After parting ways with Guy and Lee, Uchiha Ryōsuke trudged back toward the clan compound.
His posture screamed exhaustion, and the darkening bruises across his arms drew worried looks from civilians living within the Uchiha district.
Several older clansmen hurried over.
"Ryōsuke, are you hurt? Should we help apply medicine?"
For once, it wasn't mockery—it was genuine concern.
Ryōsuke shook his head politely.
"It's nothing serious. I'll treat it at home."
Hearing that, the elders relaxed and moved on.
But not far away, several Uchiha shinobi watched him with much darker expressions.
The bruising…
The limping gait…
The traces of taijutsu strikes all over his body…
They had seen him like this before—after sparring with Might Guy.
And for them, that was unacceptable.
Might Guy was a mid-level chūnin with zero ninjutsu talent.
Even if he excelled at taijutsu, any Uchiha with a one-tomoe Sharingan should be able to read every movement he made.
For Ryōsuke to be beaten repeatedly…
It was disgraceful.
Especially now, when the clan's relationship with Konoha's leadership was deteriorating by the day.
The Uchiha needed to look strong—not like they were being tossed around by a taijutsu dropout.
Ryōsuke could feel their hostility.
He could practically hear their thoughts: He's embarrassing us. Shameful. Weak.
If only they knew why he was doing this.
The Uchiha were proud—painfully so.
But pride without strength was hollow.
This clan had once fielded dozens of elite jōnin.
Yet in the original timeline, they were wiped out in one night by two traitors.
Ryōsuke's jaw tightened.
These so-called "proud" clansmen had no idea what real danger looked like.
He threw them a cold, dismissive glance and walked away.
The Uchiha shinobi stiffened.
"Hmph! Did he just glare at us?" one growled.
"Oi, Ikujika, that brat dares look down on us? Maybe we should teach him a lesson—show him what a real Uchiha is."
The long-haired Ikujika snorted.
"Teach him? And then what? Spend the night in Konoha Prison? He's the Elder's only grandson. Beat him and we'll be rotting behind bars before sunset."
The impulsive shinobi flinched.
The Konoha Detention Center—right beside the Uchiha compound—was packed with two hundred criminals. Nobody wanted to get thrown in there.
"But he's ruining the clan's reputation! We can't just watch!"
Ikujika paused… then smirked.
"We don't need to beat him now."
The others leaned in.
Ikujika continued:
"Let him keep playing taijutsu with Might Guy. Even the Elder doesn't stop him. So eventually… we challenge him to a 'friendly match.'"
Their eyes gleamed.
"And if we just happen to hit a little harder than necessary," another added with a sneer,
"it'll be perfectly legitimate."
"Right—if he gets injured during a spar, nobody can punish us."
Someone else muttered resentfully:
"While we're doing Police Force duty, he's skipping work thanks to his family connections… Tomorrow after our shift, we challenge him publicly."
But Ikujika shook his head.
"No. Not yet. Let him think his taijutsu training is improving him. Let him get comfortable."
His smile widened.
"Then, when we crush him, he'll finally learn how useless taijutsu is compared to true Uchiha power."
They nodded, satisfied.
Back Home
Ryōsuke had already stripped down and was applying salve to his bruises when Elder Uchiha Jin entered.
The old man's eyes widened in horror.
"Again?! What happened this time?"
Ryōsuke quickly explained:
"Just sparring with Might Guy, Grandpa. It's fine."
Elder Jin knelt beside him, inspecting the injuries carefully.
Only after confirming nothing was broken did he sigh in relief.
"You sparred with that Guy boy again?"
Ryōsuke nodded and lifted the bottle of salve.
"Grandpa, how much of this medicine do we have? I promised Guy I'd sell him some."
The Elder raised a brow.
"This medicine is rare… though our reserves are sufficient."
He narrowed his eyes.
"You want to sell to Guy? Building a relationship with him?"
Ryōsuke smiled.
"Of course. He's going to become the strongest taijutsu master in Konoha's future."
To him, this wasn't flattery—this was fact.
Guy was "just" a chūnin now, but his potential was unquestionable.
The Elder's gaze deepened.
He had lived through the Third Shinobi War.
He had seen Might Duy—the Eternal Genin—open the Eight Gates and slay four of the Seven Ninja Swordsmen.
At the cost of his life.
Suddenly, it all made sense.
"…You want to learn the Eight Gates."
Ryōsuke grinned.
"As expected of Grandpa—you see right through me."
The Elder's expression turned stern instantly.
"Ryōsuke! That technique is incredibly dangerous!"
But Ryōsuke waved a hand casually.
"Don't worry. I don't plan to open the final Gate. As long as I stop before the Eighth Gate, I won't die."
He planned to live long, father children, and save the entire clan.
He wasn't suicidal.
Elder Jin's frown eased just a little—but only a little.
He had seen what the Eighth Gate did to a man.
Red steam.
Burning blood.
Life snuffed out in an instant.
But…
If Ryōsuke only aimed for the earlier Gates…
If he could gain a power that would protect him…
In these turbulent times, any additional strength was precious.
After a long silence, the Elder finally exhaled.
"Fine.
But promise me—
you will never open the final Gate."
Ryōsuke nodded seriously.
"I promise."
The Elder still worried, but this was the best compromise he could make.
With danger looming over the clan, if Ryōsuke could grow strong enough to survive…
Then perhaps—just perhaps—his grandson could live through the storm to come.
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