After a brief exchange of probing moves, Uchiha Yorin and Uchiha Hikari slammed into each other head-on.
Since their ninjutsu had basically come out even, it was time to test taijutsu—maybe genjutsu too.
But they both had top-tier Sharingan. If they only played genjutsu chicken, it might end up pointless.
So taijutsu really was the "correct" answer… right?
Still, Hikari's Tsukuyomi was absurdly dangerous, so even while trading blows, Yorin stayed on high alert for any genjutsu strike.
At the same time, she was watching for his genjutsu—equally wary.
When Yorin's eyes flared and his Sharingan lit up, Hikari visibly froze for a beat.
"Three tomoe…? And that color?"
"My Sharingan's kind of special," Yorin said. "I'll explain when we have time."
"Mm." Hikari nodded once. "But before that… let's keep fighting."
"I'm curious," she added, eyes bright. "Which of us is stronger?"
Laughing—bright, unmistakably Uchiha laughter—they moved with terrifying speed, colliding and separating in a blur of footwork and close-quarters strikes.
That cheerful, manic Uchiha-style laughter, mixed with the sheer brutality of the exchange, sent both of them into a full-body, blood-heated high.
Their speed and power kept climbing. Faster. Harder. Faster—until the whole thing started looking less like Naruto and more like Dragon Ball.
Watching from the sidelines, the Uchiha onlookers and Yorin's fiancées felt their scalps go tight.
Yorin being strong was one thing—they knew that.
But Hikari matching him, even pushing him into a near fifty-fifty? That was terrifying.
And earlier—what had she used? Amaterasu?
And the more knowledgeable ones had already clocked it: those black flames weren't just Amaterasu. That was Kagutsuchi shaping it.
Two techniques that represented the peak of what an Uchiha Mangekyō could do—reappearing in this younger-looking woman's hands.
Who was she? What kind of monster was she?
The shock was huge… but so was the thrill.
We Uchiha really are built different.
Not only did they have Yorin—this once-in-a-generation genius—they also had Hikari-sama.
It felt like the world sliding toward the future Yorin kept talking about was already unstoppable.
We Uchiha were born to rule the world—heeheehee…
If Yorin could hear what they were thinking, he'd probably give each of them a three-hit smackdown on the spot.
But this wasn't the moment to deal with that. Right now, Hikari mattered more.
After several exchanges, even with Yorin firing off moves at the level of his Thunder–Fire Sword Dance a few times, Hikari began to fall behind.
In strength, speed, and reaction time, she was a hair below him—and on top of that, Yorin still had terrifying buffs like brute-force chakra reinforcement and even the Eight Gates in reserve.
Hikari knew it: if they kept trading taijutsu, she'd lose.
They'd also been dueling on the genjutsu layer the whole time. Aside from Tsukuyomi-level "max" moves, they'd thrown basically every known illusion at each other… and the result was the same: neither of them took a single step into it. A complete waste.
So if she didn't change something soon, she was going to lose—fast.
In a normal spar, losing to someone like Yorin would just be losing. She wasn't the type who couldn't take an L.
But she had demanded this match. She wanted to prove her strength and her value.
If she lost now, it would be humiliating.
Should she use the "unfair" combo—Yachihoko plus Tsukuyomi?
Hikari hesitated for a few seconds… then rejected the temptation.
That technique was too terrifying. It would warp relationships. And she didn't want Yorin looking at her with shock… or worry… or anger.
So no.
If she wasn't using Yachihoko, then she only had one move left.
And if even that didn't work…
No.
It would work.
It had to.
I'm Uchiha Hikari.
I'm Uchiha Hikari—unbeatable.
I'll protect the future of the Uchiha.
I'll protect Yorin—and even Yorin's fiancées.
So I'm invincible.
I will win. I have to win!
A monstrous aura exploded out of her—an overwhelming, violent chakra pressure pouring from a body that looked far too slight to hold it.
