In the forest clearing, Might Guy looked at Uchiha Ryosuke with clear admiration in his eyes.
"Ryosuke, your progress is truly impressive. To go toe-to-toe with me in a serious spar… that's no small feat."
He meant it sincerely.
To grow from a total weakling into a genuine rival—that kind of transformation deserved respect.
Ryosuke smiled warmly.
"It's all thanks to training with you, Guy. I couldn't have made it this far without you."
Deep down, Ryosuke knew he'd made the right call approaching Might Guy in the beginning. The man had tirelessly trained with him, never once showing frustration or impatience. That kind of perseverance and nobility—if there were anyone truly worthy of admiration in Konoha, Might Guy would absolutely be one of them.
But Guy didn't look entirely convinced.
He had trained rigorously for years to reach his current level.
Yet Ryosuke had surged forward in just a single month—and the difference in improvement was obvious.
Was Ryosuke just a taijutsu genius?
Or... was it that method?
The "get beaten up to get stronger" method?
It might have been Ryosuke's secret, but Guy couldn't help his curiosity.
"Ryosuke, you've progressed so fast... have you developed a taijutsu style where getting hit makes you stronger?"
"Even with talent, your improvement is just too extreme."
"That's the only explanation I can come up with."
Off to the side, Lee's eyes lit up.
He had tried that method too, but the results weren't as dramatic—mostly just a stronger tolerance for pain.
Maybe there was a technique to it. Maybe it wasn't about just getting hit—it had to be done right.
If anyone could confirm that, it was Ryosuke.
Ryosuke, for his part, looked utterly confused.
A taijutsu genius? Yeah, right.
His original body was painfully average. If not for the Auto-Cultivation System, he'd still be cannon fodder. Other people didn't get stat boosts just for getting smacked around—they at most developed slightly better durability.
Still, he needed a reasonable explanation, so he said:
"I'm not trying to get hit... I just find that actual combat sharpens my reflexes."
"Taking hits does help toughen the body, though—so I guess that's part of it."
Guy gave a nod like it all made perfect sense.
So it was about pushing physical limits through combat, not necessarily seeking out pain. But the takeaway was clear: getting beat up properly did work.
He'd never been acknowledged by the Third Hokage and hadn't been accepted into ANBU.
Meanwhile, his childhood rival Kakashi had become a jonin at just twelve years old.
He had to catch up.
And now Ryosuke—who could already fight him evenly—was pushing him even further.
"Ryosuke, be careful. I'm about to use one of my special moves."
A real fight needed real effort.
If this kid was getting stronger through combat, then holding back would be an insult.
Ryosuke's heart thumped with excitement.
Was Guy about to use the Eight Gates?
"Bring it on. I'm ready."
His Sharingan flared even brighter, the red glow pulsing like flame.
Even opening the first few Eight Inner Gates would multiply Guy's power.
Ryosuke focused, his pupils constricting slightly.
The Sharingan—the Eye of Insight and Mimicry—didn't need verbal cues. He could analyze and copy the taijutsu forms directly from Guy's movements.
He wasn't like the other prideful Uchiha.
If copying someone's techniques made him stronger, why wouldn't he do it?
With the Night of the Massacre still a looming threat, learning a few of Guy's moves wasn't just smart—it was survival.
Besides, Guy was too noble to ever hold that against him. If anything, Ryosuke was sure Guy would approve.
He had even taught Kakashi the Eight Gates, after all.
But instead of opening any gates, Guy suddenly dashed forward and launched a powerful roundhouse kick.
"Leaf Hurricane!"
Ryosuke blinked—somewhat disappointed—but met the kick with one of his own.
He wasn't about to let himself get hit just to be polite.
The two kicks collided midair with a thunderous crack.
Guy wasn't surprised that Ryosuke could block it—at this point, anything less would be disappointing.
But it wasn't over.
"Leaf Hurricane: Second Strike!"
Guy pivoted, planted one hand on the ground, and swept his left leg around in a sharp, rising kick aimed directly at Ryosuke's chest.
Ryosuke's Sharingan caught the movement, but his body was just a fraction of a second too slow.
Boom!
The kick slammed into his chest, sending him flying backward and crashing hard into the ground.
Guy didn't look concerned.
After training with Ryosuke for over a month, he knew exactly how durable the kid was.
His strike hadn't hit a vital point, and while the blow was heavy, it wasn't fatal. If anything, it was probably exactly what Ryosuke needed.
Sure enough, as Ryosuke lay on the ground, the system chimed in:
[Strength +2, Speed +2, Constitution +2]
That familiar boost surged through his body.
Power flooded his limbs, warmth coursed through his chest, healing most of the damage.
Ryosuke stood up, beaming.
"That move—two-stage spinning kick, fast as hell... it's no wonder even skilled taijutsu users have trouble with it."
The strength of that technique wasn't just the initial impact—it was the follow-up strike that caught opponents off guard.
Most people couldn't even react to it in time.
"Guy, your Leaf Hurricane is insane."
He had already copied it—every movement, every muscle contraction, every angle of momentum—down to the finest detail.
Guy grinned, clearly proud.
"It's my signature move."
Kicks had more power than punches by nature, and Guy had honed his technique to perfection.
But what shocked him was how quickly Ryosuke had recovered.
That kick should've left anyone writhing in pain, if not unconscious.
Yet here Ryosuke was, standing like it was nothing.
A monster of a physique... was his constitution actually higher than mine?
And with the Sharingan, copying this technique was practically effortless.
Kakashi could mimic a thousand ninjutsu—no reason Ryosuke couldn't replicate taijutsu too.
Lee stood to the side, eyes burning with envy and admiration.
That was Guy-sensei's move—fast, clean, and devastating.
Lee had tried to replicate it himself, but he didn't have that kind of power.
He needed to train harder—a lot harder—if he wanted to kick like that.
Ryosuke dusted himself off, eyes locked onto Guy.
He was itching to try the move himself.
"Now it's my turn."
He rushed forward, lifted his leg—and launched into a flying kick.
Guy didn't dodge.
He never backed down from a challenge.
He raised his leg to block—and then it hit him.
Ryosuke spun midair, planted his hands, and launched the second-stage kick.
Exactly like his own Leaf Hurricane.
Guy's expression froze.
Wait—that's...!
He didn't have time to react.
Boom!
Ryosuke's heel crashed into his chest, launching him backward and into the dirt.
Guy grunted, forcing himself to rise. The pain was sharp—deep.
This kid... hit harder than I did?
Ryosuke had taken that same kick just moments ago—and got up almost immediately.
Now, Guy was struggling to breathe.
Was Ryosuke's body actually tougher than his?
That Sharingan... no wonder he could copy techniques like this.
He thought of Kakashi again—if that guy could replicate ninjutsu, it only made sense Ryosuke could master taijutsu.
Guy rubbed his sore abdomen and said with a grin:
"Again."
This was what he needed. A sparring partner who could actually push him.
By the end of it, both of them lay sprawled in the dirt, bruised and battered, completely spent.
Guy was grinning despite his black eye.
This wasn't just training—it was real growth.
Even sparring with Kakashi had never left him this satisfied.
Ryosuke, on the other hand, was practically glowing.
Strength +5, Speed +5, Constitution +5.
It was his biggest boost yet.
If he had been Guy's equal before, he was now just a bit stronger.
And it felt damn good.