Naruto: System of Zoro

Chapter 2 - Zoro's Legacy

Kazane sat off to the side, resting his aching limbs. The night breeze was cool against his skin, carrying with it the faint rustling of leaves in the quiet village. Above, the moon cast a pale glow over the rooftops, painting the world in silver. He exhaled slowly, allowing himself a rare moment of peace.

If only every day could be like this—pushing himself in training, then unwinding under the stars.

And if he didn't have to endure the cold stares and whispered ridicule of the villagers, that would be even better.

But such thoughts were nothing more than wishful thinking. The looming threat of the Third Great Ninja War hung over him like a blade suspended by a fraying thread. True peace was an illusion. No matter how much he wanted to escape it, the reality of war would soon drag him back in.

As the last traces of daylight faded, Kazane turned and ran toward home, his shadow stretching long beneath the moonlight.

When he stepped through the front door and into the dimly lit living room, his gaze was immediately drawn to the weapon placed before the folding screen. The blade rested in its sheath, its presence alone carrying an unshakable weight.

The White Fang's Blade.

A short sword, unassuming in appearance, yet feared throughout the ninja world. It had once belonged to the legendary Konoha White Fang, a name that sent shivers down the spines of enemies. No one had dared to underestimate its wielder.

Kazane's fingers twitched at his sides. He had seen this weapon countless times before, its polished edge reflecting the moonlight on nights when Kakashi would sit quietly and maintain it. He had never touched it—not once.

Tonight, however, was different.

Without realizing it, his hand moved toward the hilt. His fingertips brushed against the smooth surface before closing around it.

The moment he gripped the blade, a sound echoed in his mind.

Ding.

"Host has touched a legendary blade. Unlock conditions met for the Ultimate Three-Sword-Style Swordsman System."

Kazane froze, his grip tightening on the hilt. His mind raced through the words, his heart hammering in his chest.

A system? Finally?

Every transmigrator in stories he had read always had one—a cheat ability, a "golden finger" that allowed them to rise above the rest. He had been waiting for his moment, wondering if it would ever come.

And to think it had been within reach this whole time.

The realization hit him like a slap. He had nearly touched this blade countless times while cleaning the house, yet somehow, he had always hesitated. Perhaps it was because Kakashi had made it a ritual to polish it under the moonlight, treating it with quiet reverence. Kazane had never wanted to disturb that moment.

Now, though, there was no turning back.

"System, what functions do you have? And do I get a newbie gift pack?"

Ding.

"This system was created by a deity from the True Realm's Divine Resting Grounds. It provides the host with access to the training methods for Haki from the One Piece world, the swordsmanship of Roronoa Zoro, and Zoro's physical constitution."

"By completing achievement missions or reaching significant milestones, the host will receive new sword techniques, legendary blades, and further enhancements. This system is dedicated to forging the ultimate swordsman."

"Newbie gift pack unlocked: Zoro's green bandana, One-Sword Style: Iai—Lion's Song, and Zoro's physique. Host may retrieve them at any time."

Kazane stared at the air in front of him, his thoughts swirling. So that's what this was…

"System, extract Zoro's green bandana."

In his hands, a new item materialized—a cloth bandana, bright green in color.

"Item: Zoro's Green Bandana. A strikingly colored headscarf that makes the wearer an easy target in battle. However, it accelerates the mastery of sword techniques, particularly those involving the Iron-Cutting Style."

Kazane's eye twitched.

"Are you serious? I have to wear this thing to get stronger?"

His fingers ran over the fabric, feeling the smooth texture beneath his touch. It wasn't that he had anything against headbands, but… did it really have to be **green**?

As the eldest son of the Hatake clan, Kazane resemblance to Kakashi was nearly identical—except for one key difference. Unlike his younger brother, he refused to wear a mask. Despite his lack of remarkable talent, his sharp features and quiet demeanor had earned him more than a few admirers among the village girls.

Now, he was supposed to wear this flashy green bandana? Just thinking about it made him hesitate.

But as soon as the thought crossed his mind, he clenched his jaw.

"Kazane Hatake, what are you even thinking?"

He exhaled sharply, shaking his head.

"You want to get stronger, don't you? The war is only a year away. Do you really have time to worry about appearances?"

His grip on the bandana tightened. No, he didn't. He had spent his whole life at the bottom of the rankings, watching others surpass him, struggling just to keep up. He had no special talent, no powerful kekkei genkai. Up until now, all he had was sheer determination.

But now, for the first time, he had **an opportunity**.

What was a little humiliation compared to that?

"System, extract One-Sword Style: Iai—Lion's Song."

The moment he gave the command, a surge of knowledge flooded his mind. It was like watching countless battle sequences play out in an instant. His muscles tensed, his body instinctively recalling movements he had never practiced before.

Kazane slowly walked outside into the courtyard, bandana now tied securely around his head.

