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

Hōzuki Castle

From the upper battlements, Mui looked down at the courtyard below.

A new group of Kusa shinobi had just arrived—most of them wounded, pale, and weary-eyed. Their injuries were said to be the result of recent operations against rogue ninja.

Officially, they were ”recuperating” while helping to strengthen Hōzuki Castle’s defenses.

Unofficially… Mui wasn’t so sure.

He gave the order for his subordinates to escort the newcomers to their quarters, maintaining a neutral expression. But a faint unease twisted in his chest.

Ever since that child had been secretly brought here—the one harboring that ominous, almost living chakra—nothing in Hōzuki Castle had felt right.

The Kusa leadership, especially Tsutakawa, had been sending increasingly urgent directives. More and more shinobi were being transferred here—far more than the prison required.

What exactly are they planning…?

Every prisoner within Hōzuki Castle was bound by Mui’s Fire Release: Heavenly Prison. Their chakra was sealed, and if any of them strayed too far from his control, the Heavenly Fire would activate—burning them to ash in seconds.

As long as Mui lived, and that jutsu held, Hōzuki Castle didn’t need this many guards.

”Father.”

A soft voice came from beside him—his son, a young man with sharp features and a calm, intelligent gaze.

”Are they really here to reinforce the guard force?”

Mui’s eyes followed the wounded shinobi below. His thoughts flickered to the child who had replaced him as the designated ”opener.” The child Tsutakawa believed would finally unlock the Box of Paradise.

Once, Mui’s own father had stood in that same position—promising a glorious future for the Kusa, with the Box as its key.

But what Mui saw now… was nothing like those promises.

”The Village’s orders say so,” Muo said finally, his tone steady but quiet. He was trying to convince not just his son, but himself. ”Muku, don’t worry too much. In the end, I am the true opener.”

”The wish will be made by me.”

No matter what schemes Tsutakawa was weaving, everything would still pass through him. He would make sure of it—he would guide things back to the proper path.

Far below, hidden in the dim corners of the fortress, several pairs of eyes quietly watched him.

Prisoners—or at least, that was what they seemed to be. In truth, they were anything but.

Their lips barely moved as they exchanged coded whispers through faint pulses of chakra.

”Mui is the core of Hōzuki Castle. Heavenly Prison is the lynchpin.”

”Conclusion: Kusa is preparing to activate the Box of Paradise.”

”Orders received. Kuro, Shiro, we’ll strike with me to eliminate the target. Shen—use the chaos to escape and deliver the intel to Danzo-sama.”

They were Root operatives, inserted deep into the prison’s hierarchy.

Even bound by the Heavenly Prison seal that restricted their chakra, they were not helpless. Handpicked by Danzo himself, these were specialists in taijutsu and assassination—killers trained to operate even without ninjutsu.

They waited until dusk, during the narrow window when shifts changed.

The stone corridors were nearly silent. Mui walked alone, the sound of his sandals echoing faintly off the damp walls.

That was when three shadows detached themselves from the darkness—striking without hesitation.

Mui’s reflexes were sharp, his instincts honed to a razor’s edge. He twisted, chakra surging.

”Wind Style: Breaking Palm!”

Wind roared from his strike, the air itself shattering with the force. The first wave of attackers was repelled instantly—two skidding back, one slamming hard into the wall with a dull crack.

”Seize them!” Mui barked, chakra flaring as he reached to summon the guards.

But the fallen Root operative suddenly lifted his head, blood trickling from his mouth—and spat out a hidden senbon.

Mui tilted his head just in time, the needle grazing his ear.

The other two moved at once, curse marks flaring across their skin—markings different from his own Heavenly Prison seal. Their bodies surged with a strange, unstable energy.

Mui’s expression hardened. He clenched his right hand.

Flames burst to life—coalescing into a burning blade of pure chakra.

The Heavenly Fire Sword.

The fiery edge cut through the attackers’ guard, scorching them from the inside out. The curse marks sputtered and died before they could fully activate.

But just as Mui dispatched them, the downed Root operative performed one final, desperate seal sequence.

His body began to swell grotesquely—ballooning with unnatural speed.

”Damn—!”

The explosion tore through the narrow corridor, the blast swallowing everything in flame and stone dust.

For a moment, there was only silence—and the roar of the sea outside.

When the smoke cleared, Mui stood amidst the wreckage, his breathing slightly uneven. His sleeve was shredded, a line of blood marking his arm where shrapnel had grazed him.

He exhaled slowly, eyes narrowing at the mangled remains of the attackers.

Guards came running down the corridor, alarmed by the explosion.

”Lord Mui! What happened?”

Mui’s gaze lingered on the ruined passage for a long moment before answering, his tone as cold as the sea air outside.

”An internal breach. Seal the gates—no one leaves the castle.”

The flames on his blade flickered once, then extinguished, leaving only the faint scent of burning stone.

And far below the fortress—in the sealed chamber where the Box of Paradise slumbered—something stirred for the first time in decades.

”Clean this up,” Mui ordered curtly, his voice echoing through the scorched corridor. ”Re-examine every prisoner who has entered the castle recently.”

His subordinates bowed and hurried to obey.

Meanwhile, beneath the cover of chaos from the explosion, the Root operative known as Shen slipped silently through the confusion. Exploiting the disrupted guard rotations, he reached a secluded cliff at the island’s edge. Below, the sea churned black and violent, crashing against the rocks.

Without hesitation, he leapt.

