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

June 9th, Konoha Year 59

Uchiha Itachi slid the final document into place. The clock on the wall pointed precisely to two o’clock.

”That should do it.”

For once, the silver-haired jōnin wasn’t slacking off. Kakashi was actually working.

”A birthday should look like a birthday, Itachi.”

Yes.

Starting today, Uchiha Itachi was thirteen.

Kakashi had originally wanted to give him the whole day off, but Itachi insisted on clearing the backlog of work.

They settled on a compromise: half a day. Finish the urgent tasks in the morning and leave in the afternoon.

Itachi began tidying his desk, lining up the pens in their holder by length and pushing his chair neatly back under the table. In moments, everything looked exactly as it had when he first arrived.

”Well then, I’ll take my leave now.”

”Wait.”

Kakashi pulled an envelope from his drawer.

”It’s nothing expensive, just some bookstore vouchers everyone in the department put together. You should read something just for fun once in a while.”

Itachi accepted the envelope with both hands. ”Thank you very much.”

Out in the corridor, Anko was already waiting.

”Too slow, too slow! I’ve been waiting forever!”

”Anko-senpai.”

”Here, your birthday present!” Anko shoved a box into his arms. ”Extra-sweet version. Lucky you’re not as picky as Roshi.”

”I just had to make a bit more when I made my own portion.”

More gifts followed from the various offices: coffee beans from the Hidden Mist liaison, honey dates from Sunagakure, premium apples from Iwagakure, and chocolate from Kumogakure.

Each one came with a small card, signed with the official name of the sending department.

Itachi bowed and thanked them one by one, carefully stacking the boxes in the crook of his arm. By the time he stepped out of the affairs bureau building, the pile was higher than his eye line; he had to tilt his head to see the road ahead.

He headed down the main street of the venue district toward Konoha Headquarters. The stack of presents blocked part of his vision, forcing him to slow his pace.

After two blocks, a figure stepped out from a side alley.

Uchiha Shisui stood there, eyeing the mound of gifts in Itachi’s arms.

”Looks like I didn’t need to prepare a gift.”

”Shisui.”

”Just kidding.” Shisui walked over and casually took half the boxes from him.

With his free hand, he pulled a small wooden box from his ninja tool pouch and set it on top of the stack.

”Oil for maintaining kunai.”

”Thank you.”

They continued down the road, walking side by side.

”Is Sasuke still sulking?” Shisui asked.

”…The training is very hard,” Itachi replied. ”All the students selected for the special training class have their own talents. He’s just under too much pressure.”

”There’s no way to rush things like ocular power,” Shisui said. ”Everyone has their own troubles.”

”Just like you and I back then—always thinking we could handle everything on our own.”

They separated in front of the Clan Head’s residence. Shisui returned the stack of gift boxes to Itachi and then gave his shoulder a firm pat.

”Happy birthday, Itachi.”

---

When Itachi slid open the door to his home, he noticed several pairs of shoes already lined up neatly in the entryway.

”I’m home.”

”Welcome back, Itachi.”

Mikoto leaned out from the kitchen, wearing an indigo apron, a dusting of flour still on her hands. Her gaze fell on the gifts in his arms, and she smiled softly.

”It looks like you’ve received many blessings.”

Light footsteps sounded from the living room. Uchiha Izumi came running to the end of the corridor. She wore light-colored casual clothes, her long hair tied back in a neat ponytail.

”Itachi-kun, happy birthday!” Her eyes curved into crescents as she pressed her hands together. ”Auntie Mikoto and I are making dinner. We’re having salt-grilled salmon and chikuzenni today!”

”Sorry for the trouble.”

”It’s no trouble at all; I have the day off today anyway.” Izumi waved a hand and disappeared back into the kitchen.

Itachi took off his shoes, slipped into indoor slippers, and started down the hall, intending to drop the gifts off in his room. As he passed the corridor, he caught sight of his father, Fugaku, seated in the washitsu. Several documents lay spread before him, though his eyes weren’t on the papers.

”Father.”

”How is work?”

”Everything is going smoothly. Kakashi-senpai gave me half a day off.”

”Mm.” Fugaku’s gaze flicked to the gifts in Itachi’s hands and the crests and markings on them. ”It seems your position in the Bureau is being recognized by all sides.”

Itachi stored the gifts in his room. When he came back out, Izumi was emerging from the kitchen, carrying a plate piled with freshly made rice balls.

”Itachi-kun, perfect timing! Help me taste these—ah, Auntie Mikoto said I might’ve added too much salt...”

Itachi picked up a rice ball. The grains were still warm and slightly sticky, with a scattering of black sesame seeds on top. He took a bite. It was saltier than usual, but still within a comfortable range.

”It’s delicious.”

”Really? That’s great!” Izumi let out a quiet sigh of relief, her smile growing even brighter. ”Then I’ll go back and help. Dinner will be ready soon!”

She hurried back to the kitchen. Itachi sat down at the low table, listening to the unfamiliar liveliness filling the house.

A long-forgotten warmth quietly washed over his heart.

As dusk settled, the sound of the door opening came again from the entryway.

When Sasuke returned, he was covered in dust, his bangs damp with sweat and clinging to his forehead.

