Mitarashi Anko.
As the disciple of Orochimaru, one of Konoha’s legendary Sannin, she should originally have enjoyed an enviable position.
But after Orochimaru was exposed for conducting forbidden experiments on people from the village and became a rogue ninja, Anko’s circumstances became painfully awkward.
Anko and Shuji had both been born in Konoha Year 40 and entered the Ninja Academy in the same year, though they had been assigned to different classes.
The original Shuji had seen her around before, but they had never been close.
After being detained by ANBU for several months and thoroughly investigated, Anko was eventually cleared and released.
In truth, the entire process was probably little more than a necessary formality.
At least as far as the village currently knew, Orochimaru’s crimes were already severe enough: he had killed fellow Konoha shinobi and used his own comrades as subjects for forbidden ninjutsu experiments.
Those were crimes even the Third Hokage, Sarutobi Hiruzen, could not simply cover up.
More than fifty years had passed since shinobi clans first gathered together and formed hidden villages.
At the very foundation of that system was a basic guarantee of security: the clans living within the same village could not simply prey upon and slaughter one another.
Without that minimum boundary, different shinobi clans could never have gathered in one place and trusted one another enough to survive together.
Orochimaru’s actions had completely shattered that boundary.
There was no longer any way for him to remain in Konoha.
Yet Orochimaru’s situation was complicated.
As one of the Sannin, he had accumulated enormous military achievements and still had countless former subordinates and connections throughout the village.
More importantly, he had been Hiruzen’s student for decades.
Their relationship wasn’t something that could simply be erased overnight.
Taken together, it meant Orochimaru could be killed—or he could be spared.
The one thing he absolutely could not do was continue living inside Konoha as though nothing had happened.
Hiruzen had chosen not to kill him.
He confronted and punished his former student, yet ultimately held back and allowed him to escape.
Afterward, the village followed the standard procedure for pursuing a rogue ninja, effectively leaving Orochimaru to wander outside Konoha.
If even Orochimaru himself had been treated with that degree of restraint, then naturally his disciple and former subordinates would be handled with considerably more leniency.
Otherwise, given that Konoha was fundamentally a military organization, Orochimaru’s betrayal should have triggered a brutal internal purge.
Instead, the village’s response had amounted to far more thunder than rain.
For Shuji, however, that left his current squad in a rather complicated position.
He had two teammates.
One was far too young.
The other had only just finished being investigated.
And both came with unusually complicated backgrounds.
Still, there was no point worrying about something that had already been decided.
The assessment arranged by the Third Hokage had yet to begin.
Apparently, the shinobi responsible for evaluating him was still away from the village on a mission.
So Shuji devoted his attention to training.
Deep within the old forest behind the former Senju estate, Shuji sat cross-legged beneath the trees.
After days of meditation and repeated experimentation, his perception of the ripples caused by Wood Release creations had grown increasingly distinct—the subtle spatial tremors produced whenever natural energy was unconsciously disturbed.
They were no longer vague fluctuations at the edge of his awareness.
Now they possessed a recognizable rhythm and texture, something his spiritual senses could almost grasp like invisible tendrils.
The sensation carried the raw, ancient quality unique to natural energy, flowing silently around him like unseen currents in the depths of the ocean.
He had finally crossed the first threshold.
Now he could begin trying to absorb natural energy.
Sensing it was only the beginning.
The next step was learning how to guide the omnipresent power into himself.
But touching it directly with his real body?
That would be no different from playing with fire while drenched in oil.
Without another senjutsu practitioner nearby to intervene if something went wrong, a single mistake could leave him permanently petrified—a silent stone statue standing forever among the trees.
Naruto Uzumaki’s method from the original story offered one possible reference.
Naruto had used shadow clones during his training and later relied on clones that had gathered natural energy to extend Sage Mode.
Compared with Naruto, however, Shuji possessed an even more suitable advantage.
As a Wood Release user, he could create wood clones.
Wood clones had several advantages over ordinary shadow clones.
They were more difficult to distinguish from the original, the amount of power inherited from the user’s main body could be adjusted more flexibly, and—most importantly—their senses were directly shared with the original.
A shadow clone had to be dispelled before its memories and experiences returned to the original body.
A wood clone required no such inconvenience.
That meant Shuji could allow a wood clone to absorb natural energy in his place.
Even if the clone lost control and became petrified, the most he would lose was a single wood clone.
His real body would remain unharmed.
The path before him suddenly became clear.
A wood clone separated from Shuji’s body.
Shuji closed his eyes.
