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In the evening, the air in the Senju clan's main residence was as heavy as stagnant water.
Ryo's gaze swept over the frail old woman in the main seat.
Uzumaki Mito's aging was shocking. In just two years, her crimson hair had withered like autumn grass, and her wrinkles were as deep as knife cuts.
Years of battling the corrosive power of the Nine-Tails had continuously depleted Mito's vitality.
Even the Uzumaki clan's longevity, and the Yin Seal that promised youthful looks, could not hold out.
Ryo's gaze shifted to Tsunade by the dining table, and he gave a barely perceptible nod.
Just a moment ago, he had found a chance to tell Tsunade his plan, to shatter Nawaki's blind battlefield fantasies with a seemingly perilous real combat exercise.
Tsunade knitted her brows as she took the special explosive tags, her fingertips glowing faintly with chakra.
Fine chakra threads probed into the paper, precisely inspecting it.
After a moment, she looked up to meet Ryo's calm gaze and let out an almost inaudible "Hmm."
The chakra explosion range was limited to the epidermis, and the impact was concentrated and directed. It would only injure, not cripple.
She pushed the tags back into Ryo's hand, tapping the corner three times with her thumb. Plan approved.
Uzumaki Mito's hand, holding her teacup, paused. Her peripheral vision caught her granddaughter's tensed jawline, then fell upon the tags Ryo had put away.
A flicker of understanding passed through the old woman's cloudy eyes, and her leaf-like lips pressed into a flat line. That was the silent acquiescence of the Senju clan head.
The steam and aroma of oil and salt drifting from the kitchen barely stirred the air, yet they brought a deeper, sticky sensation.
Ryo watched Nawaki across the table devour the last mouthfuls of rice like a whirlwind. A strange heaviness settled in his own stomach.
Nawaki's chopsticks clinked against the bowl, his eyes sparkling with a fiery intensity, full of youthful ambition and battle lust, burning with desire and imagination for the battlefield. Ryo knew that light well. It belonged to a newborn calf, untested by wind and rain, unaware of how flesh and blood are ground into mud. Clear, yet foolish.
He could almost smell the blind excitement radiating from Nawaki.
The fastest to die on the battlefield were these hotheads.
"Sis, this time, following Orochimaru-sensei, during the mission…" Nawaki put down his bowl, his voice rising sharply. "I personally took down a…"
"Hmm, got it," Tsunade cut him off coolly, picking up the last piece of pickled radish with her chopsticks and biting into it with a crisp snap that ended Nawaki's animated speech.
Nawaki was like a duck with its neck squeezed, his words stuck in his throat. His excitement deflated, and an awkward blush spread across his face.
Ryo silently put down his bowl.
Under the table, Tsunade's foot accurately tapped his ankle, not too hard, not too soft, urging him on.
The show was about to begin.
He looked up at Tsunade.
Tsunade's eyelids were lowered, her long eyelashes casting a small shadow on her cheek. Deep within that shadow lay undeniable resolve.
Uzumaki Mito softly "hmm"-ed, a whisper as faint as wind rustling withered leaves, yet it carried the heavy weight of silent consent.
The dining table was cleared, but the atmosphere tightened even more, like a taut bowstring.
"Nawaki," Tsunade lifted her eyes, her gaze heavy, pressing down on her younger brother. "Do you really want to go to the battlefield?"
"Of course." Nawaki straightened his back as if injected with a stimulant, the extinguished flame in his eyes flaring again. "I am the heir of the Senju. I want to become a great Hokage like Grandpa. How can I hide in the village?"
Mito's fingers, holding the teacup, tightened slightly, her knuckles turning pale.
Ryo caught the fleeting hint of pain in the old woman's eyes.
Tsunade's face did not soften. "Whether you are a Senju or the Hokage's grandson," each word fell like ice on stone, "speak with strength. Shouting slogans and running to the battlefield is suicide."
Nawaki's face turned beet red, a vein throbbing in his forehead. "Sis. I'm not an academy rookie anymore. I have followed Orochimaru-sensei for over a year…"
He was eager to prove himself, but when he met Tsunade's icy gaze, his momentum faltered at the end.
"Proof?" Tsunade snorted. "Good. I will give you a chance. Beat him."
She jerked her chin at Ryo. "If you beat Ryo, forget the battlefield. I will go talk to the Hokage for you and have you put in charge of important missions. If you cannot beat him, drop the idea early."
Nawaki's gaze snapped to Ryo's face, shock, anger, fear, and disbelief mixing, then hardening into humiliation at being underestimated. His eyes burned red.
He clenched his fists, nails digging into his palms.
Kushina even jumped up, her small face pale. "Tsunade-neechan. No, this will not do. Ryo, he…"
She wanted to say Ryo was too strong and did not hold back, so how could Nawaki fight him.
But seeing Tsunade's iron-cold expression, she swallowed the rest.
"Sis, you know…" Nawaki's voice trembled with fear of Ryo.
