*This bastard kid…* Yashiro Uchiha tolerated the bone-deep pain, forcing himself to calm down.
As a Three-Tomoe wielder, he hadn’t found himself in such a pathetic state for a very long time.
Aomizu’s techniques and kenjutsu had completely defied his expectations.
*Although Aomizu Uchiha’s Genjutsu is bizarre, the Three-Tomoe is bound to break it.
I just need time…* *I can’t let him keep dictating the pace.
My injuries are severe.
If this drags on, I might pass out from blood loss, and then it’ll be all over…* Yashiro swiftly formed hand signs and spewed a massive amount of grey smoke from his mouth, layering another line of visual disruption on top of the mist and darkness.
[Fire Style: Hiding in Ash and Dust Technique!] Yashiro aggressively molded his chakra, continuing to spew smoke until the entire training ground was covered.
With darkness restricting his vision, Yashiro had made a clever adaptation.
Shrouded in thick smoke, Aomizu, who would also lose his line of sight, would be dragged down to the same playing field.
*Don’t worry, this is the Hiding in Ash and Dust Technique, not the Ash Pile Burning.
This smoke cannot be detonated,* Tobirama Senju chuckled in Aomizu’s mind, shaking his head.
*I almost forgot about your Hidden Mist Technique.
He isn’t a brainless sort of Uchiha, but running into a scheming brat like you, he’s still bound to suffer…* The particles forming the ash cloud clashed with Aomizu’s mist.
The damp mist rapidly dissolved the smoke, turning the entire area into a murky, grey haze.
Seizing this brief window, Yashiro pushed his Three-Tomoe Sharingan to its absolute limit, so much so that dense blood vessels crept across the whites of his eyes, making for a terrifying sight.
“Brat, let’s see what other tricks you have up your sleeve!” His ocular power finally broke through the darkness before him.
Yashiro greedily savored the return of light, only to freeze when his gaze met the thick, murky grey haze.
Yashiro had originally intended to use the smoke to buy time.
Once he dispelled the darkness, the wind-dispersed smoke would no longer pose an obstacle to his superior visual prowess.
But…
The heavy moisture of the mist had absorbed the ash dust, making the haze look even denser.
The oppressive pressure it exerted was not a single bit inferior to the darkness of the Genjutsu.
*Could all my actions have been calculated by Aomizu Uchiha from the start?* Yashiro’s mind reeled.
Scheme layered upon scheme made his Three-Tomoe Sharingan feel like a useless ornament, or even a burden, locking him firmly in Aomizu’s rhythm.
This jarring contrast, which overturned a lifetime of cognition, forced Yashiro to confront an emotion he dared not face.
Fear!
In his split second of distraction, Aomizu’s blade, true to his word, swept in from an unknown angle and struck his left shoulder!
The thick shoulder muscle was sliced open.
Muramasa seemed to cheer as it drank deeply of Yashiro’s blood.
Yashiro spun around and slashed wildly, but his katana failed to catch Aomizu.
The heavy, powerful swing only cleaved the empty air with a sharp whistle.
Once more, the training ground fell into absolute silence.
Yashiro forced himself to focus.
He could hear the crisp chirping of larks in the distance, the rustling of leaves in the gentle breeze, and even the distant cries of street vendors…
Yet, there was not a single sound from Aomizu.
A profound sense of absurdity washed over Yashiro.
It was as if he were trapped in a cage completely isolated from the rest of the world.
“No, absolutely impossible!
I won’t lose to a little brat like you!” Feeling the uncontrollable dread rising in his chest, Yashiro could not tolerate his own cowardice.
He frantically spewed out another massive cloud of grey smoke!
*Watch out, this time it’s the Ash Pile Burning Technique…* Tobirama Senju warned the moment Yashiro moved.
*Excessive heat will evaporate the moisture.
Don’t be too overconfident in your Hidden Mist Technique, kid!* Aomizu nodded.
*Understood.* [Fire Style: Majestic Destroyer Flame!] In the next instant, Yashiro unleashed a torrent of fierce flames—exactly as Tobirama had predicted—forcibly evaporating the mist and detonating the entire training ground!
A blazing inferno consumed the ground, sweeping tongues of fire attacking every piece of matter in sight without distinguishing between friend or foe.
Finally.