His concentration tightened like a bowstring pulled to its limit.
He extended his perception like countless invisible nerve endings, wrapping them around the wood clone and sharing every trace of sensation it experienced.
A clear command passed through their connection.
Sense it.
Guide it.
Absorb the natural energy filling the surrounding space.
The wood clone obeyed.
At first, the forest remained perfectly still.
Only the gentle rustling of leaves disturbed the silence.
Then, little by little, an indescribable heaviness gathered around the clone.
The air itself seemed to thicken.
Even the patches of sunlight filtering through the canopy appeared to slow, as though the entire space surrounding the clone had become strangely sluggish.
Through their shared senses, Shuji finally felt it clearly.
This was no longer merely a vague ripple.
It was as though he had suddenly been submerged in an invisible ocean of life—gentle and serene on the surface, yet containing power vast beyond measure.
Countless minute particles of energy carrying the primitive breath of life drifted around the wood clone like transparent stardust.
Very carefully, the clone used its own chakra as a guide and reached toward one tiny strand.
It touched it.
Guided it.
And drew it inside.
The instant that strand of natural energy entered the wood clone— BOOM!
An indescribable torrent exploded through its body.
The energy was overflowing with vitality, yet possessed an equally terrifying corrosive force.
It was like pouring boiling, primordial life itself into a cold and fragile vessel.
The wood clone convulsed violently.
The chakra structure maintaining its body fluctuated wildly in an instant.
Then something even more astonishing happened.
Clear wooden grain began emerging across the clone’s skin, visible to the naked eye like the bark of an ancient tree.
Its body twisted and swelled uncontrollably.
Tiny cracking sounds came from its joints as wooden fibers rapidly grew and expanded.
The humanoid figure was transforming into a tree.
“Urgh!” Shuji’s brows knitted tightly as a muffled groan escaped his throat.
His face went slightly pale.
The sensations transmitted through the clone were terrifyingly vivid.
It felt as though his own limbs were being reshaped by that violent power, flesh hardening into wood beneath his skin.
He forced himself to endure the discomfort and focused completely on observing the transformation.
Just as the wood clone was about to lose the last traces of its human form and become a grotesquely twisted tree, a lifeless gray-white color suddenly appeared across the wooden portions of its body.
Petrification.
It spread like a plague.
The cold stillness of stone rapidly devoured the clone’s surging vitality.
In moments, the gray-white layer was on the verge of swallowing the entire distorted wooden body.
Shuji immediately made his decision.
“Release!” Poof!
With a muffled burst, the grotesque half-tree, half-stone creation collapsed into a charred piece of dead wood.
It struck the ground heavily before crumbling into drifting traces of energy and dust.
Shuji slowly opened his eyes and released a long breath.
He raised one hand and wiped the thin layer of sweat from his forehead.
The attempt had failed.
But the information he had gained was invaluable.
Once the wood clone absorbed natural energy, the fundamental “wood” nature within it had been drastically strengthened and brought to the surface.
The enhancement had been so violent that the clone’s internal structure immediately lost balance.
It could no longer maintain a human form, causing it to become increasingly wooden and tree-like before the uncontrolled natural energy finally backfired and petrified it.
That confirmed something crucial.
Natural energy did not strengthen everything indiscriminately.
Instead, it amplified and guided the traits already rooted within the practitioner—or within the creation absorbing it.
The toads of Mount Myōboku and the snakes of Ryūchi Cave had their own unique racial characteristics enhanced by natural energy.
His wood clone was fundamentally different.
Its core came from Wood Release, a power that itself seemed to carry faint traces of the Divine Tree’s characteristics.
Therefore, when natural energy entered the clone, the first thing it strengthened was the essence of “wood.” That nature grew explosively, mutated, and ultimately overwhelmed the vessel that contained it.
Shuji stared at the charred remains lying on the forest floor, thoughtful light flickering in his eyes.
While he was still immersed in his conclusions, a black-feathered hawk glided silently through the forest like a fragment of the night sky.
It landed steadily on a low branch in front of him.
The hawk fixed its sharp eyes on Shuji.
A small rolled message tube was held securely in its beak.
The tube itself was ordinary, made from common wood.
The only distinctive feature was the simple seal stamped across it—the vermilion wax used specifically by the Hokage’s Office.
Shuji removed the message and unrolled the slip of paper inside.
The handwriting was familiar: slightly messy, yet strong and forceful.
It belonged to Sarutobi Hiruzen.
**Shuji, the examiner has returned.
Three days from now, noon.
Training Ground Three.**