Just as Zetsu griped, Obito's onslaught was all thunder, little rain.
A heaving earth-dragon of Wood Release, a hailstorm of shuriken, and those occasional space warps that felt truly lethal—all of it was slipped past by Uchiha Yorin at hair's breadth.
Body Flicker. Body Flicker. And again, Body Flicker.
Uchiha Yorin moved with peerless agility.
Under attacks coming from sky and soil at once, he used seamless flickers and footwork to weave through Obito's barrage.
He even had time to heckle.
"Too slow. Way too slow."
"You think I'm Grandma O'Neal?"
"Your forehand's weak, your backhand's sloppy, your footwork's loose, your reactions dull. Not a single clean motion. And you want to stand on the same stage as me? Keep dreaming."
"Damn you, brat! I'm holding back and you still press me this hard!"
Lies mean nothing; truth is the blade. Most of Yorin's words were empty jabs, but the key truth was there—Uchiha Obito was too slow.
Not that Kamui itself was slow, but his reaction speed lagged Yorin's by a full beat and more.
Trained by Madara or not, loaded with top-tier kit or not, slow is slow.
Because his reactions weren't enough, his devastating blows kept missing by "just a little." But that "little" was a gulf. Before each strike landed, Yorin had already predicted the prediction.
"Is that all you've got? Then it's my turn."
Yorin spoke lightly. "The Manipulating Shuriken Technique—our clan's signature. I use it too, with a few improvements." He fished two kunai from his pouch. "But before that, I've got something to tell you."
"Ready to surrender? Now? Don't be absurd."
"I'm not losing. Why would I surrender? The only one joking here is you, Obito."
"I already said, I'm not Obito!"
"Great. If you're not Obito, then no problem—because you know it too. Rin never liked you. She liked Kakashi."
"Lies!"
He roared on reflex, and instantly knew he'd slipped—damn, can't hide it now.
A stirred mind is a broken guard. Yorin surged in, closing the gap in a blur.
"!"
Obito panicked.
He had six-god gear. With this loadout he could bang with Ōtsutsuki Kaguya and put up numbers.
If he got bodied by a mere elite jōnin like Yorin with all that, forget building a gentle world for Rin—he should find a wall and headbutt it.
But the truth was, he was about to get bodied.
Most shinobi must never go close against a taijutsu jōnin. Ask Eight Gates Guy and Six Paths Madara.
The "Leaf Flame Claw" title was stacked from enemy heads.
Let the red-chakra short blade twitch, and even elite ninja shiver. If he gets in close, even Kage-class die.
"Minato once said Flame Claw had seventy percent of White Fang's might. What about now? Eighty? Ninety? More?
No, impossible. Even if White Fang rose, with this eye I can beat him.
Kamui is an invincible art. I am an invincible shinobi, which means—when? Just now—Manipulating Shuriken—no, it's Manipulating Kunai!"
His heart hammered.
First, he dreaded Yorin's close-quarters and wanted none of it.
Then he fired Kamui to phase and reposition, widening the gap.
Strictly speaking, Kamui is a kind of flicker. And flicker against flicker, Kamui should win.
Then he felt it—two kunai, one left and one right, knifing in at wicked angles, insanely fast and vicious.
Manipulating Kunai.
Like the clan's preferred Manipulating Shuriken, only swapped to kunai.
No, not that simple—weight, feel, the whole handling had to be relearned.
More important, kunai look close to daggers, and daggers to short swords.
With elastic cord on those kunai, Yorin could work swordplay through them, stacking the kill potential.
A D-rank in name, but the damage far exceeded ordinary D-ranks, reaching B-rank bite, with flexibility most A-ranks couldn't match.
That's what a trump card is.
That's what a finisher is.
"!"
"!"
"Phase!"
Normal evasion was useless—he had to use Kamui. But chaining Kamui burned him hard.
If he still had both eyes, fine. But the left was with Kakashi—that useless, Rin-not-protecting failure Kakashi.
"Damn it, if only my eyes were whole…"
Kamui triggered, pain and blood spilling from his eye.
But it was fine—the two kunai passed. The cords snapped them back, driving for him again—but still fine—hn!
A prickle bloomed behind his heart, the pressing tip of a third kunai.
"Not two, three? When—"
"So, can we talk properly now, Obito?" Yorin's tone was breezy.
As he spoke, the cords reeled, and the three kunai snapped back into his hands.
Smiling like this was a friendly spar.
"One kunai can't kill me."
He'd eaten a loss and was on the back foot, but Obito wouldn't yield an inch in posture.
"Mm, mm. Sure. Obito's the best." Yorin kept it light, though he wasn't as relaxed as he looked.
He knew a single kunai wouldn't do it. That's why he hadn't truly gone for the kill.
"So. Let's talk."
"…"
He still wanted to plant a fist in that sunny face, but in the end he snorted, fell silent, and tacitly agreed.
[Quest: Overwhelm the Uchiha — Complete]
Right then, the system chimed, and once more chakra welled from nowhere.
This time, with practice, Yorin didn't lose control or crack into an Uchiha cackle.
Even so, he was delighted.
Unlike with Shisui, Obito had nearly gone all-out and still lost by a move.
Say he wasn't fully matured yet.
Say his Hashirama-cell Wood Release gave him stubborn life and a kunai wouldn't end him.
Say Yorin's style hard-countered him.
Hotheads who only spam big arts fear fighters like Yorin most—those with deep experience and surgical precision.
But none of that matters.
A loss is a loss.
This was the second Kage-class Yorin had beaten. The third Uchiha prodigy he'd put down.
And both those Kage-class he beat were Uchiha. Yorin was practically a Uchiha-slayer.
Call him what he is: the Civil-War Illusion God.