After parting ways with Guy and Lee, Uchiha Ryosuke dragged his tired body home. His exhaustion was so obvious that it caught the attention of several clansmen near the Uchiha compound.
Some, seeing his battered state, genuinely expressed concern.
"Ryosuke, are you alright? Do you need some salve?"
Touched by the rare kindness—not mockery—from his clanmates, Ryosuke smiled faintly and replied politely.
"It's just some light injuries. I'll apply medicine myself when I get home."
Hearing this, the concerned onlookers sighed in relief and dispersed.
However, not everyone was pleased.
A few Uchiha shinobi standing at a distance looked at him with disapproving eyes. They were likely guessing the truth behind his wounds: another sparring match with Might Guy.
To them, this was an embarrassment.
Might Guy was just a regular chūnin, and though his taijutsu was noteworthy, in their eyes, he still ranked below the prestigious Uchiha bloodline. With a Sharingan, even if it was only a single tomoe, a shinobi at Ryosuke's level should have been invincible in a direct confrontation.
To be beaten like this was shameful—especially now, when tensions between the Uchiha and Konoha's leadership were already strained.
Their pride couldn't tolerate this.
Ryosuke naturally sensed their gazes.
He knew what they were thinking—that he was disgracing the Uchiha name.
But what they didn't understand was that he was training with Guy to save the Uchiha.
The Uchiha were proud, yes—but their pride was not matched by power. In the future, despite boasting twenty jōnin and a hundred chūnin, the entire clan would be annihilated by just two people.
Ryosuke felt frustration bubbling up.
These people… arrogant, yet weak.
He shot them a cold, contemptuous glance before walking away without a word.
The Uchiha watching him were taken aback.
"He just glared at us! Can you believe this guy?" one of them said angrily.
"Want to teach him a lesson? Show him he shouldn't tarnish the Uchiha name?" another sneered.
But one shinobi, a tall, long-haired man named Uchiha Inaho, shook his head. "Don't forget who he is. He's the only grandson of the Great Elder. If we lay a hand on him, we'll be the ones thrown into the prison next door."
Indeed, the Konoha Correctional Facility was located right beside the Uchiha district, managed by their own police force. It housed over 200 inmates, from rogue ninja to petty criminals.
The other shinobi paled at the thought but still grumbled.
"So we're just going to let him keep dragging our clan through the mud?"
Inaho narrowed his eyes, then smirked.
"I've got an idea. Since he loves sparring with Guy so much, why don't we challenge him to a match later?"
"If we go a little harder during a 'friendly spar', the Great Elder can't blame us. After all, we're just helping him train, right?"
The other shinobi's eyes lit up.
"Nice one, Inaho!"
"Yeah! That way, we can beat some sense into him—make him realize taijutsu's worthless compared to developing the Sharingan."
Another shinobi added bitterly, "He got out of police duty because of connections, while we still have to finish our shifts."
"Why not challenge him tomorrow after work?" someone suggested.
But Inaho shook his head.
"No. If we fight him now and he loses, he might still think training with Guy is worth it. Let him keep training. Give him hope."
"Then, once he's invested, once he thinks he's made real progress—we strike. Show him how pointless it was."
"Then he'll understand. The Sharingan is the true path to power."
The others chuckled darkly.
"Smart move, Inaho. Let him fall on his own sword."
Meanwhile, Ryosuke had returned home and was carefully applying medicine to his bruised and aching body.
At that moment, the door opened—and the Great Elder, his grandfather, walked in.
His brows instantly furrowed at the sight of Ryosuke's injuries.
Again?
Ryosuke quickly spoke up to ease his worry.
"I'm fine, Grandpa. Just some minor scrapes."
Though the pain was real, he knew his new regenerative constitution would have him recovered by tomorrow.
Still, the Great Elder knelt beside him and examined him carefully. The bruises were superficial, but visible. He relaxed a little.
"You've been training with that Guy boy again, haven't you?"
"Yes," Ryosuke admitted openly.
Then he glanced at the bottle of medicine in his hand and asked, "By the way, how much of this stuff do we have left? I was thinking of selling some to Guy."
He hadn't forgotten the promise he made—to share the clan's high-grade healing salve in exchange for future trust and goodwill.
The Great Elder was intrigued.
"This kind of medicine is rare, but we have plenty. You want to sell it to him… to build a connection?"
Ryosuke nodded.
"Exactly. He's going to be the strongest taijutsu user in the village one day."
Though Guy was currently just a chūnin with an awkward reputation, Ryosuke knew his future—Konoha's number one taijutsu master.
The Great Elder studied his grandson's sincere expression.
There wasn't a trace of pretense in his eyes.
In truth, he wasn't surprised.
He knew exactly why Ryosuke admired Guy—because of Might Duy, Guy's father, who had opened the Eight Gates during the Third Great Ninja War and single-handedly killed four of the Seven Ninja Swordsmen.
A feat that required multiplying one's strength dozens of times—at the cost of death.
He frowned slightly.
"You're not… planning to learn the Eight Gates technique, are you?"
"That's right, Grandpa," Ryosuke answered without hesitation. "I want to learn it."
"It's dangerous, yes—but as long as I don't open the final gate, there's no fatal risk."
Indeed, unless he ever had the strength to survive opening the Eighth Gate, he wouldn't do it.
The Great Elder was silent for a long moment before finally speaking.
"So long as you don't open the Eighth Gate… the risk is manageable."
He remembered how Might Duy's red vapor-coated body had become a symbol of sacrifice. It was the Eighth Gate—Gate of Death—that killed him.
If Ryosuke was only aiming for the earlier gates, then yes, the danger was great—but acceptable.
Especially now, with the village's relationship with the Uchiha clan growing more hostile by the day.
If his grandson could gain a trump card like the Eight Gates, it would give him a real chance to survive in the darkness ahead.
The Great Elder sighed and nodded.
"Alright, Ryosuke. I trust you. Just… be careful."