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

After submitting his proposal for reforming the Chūnin Exams, Roshi shifted his focus back to his tree-seeds project.

He cleared out a small experimental plot in the forest behind the Senju home, carefully sorting and cataloging the new tree seeds he had collected from the Land of Lightning.

The data and insights salvaged from Orochimaru’s abandoned laboratory had yet to be fully applied. For now, they existed only as theoretical deductions waiting to be tested.

Most of the native trees in the Land of Lightning were black pines, capable of taking root in narrow rock fissures. There were also vast stretches of cold-resistant Japanese cedars and hemlocks. While these species were uncommon in the Land of Fire, they weren’t entirely absent either.

What Roshi truly focused on were trees that thrived in regions frequently struck by thunderstorms.

According to ancient local legends, such trees carried the ”root-nature” of the Land of Lightning itself, imbued with mysterious power. In reality, however, field inspections showed nothing supernatural—only an exceptionally stubborn vitality. They weren’t classified as strategic resources, nor were they subject to strict control by Kumogakure.

Roshi crouched beside a seedling that had just broken through the soil. This new tree, cultivated through Wood Release, would be ready for experiments involving Tailed Beast chakra once it grew a little more.

—

Meanwhile, Iwagakure moved faster than anyone had anticipated.

Ōnoki formally dispatched invitations for a joint Chūnin Exams to several shinobi villages bordering—or situated close to—the Land of Earth.

The list included the Village of the Land of Silence, the Stone Village of the Land of Stone, and even Amegakure, Kusagakure, and Takigakure—villages that had traditionally participated in Konoha’s Chūnin Exams.

Most striking of all, an invitation was also sent to Sunagakure of the Land of Wind.

For a time, the ninja world fell into an uneasy silence.

Among the Five Great Ninja Villages, Konoha and Iwagakure had simultaneously announced joint Chūnin Exams scheduled for September—and their invitation lists overlapped to a remarkable degree.

Ordinarily, the Great Villages competed within the arena during joint exams. This year, however, the situation hinted at a different kind of struggle altogether: a contest over hosting rights and influence.

For smaller shinobi villages, this became an unexpected trial of allegiance. Villages like Takigakure, which maintained delicate relations with both sides, found themselves particularly torn.

Amegakure was the first to break the silence, publicly declaring that it would send participants to both Konoha’s and Iwagakure’s exams.

Takigakure, on the other hand, remained silent—clearly waiting to see how events would unfold.

Mui of Kusa made his stance clear. He announced publicly that, since Konoha had extended its invitation first, Grass Village would only participate in the Chūnin Exams hosted by Konoha.

At the same time, he quietly sent an envoy to Konoha to explain himself.

”Mui made that announcement publicly,” Tsunade said, placing a report on the desk as she looked at Roshi. ”But in private, he still dispatched two Genin teams under the pretense of long-term missions.”

”He sent word explaining that this was pressure from certain elders within Grass Village. Even as village head, this compromise was the best he could manage for now—and he hopes we’ll understand.”

”Outwardly, Grass Village maintains that it’s only participating in Konoha’s exams, preserving its public position.”

She paused briefly.

”The Old Man believes there’s no need to give Mui a hard time over this,” Tsunade continued. ”He’s only been in office for a year. His footing isn’t stable yet, and he’s already done as much as he reasonably can.”

Her finger tapped lightly against the table.

Her gaze, however, sharpened—clearly indicating that the matter was far from over.

”The real problem now is Sunagakure.”

It was precisely because Suna had also received Iwagakure’s invitation—and had yet to reveal its stance—that Tsunade had summoned Roshi.

”Sunagakure won’t participate in Iwagakure’s exams,” Roshi said without hesitation. ”Even if Ōnoki is willing to pay a steep price, they’re extremely unlikely to accept.”

”The core issue Sunagakure faces has never been a shortage of currency,” he continued. ”It’s a lack of essential survival resources—food, medicine. Those are their lifelines.”

And those lifelines were things only Konoha, backed by the fertile Land of Fire, could provide steadily and in large quantities.

Even if Iwagakure offered vast sums of money, Sunagakure would be cautious—if not outright resistant. Currency couldn’t be immediately converted into what they needed most, and would antagonize us.

