Ryuha remained silent for two seconds.
Then, he let out a soft smile—faint, detached, yet pleasantly gentle.
When in doubt, blame it on a Kekkei Genkai.
After all, he had made the whole thing up anyway.
“It’s another application of the ‘Mind’s Eye,’ Sensei.”
His tone was calm and casual, as if explaining a basic ninjutsu principle:
“My Kekkei Genkai can govern the five senses, which naturally includes…
‘perceiving’ and ‘reshaping’ my own chakra.
Through extreme sensory control, I can execute both nature transformation and shape transformation of chakra inside my body, bypassing the need for hand seals.
As for what I just did—”
He pointed to the scorched trench:
“—it’s a modified technique I released after compressing Fire Style chakra to its absolute limit.
I call it ‘Shakaho.'”
The explanation was completely logical.
Using the ability to “govern the five senses” to control one’s own chakra and cast without hand seals.
It sounded plausible—almost scientific, even.
Yet the chill in Ryuichi Matsumoto’s heart didn’t fade in the slightest.
Because Ryuha’s explanation exposed an even more terrifying reality—
Just how terrifyingly advanced was this boy’s chakra control?
To complete two transformations inside his body purely through spiritual energy without the guidance of hand seals, and to compress it to such a degree…
How precise did that control have to be?
How immense was his spiritual energy?
How…
inhuman was his willpower?
And what were those incanted syllables?
Was it merely theatrical fluff?
Ryuichi Matsumoto stared intently into Ryuha’s eyes, trying to glean something from that calm, dark brown depth.
But he saw nothing.
Ryuha’s gaze was clear and candid.
It even carried a perfectly timed, youthful attentiveness—the look of a student awaiting his teacher’s evaluation.
A perfect disguise.
Or perhaps he didn’t even bother to disguise it at all.
“Shakaho…” Ryuichi Matsumoto repeated the unfamiliar name, slowly putting away his kunai.
“I’ve never heard of this jutsu.”
“It’s my own creation,” Ryuha replied frankly.
“It’s still in the development phase, so I couldn’t control its power very well.
Forgive my embarrassing display, Sensei.”
His own creation…
Ryuichi Matsumoto’s lips twitched.
A ten-year-old Genin had invented a seal-less ninjutsu whose power rivaled B-rank, or even approached A-rank Fire Style.
And he “couldn’t control its power very well”?
If this was considered “not very well,” then what were other shinobi doing?
Playing house?
But he didn’t say it aloud.
He merely stared deeply at Ryuha for a long time.
Then he turned around and walked over to the half-destroyed corpse.
“Kazuya, Itsuki, clean up the area.
Ryuha, stand guard.”
“Y-Yes!” Kazuya Haruno and Itsuki Fujiwara snapped out of their daze.
Scrambling to their feet, they began collecting the corpse with a sealing scroll and sweeping away any traces.
However, their movements were stiff, and neither dared to look toward Ryuha again.
Ryuha picked up the cat cage, walked over to a nearby ridge, and stood in quiet watchfulness, his gaze sweeping over the dense surrounding forest.
Within his Spiritual Pressure perception, the two fleeing stray ninja were already several miles away.
Running wildly without looking back, they wouldn’t dare return anytime soon.
He lowered his head and looked at his palm.
When casting Shakaho earlier, he had deliberately suppressed its power and used Kyoka Suigetsu to make subtle “visual adjustments.”
In the perception of Ryuichi Matsumoto and his two teammates, he had indeed cast it “without hand seals.”
But in truth, he had made a hand gesture.
Paired with the incantation, it created the illusion of a seal-less technique.
This was a necessary disguise.
Casting entirely without seals was too earth-shattering and would draw unwanted attention and suspicion.
After all, Minato’s Rasengan was still in its initial stages; seal-less casting remained strictly within the domain of the First and Second Hokage.
Meanwhile, explaining it as “achieving seal-less casting through a Kekkei Genkai,” while still shocking, at least fit within the Ninja World’s conceptual framework.
Kekkei Genkai, by their very nature, were meant to defy common logic.
As for the incantation…
that was an inherent trait of Kido, and he had no immediate plans to change it.
Besides, for him, it was a fantastic chance to show off.
In other words, posing as a grand master before others?
“Ryuha.”
Ryuichi Matsumoto’s voice sounded behind him.
Ryuha turned around.
Ryuichi walked up beside him and stood shoulder to shoulder, gazing out at the distant sea of trees.
The setting sun sank toward the horizon, painting the sky in shades of crimson and gold.
“Your Mind’s Eye,” Ryuichi Matsumoto paused for a moment before speaking slowly, “is even more dangerous…
than I imagined.”
“Power itself is neither good nor evil, Sensei,” Ryuha said calmly.
“It depends on the one who uses it.”
“Is that so?” Ryuichi turned his head to look deeply at him.
“Then tell me, why do you seek such power?”
Ryuha Uchiha pushed up his glasses, the lenses reflecting the fading glow of the sunset.
“To stand high enough to see a truer landscape.”
He paused, then softly added:
“And…
so those who deserve to live don’t perish in pointless darkness.”
Ryuichi Matsumoto froze.
He suddenly remembered the timing of Ryuha’s strike—it was at the precise moment Kazuya Haruno was about to be killed.
Precise, decisive, without a shred of hesitation.
This boy was not cold-hearted.
He simply…
protected what he believed was worth protecting in a way others couldn’t comprehend.
Ryuichi Matsumoto fell silent for a long time.
Finally, he patted Ryuha on the shoulder.
The pressure was heavy.
“When we get back, write two reports.” He turned and walked toward Kazuya Haruno and Itsuki Fujiwara, who had finished cleaning the site, his voice drifting back:
“One concerning the mistakes made during the cat retrieval.”
“And another detailing the principles, chakra consumption, and directions for improvement of Shakaho.”
“That is the Hokage’s requirement.”
Ryuha watched Ryuichi’s retreating back, his lips curling up slightly.
“Yes, Sensei.”
The sunset vanished completely below the horizon.
Team 7 embarked on their journey home.
Only this time, the atmosphere in the team was completely transformed.
Kazuya Haruno and Itsuki Fujiwara walked two paces behind Ryuha, not daring to get too close.
Their eyes were filled with awe, curiosity, and an indescribable sense of reverence.
Unlike the graduation combat trial, where they had merely spectated, today they had fought side by side.
Ryuichi Matsumoto walked at the front, his back held straight.
Yet in his mind, the scene of that crimson fireball tearing through the darkness replayed over and over.
Along with the gaze deep within Ryuha’s calm eyes as he chanted—like a deity looking down upon the world.
“Ryuha Uchiha…”
He whispered the name in his heart.
The genius he thought needed “polishing” had long since reached heights he couldn’t even fathom.