The frigid seawater engulfed him, the Fire Release: Heavenly Prison seals on his body instantly suppressed by the cold and pressure. For the first time in weeks, he felt his chakra pulse faintly within him.

He forced his limbs through the vicious undercurrents, swimming toward the predetermined extraction point. The salt stung his eyes, his lungs burned for air—but freedom was close.

He broke the surface, gasping—and a hand shot out of the water, seizing his throat.

”—!”

Shen’s eyes went wide. The grip was iron, lifting him effortlessly from the waves. Cold seawater streamed down his face as he kicked and clawed in panic, twisting to strike his unseen captor.

But the moment his body left the ocean, the dormant Heavenly Prison reactivated.

”Ugh—!”

A burst of searing agony ripped through him. Flames erupted from within his body, consuming flesh and bone from the inside out. His screams were drowned by the roar of the sea.

He never even saw the man holding him clearly.

When the last spark faded, his charred corpse hung limply in the stranger’s hand, smoke rising into the night air.

Standing upon the water’s surface, Uchiha Obito stared coldly at the body as it crumbled under his grip.

”Now’s not the time for you to make trouble.”

He tossed the corpse aside, letting the waves swallow it whole. The sea frothed red for a moment—then returned to darkness.

Konoha—Hokage’s Office

”…That’s the general situation,” Roshi said, standing before Hiruzen’s desk. ”Elder Chiyo agreed to the additional clause. For the next three Chūnin Exams hosted by Konoha, Sunagakure must send a team to participate.”

”In exchange,” he continued, ”we’ll provide emergency shipments of food and freshwater within the year—at discounted prices. Payment will be made in spices, medicinal herbs, and specialty crafts from the Land of Wind.”

Hiruzen nodded thoughtfully as he listened.

Chiyo had yielded, and Roshi hadn’t pressed further. In trade value, Sunagakure gained slightly, but Konoha lost nothing. It was a balanced deal—precisely the kind the Third appreciated.

It wasn’t that Sunagakure lacked wealth. The Land of Wind possessed many rare resources. But using those for basic commodities like food and water was costly—symbolic of their desperate position.

As for the ”additional clause,” Chiyo hadn’t seen its deeper intent. Participation in Konoha’s Chūnin Exams for three years seemed harmless enough.

Of course, whether the exams happened was entirely within Konoha’s control. Roshi smirked inwardly. Once a year doesn’t sound unreasonable at all.

Hiruzen leaned back, exhaling a slow puff of smoke.

”There’s no loss on either side, and the foundation for long-term cooperation has been set. Hope your approach works, Roshi.”

He smiled faintly. ”Real trust takes time to grow. It can’t be built in a day.”

Then, tapping his pipe lightly, the old Hokage added, ”Regular, institutionalized exchanges… Perhaps this really can bridge the gap between generations.”

He gave a rare nod of approval. ”You’ve done well. Take a rest—though I’ll still need you for the follow-up coordination with Sunagakure.”

”Understood.” Roshi bowed and left.

Outside the Hokage Office, he stretched, a long yawn escaping him. One mission finished, one more reward due.

He deserved a break.

Chūnin Exams? What did that have to do with him? He wasn’t an examiner, and he’d already seen more Chūnin hopefuls than he could count. Watching Itachi flatten his peers again wasn’t exactly thrilling. The only one who might put up a real fight was Kumogakure’s C—and even then, that was optimistic.

Ten years from now, Roshi mused, that kid will be an elite jōnin, a master of medical ninjutsu and lightning genjutsu. But against Itachi? Let’s hope he lasts more than thirty seconds.

As he contemplated his well-earned rest—perhaps a soak in the hot springs, or sleeping until dusk—the door beside the Hokage’s office suddenly slid open.

A hand shot out, grabbed him by the collar, and yanked him inside.

Roshi stumbled, barely catching himself. ”Can’t you ever greet people normally, Lady Tsunade?” he muttered irritably.

He looked up—and froze.

Piles of documents towered precariously on the desk. There was barely a single free spot on the floor. Amid the chaos sat Tsunade, her blonde hair slightly disheveled, her expression deadly.

”Less talk, more help!” she barked, pointing to a smaller table overflowing with scrolls. ”I can’t keep up! Shizune’s tied up with the hospital preparations, and there are still a mountain of Chūnin Exam forms that aren’t finalized!”

Roshi’s expression twisted with visible resistance. Paperwork. The true enemy of shinobi kind.

”The Chūnin Exams have existed for decades,” he said wearily. ”Don’t we already have a standard procedure?”

”Standard procedure?!” Tsunade shot up, glaring daggers. ”Do you know whose fault this is?!”

She jabbed a finger at him like a kunai. ”We used to just toss them into the Forest of Death to fight over Heaven and Earth scrolls, and that was that! But someone suggested adding ’team coordination’ and ’comprehensive evaluation’!”

Her voice rose an octave. ”The old man thought it was a brilliant idea—and now the entire second-stage format, layout, scoring system, everything, has to be redesigned from scratch!”

”On top of that, we have to meet with jōnin instructors from every participating village for ’consensus discussions,’ reallocate examiners, approve ninja tools, plan safety contingencies—”

She slammed her palm on the desk, rattling the mountain of paperwork. ”So forget about slipping out for a vacation! Until I finish this damn pile, no one leaves—and that includes you!”

The papers fluttered down like mocking snow.

Roshi stared at the furious Senju princess, then at the monstrous tower of documents waiting beside her.

He sighed, shoulders slumping in silent defeat.

When will I ever get that vacation…?

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