After parting ways with Guy and Lee, Uchiha Ryosuke made his way back home.
His battered body drew the attention of several clansmen in the compound. Some, with genuine concern, asked,
"Ryosuke, are you alright? Do you need medicine for those bruises?"
Touched by their kindness, Ryosuke responded politely,
"It's just a scratch. I'll apply some salve when I get home."
Hearing that, the crowd relaxed.
But a few Uchiha shinobi watching from afar wore sour expressions.
They suspected his wounds came from sparring with Might Guy again. If so, it was shameful.
To them, Guy was nothing more than an ordinary Chūnin. His taijutsu might be decent, but under the Sharingan's gaze, every move should be clear as day.
With the right body, even a single-tomoe Sharingan could dominate opponents at the same level.
Yet Ryosuke, also a Chūnin, was being beaten so badly?
It was an embarrassment to the clan.
And in these tense times, when relations between the Uchiha and the village leadership were strained, such weakness only made the clan look worse.
Ryosuke noticed their glares, recognizing their contempt.
They thought he was tarnishing the Uchiha name.
But they didn't understand—sparring with Guy was his path to saving the clan.
Arrogance without strength had doomed them before.
Nearly twenty Jōnin and over a hundred Chūnin had been wiped out in a single night—slaughtered by two traitors.
The thought made Ryosuke sneer. These clansmen were all pride, no substance.
He met their stares with open disdain, then turned away, walking home without a word.
One of the shinobi bristled.
"Did you see that? He glared at us. Insolent brat."
Another's eyes flashed with malice.
"Why don't we rough him up a bit? Teach him a lesson so he stops disgracing the clan."
A long-haired shinobi named Inaho shook his head irritably.
"Don't forget who he is. Elder Shin's only grandson. Beat him, and we'll end up in the prison next door."
Konoha's prison—built beside the Uchiha compound, managed by the Police Force—housed over two hundred criminals: unruly shinobi, bandits, lawless wanderers.
At the mention of it, the others faltered, unease flickering in their eyes.
But one still muttered,
"So we just sit back and let him drag our clan's name through the mud?"
Inaho fell silent, then smirked, an idea sparking in his mind.
"Ryosuke likes sparring with Might Guy, doesn't he? If even the Elder doesn't object, then what if we challenged him? In the name of training, we could go a little harder. No one could fault us for that."
The others' faces lit up with sly grins.
"Now that's smart, Inaho."
"Exactly. If he gets hurt in a sparring match, the Elder has no grounds to complain. We'd just be guiding him."
Another chimed in bitterly,
"And while he uses his family connections to skip duty in the Police Force, the rest of us work shifts every day. Why don't we arrange a little match tomorrow after work?"
Their laughter was low and cruel.
For them, it wasn't about guidance.
It was about putting the Elder's grandson in his place.
Daohuo waved his hand, his gaze meaningful as it swept over the others.
"I'm confident I can give Ryosuke a humiliating defeat, but that doesn't mean training with Might Guy is entirely useless. Let him follow Guy for a while, then crush him later. Only then will he realize—taijutsu is worthless. Just having enough of it is fine. What truly matters is developing our Sharingan properly."
The others smirked, nodding in agreement.
"As expected of Daohuo, always thinking ahead."
Yes—this way Ryosuke would learn reality the hard way.
They didn't hate him.
But leaving the treasure trove of the Sharingan untapped while wasting time on taijutsu? That, they simply couldn't understand.
Back at home, Ryosuke obediently fetched the clan's medicine and began rubbing it over his bruised body.
The Great Elder returned just then, catching sight of the scene. His brows furrowed at once.
With only one grandson, how could he not worry?
"Why are you in this state again?"
Seeing the concern etched into his grandfather's face, Ryosuke quickly answered,
"It's nothing serious."
Yes, it hurt. But with his body's recovery rate now, he'd likely be healed by tomorrow.
The Elder bent down, carefully inspecting the injuries.
Bruises here and there, but nothing beyond surface wounds. He finally relaxed.
"Were you training with that Guy boy again?"
"Yes," Ryosuke admitted without hesitation. Then he raised the medicine bottle in his hand.
"Grandpa, how much of this potion do we have? I'm thinking of selling some to Might Guy."
He hadn't forgotten his promise to Guy.
The Elder looked curious.
"This medicine is precious, but if you need it, there's plenty. You're planning to use this to befriend him?"
Ryosuke's face lit up. As long as there was enough medicine, his plan would work.
"Of course. He's already my friend. After all, he'll be the future number-one taijutsu master of Konoha."
Though right now, Guy was only a Chūnin, not yet known by name.
The Elder studied his grandson deeply. The excitement on Ryosuke's face was genuine.
He thought back to Might Guy's father, Might Duy—who had once opened the Eight Gates during the Third Great Ninja War and cut down four of the Seven Ninja Swordsmen of the Mist.
He gained dozens of times his strength… at the cost of his life.
Clearly, Ryosuke was drawn to that taijutsu power, and that was why he was getting closer to Guy.
For a moment, the Elder didn't know what to feel.
Worried, he said,
"You're not thinking of learning the Eight Gates, are you? That technique is extremely dangerous."
Ryosuke looked at his grandfather's furrowed brow, fully aware that the old man had seen through his intentions, that his concern ran deep.
He smiled lightly.
"Grandpa is wise. Yes, I want to learn the Eight Gates. It's dangerous, true—but as long as I don't open the Eighth Gate, my life won't be in danger."
He wouldn't open the final gate. Not yet. He hadn't lived enough.
Unless one day his body grew strong enough to withstand it without the risk of death.
The Elder's brow eased a little at his promise.
From what he knew, it was opening the final gate—the red steam bursting from the body—that had killed Might Duy.
As long as Ryosuke didn't go that far, while the Eight Gates still carried risks, they weren't insurmountable.
And if a life-or-death crisis came, then opening them would be worth the harm.
Especially now, with tensions between the Uchiha and Konoha worsening—if his grandson had such a technique to protect himself, he could rest easier.