The sharp blade, wrapped in slicing wind release, swept outward in a fierce arc as Yuhara gracefully brought down his sword. Under the intense boost of the Path Reversal power, he felt as if he wielded strength capable of destroying the world.
But he knew that feeling was an illusion—he understood the course of the future, and his power still wasn't nearly enough.
There was no denying how powerful the Mangekyō Sharingan was, but that strength was only relevant for now and the few years ahead.
After all, in less than a decade, with the onset of the Fourth Great Ninja War, the definition of power in the shinobi world would be completely rewritten.
"Besides, Uchiha Fugaku is using Susanoo. Even with Path Reversal, my Waterbird Dance might not be enough to break through that defense."
Susanoo had a history of being countered by Wind Release, sure, but it remained one of the strongest defensive jutsu out there.
Yuhara's Waterbird Dance, no matter how powerful, would struggle to cut through it directly. But he was confident he could at least leave cracks on it.
And once he did, Fugaku would have to repair it—wasting more of his ocular power. That would be Yuhara's opening.
Still, he had to stay cautious. He still had no idea what Fugaku's Mangekyō ability actually was.
But it didn't matter. Whatever it was, Yuhara was prepared. Today, he would claim what he came here for.
Even if he already held control of the clan in practice, without the formal title, something always felt incomplete—especially since he suspected the system was withholding a massive reward.
The howling wind and burning flames twisted around Fugaku's Susanoo as Yuhara's sword carved elegant lines into the glowing yellow armor.
Waterbird Dance had three forms, each of which brought back nightmarish memories. He'd lost count of how many times he'd died to that prosthetic wind-blade in training.
But now, he would turn those three forms into the stuff of legend.
Root had already proven how terrifying this technique could be. Now, Fugaku would become the next testament to its power.
"Hmm?"
When Yuhara swung the second form, he felt it—Fugaku's Susanoo had started to crack.
But at that moment, he sensed a powerful chakra gathering in Fugaku's eyes.
"Amaterasu? Or something else?"
Though he didn't pause his attack, Yuhara's eyes began to spin, and the blue chakra that made up his Qi Armor shifted.
If it was Amaterasu, he couldn't be sure Qi Armor could block it. The safest choice would be to use his own Susanoo.
And if it was something else, something unknown, Susanoo was still the best bet—regular defensive ninjutsu just wouldn't cut it in a Mangekyō battle.
Then suddenly—everything changed.
His colorful surroundings turned to black and white. The sun looked more like a lifeless moon, and the air was heavy and dead.
The flames and wind vanished. His clash with Fugaku? Gone, as if it never happened.
"Genjutsu?"
Yuhara raised an eyebrow. He hadn't even sensed it—he'd already been pulled into this illusion.
Clearly, this was Fugaku's Mangekyō ability.
It resembled Tsukuyomi a little… but not quite. The environment was different—much more hollow.
Still, the real problem wasn't the world—it was Yuhara's body. He wasn't restrained, wasn't paralyzed.
"No restrictions? Nothing sealing me? What is this… arrogance? Or confidence?"
He scanned himself. Everything seemed normal. That only made him more suspicious. Honestly, this whole fight had felt weird—Fugaku had been acting off from the start.
"Yuhara-kun, I'm sorry to speak to you through such means."
Fugaku's voice echoed across the space. His figure slowly emerged.
Yuhara turned toward him, now more confused than ever—but his guard stayed up.
"Speak? Fugaku-dono, is there something you want to tell me?"
"Yes, actually. I've had a lot I wanted to say, but never had the chance."
Fugaku smiled bitterly, which only made Yuhara warier. Still, the man continued on his own, ignoring Yuhara's expression.
"A month ago at the clan meeting, your words truly struck a nerve. I'd always thought I might not be an exceptional leader—but at least I was a qualified one."
"But after hearing what you said, and seeing how much support you've gained, I realized I needed to reflect."
"I locked myself away for a month. I didn't speak to anyone—not even my wife or son. I revisited every decision I made as clan head."
"And through that, through your words, I found a painful answer—I really wasn't a qualified leader. Honestly, I was a terrible one."
His self-deprecating smile deepened, and Yuhara's expression grew more bewildered.
What the hell? They were in the middle of a fight, and now this guy wanted to talk about his tragic backstory? Was this some kind of classic Hokage-style drama scene, or had Fugaku just lost it?
"Thank you, Yuhara-kun. You made me see how weak and unworthy I was. You showed me how badly I'd failed."
Fugaku's tone became solemn—sincere.
"You must be wondering what this battle was really about."
Yuhara said nothing, only stared at him. He was starting to piece it together… but he didn't dare believe it.
"The truth is, this fight had a very clear purpose. It's a signal, and a necessary step—especially for me."
Fugaku actually laughed then.
"Once this illusion ends, I'll lower my defenses. Your swordsmanship is truly incredible—one of the finest I've ever seen."
"To die by such a blade, wielded by someone with the Mangekyō… I'll have no regrets."