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

Ninjas are tools.

Those that can no longer serve are to be discarded.

Those that can still be used must be placed in the hands of those who know how to use them.

This had always been Danzo Shimura’s creed.

To him, the Uchiha Clan were exactly that—dangerous, volatile, but immensely valuable tools.

Over the years, those tools had caused Konoha endless trouble, birthing suspicion and unrest within the village’s foundation. Danzo had long concluded that trying to appease them was a waste of time and resources. Integration was impossible; trust was a luxury.

No—the correct path was to dismantle them, strip away the excess, and extract what was useful. Their eyes, their talent, their bloodline—all could be reforged into something controllable, something obedient.

And everything had been proceeding as planned.

Especially after the death of the Fourth Hokage, the path had become clearer.

The system, as he envisioned, was almost complete.

Until Tsunade returned.

Her reappearance changed everything.

This was no token goodwill visit like before. This was a coordinated, structured reform effort — backed by a powerful Hokage candidate from the Village’s very core.

And not just any candidate.

She was the only viable one left.

Danzo knew Hiruzen well—his old friend would invest in Tsunade, support her, and lend her the Village’s full machinery… unless it became clear that her path endangered Konoha itself.

Which meant, for now, Root could not touch her.

When Orochimaru defected, Hiruzen had hesitated to stop him.

But when Root tried to kill Kakashi afterward, the retaliation had been immediate—an exploding tag at their doorstep.

When Root’s actions grew too bold, the Anbu surrounded their base.

Tenzo was taken.

The message was clear.

Hiruzen would tolerate Danzo’s existence—but he would not allow him to cross certain lines.

So, if Danzo wanted to make Tsunade’s plan fail, he would have to strike indirectly.

And the weakest point in her new order… was the Uchiha.

That was how Danzo came to stand before Itachi.

”Itachi Uchiha.”

His tone was calm, almost kind. ”You’re a truly gifted shinobi. Yet staying under Roshi’s wing… that talent of yours is being wasted.”

He stepped closer, hands folded neatly behind his back. ”He cannot give you true power. I can.”

Itachi’s gaze was steady. ”Excuse me, Advisor. I have other matters to attend to.”

Danzo’s expression didn’t falter. ”Your clan walks a dangerous path, boy. Roshi’s protection won’t save you. Under my guidance—under the Hokage’s assistant—your potential will be limitless.”

The man’s presence pressed down on the air itself. Years of political dominance and quiet manipulation had honed his aura into something oppressive—heavy enough to make most waver.

But Itachi did not flinch.

He had learned from Roshi how to look through words, not at them. To separate the threat from the purpose.

Danzo was probing.

Testing his loyalty.

Today, Itachi was on his way to meet Roshi at the Western Suburbs House, tasked with verifying the list of Uchiha chosen for Anbu integration—the first step in Tsunade’s Uchiha reform.

Danzo’s appearance here was no coincidence. He was deliberately trying to sway him—to pit him against Roshi’s plan.

Danzo’s methods, Itachi understood, were always one of two extremes: violent purge or covert control.

Either way, he was an enemy of the current course.

If Itachi resisted, Danzo might escalate. If he backed down, Danzo would sense weakness. Either could disrupt the fragile cooperation between the Uchiha and the Village—even push Fugaku into retreat.

Then perhaps… it was best to stall.

Just as Danzo was about to press again, a calm voice broke through the tension.

”Itachi, there you are—”

Shisui turned the corner, stopping short at the sight of Danzo. His brows lifted slightly in surprise.

”Advisor Shimura,” he said politely, stepping closer until he stood beside Itachi. ”Is there a problem?”

Danzo’s one visible eye shifted to him, cold and unreadable. For a brief moment, silence filled the street.

Then, with a faint rustle of his cloak, he turned away.

”Think carefully, Itachi Uchiha,” he said, his voice fading as he stepped into the shadows. ”The next choice you make will define your clan’s fate.”

