The Chūnin Exams began quietly—and Roshi couldn't have cared less.
While the entire village buzzed with excitement, he had already submitted a formal leave request to Tsunade, citing "personal training" as his reason.
It wasn't even a lie.
For a jōnin, claiming time to "hone one's skills" was practically sacred. No Hokage would deny that—especially when the applicant happened to be one of Konoha's top combat assets.
Roshi planned to use this period not for rest, but for something deeper—natural energy assimilation.
Unlike typical Sage Jutsu training, which focused on temporarily blending nature energy into chakra during battle, Roshi wanted to explore something more radical:
Could a person permanently assimilate a portion of nature energy to enhance their body's fundamental limits?
He'd thought about the three great Sage regions—Mount Myōboku, the Shikkotsu Forest, and Ryūchi Cave.
The evidence was right there: longevity, vitality, evolution.
The Toad Sage had lived since the era of the Sage of Six Paths. Even if he wasn't on the level of the Ōtsutsuki who could seed entire worlds, outlasting Hagoromo and Hamura in the flesh was no small feat.
Of course, Roshi wasn't foolish enough to experiment with his main body first.
As always, he called upon Katsuyu.
She was more than a summon—she was his guide through every delicate phase of his training.
The giant slug's patient, measured tone never changed.
Her conclusion, however, was sobering.
"Absorbing natural energy for permanent enhancement is possible," she said, "but the process is perilous—and inefficient."
Two main conditions were required:
The training must occur in a pure, high-density natural environment—such as one of the Sage regions.
The practitioner's mind and body had to remain perfectly calm over long durations, since even a flicker of imbalance could result in petrification or spiritual disarray.
Even if both conditions were met, Katsuyu warned, the body's ability to convert nature energy efficiently was limited. The gains, while real, would be marginal—and dangerously slow.
From a combat standpoint, the investment-to-return ratio was abysmal.
A shinobi could spend years trying to digest nature energy—or, in the same time, master several new jutsu that offered far greater battlefield value.
In short: not worth it.
Especially not for him.
Roshi hadn't even fully optimized his current body yet.
Until he discovered a method to dramatically boost energy conversion efficiency—even the Hashirama cells within him couldn't make this path viable.
With a resigned sigh, he abandoned, for now, the dream of being immortal within the shinobi world and began mapping out his next round of practical training—
When the door burst open.
"Roshi! Roshi! Itachi—"
"—passed the preliminaries and entered the main Chūnin Exams," Roshi finished without looking up, opening the door just enough for Anko to stumble in.
Her face froze mid-excitement. Then she groaned, deflating.
"You're such a buzzkill! Can't you at least pretend to be surprised?"
Roshi arched an eyebrow. "They don't normally announce preliminary results publicly. How did you find out?"
Anko smirked, leaning against the frame. "Mmm… I'm starving~ Yakiniku sounds so good right now."
Roshi sighed and reached for her cheek.
"Okay, okay!" she squeaked, dodging too late and rubbing the spot. "Ow! Captain, seriously, if you pinch any harder it'll bruise!"
When she saw him raise his hand again, she quickly confessed, "Fine! It was Kamizuki and Hagane! They got assigned to patrol the exam grounds and told me when they passed by!"
Then, as if to shift blame, she muttered under her breath about how "Captain Roshi used to be so nice last year," and how he'd "gone cold and mysterious lately."
Before Roshi could respond, she perked up again. "Oh, and guess what—Kusagakure sent a team this year!"
That got his attention. "Kusa?"
"Yup!" she said brightly. "You didn't know?"
Roshi shook his head.
"They've only got two genin competing," Anko went on, trying to remember. "Their names were… Muku and Ryuzetsu, I think? Yeah, those two! Word is, they did great—top marks in both the written exam and the survival round!"
She crossed her arms proudly, as though she'd trained them herself.
"Meanwhile, Amegakure and Takigakure didn't make it past the second stage. Again."
Roshi wasn't surprised. Smaller villages rarely made a real splash. Their genin usually received promotions back home by political appointment rather than performance.
The Kusa team's advancement was either pure luck—or the Third Hokage's careful diplomacy at work.
Still, the names gave him pause.
Muku. Ryuzetsu.
A faint smile crossed his lips. "So they really made it, huh?"
Anko didn't catch the tone. She leaned in eagerly, eyes gleaming. "The main matches start next month! You're coming to watch, right?"
"If I'm free," Roshi replied mildly.
"Wrong answer," she said, folding her arms. "A Captain ignoring his team is unacceptable! You're coming, and that's final!"
Roshi gave a small shrug. "...You have a point. I'll go."
"Deal!" Anko grinned, victorious. "Then I'll drag you there myself!"
Roshi watched her skip away, the faintest of smiles tugging at his lips.
Her energy was exhausting—but not unwelcome.
As the door closed, he turned his gaze toward the window, where sunlight spilled across his desk. The village outside was alive with voices, training, and anticipation.
For now, he would let them have their Chūnin Exams.
He had other paths to walk.
Paths the rest of the shinobi world wasn't ready to see.
When the Chūnin Exams began, the village seemed to exhale.