After going all out, Yashiro successfully cleared the wretched mist, and his Three-Tomoe Sharingan beheld the light once more!
“This time, I absolutely will not lose!” Covered in burn marks, Yashiro frantically scanned the area for Aomizu’s figure, only to witness a scene that nearly shattered his sanity.
Right beside Aomizu and Shisui, a swirling wall of water had solidly shielded them from all the flames.
They bore no signs of injury whatsoever; not even a single strand of their hair was out of place.
Holding Muramasa, Aomizu looked at Yashiro with a pitying gaze and sighed.
“Senior Yashiro, I am very disappointed in you.
As an Uchiha, you have lost the intelligence of a true combatant.” “Fear and anger do not grant you strength.
They are merely the wails of the weak, trying to escape their own hearts…” Clutching his shoulder, Yashiro felt the tomoe in his eyes tremble.
He absolutely detested this feeling, and he feared this kind of battle from the bottom of his heart.
Aomizu seemed to possess foresight; every action was read in advance, every single movement firmly within the enemy’s grasp.
“I believe that for a powerful Uchiha, the Sharingan should only be one of many weapons.
Even without the Sharingan, a shinobi of the Uchiha clan should still be a powerhouse who stands proud above the Ninja World.” “However, since Senior Yashiro is so fond of the Sharingan, I shall fight you in the Uchiha way.” Tomoe slowly manifested in Aomizu’s eyes.
His powerful ocular energy unshrinkingly met Yashiro’s Sharingan as he barked sternly: “Pick up your sword!
Look at how dazed you are—how can you possibly call yourself an Uchiha?!” Yashiro obediently raised his katana, staring blankly at Aomizu’s Sharingan.
His mind fell into utter chaos.
*What is going on?* *Aomizu Uchiha actually has the Sharingan…* *This rebellious brat who just criticized the Sharingan actually possesses such formidable ocular power!* Aomizu’s figure blurred.
Muramasa in hand, the red light in his eyes flared as his blade ruthlessly slashed toward Yashiro.
He lectured him even as he attacked: “Kenjutsu must be combined with ocular power!
If you only know how to rely on the Sharingan, you are nothing but a slave to your own eyes!” Yashiro’s vision swam.
Plunged into confusion, Aomizu’s ocular power left him in a daze, his head spinning.
In the next instant, Muramasa’s blade tore through his flesh once more.
“Calm down!
Use your Sharingan to copy my Taijutsu and disrupt my offensive rhythm!” Aomizu diligently guided Yashiro.
Watching the scene without blinking, Shisui’s eyes were filled with pure adoration.
He was like a dry sponge, greedily absorbing every drop of knowledge.
“Where is your ocular jutsu?
If you’re losing the clash, use Genjutsu to disrupt the enemy and create distance!” “Do you only know how to use ocular jutsu?
Have you forgotten how to form signs for Ninjutsu?!
Try forming signs with one hand.” “Your swordplay is completely chaotic.
If your reactions can’t keep up with the Sharingan’s kinetic vision, then try to slow down the pace of the clash!” Aomizu diligently guided Yashiro.
Yet with every word of guidance Aomizu offered, Muramasa would carve a deep gash into his flesh—painful tuition fees.
For some reason…
Yashiro recalled his childhood, when his grandfather would train him…
“Yashiro, study swordplay diligently with Grandfather!
In the future, you will surely become an amazing shinobi!
Grandfather’s swordplay was once guided by Young Clan Head Izuna…” “Back then, Grandfather was still a young boy, foolish enough to challenge Lord Izuna without knowing any better.
Though I was beaten half to death, Lord Izuna taught me so much.
This precious experience helped Grandfather survive the Warring States Period!” “The first rule is to combine ocular power with kenjutsu…” His grandfather’s guidance seemed to overlap perfectly with Aomizu’s voice, every single point matching up precisely.
Yashiro trembled all over, covered in bloody gashes.
In his eyes, Aomizu’s figure began to shift.
It was as if Izuna Uchiha, whom they worshipped in the ancestral shrine, had stepped right out of the past.
But when he focused his eyes, Aomizu also bore a striking resemblance to Tobirama Senju, a name etched into the memory of every Uchiha…
Yashiro Uchiha broke down completely.
Stripped of all strength, he fell to his knees.
Looking up at Aomizu in a daze, he muttered to himself, “Who…
who on earth are you…?”