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[NNSS] Chapter : 55
🕑 Added 2025-10-08 17:58:51 +0000 UTCTraining Sage Mode was hardly suitable for Deai Port. After gaining the necessary insights from Katsuyu, Roshi decided to shelve the matter for the time being.
As Lady Tsunade had predicted, Itachi’s recovery was going smoothly. He had already resumed light taijutsu training, chakra control, and even short bouts of ninjutsu practice. In truth, he looked healthier than before his injury.
Itachi himself seemed rather calm about the whole ordeal.
“At least this time,” he said quietly, “I didn’t lose a comrade.”
His voice was steady, but the faint shadow in his eyes betrayed a memory he didn’t want to revisit.
“I was careless. If you hadn’t arrived when you did, Shizune—”
“Your combat plan wasn’t flawed,” Roshi interrupted, cutting short the self-blame. “Given your power, you made the right calls in that environment. The responsibility falls on me—as your captain.”
Itachi shook his head slightly, but Roshi added before he could protest, “If you want to shoulder that kind of burden, at least make Chūnin first.”
Anko, who had been leaning against a nearby pillar, straightened up dramatically and cleared her throat.
“Ahem! Well then, Special Jōnin Roshi,” she said with a mock salute, “your diligent and humble subordinate Anko would like to point out that she worked very hard this time.”
Her serious act didn’t last long; her grin was too wide. “Speaking of which, Roshi—you remember what you promised—”
“Yes, yes, I remember,” Roshi sighed, hands raised in surrender. “We’ll head back to the village first. The feast I promised you is still on, I just need a rain check.”
“Hehe! You said it yourself, Captain!” Anko laughed triumphantly, patting his shoulder as if she’d already won.
Across the room, the youngest member of the squad sat quietly. His small feet swung idly above the floor, and the soft dawn light reflected in his dark eyes. Watching his teammates bicker so easily, a faint, genuine smile appeared on his face.
After packing up, Roshi went to bid farewell to Lady Tsunade, leaving Anko and Itachi to rest.
Without Tsunade and Shizune, their A-rank mission against the Black Snake Group would have been impossible to complete.
For once, Tsunade wasn’t drinking. She was carefully examining Shizune’s bandaged right arm.
Among everyone involved, Shizune had taken the worst of it—both physically and from overexertion. Despite her own injuries, she had insisted on tending to the wounded of the Wasabi family after the battle.
“How’s her arm?” Roshi asked.
“The bones are healing a little slower than expected, but she’ll be fine soon.”
Shizune smiled, tugging her sleeve back down. “I’ll go check on the Wasabi family again, Roshi. See you later.”
She hurried off, leaving the Senju Princess alone with her least favorite visitor.
Tsunade’s expression soured instantly.
She regretted ever opening her mouth when he came to her with those ledgers. Ever since, he had been pestering her nonstop—asking about policies, village finances, even topics that most high-level officials barely discussed aloud.
“Lady Tsunade, what exactly do the instigators of the last war demand?”
“Lady Tsunade, what percentage of the village’s budget comes from the Daimyō’s allocation?”
One question after another.
She wasn’t the Hokage—how was she supposed to know everything?
The more he asked, the more he got under her skin. And aside from that polite “Lady” he always tacked on, he showed her no deference whatsoever.
If he weren’t the only one in the clan who had successfully fused Hashirama’s cells… if she weren’t forced to pass down that responsibility to him…
Tsunade exhaled sharply. “What is it now?”
“I came to bid farewell, Lady Tsunade.”
“Then go already.” She waved a hand dismissively.
“Basic courtesies and procedures should still be observed.”
A vein twitched on her temple.
You little brat. Since when did you start lecturing me about manners?
“Out of concern,” Roshi added evenly, “you should cut down on alcohol. You’re almost pickled by now.”
Crack!
A spiderweb fissure appeared on the stone table beneath her palm as Tsunade fought to keep her temper in check.
“It’s not your place to lecture me!” she snapped.
“I’m merely stating facts, Lady Tsunade.”
Her fingers clenched around the edge of the table. “Say one more word, and I’ll throw this at you.”
Roshi wisely took a step back. “Then, farewell, Lady Tsunade.”
His calm, almost emotionless demeanor only made her irritation flare further. She inhaled deeply, trying—and failing—to steady herself.
“Hey,” she called out.
He stopped and turned slightly, waiting.
“You understand, don’t you?” she asked quietly.
“What?”
Tsunade hesitated, then took a deep breath, her voice low and weary.
“What I said before—about my grandfather’s dream. Everything he fought for, everything we sacrificed for… it was a beautiful fantasy, but a fantasy nonetheless.”
“You, who have already died once… still can’t let it go?”
Roshi’s gaze met hers—clear, calm, unwavering. The quiet conviction behind his eyes made her uneasy, as if something in her chest were burning under that stillness. She almost looked away.
“You’ve traveled the world,” he said. “In the Land of Fire, do ninja still slaughter each other freely?”
Her breath caught.
Of course there were still conflicts—grudges, skirmishes, politics. But to say they were wantonly killing each other, as in the days of the Warring Clans, with corpses littering every road…
“No,” she admitted softly.
“Then, at the very least,” Roshi said, “the First Hokage’s ideal has succeeded in one respect.”
The afternoon sun lengthened his shadow across the corridor. Without another word, Roshi turned and disappeared around the corner.
Tsunade stood alone, her fingers brushing the cold gem at her throat.
Outside, Roshi met Shizune once more.
“Roshi…” she began hesitantly.
“Yes, Shizune-san?”
“Lady Tsunade can be… harsh. Please don’t take her words to heart.”
“I understand,” he said simply.
At the estate gates, Jirocho was already waiting. He walked with them for a while before stopping, watching silently as Team 5 disappeared into the distance.
No civilians joined them on the return trip, so at a ninja’s pace, they could easily reach Konoha before dawn.
Though the matter of the Deai Port ledger was pressing, it wasn’t urgent enough to forgo rest. At dusk, Roshi chose a suitable clearing for camp. Anko and Itachi pitched the tents while he set up perimeter traps.
Just as he was finishing, he sensed movement.
From the forest shadows, four masked ninja emerged—each wearing sleeveless combat gear and short white shirts over dark armor, swords strapped to their backs.
“Team 5,” the leader spoke, his voice muffled behind a wolf mask. “Special Jōnin Roshi.”
He stepped forward, extending a gloved hand.
“We’ve been ordered to retrieve the Deai Port ledger from you. Please hand it over.”
