Everyone—whether it was Kaguya Yuta, Mizuki Taki, or Mizuki Ryosuke, who was currently locked in battle with Yuta—stood frozen in shock.
Even after taking a direct hit from the Water Release: Water Dragon Bullet Jutsu, Yuta Kaguya slowly rose from the ground, his breath ragged but his posture unwavering.
"Cough… cough…"
Wiping the blood from the corner of his mouth, Yuta straightened his back, standing tall despite the pain.
"Hah… hah… hah… Mizuki…"
"But is that all?"
Although his body bore the brunt of the impact, his wild laughter rang through the air. His voice carried the unmistakable intensity of the Kaguya Clan, a fearless defiance that sent a chill down the spines of all who heard it.
Even the head of the Kaguya Clan, Kaguya Yoruichiro, seated in the stands, was momentarily stunned. His usual composed expression twisted into one of disbelief.
"Could it be…?"
Yoruichiro muttered to himself, his sharp eyes narrowing as a realization dawned.
Meanwhile, Yuta Kaguya's battle-hardened hands slammed against his chest—a sound like the crack of thunder echoing across the field.
"Mere Mizuki, I'll let you have three moves!"
For a brief moment, an eerie silence gripped the arena. Then—
"OOOOOHHHHHHHHHHH!!!!"
A deafening roar erupted from the Kaguya spectators.
"That's our Yuta!!"
"That's the Kaguya way!!!"
They cheered with unrestrained excitement, eyes burning with admiration.
What kind of warrior exuded such raw, unshakable confidence?
Even granting the enemy three free attacks, Yuta's stance radiated absolute dominance.
To the Kaguya warriors, this wasn't arrogance—it was pride and power.
This was what it meant to be Kaguya.
To fight with reckless abandon.
To embrace pain as a badge of honor.
To prove, with absolute certainty, that their Dead Bone Pulse bloodline made them unmatched in battle.
Among the cheering crowd, Kaguya Yoruichiro clenched his fists. His voice trembled—not with fear, but with pride.
"That's my son!!"
"This level of spirit… this indomitable will…"
"Yes! That's my son, Kaguya Yuta!!!"
While the Kaguya Clan erupted in celebration, the gathered Jōnin spectators exchanged uneasy glances.
They had seen many battles. They had seen many prodigies.
But this…
This was something else entirely.
To stand up after taking a direct hit from a B-rank Water Release jutsu…
To shrug off an attack that should have shattered his ribs…
What kind of inhuman durability was this?
Could Yuta Kaguya truly possess Kage-level endurance?
Even Fourth Mizukage Yagura Karatachi, watching from above, furrowed his brows.
Strength in a shinobi could never be measured by age alone.
If Yuta could physically withstand such punishment, if he could turn pain into power, then perhaps…
The Kaguya Clan had produced another warrior capable of challenging the Kage level.
If so, then this battle wasn't just a clan duel.
It was a political shift.
A shift that Yagura could not ignore.
The Mizukage's expression darkened.
For the first time, he considered the possibility that he might need to intervene directly.
That he might need to stop this match by force.
But deep inside, a small sliver of doubt held him back.
And so, he continued watching.
A Battle Within a Battle
While the world outside buzzed with speculation, the two warriors within the ring had entirely different thoughts racing through their minds.
Did Kaguya Yuta truly possess Kage-level strength?
Of course not.
In reality, his ribs were already fractured from the Water Dragon Bullet's impact.
Every breath sent searing pain through his chest, and he could feel the wet warmth of blood pooling inside him.
He regretted underestimating the force of the jutsu.
But there was no turning back now.
He had already set the stage. He had already declared his dominance.
There was no retreat—only commitment to the act.
He tilted his head slightly, wiping the last trace of blood from his lips with a casual motion.
A mere surface wound, he made it seem.
But in truth, he had already swallowed a mouthful of blood.
The small trickle at the corner of his lips?
That was only a fraction of what he had forced himself not to spit out.
This was his resolve.
Because Kaguya's future depended on this deception.
The words "I'll let you have three moves" had been planned long before this fight began.
This was his strategy.
His way of saving the Kaguya Clan from their own downfall.
The Kaguya were proud, but they were blinded by arrogance.
And that arrogance had made them a dying breed.
Persuasion? Useless.
Explanations? Meaningless.
No amount of words could shatter the Kaguya's delusions.
There was only one way to make them see.
And that was to break their pride—to force them to face reality.
Imagine it.
Kaguya Yuta—the clan's most gifted young warrior—publicly annihilated.
Imagine him losing so decisively that not even the most stubborn Kaguya could ignore it.
The humiliation. The disgrace.
Only then would the Kaguya reflect on their arrogance.
Only then would they realize that their recklessness was leading them to extinction.
And so, his plan was simple:
1. Declare himself untouchable.
2. Offer his opponent three free attacks.
3. Take a crushing defeat on purpose.
Once those three moves were finished…
He would fall.
Motionless. Unmoving.
So that every single Kaguya watching would understand the cost of their pride.
So that they would be forced to change.
He had already accepted the ridicule that would come with this loss.
He had already embraced the shame that would be thrown at him.
Because this sacrifice was for the future of the Kaguya.
What was his honor compared to the survival of his clan?
What was his reputation compared to their salvation?
Let them mock him.
Let them spit at his name.
If it meant changing their fate, then he would endure it all.
Because that was the weight of his resolve.
Because he was Kaguya Yuta.
And this was his path.