nearly sighed in relief as she quickly turned and hurried to her seat.

”Hmm… she got away,” Ino pouted, looking a little put out.

When the lunch bell finally rang, Karin let out a quiet sigh.

What was coming would come sooner or later.

”Ka—rin—”

Ino’s voice echoed down the hallway, accompanied by light, quick footsteps.

The four girls gathered on the rooftop, just like always.

One by one, their bento boxes were opened.

”It’s different from usual,” Ino said, eyeing Karin’s lunch suspiciously. ”It’s insanely fancy today.”

Compared to her normally plain meals, Karin’s bento really was luxurious: golden, crispy tonkatsu, soft layers of tamagoyaki, bright green blanched broccoli, and even a small box of freshly cut fruit.

Karin’s cheeks flushed. ”My mom… she said I worked hard these past few days…”

”So something did happen, right?” Ino picked up a piece of tamagoyaki. ”There’s no school bell to save you this time. Spill it—did you join a Special Training Class? Or was it an early hospital internship like Sakura guessed?”

Sakura said softly, ”If it’s really hard for you to talk about… you don’t have to say anything.”

”No, it’s not that...”

Karin set her chopsticks down, placed her hands neatly on her knees, and drew in a slow, steadying breath.

”I... I might have to temporarily give up on becoming a Medical Ninja.”

”Give up?” Sakura’s eyes flew wide. ”Why? Karin, that’s been your dream for so long!”

Ino watched her closely, searching Karin’s face for any sign of hesitation or regret.

She didn’t find any. If anything, Karin’s gaze was steadier than ever—filled with a new, firm resolve.

”I’m going to the Sensory Unit,” Karin said. ”To receive specialized sensory ability training. This is... what the Village needs, and it’s also my own decision.”

The Yamanaka heiress finished chewing the tamagoyaki in her mouth, swallowed, then let out a soft sigh.

”I see. It must be something really important if it made you change your mind.” Her tone turned unusually grave. ”But still...”

”I feel like the Academy is completely different from before,” Ino said quietly. ”It hasn’t even been two years, right? Before, everyone just went to class, took exams, trained a bit, and waited to graduate as Genin. But now...”

Sakura nodded. ”Yeah. Special Training Classes, exchange students, cross-grade combat drills... even someone like Naruto has stopped yelling all the time and actually started focusing on training.”

”Sasuke-kun too,” Ino added, propping her chin on one hand. ”Ever since he joined the Special Training Class, he’s like a different person. He’s still cold, but that coldness... it feels different. And they say he’s gone through a lot in there.”

Sakura bristled at that. ”Why does the Academy make the lower and upper grades train together? That’s completely unfair!”

”Sasuke-kun... he’s clearly working so hard, but just because he’s younger, he has to—”

At that moment, Shion, who had been quietly eating her bento, suddenly spoke.

”Maybe it’s because,” the Priestess murmured, her voice so soft it was unclear if she was speaking to herself or answering Sakura, ”danger doesn’t wait to show up just because there’s an age gap.”

—

At the same time, in a detached building in Konoha’s Venue District reserved for important guests

Fu sat curled up on a chair by the window, knees drawn to her chest, chin resting on them, staring blankly at the bustling street outside.

Konoha was completely different from Takigakure. There was no ever-present mist, no thunderous waterfalls. In their place were rows of buildings, a dazzling variety of shops, and crowds of pedestrians—far more than in her hometown—passing by with faces full of curiosity or simple indifference.

If it had been the old her, she probably wouldn’t have been able to sit still. She would have rushed out in an instant to explore this new, lively world.

But now, she felt no such urge.

Shibuki had left early that morning for the Joint Affairs Bureau, saying he needed to understand the details of the upcoming joint meeting and win more support and understanding for Takigakure.

Fu knew that was only part of the reason.

Ever since the attack, her identity as a Jinchuriki had never felt more like an invisible shackle, cutting her off from the life she had before.

”...Sigh.”

A soft knock sounded at the door.

”Come in.”

”I hope I’m not disturbing your rest. I am Yakushi Kabuto, one of the heads of the Konoha Medical Research Institute.”

”H-hello…” Fū got to her feet, a little on edge.

Kabuto crossed the room and stopped by the chair opposite her, but didn’t sit down right away. ”Shibuki-sama is still tied up with important matters at the Bureau. Before he returns, he asked me to check on you—to see how you’re adjusting to the environment here, and whether there’s anything you need.”

He adjusted his glasses, his tone remaining polite. ”There is also one more matter I’d like to ask your opinion on, Fū-san.

”Given the incident that occurred in Takigakure, and the fact that a portion of the Seven-Tails’ chakra within you was taken through abnormal means, Konoha—more specifically, our research institute—would like to perform a comprehensive health examination and a detailed chakra status assessment for you.

”We hope to have your cooperation, Fū-san.”

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