A single wooden training post stood in the center of the yard, scarred from years of practice swings. He reached for a wooden practice sword, gripping it firmly before settling into a stance.

He closed his eyes. In his mind, he could see the technique unfold.

One-Sword Style—Lion's Song.

His breathing slowed.

His muscles coiled.

Then—

He moved.

A sharp whistle cut through the air. The wooden blade struck faster than the eye could follow, slicing through the training post in a single motion. The upper half slid cleanly off, toppling to the ground with a soft thud.

Kazane lowered his weapon, his breathing steady.

He tightened his grip on the hilt.

"So this is Zoro's swordsmanship…"

His voice carried a mixture of awe and exhilaration.

"If he were the one executing this technique, I bet even the Hokage wouldn't be able to withstand it."

That single thought sent shivers down his spine. If a mere Iai technique—one of the most basic forms of swordplay—could produce such results, then what about the true extent of Zoro's strength? What about his physical endurance, his monstrous resilience?

Kazane's eyes burned with anticipation.

"System, extract Zoro's physique."

A familiar chime rang in his mind.

Ding.

"Zoro's physique extracted. The host must train to fully integrate the abilities."

Kazane blinked.

"…I should've known."

He exhaled, then let out a quiet laugh, shaking his head. Of course, it wasn't going to be that easy. He had been foolish to expect his body to transform in an instant, to suddenly awaken the same monstrous endurance as the Pirate Hunter himself.

Even in One Piece, Zoro had built his strength through relentless, day-in and day-out training. His power had been carved into existence through sheer will and suffering.

Strength had to be earned.

And Kazane was no exception.

Just as the realization settled, another notification appeared.

Ding.

"New weekly achievement mission unlocked: A powerful swordsman requires an equally powerful body. True mastery begins with the most fundamental exercises. Host must complete the following daily regimen:

— 5,000 draw-cuts

— 5,000 swings

Reward: Legendary blade—Wado Ichimonji."

Kazane froze.

"Wado Ichimonji…"

His fingers twitched.

One of Zoro's treasured swords. A blade that had been passed down from his master, a sword of immense significance. And it could be his.

His grip on the wooden sword tightened.

Even Zoro had started somewhere. Every devastating technique, every overwhelming display of strength—it had all been built upon the simplest of foundations.

Without another word, Kazane took his stance and began.

"One hundred eleven… One hundred twelve…"

His voice was steady at first. Each movement was sharp, controlled. The wooden sword cut through the air with purpose, his form unwavering.

"Four hundred eleven… Four hundred twelve…"

Sweat began to gather on his brow, dripping down his face. His breaths grew heavier, but he refused to slow down.

One after another, his arms moved in perfect repetition, pushing beyond the limits he had known before.

Until—his body began to resist.

His shoulders burned. His fingers trembled. His muscles screamed for rest, stiffening with exhaustion. His sword felt heavier with every swing, his movements losing their precision.

He could barely lift his arms anymore.

But just as his body threatened to collapse, something flickered in his mind.

A vision.

The battlefield.

A wasteland of blood and steel, the stench of death thick in the air.

He saw Kakashi, his younger brother, standing amidst the carnage. Blood soaked his uniform. His Sharingan eye—missing. His breath ragged, his body barely holding on.

And then—he saw himself.

A nameless, powerless pawn. A shinobi who had failed to carve his own legend, cut down by a stray kunai, forgotten in an instant.

No.

No matter what it took, he would not end up like that.

"Move… move!"

He gritted his teeth, forcing his arms to rise again. The sword wobbled in his grip, his fingers numb, his breath uneven. Yet he swung again.

And again.

And again.

His muscles threatened to snap. His vision blurred. But he pushed forward.

At last—

Ding.

"Daily training completed!"

Kazane staggered. His body was soaked in sweat, his uniform clinging to his skin. His legs wobbled beneath him as he stumbled back into the house, barely managing to reach his bedroom before collapsing onto the futon.

His limbs refused to move. His exhaustion was absolute.

Yet—

Even as his arms failed him, he forced himself to sit up.

His breath came out ragged as he adjusted his posture, planting his feet firmly on the wooden floor.

Then—he began squatting.

"One hundred twenty-one… One hundred twenty-two…"

Even when his body screamed for mercy, he refused to stop.

Only when his muscles completely shut down, leaving him unable to move, did he finally surrender to the pull of sleep.

And by morning—

He awoke feeling… different.

His body didn't ache.

His muscles weren't stiff.

Instead, he felt lighter. Stronger. As if his body had already begun to adapt.

Kazane slowly sat up, flexing his fingers. His grip felt firmer, his limbs more responsive. The fatigue from the night before had vanished entirely, replaced by an undeniable sense of power coursing through his veins.

A slow smile spread across his lips.

"So this… is Zoro's physique."