Only when the oppressive aura fully dispersed did Shisui exhale.

”You alright?”

”I’m fine,” Itachi replied quietly. ”Thank you, Shisui.”

Shisui smiled. ”Good. I happened to be on patrol nearby. Where are you heading?”

”To see the Captain.”

”Then let’s go together,” Shisui said easily. ”Wouldn’t want Roshi-kun to think we’re slacking.”

Inside the Western Suburbs House, Roshi sat reviewing a document—the finalized list of Uchiha candidates for Anbu assignment.

The list hadn’t come directly from Fugaku; Tsunade herself had sent it. By now, all communication between the Hokage’s office and the Uchiha Clan went through official channels.

When he heard the knock, he said simply, ”Come in.”

”Captain,” Itachi greeted. ”On the way here, I encountered Advisor Shimura.”

Roshi’s eyes lifted. He gestured for Itachi to continue.

Itachi reported everything—Danzo’s approach, his veiled threats, and Shisui’s timely arrival.

When he finished, Roshi leaned back slightly in his chair, expression unreadable.

”…Danzo Shimura,” he murmured, almost to himself. ”Still trying to stir the embers.”

Then, calmly, he said, ”You handled it well. For now, don’t confront him directly. He’s still a Village Advisor—protected by his title, if not his reputation. But remember this, Itachi: don’t fear him either.”

His gaze hardened.

”He’s not the Hokage. He’s merely the leader of Root—a relic that’s long since rotted beneath the Village’s foundation.”

”You’re under no obligation to obey his requests. If he insists, tell him to take it up with Lady Tsunade.” Roshi’s voice dropped, low and deliberate. ”And if he dares to act by force…”

A flicker of chakra stirred in the air around him—restrained, but sharp as a blade.

”…then he’ll find that Root isn’t the only thing buried deep under Konoha.”

Just like when Danzo stole Shisui’s eye—as long as he could disrupt his opponent’s plan, it was enough.

To Danzo, results were everything.

As long as Tsunade’s strategy for the Uchiha failed, as long as her integration effort collapsed under its own contradictions, his value would resurface.

In the aftermath, the Village would inevitably have to turn to his ”cleanup plan.”

Why it failed didn’t matter. Only that it did.

To him, it was like two doctors operating on the same patient.

If one surgeon sabotaged the other’s procedure, then no matter how unwilling the patient was, they’d be forced to accept the remaining option.

And Danzo’s option was always the same—amputation.

”Go back and remind your father to be extra cautious,” Roshi said evenly. ”Shisui’s intuition is reliable. Even you should stay alert whenever you leave the compound.”

”If there’s anything important, I’ll reach out myself.”

If Itachi were given just one more year, Roshi thought, there would be nothing to worry about.

Even without the Mangekyō Sharingan, his natural ability was enough to overwhelm three veteran Uchiha with fully matured Sharingan.

But everyone needed time to grow. Even Uchiha Madara, in his youth, had struggled to throw a stone across a river.

”Captain,” Itachi said quietly after a pause, ”if even I’m being watched this closely, then your safety—”

Roshi cut him off with a faint smile. ”Don’t concern yourself with me.”

He wasn’t worried.

He knew Danzo’s tricks, but Danzo didn’t know his.

In the shinobi world, battles weren’t always fought with kunai and chakra—they were battles of information.

Whoever understood more, survived longer.

Unless, of course, you were someone like Senju Hashirama or Uchiha Madara. Then, information didn’t matter—only overwhelming power did.

Roshi, on the other hand, played a different game.

He already knew which canon characters he could defeat, and which ones he should avoid altogether.

He knew when to push—and when to vanish.

It was the unknown variables—the ones never written into history—that he treated with real caution.

Once the topic of Danzo had settled, the discussion turned back to Fugaku’s proposed Anbu list.

Itachi glanced over the names and began, ”Yashiro-san is stubborn, but he’s calm. Communication isn’t impossible.”