”The competition over joint Chūnin Exams isn’t conventional warfare,” Roshi elaborated. ”It’s a gamble on influence, long-term development, and future economic returns. The results won’t be immediate, and it won’t resolve fundamental survival problems.”

”If Ōnoki intends to use this as leverage—to turn Sunagakure into a bargaining chip against Konoha—then he’s chosen the wrong method.”

From Roshi’s understanding of Ebizō, that pragmatic old fox would see the flaw in such a plan.

”Sunagakure may try to extract more benefits from us,” Roshi added calmly. ”That’s human nature. But my recommendation is to ignore it for now and stick to our current strategy.”

”If they misjudge the situation and make unreasonable demands…”

”Then even if this Chūnin Exam proceeds without Sunagakure’s participation, we cannot afford to compromise.”

”Giving in once only teaches them that pressure works. When their expectations inevitably go unmet later, resentment will follow—and that would undermine the relatively stable cooperation we’ve maintained.”

Tsunade nodded slowly. Roshi had handled negotiations with Sunagakure more than once, always preserving Konoha’s interests while keeping relations from collapsing. His judgment carried weight.

”On the other hand,” Roshi said, shifting gears, ”we should deepen our engagement with Kumo.”

”During my last visit to Kumogakure, they proactively expressed interest in establishing a fixed schedule for joint Chūnin Exams.”

”That tells us they’ve already anticipated a future where the exams become more commercialized—and they’re mentally prepared for it.”

”In this context,” Roshi continued, ”strengthening cooperation with the Hidden Cloud does two things. First, it publicly demonstrates Konoha’s stable and advantageous position on the eastern front, reinforcing this emerging alliance.”

”Second,” he said evenly, ”it sends a clear message to Sunagakure and their habit of ’waiting for a better offer.’ is a waste of time.”

”Let them understand that Konoha’s options for cooperation aren’t limited to them. A stable alliance requires mutual effort and respect—not one-sided testing and endless demands.”

The Hidden Cloud Village’s change in attitude had been an unexpected blessing.

Without it, responding to Ōnoki’s clearly targeted maneuver this time would have required far more effort.

Tsunade leaned back in her chair, arms crossed, and thought for a moment.

”We’ll proceed as you suggest.”

”Send an invitation to the Hidden Cloud Village,” she ordered, ”to discuss future arrangements for the Chūnin Exams.”

Then she concluded decisively, ”As for Sunagakure… let them cool their heads for now.”

—

”Still nothing from Konoha?”

Ever since receiving Ōnoki’s invitation, Rasa had been waiting.

Waiting for Konoha’s response—or more accurately, for an opening to bargain.

There was no possibility of Sunagakure participating in an exam hosted by Iwagakure.

Ōnoki’s move had never been about welcoming the Sand. It was a deliberate provocation aimed squarely at Konoha.

Ebizo stood a short distance behind him, eyes half-lidded, his expression unreadable.

He had harbored no expectations from the start. Since last year, he’d understood all too clearly that Konoha was no longer the easy target it once had been.

Still, since Rasa wished to test the waters, Ebizo saw no reason to interfere. It cost nothing to try.

Now the outcome was plain.

Sunagakure remained motionless—and Konoha, equally silent.

Even the routine annual communication to finalize the Chūnin Exams had been conspicuously delayed this year.

Inside the Kazekage’s office, Rasa stood by the window, his gaze sweeping across the quiet, desolate sprawl of Sunagakure below, stretching onward into the endless yellow sands.

”Ebizo,” he asked quietly, ”with our current circumstances… could we host a Chūnin Exams of comparable scale on our own?”

Ebizo’s eyes opened slightly. After a long pause, he replied, ”We cannot afford to host that many people.”

Hosting the exam itself wasn’t the issue.

What Rasa wanted wasn’t just the Genin competitors—but the spectators, the merchants, the nobles, and the influx of wealth and attention they would bring.

And with Sunagakure’s present environment and limited resources, it simply lacked the capacity to support such an influx.

Especially now—when both Iwagakure and Konoha had already begun preparations well in advance.

The silence that followed felt heavier than any outright refusal.

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