Naruto: King of Hell

The familiar voice of the system echoed calmly in Santoryu's mind.

"Don't worry, host. I have already considered this issue and prepared a solution. Using the same medicinal herbs you've been using for your herbal baths, you can instead craft recovery pills. I will guide you through the process of making them. These pills will not only be more efficient, but also far more convenient. You can take them daily, even during missions, ensuring that your body continues to recover quickly—even without the luxury of a bath."

Santoryu nodded to himself, silently impressed by the foresight of the system. The solution was practical, and more importantly, sustainable.

That solves one of my biggest concerns, he thought. The Hokage mentioned that the team I'm joining is returning to the village after an extended mission. They'll be resting here in Konoha for a full month. His thoughts continued, During that time, I'm sure the team captain will assign me to some D-rank missions—basic tasks that don't require the full team's involvement. That should give me a chance to earn enough money to purchase the herbs I need. Once I have them, I can start making those pills and continue my strength development without interruption even during the missions.

With that lingering doubt now resolved, Santoryu felt more at ease. He returned his focus entirely to training, pushing his limits with renewed determination.

Days passed quickly, each one filled with rigorous drills, sparring against illusory Young Zoro generated by the system, and continuous discipline. A full week had gone by, and today was no different. Santoryu had just finished another brutal session and was panting lightly as sweat rolled down his face. And once again, Santoryu had failed to defeat Young Zoro.

He stood silently for a moment, his sword lowered at his side.

It'll take time, he acknowledged inwardly. Zoro's image is not just strong, it's built from perfect precision. I'll keep pushing.

Just then, his mother's voice called out from the house.

"Santoryu! Come quickly—someone is here to see you."

He frowned slightly, surprised. Who could it be? Wiping the sweat from his brow, he began walking toward the front gate of their home.

As he stepped outside, he saw a man waiting just beyond the entrance. The visitor was a middle-aged shinobi with jet-black hair and a calm, authoritative presence. What stood out the most were his eyes—red, with a unique concentric ring pattern. He wore the standard Konoha shinobi attire, his flak jacket fitted neatly over his uniform.

Santoryu stopped a few paces away and regarded him with a questioning look.

"You are...?"

The man replied evenly, "I am Shinku Yuhi. I've come to inform you that you've officially been assigned to my team. The Hokage told you about this a week ago, if I'm not mistaken."

Santoryu gave a small nod of confirmation, quickly realizing who this man was—his new team captain. He bowed slightly in respect.

"Captain," he said simply.

Shinku gave a curt nod, his expression unreadable.

"I came here today to inform you," he said calmly, "that tomorrow morning, you are to report to Training Ground Five. I will personally evaluate your abilities to determine whether you're fit to join my team. You'll also meet the other two members—if you prove capable of standing alongside them."

He paused for a moment, letting his words settle before continuing.

"Until you officially pass my test and become part of the team, you do not have the right to address me as 'Captain.' Understood?"

Santoryu lowered his head respectfully, his tone composed. "Yes, Shinku-san."

Shinku gave a final nod of acknowledgment. Then, without another word, his figure vanished into thin air—no hand signs, no dramatic flurry, just a flicker of movement and silence.

Santoryu blinked. His eyes hadn't been able to track the man's movement at all. If not for his Observation Haki, which was constantly active within a radius of about seventy to eighty meters, he might not have sensed Shinku's departure at all.

So that's the speed of a Jōnin, he thought, right eye narrowed in respect. Effortless and invisible.

And then another thought struck him.

Kurenai Yuhi's father... I didn't expect him to be my team leader. The realization came with a hint of surprise, but Santoryu quickly composed himself.

With the encounter over, he returned to his room. The day passed quietly. He had a simple meal and rested, allowing his body to recover from the morning's training. After waking up again in the late afternoon, he resumed his evening practice, following his usual discipline of sword drills, endurance sets, and reflex exercises under gravity.

Night came and went.

By early morning, Santoryu was already up and moving. He began his day with a light jog, choosing to maintain a normal pace to conserve energy for what awaited him. After his run, he practiced his sword forms—fluid, methodical movements that sharpened his edge and centered his mind.

As the appointed hour drew closer, he returned home and began preparing himself. He changed into his preferred outfit for serious training: a fitted white shirt, black pants, and his signature green harakami layered over his torso like a short training robe. He fastened his swords to his right waist, the hilts aligned for easy access, the cords tied tight and precise.

Once everything was in place, Santoryu took a final breath, eyes sharp with focus, and set off toward the Fifth Training Ground—ready to prove himself.

Santoryu arrived at the Fifth Training Ground fifteen minutes ahead of the appointed time. The morning mist still clung to the grass, and the air carried a crisp stillness that came just before the day fully stirred to life.

He stood calmly in the center of the clearing, his presence silent but composed, arms crossed behind his back, waiting.

Exactly at 7:00 a.m., a shift in the air signaled someone's arrival. In the next moment, Shinku appeared with his usual silent grace—accompanied by two boys. Both looked to be around Santoryu's age, their forehead protectors gleaming faintly in the morning light.

Santoryu studied them silently, assuming these must be the teammates Shinku had mentioned—though that would only become official if he passed today's test.

Shinku gave Santoryu a nod and got straight to the point.

"I won't waste time with unnecessary chatter," he said. "These two beside me are Shiro and Haku—Genin, just like you. They graduated from the Ninja Academy last year and have been part of my team since then. If you pass the evaluation, they will become your teammates."

Santoryu offered a polite bow of acknowledgment and said evenly, "Hello. My name is Santoryu Hatake."

Shiro gave a short nod, and Haku simply offered a glance in return. Neither of them looked particularly enthusiastic about the introduction, but Santoryu didn't take it personally. He wasn't one to chase approval or empty camaraderie. He turned his attention back to Shinku, the only person who mattered right now.

Shinku continued, his voice cool and level.

"I've reviewed the report the Hokage sent me. It says you specialize in Kenjutsu. While I won't claim to be on the level of Konoha's White Fang in swordsmanship, I can say without arrogance that I'm second only to him in this village."

He gave Santoryu a brief, testing look before adding, "So we'll begin with a sparring match. Kenjutsu only. I want to see for myself what you're capable of."

Without hesitation, Santoryu stepped forward and reached for the hilts of his swords. In a smooth, practiced motion, he unsheathed all three blades from the right side of his waist. One sword slid into each hand, and the third he gripped between his teeth, lowering into his unique and unmistakable stance.

Shinku observed this quietly. He had already read about Santoryu's unusual "Three-Sword Style" and the unconventional form that accompanied it. Though the stance might appear unorthodox, Shinku didn't dismiss it as foolish or theatrical. He was well aware that this very style had allowed Santoryu to defeat a Chūnin instructor from the Ninja Academy.

While that Chūnin hadn't been on battlefield for a long time—and not on the same level as of front-line Chunin—it was still a significant feat for a Genin-level fighter. It showed promise. Potential.

And now, Shinku would see for himself whether that promise was real.

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