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

Three days later, at noon.

Konoha’s Third Training Ground lay under the merciless summer sun. The earth was baked yellow and hot enough to scorch bare skin, the air shimmering with heat haze. Cicadas shrilled relentlessly, amplifying the heavy dryness of the day.

Roshi arrived precisely on time. He wore Konoha’s dark-green flak jacket, forehead protector polished and straight. At the center of the training ground, two figures already stood waiting in silence.

Both wore the standard dark-gray uniforms of the Anbu, faces hidden behind expressionless animal masks that revealed neither identity nor emotion.

One was taller, his stance carrying an almost lazy nonchalance. Stray strands of silver hair slipped free from the mask’s edge, catching the sunlight like slivers of steel.

The other was thinner, younger—perhaps a year or two below Roshi—his posture perfectly straight, and unmoving.

”Special Jōnin promotion assessment. Subject: Roshi,” the taller Anbu announced, his voice flat, measured—yet beneath the mask, that faint, drawn-out tone carried a trace of familiarity.

”We are your examiners. Demonstrate the ninjutsu you’ve mastered. Evaluation criteria: power, control, efficiency, and combat adaptability.”

Through the mask’s hollow eyes, his gaze fixed on Roshi.

”Begin when ready.”

There was no ceremony, no wasted words—just the cold efficiency of Anbu.

The very next instant, the silver-haired Anbu blurred.

Roshi’s pupils constricted, body snapping to the side on instinct.

”Zzzzt—!”

A blinding spear of blue lightning carved through the space he had just vacated, leaving a blackened scorch and the sharp stench of ozone.

The silver-haired Anbu stood there, right hand blazing with writhing lightning—Lightning Release: Chidori! Even restrained, the sheer speed and oppressive killing intent revealed the gulf in experience.

”Combat reaction—satisfactory,” the voice murmured from behind the mask. But the assault didn’t stop. His hands blurred into seals.

”Fire Release: Great Fireball Jutsu!”

A roaring sphere of flame surged forward, cutting off Roshi’s escape.

Roshi’s hands moved even faster.

”Water Release: Water Wall!”

A surging wall of water burst up, colliding with the fireball.

Hissss—! Steam exploded outward, engulfing the battlefield in a choking white mist.

Using the cover, Roshi retreated swiftly, fingers weaving another set of seals.

”Wind Release: Great Breakthrough!”

A howling gale erupted, dispersing the mist in seconds and hurtling toward the silver-haired Anbu.

But his opponent’s figure swayed like a phantom, slipping between the gusts as though he had predicted their flow.

”Earth Release: Earth Wall!”

A solid barrier erupted from the ground, intercepting the wind head-on.

Yet just as the wall rose, razor-thin wind blades sliced in from a blind angle!

”Tch.” A faint click of annoyance echoed from behind the mask as the Anbu twisted at an impossible angle, barely evading. The hem of his cloak fluttered to the ground, neatly severed.

”Wind Release control—excellent,” he muttered.

At that moment, the younger Anbu finally moved.

He clasped his hands together, chakra surging with rigid precision.

”Wood Release: Silent Strangling Jutsu!”

From beneath Roshi’s feet, thick vines erupted like awakened serpents, coiling hungrily toward his ankles.

Wood Release? Yamato? Roshi’s heart tightened.

”Earth Release: Rock Collapse!”

The ground beneath him split with a violent crack, collapsing into a shallow pit. The vines were crushed and tangled in the falling stone, their advance instantly stalled.

Seizing the opening, Roshi leapt skyward, hands already completing another string of seals.

”Lightning Release: Ground Flash!”

Blue arcs crackled like a spreading spiderweb, racing through the fractured ground, streaking straight toward the younger Anbu who had just finished his jutsu!

The shorter Anbu betrayed no panic. His hands came together again, movements smooth and mechanical.

”Wood Release: Wood Golem Wall!”

Thick wooden pillars arched from the ground in a perfect curve, forming a seamless barrier around him. Lightning slammed into the wall with a crackling roar, leaving scorched black marks, but the dark-brown wood held firm, unmoved by the assault.

From the flank, the silver-haired Anbu closed in silently, a kunai crackling with dense lightning in his grip—its shrill hum sharp and venomous, like the fangs of a snake poised to strike.

With a piercing screech, the blade darted for Roshi’s ribs, aiming at his blind spot.

Caught mid-air, nowhere to plant his feet, Roshi did not falter. His fingers flashed through two quick seals—Snake, Dragon.

”Wind Release: Gale!”

A powerful gust burst forth, its recoil blasting his body sideways, narrowly carrying him out of the kunai’s lethal arc.

He landed in a crouch, breath uneven, sweat beading on his forehead.

The silver-haired Anbu dropped to the ground opposite him, expression unreadable behind the mask.

”Ninjutsu application—proficient. Chakra reserves… abundant.” His voice was flat, clinical. With this much alone, Roshi’s qualification as a Special Jōnin was all but certain.

But the assessment wasn’t finished.

The shorter Anbu stepped forward, his mask’s hollow eyes locking onto Roshi. His hands clasped together once more.

”Wood Release: Deep Forest Emergence!”

Rumble!

The earth heaved violently. Countless gnarled roots burst free, thick as pythons, writhing skyward as trees exploded into being. In moments, the open training ground became a suffocating miniature forest, a living cage pulsing with primal vitality. Branches swayed with deceptive grace in the sunlight, yet the crushing force behind them was suffocating, pressing in from every direction to strangle the lone shinobi within.

The silver-haired Anbu leapt back, gaze locked on the storm at the center of the field.

Roshi inhaled deeply, forming a Shadow Clone in an instant. Chakra surged in his body, refined and molded at a furious pace. His hands blurred through seals, fingers leaving afterimages.

”Fire Release: Fire Dragon Bullet!”

From his mouth erupted a condensed crimson dragon of flame, its heat searing, its roar splitting the air as it tore into the encroaching trees.

At the same time, the clone’s hands danced through its own seals. A savage gale spiraled into being.

Wind fuels fire!

BOOM!

The crimson dragon swelled monstrously, its flames turning blinding white-hot. No longer fire—it was a blazing wind dragon, incandescent and unstoppable, barreling toward the forest’s weaker flank.

Rumble-rumble-rumble!!!

The explosion shattered the air. The blazing beast carved through the trees, ripping them apart like brittle kindling. Branches and trunks, sturdy enough to withstand lightning, disintegrated into ash and sparks under its fury.

In its wake, a scorched passageway was torn open through the forest, blackened and burning, smoke curling thick in the sweltering heat.

Roshi burst out from the flaming corridor, his figure cutting through the haze. His flak jacket was scorched, his face streaked with ash, but his eyes remained steady—calm and unwavering as they locked on the two examiners.

The training ground lay in ruin. The lush green forest had been carved open by raw force, its smoldering edges crackling with dying fire. Charred branches collapsed with sharp snaps, the acrid scent of smoke filling the air.

The silver-haired Anbu studied the destruction, then the shinobi who had emerged from it. Slowly, he lowered his lightning-clad kunai.

”Ninjutsu coordination… timing, power, control—excellent.” His voice, though flat, carried finality.

”Assessment concluded. Special Jōnin qualification: confirmed and granted.”

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