Chapter 73: Sparring
Might Guy had no idea what was going through Ryū's mind. But his reason for showing up bright and early to knock on Ryū's door this morning was crystal clear.
Just as Ryū had guessed—he wanted to spar. Taijutsu, specifically.
Yesterday's fight had shown him a style of hand-to-hand combat completely unlike anything in Konoha's taijutsu tradition. It didn't even seem related to Konoha's system at all—a totally alien martial art.
That had lit an immediate fire under Guy. He was dying to find out: was Ryū's taijutsu better than his, or was it the other way around?
If it hadn't been for having to haul Kakashi to the hospital yesterday, Guy would've challenged Ryū on the spot.
"If Ryū-kun's taijutsu really is above mine, then I can train with him every single day—morning, noon, and night—and THAT is what Youth is all about!"
As for why he was this obsessed? In Might Guy's own words:
"This is Youth!"
…Though, admittedly, that phrase had been repeated so many times it was starting to grow calluses on everyone's eardrums.
Guy silently made his resolution. His train of thought lined up almost perfectly with Ryū's prediction.
Faced with this chūnibyō teenager and his apparently infinite reserves of energy—there was only one solution that might buy Ryū some peace and quiet.
Send Might Guy to visit Kakashi.
And Kakashi's current address? Konoha Hospital.
* * *
Minutes ticked by. They stood in a wooded area within the village—a training ground Guy frequented. It wasn't particularly secluded; the occasional passerby drifted through now and then.
But Ryū, whose mindset had already begun to shift, couldn't be bothered to care.
He'd already revealed a portion of his strength yesterday. If he wasn't mistaken, the Third Hokage had probably watched his entire spar with Kakashi.
Showing a bit of power to Konoha's leadership? Fine. Let them think twice before doing anything rash.
After all, the rate at which his strength was skyrocketing meant exposure within the village was inevitable—maybe in a week, maybe two. Just look at his absurd appetite at Ichiraku Ramen—the kind of "abnormality" that was physically impossible to hide.
That said, revealing his full strength? Absolutely out of the question.
Having consumed mountains of novels and anime, having watched countless villains and protagonists die from the same mistake, and having absorbed the hard-won wisdom of all those fictional predecessors—how could Ryū possibly not keep a few cards up his sleeve?
For instance: Armament Haki, Moonwalk, Finger Pistol, Iron Body—none of those had been used.
And most critically of all, his Paramecia-type Decompose-Decompose Fruit. He hadn't used that even once.
Besides, given Sarutobi Hiruzen's personality, he almost certainly wouldn't share this with Danzō. At most, he'd inform the Fourth Hokage, Namikaze Minato.
As long as that old schemer Danzō stayed in the dark, nothing would go sideways.
And even if Danzō did find out—at Ryū's current power level, it wouldn't matter. He wouldn't flinch like he used to, wouldn't play it timid the way he once had—wouldn't try to "stay grounded" and keep a low profile.
Everything felt more open now. Less hiding, less caution.
* * *
Just as Ryū's thoughts drifted a little too far, a voice cut through his reverie and yanked his wandering mind back to the present:
"Ryū-kun! I'm going to attack now! Please be on your guard!"
Ryū snapped back to focus. In his line of sight, a green blur erupted forward like a bolt of light—a rising kick aimed squarely at his chin.
He really had let his mind wander. Or maybe it was more accurate to say his internal monologue was a bit too rich. If his opponent had been anywhere near his level of strength…
In a situation like this, he'd have been critically wounded in a single hit.
But Ryū watched the incoming foot sail toward his jaw without so much as a flicker of panic.
A clean hit to the chin would drop any ordinary person—lights out, possibly a mild concussion. That was exactly how fighters in MMA scored instant knockouts.
But this powerful kick from Might Guy? Still not quite enough.
The speed and force were admittedly a notch above Kakashi's, though.
Ryū's hand shot forward with blinding speed and clamped down.
An ankle, seized firmly in his grip.
The sole of Guy's shoe hovered barely ten centimeters from Ryū's chin.
Compared to the perfectly composed Ryū, Guy's expression shifted.
He'd anticipated that his probing attack would be blocked—of course it would.
But he hadn't expected it to be blocked this effortlessly.
"Did I hold back too much? No—impossible! I wasn't using the Eight Gates, but that kick was a solid eighty percent of my strength. Even a jōnin would stumble from blocking it, right?"
Yet Ryū hadn't budged an inch. It was as if Guy's kick had connected with nothing but air.
Guy's body torqued instantly. His other leg swung up in a midair knee strike.
Ryū flicked his wrist and hurled Guy away.
Guy tumbled through the air, spinning several times before managing to land on his feet.
Before he could even think about his next move, his pupils contracted sharply.
Because Ryū—at some point he couldn't pinpoint—was already standing right in front of him.
Less than two meters away.
"Such incredible speed!"
Guy scrambled backward in leaping retreats, but Ryū clung to him like a shadow—mirroring his every movement, never giving him a single moment to regroup. Cold sweat beaded on Guy's forehead.
While Guy hopped backward with every nerve on high alert, a faint sense of danger suddenly crept over him.
His heart clenched.
Then he saw it: a fist hurtling toward him at a speed that was damn near impossible to dodge.
"Alright—now THIS is Youth! If Ryū-kun blocked my kick, then I'll block his punch! I'm not weaker than Kakashi!"
Guy crossed his arms into a guard stance.
The next second… he regretted it.
Ryū's fist slammed into the crossed point of Guy's forearms.
Blocked? Technically, yes.
But to Guy, it felt like he'd been struck by an enormous iron hammer.
No—Ryū's fist was harder than a hammer.
A terrifying wave of force erupted on impact.
A spiral of displaced air blasted outward, sending chunks of rock and blades of grass spinning in a whirlwind.
Guy's clothes snapped and fluttered violently in the gale.
His expression cycled through a rapid series of changes.
Cracks splintered across the ground beneath his feet, inch by inch. His entire body slid backward—
No. "Slid" was too gentle a word. He was being shoved bodily backward.
Both feet carved twin furrows through the dirt.
He held on for less than three seconds before his body launched backward like a cannonball.
He crashed into a large tree behind him.
The solid trunk snapped clean through.
And then the next one. And the one after that.
☆☆☆
-> 20 Advanced chapters Now Available on Patreon!!
-> https://www.pat-reon.co-m/c/Hollowborn
(Just remove the hyphen (-) to access patreon normally)
If you like this novel please consider leaving a review that's help the story a lot Thank you