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

Even in defeat, Satori—was what had once been Sor—wass no ordinary creature.

With its ability to read malice, its monstrous physique, its power to fly and unleash chakra blasts, the beast could have roamed freely across the entire Shinobi World. Few individuals could truly suppress it one-on-one.

As long as it didn’t provoke Iwagakure and Amegakure or cross paths with Pain himself, it could have existed indefinitely—a shadow of wrath wandering the lands.

But no monster, no matter how powerful, could stand against an entire hidden village prepared for its arrival.

Now, bound beneath the crushing weight of Wood Release: Deep Burial, its vast body twitched weakly. Though the living wood absorbed its chakra, the thing beneath the wooden cage still pulsed with uneasy energy—refusing to die quietly.

Then—the Box of Paradise stirred again.

The grotesque mouth carved into its surface slowly pried open, forming a spiraling vortex that began to drag everything nearby toward it.

The pull intensified, aimed directly at the restrained beast.

Hiruzen appeared beside the box. His face was grave, his old eyes unwavering as his hands blurred through a complex sequence of seals.

Snake → Ram → Horse → Rabbit → Rooster → Tiger.

”Sealing Technique—Destructive Seal!”

His palms slammed onto the surface of the box.

Instantly, glowing seals spread outward like living roots, weaving across every inch of the artifact’s ominous surface. The characters pulsed and fused, binding layer by layer until the entire structure gleamed with sealing light.

Hiruzen held his breath.

The Destructive Seal had been designed to suppress dangerous ninja tools—but this was no ordinary weapon. This was a remnant of the Six Paths Era itself. If it failed…

He’d have to resort to the Contract Seal, to sever Sora’s bond with the Box manually—even at great cost.

But then, the mouth on the box shuddered—and slowly closed.

The light from the sealing formula stabilized.

It had worked.

Behind them, within the fading wooden cage, the violent chakra signature began to wane. The oppressive aura that had filled the air moments ago ebbed away into silence.

Roshi, standing amid the wreckage, released his technique. The layers of wood and roots retracted neatly into the earth, leaving only devastation in their wake.

At the center of the crater lay a small, motionless figure—a boy with messy hair, no older than Naruto.

Sora.

Tenzo stepped forward, knelt, and checked his pulse. After a brief pause, he looked back and silently shook his head.

Hiruzen’s shoulders lowered ever so slightly. ”A victim of Kusagakure’s ambition… and Kazuma’s obsession,” he murmured, voice heavy.

With a quiet sigh, he gave his next order. ”Take his body back to Konoha. Handle it with care—he once carried the Nine-Tails’ chakra. Even in death, we can’t treat him like an ordinary shinobi.”

He turned to the field captain nearby. ”Kou, you’ll return first and report everything in detail. Send word for the Sealing Division to retrieve the Box of Paradise immediately.”

”The remaining squads are to maintain a strict perimeter. No one approaches that box without authorization.”

The orders were carried out swiftly.

Once the most pressing matters were handled, Hiruzen exhaled slowly, leaning on his staff. ”Tenzo,” he said, glancing toward Tenzo, ”build us a shelter. We’ll be staying here for the night.”

”Yes, Hokage-sama.”

Tenzo pressed his hands to the ground. ”Wood Release: Four-Pillar House Jutsu!”

With a low rumble, a sturdy wooden cabin rose from the earth—functional, simple, yet perfectly constructed to withstand the coastal winds.

Roshi raised an eyebrow. ”Oh, that one…”

He crossed his arms thoughtfully. Despite knowing countless jutsu, he’d somehow never bothered to learn this particular one.

He approached Tenzo. ”Mind running through the seals for me?”

Tenzo blinked, surprised. ”You mean you don’t know it, Senpai?”

Roshi gave a lazy shrug. ”I didn’t pay much attention to… interior design techniques.”

Before Tenzo could reply, the Third Hokage’s voice came from behind.

”Mori. Come here a moment.”

Roshi walked over. Hiruzen was rubbing his lower back, fatigue visible in his movements—a rare sight.

”I owe you, truly,” Hiruzen said quietly. ”Without your Wood Release, we would’ve paid a much heavier price today.”

He paused, looking up at the young jonin with a faint, knowing smile. ”There’s something I’d like to ask—off the record.”

Roshi tilted his head slightly. ”I’m listening.”

”Have you ever considered serving in the ANBU full-time?” Hiruzen asked. ”Not as a covert assignment—as a permanent role. It’s not an order, just a question about your future.”

He looked out toward the smoldering horizon. ”If the Uchiha matter can be resolved peacefully, I intend to retire soon. But… until that day comes, I still have to prepare for the worst.”

His voice grew quieter. ”If… drastic measures ever become necessary, I’d rather be the one to bear that stain. Not the next Hokage.”

Roshi was silent. He understood exactly what Hiruzen meant—the weight behind those words.

The Third Hokage smiled faintly again. ”You don’t have to answer now. Whatever you decide, no one can deny what you’ve already done for this village.”

The conversation ended there.

As the night deepened, the old man and the young shinobi spoke again—not of politics or power, but of sealing arts.

Roshi listened as Hiruzen explained the intricate balance between cursed seals and spiritual contracts, between binding and purification. The depth of the Third’s knowledge was staggering.

For the first time in years, there was nothing in between them—only quiet exchange under the dim glow of lamplight.

