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

”A village built around a single clan rarely survives long—even ours.” Tsunade’s calm voice broke the silence. Her gaze settled on Roshi. ”This village once had Grandma Momoka. And in the future, it’ll have you. They won’t be bullied again… so—”

Roshi understood what she was implying—and why she’d brought him here, to the ruins of Uzushiogakure.

But his expression didn’t change. He merely stared at the broken landscape before him.

Seeing his distant demeanor, Tsunade lost the will to continue. With a weary sigh, she leaned against a cracked wall and closed her eyes.

Activating the Strength of a Hundred Seal had drained her, both physically and mentally. Even with Roshi’s replenishment, her mind still felt heavy.

”Whatever you want to do,” she murmured, ”it has nothing to do with me.”

When Roshi spoke again, his tone had changed. It wasn’t cold or cutting like before, nor meek or overly polite. It was clear, steady—real.

”You say that often,” he said quietly, ”but your actions don’t really match your words.”

Tsunade’s eyes opened, surprise flickering in their depths. ”You’re talking normally again.”

”Since we met, I’ve been nothing but rude,” Roshi continued, meeting her gaze. ”Yet you endured it. You even helped me train in Sage Mode—while insisting you’ve already moved on.” His voice softened. ”But the one who hasn’t let go, Lady Tsunade… is you.”

Tsunade clenched her fists and looked away.

The fatigue from her earlier chakra depletion pressed down on her, and her vision blurred for a heartbeat. For an instant, she almost saw that familiar, tender face—pale, still, forever twelve.

Nawaki…

”What nonsense are you spouting now…” she muttered, her voice unsteady.

”Have you ever wondered,” Roshi asked softly, ”why I’m so impolite?”

Her lips twisted into a faint, humorless smile.

There was no need to wonder. She already knew what kind of child Momoka had raised—someone who worshipped the Senju name and carried the weight of its pride. What good impression could such a person possibly have of her—a runaway who drowned her grief in sake and gambling?

Especially now that he possessed her grandfather’s cells and had awakened Sage Mode, his next steps were easy to predict.

”Empty words won’t help you understand,” Roshi said, raising his palm. A soft blue light bloomed in his hand. ”I heard that, in the beginning, people came to understand each other through chakra.”

Tsunade’s eyes flickered. Her hand lifted slightly, her fingers trembling just before they could touch the light—then she swatted it away. The chakra ball dispersed in a wisp of blue.

”Enough.” She rose abruptly, her tone sharp. ”I’m not interested.”

Roshi didn’t stop her as she turned and walked off, almost as if fleeing. He slowly lowered his hand.

Her hemophobia had its roots in trauma—battlefield horrors, grief, and loss—but the fact that she had overcome it later, inspired by Naruto’s resolve, proved it wasn’t an unhealable wound.

Its true cause, he realized, lay deeper.

Hashirama’s dream—to bring peace through the creation of the village. Everything Tsunade had ever loved had been born from that dream… and then died for it. Yet the peace her grandfather envisioned never came.

In Naruto’s story, two things helped her break free:

Proof that Hashirama’s dream still had hope.

A crisis that forced her to act, pushing her to surpass her own fear.

Naruto embodied both.

But Roshi wasn’t Naruto. He wasn’t impulsive or fiery enough to inspire hearts through sheer will.

If he were, this problem would have been much easier to solve.

Even so, he thought, mastering Sage Mode wasn’t a wasted effort.

The next morning, Tsunade acted as if nothing had happened. She continued overseeing Roshi’s Sage training without a word about the previous night.

Thanks to his experience from the day before, Roshi now handled natural energy far more smoothly. Although traces of petrification appeared on his body, he managed to keep them under control.

Compared to Mount Myōboku’s training style of beating the shit out of the person training, This method was gentler. Katsuyu’s way of diffusing excess natural energy was soft and continuous, allowing uninterrupted training and making it easier to sense the delicate balance.

After the session, Tsunade didn’t leave immediately this time. Having replenished her chakra twice, she’d found a rhythm—if she timed the absorption of Roshi’s feedback chakra just right, she could counteract the depletion from her Strength of a Hundred Seal. In short, she could prevent herself from aging prematurely.

Roshi approached her again.

”Lady Tsunade.”

”What is it?” she asked, arms folded.

”Yesterday, I forgot to tell you something.”

Her expression was neutral. ”Oh? What’s so important?”

”You might have misunderstood me,” Roshi said, turning toward the sea. ”I don’t plan on rebuilding a clan. I understand your worries. In truth… after Lord Hashirama and Lord Tobirama, the Senju Clan hasn’t produced anyone truly remarkable.”

The vein on Tsunade’s forehead twitched. The first half had almost relieved her—almost. But the second half lit her temper ablaze.

”I! Am! One of the Sannin, brat!” she shouted, swinging a punch. Roshi dodged effortlessly.

When she threw another, clearly holding back, he caught it with one hand.

”My apologies,” he said evenly. ”I forgot to mention you separately.”

Her glare could have cut through steel.

”What I mean,” Roshi continued calmly, ”is that I only intend to bring together the remaining clan members in the village—not to rebuild the clan, but to use their strength to raise concerns about the current state of things.”

Tsunade’s expression softened, if only slightly, before tightening again. ”Even so… wait, if that’s true, then what’s your issue with me, huh?”

If he wasn’t some Senju supremacist, then what was all that attitude before? Was he trying to get under her skin?

”You little—!”

Her grip tightened again as her irritation flared.

Roshi met her pressure with an equal surge of chakra, steady and unyielding.

”That’s what I’m about to explain…”

He drew his consciousness inward, filtering out the fragmented memories of the foreign soul that had merged with him. Only the original memories—those of the boy who had lived fourteen years in this world—remained.

And through their linked hands, he sent them directly into Tsunade’s mind.

She was about to pull away—but paused.

Then, through the chakra link, she began to see.

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