From the moment Uchiha Fuhō launched his attack to the second he was turned into human scrap metal—less than a minute had passed.
Most of the Uchiha in the hall had been expecting a show—an arrogant brat getting a well-deserved beatdown.
What they didn't expect... was to be the ones getting their jaws shattered by reality.
No one was more shaken than Fugaku.
His original plan? Wait until Rukawa was on the verge of being crippled, then jump in with his Mangekyō Sharingan to play the heroic father.
He never imagined... the tables would turn this hard.
"Fugaku," grunted Uchiha Sōjin, his eyes glued to the boy calmly standing amidst the chaos, "are you sure that's your son?"
Fugaku exhaled slowly, face darkening. "No. That... that can't be my son. There's no way Rukawa has the strength to one-shot an elite jōnin!"
"Oh? In that case—great. That means I don't have to hold back."
Sōjin's lips curled into a savage grin. Step by step, he walked toward Rukawa like a predator who'd just found a worthy challenge.
"Impersonating an Uchiha? Crashing our clan assembly like you own the place? Kid, you've got a death wish."
He turned to the crowd and raised a hand.
"Everyone, stay back. Let me handle this clown myself."
Crack. Crack. His knuckles popped like firecrackers. The scarlet glow of his three-tomoe Sharingan intensified as killing intent surged around him.
"Whoever you are, you've got skills. I'll give you that. But I've been itching for a real fight—and lucky me, here you are."
Fugaku stepped forward quickly, trying to warn him.
"Careful! He's not what he looks like!"
Sōjin scoffed. "Relax. I'm not going to underestimate him like Fuhō did."
He stopped exactly five meters from Rukawa—ideal range. Just far enough for a jutsu. Close enough to blitz in and finish the job.
"Alright, kid. I'll give you one shot. Tell me who you really are and why you're infiltrating the Uchiha, and maybe I'll let you live—"
"Talk too much. You wanna die? Come on."
SWOOSH!
Like a ghost, Rukawa vanished—only to appear a split-second later right in front of Sōjin.
Before he could react, a brutal punch crashed into his chest.
POOF!
The body dissolved into smoke. A shadow clone.
As expected of a veteran jōnin—he'd already set a trap.
"Tch. You think a clone's gonna save you?" Rukawa muttered as he disappeared again.
Sōjin, crouched on a ceiling beam, had already begun forming seals to launch a sneak attack.
Only... the moment he felt a presence beside him, his blood ran cold.
He turned—and saw Rukawa already standing next to him.
"You hide well. Too bad it's pointless."
BOOM!
The ceiling exploded into splinters. Debris rained down.
The next moment, everyone looked up and saw Rukawa floating down calmly, one hand gripping Sōjin by the throat like a captured chicken.
"Why the hell were you even acting tough in the first place?"
"Ghh..."
Sōjin choked, unable to speak.
"W-What?! C-Captain Sōjin... taken down that easily?!"
"Damn it! Let him go!"
The hall erupted in disbelief.
Sōjin, an elite jōnin, didn't even last ten seconds. He now dangled helplessly in a kid's grip—his body completely limp.
Rukawa ignored the outcries.
His voice was calm. Flat. Almost bored.
"Just now, didn't you say I was the one who didn't know when to quit?"
He tightened his grip.
"Let me show you what really not knowing your place looks like."
Realizing he was next in line to join Fuhō in the injury hall of fame, Sōjin panicked. He thrashed, clawed, kicked—but it was useless.
"Stop!"
Finally, Fugaku shouted.
His Mangekyō Sharingan flared to life—he couldn't let Sōjin die, not like this, and not in front of the entire clan.
Even if Sōjin was a pain in the ass, he was still one of their top fighters.
The next second, he fired off a burst of ocular power straight at Rukawa.
"Hmph."
Rukawa's own right eye lit up—his Eternal Mangekyō Sharingan awakened.
The collision of eye powers lasted less than a second—Fugaku's chakra shattered like glass under Rukawa's overwhelming force.
"Ugh—ahhh!"
Fugaku dropped to one knee, clutching his face in agony, drenched in sweat.
"Please. That weak excuse for ocular power? Don't embarrass yourself."
Rukawa rolled his eyes.
"That pressure... this power... My Sharingan is like a candle next to a storm. Could that be... the Eternal Mangekyō?!"
Fugaku's voice trembled with disbelief.
"So you do have some awareness," Rukawa smirked.
"No way! That's impossible! The only one in Uchiha history to awaken it was Madara..."
Fugaku was in shock. His mind raced to make sense of what he was seeing.
"I don't know how you gained that power... but if you have the Eternal Mangekyō, then even if you're not fully Uchiha... there must be some connection."
He looked Rukawa in the eyes, serious now.
"So please... spare Sōjin. This whole thing—it was just a misunderstanding."
Rukawa paused... then nodded.
"Fine. I'll let him live."
Fugaku sighed in relief.
"But," Rukawa added, "a little payback is only fair. After all, this guy was barking louder than a junkyard mutt."
ZAP!
Crackling lightning surged through Rukawa's hand—Chidori Current!—and engulfed Sōjin's body in raw electricity.
When the sparks finally died out, Sōjin was nothing but a blackened mess.
Burnt skin. Bald scalp. Smoking like a busted toaster.
The smell of cooked meat wafted through the air.
Fugaku's face froze.
That's what you call a "little punishment"?!