And somewhere beyond the waves, the sealed Box of Paradise pulsed once—faintly.

Like a heartbeat.

Hiruzen held nothing back.

From the fundamental principles of sealing arts to their most intricate applications, even his personal insights from decades of research—he taught everything openly. His words were slow and deliberate, like a river that had seen many ages, carrying both wisdom and fatigue.

The impromptu lesson stretched late into the night, continuing until the next wave of reinforcements finally arrived from Konoha.

”If you have further questions,” the Third Hokage said gently as he rose, ”come to me anytime.”

He meant it—and Roshi could feel that.

Even without formal acknowledgment, Hiruzen knew now what everyone else was beginning to realize: Roshi’s strength had already reached the upper tier of the village’s elite.

There were only a handful in Konoha who could truly stand above him.

The crisis of the Box of Paradise had been contained, but it was far from over.

Returning the artifact to Kusagakure was out of the question. That much was unanimous—their reckless actions had proven they were unfit to safeguard such a weapon. For now, the legendary tool of the Six Paths would remain sealed within Konoha’s vaults.

Then came the question of Kusagakure itself.

Originally, it had served as a buffer state—a fragile line between Konoha and Iwagakure. But this incident had exposed a dangerous truth: the small village had grown restless.

Fortunately, their leader Tsutakawa, along with nearly all the upper council who had supported the plan to open the Box, had perished in the chaos.

Only one key figure survived—Mui, the warden of Hōzuki Castle.

”Kill him,” Danzo said without hesitation. His tone was as calm as it was chilling. ”Mui was the gatekeeper of the Box of Paradise. As long as that relic remains in Konoha, leaving him alive is a liability.”

”The seal is my own work,” Hiruzen replied evenly. ”The Box will be under the Sealing Division’s direct supervision. Mui has lost all authority over it. His death won’t change that.”

Tsunade leaned forward, voice steady but firm. ”I’ve spoken to him myself. Of all the Kusagakure officials we’ve met, Mui might be the only one still capable of reason. Killing him now would be a waste—and politically foolish.”

She crossed her arms. ”Konoha saved his son. He owes us more than loyalty—he owes us a life. Sending him back to restore order in Grass could stabilize the entire border. A living asset is more useful than a dead one.”

Even the advisors, Homura and Koharu, eventually nodded. Their instincts leaned toward caution and control—and Tsunade’s proposal offered both.

Hiruzen made the final decision. ”I’ll speak with him personally. If his intentions prove sincere, we’ll support his reinstatement.”

He paused, then asked quietly, ”What about the two who were with him?”

”Mui and the kunoichi—Ryūzetsu—have both recovered,” Tsunade reported. ”Their injuries are stable.”

”Good,” said Hiruzen. ”Then let them represent Kusagakure in the upcoming Chunin Exams. It will send the right message to our allies.”

And with that, the matter was settled—at least on paper.

After returning his ANBU gear, Roshi changed back into his usual attire. The weight of the mask lifted from his face, but the exhaustion of the past days clung to him.

He was about to leave the Hokage Building when a flicker of red caught his eye.

Down the corridor, a woman in a plain long-sleeved robe was carefully balancing a stack of documents in her arms. Her steps were small and deliberate, as if she were still learning how to move freely.

”Are you getting used to life in Konoha?”

The gentle question startled Uzumaki Rina so much that the documents nearly slipped from her hands. She turned quickly—then relaxed when she saw who it was.

”Ro… Roshi-san,” she said softly, lowering her head in habitual modesty. But unlike before, her posture no longer carried pure fear—only shy restraint. Her cheeks had regained a touch of color, faint but real.

”Life here… is good,” she said after a pause. ”Lady Tsunade takes very good care of us.”

She smiled faintly, though her fingers still gripped the papers tightly.

During the first few nights, she had woken in terror, certain she would find herself back in that dim wooden prison—waiting to be used again. But Konoha was different. There were no locked doors here. No sudden knocks. No eyes watching her in the dark.

Every morning, sunlight entered through her window—a feeling so strange it almost hurt.

”That’s good,” Roshi said simply. ”Any problems adjusting?”

Rina hesitated. ”…No.”

Of course, there were.

She hadn’t gone shopping in years. Every trip to the marketplace was a small battlefield—the cheerful greetings of shopkeepers left her flustered, their questions about her background even more so. She wore long sleeves to hide the scars and bite marks she still couldn’t bear others to see.

”How’s Karin?” Roshi asked, steering the conversation gently away.

This time, her expression brightened fully. ”She’s doing very well. Lady Tsunade gave us books. Every evening, when I return, I read with her—teaching her the words I still remember.”

Her eyes lifted, quietly studying Roshi’s face. The young man before her was not cold at all—merely composed, perhaps a little tired.

”Karin… sometimes asks about you,” she said, her voice almost a whisper.

Then, after a moment’s hesitation, she placed the documents carefully on the nearby windowsill and turned toward him.

With both hands at her sides, she bowed deeply—so deeply her forehead nearly touched her knees.

”Thank you,” she said, voice trembling.

Her words came out small, but carried the weight of everything she couldn’t say.

”You told me it was stealing,” she said quietly. ”But… you were saving us, weren’t you?”

For a moment, the corridor was silent—filled only with the distant sound of wind chimes from outside.

Roshi said nothing.

But his faint, almost imperceptible smile was answer enough.

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