For the first time in weeks, there was an unusual calm in Konoha—missions slowed, patrols eased, and the usual tide of paperwork trickled to a manageable stream.
The teams from Amegakure and Takigakure had already withdrawn after early elimination. As for Kusagakure, Konoha had officially dispatched a messenger with a sealed letter, confirming Mui and his subordinates as the village's temporary representatives for the remainder of the exams.
It wasn't until that messenger reached Kusa that the surviving elders finally learned the truth—the death of their leader Tsutakawa, the catastrophe at Hōzuki Castle, the rampage of the Box of Paradise, and its ultimate sealing by Konoha's hand.
Along with that news came something far less diplomatic—a flood of letters demanding accountability.
They came from small villages and clans across the shinobi world—those who had entrusted prisoners to Hōzuki Castle for safekeeping. Those prisoners were now dead.
And someone had to answer for it.
Under normal circumstances, the blame would fall on Mui, the warden of Hōzuki Castle. But with Konoha openly shielding him, Kusagakure could only grit its teeth and feign ignorance.
Fortunately for them, most of the complainants were minor forces. As long as Konoha didn't pursue the matter further, the consequences would remain containable.
Hiruzen was already negotiating on their behalf. Kumogakure, having lost several prisoners of their own, had sent their jōnin representative Dodai to attend talks with Koharu and Homura, who escorted Mui to arrange compensation.
The political fallout was being handled—but Tsunade still had a headache of her own.
She had promised Roshi she would "make arrangements" for Naruto.
And after days of deliberation, she decided to test the waters during a high-level meeting.
The Advisors convened once again in the Hokage's Office, the air thick.
"During the Chūnin Exams, there are many outsiders within the village," Tsunade began, keeping her tone measured. "Naruto's identity is sensitive. I propose we issue a directive to the villagers—to remind them to watch their words and behavior."
A safe, cautious start. Nothing controversial.
Koharu nodded in apparent agreement. "Yes, with so many guests, vigilance is necessary. I also recommend increasing Anbu surveillance on the boy and restricting his movements. It would be safer if he stayed home for now."
Homura adjusted his glasses and added, "The security regulations for a Jinchūriki already exist, but special events like this require reinforced oversight. We can't risk outsiders catching wind of his identity."
Tsunade's shoulders tensed.
They had understood her—and deliberately sidestepped the point.
She wasn't talking about confining Naruto. She was talking about protecting him—from the villagers' prejudice.
But before she could argue, a low, dismissive voice cut through the air.
Danzō didn't even bother opening his eyes.
"The Nine-Tails' chakra is the most malevolent and powerful of all the Tailed Beasts. Any Jinchūriki must learn to endure hatred—that is their trial by fire."
He turned his head slightly toward her.
"Tsunade, as Lady Mito's granddaughter, I would have thought you understood that much."
The words struck hard, cold and deliberate.
Tsunade's lips parted, anger flashing behind her eyes—but Hiruzen lifted a hand, silencing her before she could respond.
He exhaled slowly and asked instead, "Homura, Koharu—what of Kumogakure's stance?"
Homura replied first, ever the bureaucrat. "They've accepted Kusagakure's compensation. Mui offered them the secret technique of Fire Release: Heavenly Prison. Ultimately, these were just prisoners—Kumogakure considers the matter settled."
He paused to adjust his glasses again. "The other villages are merely requesting financial reparations. Kusagakure is devastated, but they can still provide mission quotas as payment."
With that, the meeting drifted into less critical topics—scheduling, exam logistics, trivial adjustments to Anbu patrol routes.
By the time it ended, only Tsunade and Hiruzen remained in the room.
The old Hokage sat quietly for a moment, pipe unlit, eyes distant.
"Tsunade," he said finally, "has Naruto encountered any incidents recently?"
She shook her head. "No. Nothing special." Then, with a sigh, she added, "But old man, Naruto isn't like Grandma Mito… or Kushina."
Her voice softened.
"Grandma was already a powerful kunoichi when she became a Jinchūriki. Kushina had her guidance—and later, Minato's protection. But Naruto… he has no one."
Hiruzen's expression darkened. He closed his eyes, the weight of guilt settling across his features.
"I've failed them," he murmured. "Kushina… and Minato. They trusted me."
Then, more quietly: "But human prejudice can't be erased with a single decree. Not even from a Hokage."
"When you take over, Tsunade," he added, looking at her now, "I'll spend more time with Naruto myself."
She frowned deeply. "Then what if we told him the truth—at least part of it? That he's the Fourth Hokage's son?"
Hiruzen hesitated. "Tsunade… that's not a decision to make lightly."
He set his pipe aside.
"The Fourth Hokage was a hero—too much of one. Revealing that legacy now could do as much harm as good. A hero's son may be adored… or envied. Worshipped… or resented."
He looked out the window, where sunlight spilled over the rooftops of Konoha.
"For now," he said softly, "let him live as Naruto. Not as the son of Minato Namikaze."
Tsunade didn't reply.
Her hands were folded tightly on the desk, knuckles pale.
Both of them knew what he meant—and both of them hated it.
Because in a village built on sacrifice and heroism, sometimes truth itself was the cruelest burden, and no one understood it better than her, related to both the First and Second hokages.
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