”I’m home.”

His voice was a little muffled, and after speaking, he headed straight to his room to change.

Fugaku watched his younger son’s retreating back, then shook his head.

After dinner was prepared, Sasuke finished washing up and emerged in clean clothes. He sat down across from Itachi, stayed quiet for a moment, then spoke.

”Nii-san, happy birthday!”

”Thank you.”

The atmosphere at the table was unusually harmonious. Mikoto would now and then place extra dishes into Itachi’s and Sasuke’s bowls while Izumi chatted about recent incidents in the Police Force.

Fugaku only added a word or two on occasion. It wasn’t until halfway through the meal that he spoke again, as if in passing. ”The village has been preparing a sage art training plan recently.”

Itachi set his chopsticks down. ”Yes.”

”Sage Art?” The unfamiliar term hooked Sasuke’s attention. He looked up. ”What’s that?”

Fugaku’s gaze shifted to his younger son.

His eyes were calm, yet that very calmness made Sasuke press his lips together.

”It seems you haven’t been selected yet.” The Clan Head’s voice was completely flat.

Sasuke’s grip on his chopsticks tightened.

”Sage Art is an advanced technique that uses natural energy to strengthen oneself,” Fugaku explained, keeping it brief.

’Natural Energy…?’

Sasuke had no real idea what that meant. But from the way his father and brother spoke, it was obvious the two of them already understood it far better than he did.

—Roshi-san visited the training ground a few days ago.

—Yesterday, Hyūga Neji was kept behind for a private talk with Guy-sensei.

Those scattered memories slid into place. A belated realization crept up Sasuke’s spine.

So there was a threshold above the special training class—one he hadn’t even noticed and that no one had invited him to cross.

He dropped his gaze to the half-eaten rice in his bowl and fell silent.

The rest of dinner carried on under a faint, heavy mood. Fugaku did not bring up Sage Art again. Instead, he turned the conversation toward the details of Itachi’s work at the Bureau—the movements of representatives from the various Hidden Villages, the progress of preparations for the joint meetings, and discussions about revising border passage permissions.

Itachi responded to each question in turn.

Sasuke ate without a word, occasionally glancing up at his brother, only to look away a heartbeat later.

”I’m finished.”

When the meal ended, Sasuke was the first to set down his chopsticks. He stood to leave, but Itachi called to him softly.

”Sasuke.”

The boy halted but didn’t turn around.

”Sage Art training is very difficult,” Itachi said, his tone gentler than usual. ”Once you graduate from the Academy and your physical foundation is more solid, it will be suitable…”

Sasuke didn’t listen to the rest. He walked off, leaving the dining room without looking back. His footsteps echoed down the corridor, then faded, ending with the soft click of a door closing.

Mikoto watched the direction her younger son had gone, open worry on her face. Izumi’s smile had vanished as well; she glanced between Itachi and Mikoto, looking a little helpless.

Only Fugaku remained composed. He lifted his teacup and drank the last sip of now lukewarm tea.

”Continue. Regarding the Hidden Mist’s objections to the spore detection process...”

”Yes.”

By the time he walked Izumi home, night had fully settled over the village.

Streetlights flicked on one after another along the road, their warm yellow glow spilling across the stone path.

”Sasuke-kun... has been working very hard lately,” Izumi said softly.

”Mm.”

”But if it’s Itachi-kun’s little brother, he’ll definitely be fine.” She turned her head and gave Itachi an encouraging smile. ”After all, he works so hard.”

Itachi only nodded in response.

After saying goodbye at Izumi’s doorstep, he headed back alone. When he turned a corner a few dozen meters from the Uchiha compound, he noticed a familiar figure leaning against the wall.

Roshi stood there as if he’d been waiting for some time, holding a long object carefully wrapped in deep blue cotton cloth.

”I hope it’s not too late to offer my congratulations now.”

”Captain.”

”I planned it this way.” Roshi walked over, his footsteps almost soundless. ”I didn’t want to disturb your precious family time.”

He held the bundle out to Itachi.

Itachi accepted it with both hands. It was a bit heavy, the shape long and rigid under the cloth. He loosened the cord and unfolded the wrapping.

A Fūma Shuriken.

”The gift I promised you before. It should suit you now,” Roshi said. ”Though there might not be many chances to use it in the future.”

He studied Itachi for a moment. ”When I went to Aoki’s to buy some things, it suddenly hit me how much time has passed.”

Roshi raised his hand, palm down, and held it at the level of his own chest.

”When I first met you, you were only this tall.”

Then he lifted his hand and set it lightly on top of Itachi’s head. It wasn’t a pat—just a gentle touch, the warmth of his palm seeping through Itachi’s hair.

”I wanted to say you’ve grown up...” Roshi withdrew his hand. ”But on second thought, not really.”

”You’ve worked hard these past few years, Itachi.”

Itachi lowered his gaze.

His fingers tightened around the Fūma Shuriken. Something seemed to clog his throat, and in the end he only bowed his head deeper, letting his bangs fall forward to hide the emotions in his eyes.

”Not at all.”

”You’re the one who has worked hard, senpai.”

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