"I'm going to win—so watch me!" she screamed, voice tearing. "Watch me, Yorin—!!!"
Her chakra wrapped around her, forming the outline of an armored warrior—terrifying, solemn, and massive.
Susanoo.
And not the crude skeletal version.
A perfect Susanoo.
Every Uchiha watching went rigid with awe.
Yes, in some far-future power-creep eras, even Susanoo defenses could look paper-thin… but this wasn't that era.
Here and now, Susanoo was still what almost everyone believed it to be: absolute defense, an unbeatable war asset, a one-man army.
Even a basic skeletal Susanoo was ridiculous.
A perfect Susanoo? That was legend, made real.
"It's Susanoo—Susanoo!"
"Holy—seeing this in person… even dying would be worth it!"
The Uchiha were losing their minds.
They'd grown up hearing bedtime legends of their ancestors "piloting giants."
If you had to pick one technique as the Uchiha Mangekyō's true signature, it wasn't Amaterasu, and it wasn't Tsukuyomi.
It was Susanoo.
Not because the other two weren't lethal, but because Susanoo's presence—that overwhelming, unanswerable intimidation—was unmatched.
It was terror given shape.
So when the legend stepped into reality, the clan's excitement was inevitable.
And then Yorin answered with Susanoo of his own—and the hype level went completely off the charts.
Yorin hadn't mastered a "perfect" Susanoo yet, but his Takemikazuchi-style Susanoo was close enough in raw combat value that the difference barely mattered.
Lightning crackled on one side, flames flared on the other.
Two colossal Susanoo slammed into each other again and again under their control—thunder and fire trading blows that shook the air.
At this point, the Uchiha training ground was too small. The space simply couldn't contain them.
"We're switching arenas," Yorin said.
"Fine!" Hikari snapped, eager.
They locked eyes, then lifted off—Susanoo carrying them—heading for the Forest of Death outside Konoha.
As they flew, more Konoha elites—and even powerful shinobi from other villages—spotted the spectacle and went cold with disbelief.
What the hell… Konoha has an Uchiha who can go toe-to-toe with Yorin?!
They've been hiding this kind of monster?!
And then the thought followed naturally:
If this is happening, can we go watch too?
No one could resist.
People began to tail them—Konoha veterans, specialists, and curious heavy hitters from allied villages.
"Everyone, keep your distance!" Hiruzen Sarutobi shouted the moment he realized what was happening. "Don't get caught in the blast radius!"
He'd lived through the era of Madara. He knew what a perfect Susanoo meant, and he wasn't about to let tourists become accidental casualties.
Sure, "seeing it once is worth dying for" sounded heroic in theory.
But dying pointlessly was still dumb.
And if an outsider got killed by collateral damage, that was an international incident—small or not.
Even as he moved, Hiruzen's mind was racing.
He knew Yorin's Takemikazuchi Susanoo. But whose perfect Susanoo was the other one?
"Don't tell me…"
He didn't jump straight to the "Uchiha Nameless" legend. His mind went somewhere else—somewhere even more alarming.
A cloning project.
"Is it possible… the Uchiha can mass-produce Sharingan clones now? And not just Sharingan—Mangekyō? Perfect Susanoo Mangekyō?"
If that was true…
It was beyond terrifying.
He'd already accepted Yorin might become a ruler of the era—maybe even a "shinobi emperor."
But this? This made that future feel immediate.
Because if the Uchiha could field even four or five Mangekyō users with perfect Susanoo… they could take on a combined five-village army.
And if that day came, what place would there be for the old order? For people like him?
Hiruzen's teeth clenched. And then, in a moment of pure, ridiculous frustration, a thought slipped out:
"Why does my clan not have a single gorgeous daughter I can marry off—?!"
He instantly hated himself for thinking it.
Then he forced his focus back where it belonged.
Whatever else was happening, he wasn't missing this fight.
He quickened his pace.
Two Uchiha titans were going all-out.
Even at his age, even with everything he'd seen, he refused to look away.