Tsunade cut him off. "Are you fighting or not. One word."
She crossed her arms. Her aura locked down the space, the air turning to lead.
Nawaki's chest heaved, his teeth grinding audibly.
His gaze swept over Mito's expressionless face. The silent worry in his grandmother's eyes pricked him like a needle.
His pride surged like boiling lava. He stomped his foot, the wooden floor groaning. "If I have to fight, I will fight. What is there to be afraid of."
He strode toward the center of the backyard's open space, each step causing a slight tremor, filled with desperate resolve.
The wind ruffled his bangs, his back burning with anger and a make-or-break courage.
"Ryo." Kushina urgently grabbed Ryo's arm, her lowered voice laced with panic and pleading. "You must go easy on him."
Her moist eyes reflected Ryo's expressionless face, her small face full of entreaty.
Ryo's gaze lingered on her for a moment, calm. "Relax. I will not use sword techniques, or taijutsu."
He paused, his gaze sweeping over Nawaki, who stood tense like a bull in the center. "Today, I will only use the Academy Three, and one new ninjutsu."
Kushina opened her mouth, but her words stuck. Her worry did not lessen. It spread like cold vines through her chest.
Ryo did not look at her again, walking directly to face Nawaki.
"Only the Academy Three and a new ninjutsu?" Nawaki sounded as if he had heard a joke. His twisted smile showed contempt and irritation. "Are you looking down on me, Ryo?"
Ryo's answer was a flurry of hand signs, his hands moving like a butterfly dance, completed in an instant. "Ninpō: Bunshin no Jutsu."
Bang bang bang.
White smoke burst out, and several Ryo figures appeared at once, scattered irregularly, vaguely surrounding Nawaki.
The movements were so fast that only afterimages remained on Nawaki's retina.
Nawaki's pupils contracted. The speed of this Bunshin no Jutsu was astonishing, but his reaction was also quick. "Hmph. Suiton, Mizurappa (Water Release: Wild Water Wave)."
His hand signs were equally swift. Water roared from his mouth, crashing into the clones in front.
Puff puff puff.
The clones disintegrated under the impact, turning into white smoke.
However, just as the Wild Water Wave's power was about to dissipate, Nawaki's peripheral vision caught something, a gust of wind from the smoke on the left.
One Ryo, using the brief cover of water mist and smoke, lunged forward.
His right palm extended, and above its center, a rapidly spinning, compressed ball of chakra churned the air, emitting a low, piercing hum like venomous bees circling at low altitude. It tore through the calm air.
What is that.
Nawaki's scalp prickled.
Training instincts kicked in. He twisted his body to the right with incredible flexibility.
The Rasengan, with its air-tearing roar, whizzed past the space under his ribs. The heat from its terrifying rotation scorched his skin.
Nawaki broke into a cold sweat, no longer daring to show contempt.
Even without sword techniques or taijutsu, the pressure from this new ninjutsu was terrifying.
He quickly retreated to create distance, then formed another Water Release hand sign. "Suiton, Suijinheki (Water Formation Wall)."
Splash.
A thick wall of water rose from the ground, instantly separating him and Ryo.
The water curtain shimmered, reflecting Ryo's calm face, and distorting the lingering shock in his own eyes.
But Ryo gave Nawaki no chance to breathe.
Only scattered white smoke remained where he had stood. His true body had already used Kawarimi no Jutsu (Body Replacement Technique) to move to Nawaki's side and rear.
"Here." Nawaki growled, his combat instincts sensing the direction, and he formed hand signs again. "Suiton, Suishōha (Water Shockwave Wave)." Denser streams of water, like a bursting dam, rushed toward Ryo, who had just revealed himself.
But Ryo seemed to have predicted it. A fraction of a second before the Water Shockwave fully formed, he crouched and pushed off, moving like a swallow skimming the ground, narrowly dodging the surging water.
Splashing droplets grazed his hair and the edges of his clothes.
Nawaki's heart sank. Ryo's speed and foresight were terrifying.
His Suiton was powerful enough to defeat ordinary chūnin, but if it could not hit, it was wasted effort.
He changed strategy, trying to suppress Ryo with continuous Wild Water Waves. "Ha. Ha."
With each shout, streams of water crisscrossed, splashing mud and water, filling the air with a damp chill. Yet Ryo's figure always slipped through the gaps with despairing agility.
"Damn it." Impatience grew in Nawaki's heart like vines choking reason. "Then do not blame me. Suiton, Suiryūdan no Jutsu (Water Dragon Bullet Technique)."
Nawaki abandoned all reservations. His chakra surged at full power, and his hand signs turned complex and solemn.
Heavy water vapor rapidly condensed, and a huge dragon-shaped mass of water twisted into form. Its scales and claws still held the blur of a novice's jutsu, but its power far exceeded ordinary Suiton.
Kushina cried out in alarm. "Nawaki-nii."
(To be continued.)
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