The arrogance on Uchiha Inoka's face faltered into shock.
A clansman without the Three-Tomoe Sharingan might still reach Jōnin-level strength, but once those three tomoe awakened, that strength was guaranteed.
That was how broken the Three-Tomoe Sharingan truly was.
Even a shinobi with mediocre taijutsu could compensate for it through the eyes' power alone.
And yet, Ryosuke had awakened it here, casually, without a trace of the grief or trauma usually tied to its evolution.
To open the Sharingan was always to be scarred by loss. To advance it, always deeper pain. But Ryosuke stood before them looking almost cheerful.
On top of that, it took not only great talent, but an unwavering shinobi path to reach the Three Tomoe. Every Uchiha here bore the scars of tragedy, carried the burden of the clan's pride.
Inoka couldn't make sense of it.
But his confusion quickly turned into irritation.
"You already have the Three-Tomoe Sharingan," he said sharply. "There are countless ways to grow stronger with it. Why disgrace yourself by training taijutsu with someone like Might Guy? You shame the clan!"
Ryosuke met his words with contempt.
"Do you think the Three-Tomoe Sharingan is that strong?"
If it were truly enough, the clan would not have been wiped out by just two traitors with Mangekyō.
To him, the difference was clear: a bit sharper perception, stronger ocular power—no true transformation. The real evolution would only come with the Mangekyō, when each eye awakened a power of its own.
"Enough nonsense. Come at me."
He raised his arms, ready.
Inoka bristled. For Ryosuke to dismiss the Sharingan, the clan's pride, was intolerable. He would have to be taught its true strength.
Inoka had awakened his Three Tomoe long before Ryosuke and wielded them with ease. From the look of it, Ryosuke was still treating his eyes like nothing more than tools to bolster his taijutsu. That was sacrilege.
So Inoka decided: he would defeat him openly in taijutsu, prove the Sharingan's worth by Ryosuke's own standard.
His eyes sharpened, scarlet with three tomoe gleaming. He dropped into a stance and lunged.
Ryosuke's blood surged with excitement as he met the charge. He didn't use the Eight Gates—not yet. Unless the fight turned dire, he wanted to test his natural strength.
The two clashed for over ten minutes, neither giving ground.
Inoka grew more unsettled with every exchange. Ryosuke's taijutsu was nothing like a Chūnin's—it was already Jōnin-level.
And Inoka wasn't holding back. He was fighting seriously, yet Ryosuke endured him blow for blow.
The onlookers were stunned. None had expected Ryosuke to match Inoka, let alone press him.
Even Inoka himself had to admit it—Ryosuke's taijutsu, though unorthodox for an Uchiha, was terrifyingly practical.
Unable to seize an advantage in close combat, Inoka leapt back, hands flying through seals.
"Snake – Ram – Monkey – Boar – Horse – Tiger!"
His chakra swelled, chest expanding with breath.
"Fire Style: Fireball Jutsu!"
He exhaled, releasing a massive sphere of flame.
The watching clansmen paled. Against a fellow Uchiha, unleashing such a technique was reckless. If Ryosuke were caught, he'd be burned badly—how would they explain that to the Elder?
Ryosuke only sighed inwardly.
'Seriously? You're shocked over this? The Great Fireball never hits anyone—it's too slow.'
With a push of his legs, he shot sideways, the fireball roaring past him to smash into the ground behind. Dirt and flame erupted skyward in a violent explosion, but Ryosuke was untouched.
And while Inoka was still recovering from the jutsu, Ryosuke surged forward.
He struck, fist slamming into Inoka and sending him flying.
But something felt wrong. Their taijutsu had been evenly matched; one punch shouldn't have blown him away so easily.
Then—poof!
The body burst into white smoke.
"A Clone Jutsu?!" Ryosuke's eyes widened.
He spun, Sharingan flaring—just in time to sense movement at his back.
The real Inoka burst from the shadows, a smug grin on his face.
While casting the fireball, he had slipped a clone forward and concealed himself, waiting for the perfect opening.
As Ryosuke attacked the clone, Inoka moved in for the kill.
His leg swung in a vicious kick. If this were real combat, it would have been a blade instead.
Ryosuke wouldn't be able to turn in time.
'This battle is mine,' Inoka thought with satisfaction.