”Tekka and Inabi are much the same.”

”As for Yakumi, he’s always been loyal to Father.”

Roshi’s expression didn’t change, but his mind tightened. So that’s how Fugaku interpreted it.

What Roshi had suggested—through Itachi—was to transfer the hardline, intractable Uchiha into Anbu, thereby thinning the loudest voices in the Military Police Force.

Fugaku, however, seemed to have misunderstood.

Instead of offering up the most problematic extremists, he had listed his own supporters—the ones he could actually control. The obedient ones.

Six names, five of whom were his direct subordinates.

On paper, it looked cooperative.

In practice, it solved nothing.

These weren’t the radicals poisoning clan morale. Removing them wouldn’t ease tensions—it would only weaken Fugaku’s own position while leaving the true hardliners untouched.

Roshi exhaled slowly. If these people genuinely obey him, they’re not the ones who need to leave.

The real issue lay with those whose voices were louder than the clan head’s—the ones who wouldn’t listen even to Fugaku.

Those were the people who needed to ”join” Anbu.

Once integrated, they could be quietly assigned to distant missions—long-term surveillance in the Western Nations, deep-cover tracking across the Demon Desert.

And by the time they returned, if they ever did, the internal noise in the Uchiha compound would have faded completely.

Did Fugaku really think the village wanted a team of Uchiha for a Madara investigation?

This was diplomacy disguised as cooperation—a transaction cloaked in loyalty.

The four Anbu slots, and the corresponding vacancies in the Police Force, were the clan’s true pledge of allegiance to the Hokage’s inner circle.

”Itachi,” Roshi said, his voice thoughtful, ”these six names Fugaku provided—Yashiro, Tekka, Inabi, Yakumi…”

He glanced at the paper, then at the younger Uchiha.

”You mentioned Moka, Chihiro, and Enjin before. The ones most dissatisfied with the current state of the clan?”

”Yes,” Itachi said without hesitation. ”They’re the most outspoken and the hardest to reason with.”

Roshi nodded slightly, jotting down the names. Those are the ones I need.

He would have Tsunade reject Fugaku’s current list and request a broader selection ”to ensure fair evaluation.”

That would allow him to quietly push for the individuals he needed removed from the clan’s daily structure—without arousing suspicion.

”Has the news about the Village selecting Uchiha elites for Anbu already spread?” Roshi asked.

”Yes,” Itachi said. ”Rumors are circulating.”

”What’s the reaction?”

”Mixed,” Itachi admitted. ”Some doubt it. Others are outright opposed, claiming it’s a village conspiracy.”

Roshi smirked faintly. ”Naturally. Even paranoia can’t hide from the Uchiha’s intelligence network.”

But Itachi continued, his tone lighter. ”There are also some who are excited—even among the stronger clan members.”

Roshi raised an eyebrow.

”I hadn’t realized before,” Itachi added, ”that not everyone minds leaving the Military Police Force. Many of the veteran squad leaders actually see this as a promotion.”

Now Roshi’s interest sharpened.

He leaned forward slightly, his tone thoughtful. ”Of course they do. The Police Force might look prestigious, but compared to the rest of Konoha’s departments—the Anbu, Intelligence, and the Border Defense Corps—its ceiling is low.”

He tapped a finger on the table.

”For a talented Uchiha, being confined to the Police Force is like wearing golden shackles. No matter how skilled they are, there’s only one captain—the clan head himself.”

He sat back, satisfied.

”If that’s the case,” he said quietly, ”then there are still people within the clan who can be reasoned with. People who want a broader future.”

He looked toward the door, as though seeing beyond it—toward something far larger than the old house.

”If we can bring them in,” he murmured, ”then the reform won’t just work… it’ll take root.”

--------------------------------

AN: Check out my P@treon For +50 extra chapters.

Thank You For your Support!!

[email protected]/noviceauthor777