In the clearing, Might Guy looked at Uchiha Ryosuke and praised him with genuine admiration.
"Ryosuke, your progress is incredible. To fight me in an all-out battle and not fall behind… that's no small feat."
He truly respected the other man. From a weakling to someone who could now trade blows with him—it was hard not to be impressed.
Ryosuke smiled in return.
"It's all thanks to training with you, Guy. Without it, I'd never have come this far."
He had been right to approach Might Guy from the start. The man never tired of sparring with him, proof of his noble character. If there was anyone in Konoha worthy of respect, Might Guy was without question one of them.
But Guy remained calm, not entirely convinced.
He had trained tirelessly since childhood to reach this level, yet Ryosuke's progress in just a month already surpassed his own. Guy had grown stronger too, but Ryosuke's improvement was on a different scale altogether.
Perhaps Ryosuke was a taijutsu prodigy. Or maybe… it was that strange method of his, growing stronger through being beaten.
Though it might be the other's secret, Guy couldn't suppress his curiosity.
"Ryosuke, your growth is too fast. Could it be… you've developed some kind of taijutsu where getting beaten actually makes you stronger? Otherwise, even with talent, this kind of progress is unheard of. That's the only explanation I can think of."
At those words, Lee, watching nearby, grew visibly excited.
He too had tried this "method," but his improvements had been small—just a bit more toughness, a stronger tolerance for blows. He began to wonder if there was a technique to it, a right way to get beaten that led to growth.
All eyes turned to Uchiha Ryosuke, waiting for his answer.
Ryosuke, however, was dumbfounded. Taijutsu genius? His original body was nothing special—ordinary at best. Everything now came from the automatic training system. Others would never gain the same results; at most they'd toughen up a little, nothing more.
But that explanation was impossible to give. The only thing that made sense here was the simplest answer.
"I don't deliberately look for beatings," he replied with a straight face. "It's more about combat itself. Real fighting sharpens your reflexes. And sure, toughening the body has its benefits—learning to endure hits is useful."
Guy's eyes lit up with understanding.
So it really was about getting hit—just not recklessly. Sparring with intent, taking blows while building resilience—that was the key.
Now that he knew, Guy clenched his fists. He had always lacked the Hokage's recognition, forever denied entry into the Anbu. Meanwhile, his rival Kakashi had already become a Jōnin at twelve.
Might Guy had to catch up. If Ryosuke could already push him this far, then he himself needed to fight harder, to grow faster.
"Ryosuke, be careful. Next, I'll be using my special move!"
This time, he would spar properly. There would be no holding back, no deliberate openings.
Ryosuke's eyes glimmered with excitement. Was Guy about to use the Eight Inner Gates?
"Come on then—I'm ready."
His Sharingan glowed scarlet, Tomoe spinning faster as he focused. If Guy really did open the Gates—even just the first few—his strength would multiply several times over.
The Sharingan's pupils narrowed, locking onto every twitch of Guy's muscles. Known as the Eye of Insight, it didn't need explanations—he could copy whatever movements he saw.
Ryosuke wasn't like the prideful Uchiha who thought it shameful to borrow from others. Survival came first. With the massacre night looming in his mind, he would take any advantage he could—Guy's moves, Guy's training, Guy's resolve.
Guy, being who he was, would never begrudge him that. After all, he had even shared the Eight Inner Gates with Kakashi.
But instead of opening the Gates, Guy suddenly charged forward with explosive speed. His leg swung up in a powerful, precise arc aimed straight at Ryosuke.
"Konoha Whirlwind!"
Ryosuke felt a flicker of disappointment when he saw Guy's move—it wasn't the Eight Inner Gates. Still, he raised his leg to meet the kick head-on.
Guy wasn't surprised that his opponent managed to block. At Ryosuke's current level, failing to do so would've been strange. But blocking wasn't the end of the move. He shouted again:
"Konoha Whirlwind—Second Kick!"
With one hand bracing against the ground, his left leg whipped upward in a sharp arc, heel aimed straight at Ryosuke's chest.
Even though the Sharingan caught the motion, Ryosuke's body lagged behind. The kick slammed into his chest, sending him flying.
Guy didn't worry. After a month of sparring, he knew Ryosuke's body was unnaturally durable. His strike hadn't targeted a vital spot—at worst it would leave the boy heavily bruised. And wasn't that exactly what Ryosuke wanted?
On the ground, Ryosuke's ears rang with the familiar system chime.
"Strength +2, Speed +2, Constitution +2."
A soothing warmth coursed through his body, mending the damage. The pain dulled almost immediately. He climbed to his feet, admiration flickering in his eyes.
Even without opening the Gates, Guy's Whirlwind was terrifying. That chained double kick—swift, heavy, and relentless—would overwhelm even seasoned taijutsu fighters the first time they faced it.
"Guy, your two-stage Whirlwind is incredible."
His Sharingan had already captured every detail: the points of force, the grounding hand, the precise sequence of motion. He had copied it perfectly.
Guy grinned with pride.
"This is my special technique."
Kicks hit harder than punches, and he had honed this one to perfection. But what truly shocked him was Ryosuke's resilience. He had taken a direct blow and bounced back almost unscathed. His constitution bordered on monstrous.
On the sidelines, Lee's eyes shone with envy. This was his teacher's signature move—powerful, dazzling, and devastating. His own attempts at the Whirlwind Kick couldn't compare. He needed more training, much more.
Dusting himself off, Ryosuke's gaze burned with anticipation. He couldn't wait to try out the move he had just learned.
"My turn to attack."
He dashed forward, leg snapping up in a flying kick.
Guy met it head-on, leg against leg—until his eyes widened in alarm. Ryosuke's hands hit the ground, his left leg snapped upward, and—
'That's my Konoha Whirlwind!'
Before he could react, Ryosuke's heel crashed into him, hurling him backward. Guy hit the ground hard, pain flaring across his body. He staggered up, clutching his stomach.
The boy's durability was frightening. He himself had nearly been doubled over, yet Ryosuke had shrugged off the same technique earlier as though it were nothing. Was his body… actually stronger than Guy's?
Of course. It was the Sharingan. Just as his friend Kakashi could copy thousands of jutsu, Ryosuke could perfectly replicate taijutsu techniques as well.
Rubbing at his sore abdomen, Guy's eyes sharpened.
"Again."
He hadn't forgotten Ryosuke's strange method of growth—getting stronger through beatings. If Ryosuke could land hits on him now, then he was a worthy sparring partner.
The two clashed again and again until both collapsed to the dirt, bruised and battered, breath ragged.
Guy lay there smiling despite the pain. Training alone could never compare to this. Not even sparring with Kakashi had left him this satisfied.
Ryosuke, meanwhile, was elated. The system's reward rang clear in his mind—Strength, Speed, and Constitution +5.
Now, not only could he fight Guy evenly—he was, by the smallest margin, stronger.