Naruto: This Genius is Somewhat Ordinary-Chapter 441

The impact came without warning.

A dull, heavy thud echoed across the ground as the massive man collapsed face-first into the dirt.

Fujimoto Tōma stopped mid-step, eyebrows lifting slightly. A moment earlier, there had been no sign at all that his opponent was about to fall. No wobble. No hesitation. No slowing of attacks.

And yet here he was.

Tōma walked closer and knelt, listening. The man’s breathing was deep and steady. Strong. Almost peaceful.

Not dead.

Just empty.

His body had finally hit its limit and shut itself down, choosing sleep over collapse. Judging by how relaxed his expression was, he’d gone out content.

Tōma let out a quiet breath, half helpless, half impressed.

"Born for battle," he muttered.

That was the only explanation.

The frightening part wasn’t that the man had fought until his stamina was gone. It was that even at the very edge, every single strike he threw had carried the same weight as the first. No weakening. No hesitation.

A monster, start to finish.

In comparison, Tōma was in far better condition.

Not because his opponent was weak. Far from it. The man’s body was absurdly resilient, his recovery speed bordering on unnatural. But even monsters had limits, and recovery still cost chakra.

Being cut nearly a thousand times added up.

Tōma straightened, rolling his shoulders once. The fact that he was still standing calmly wasn’t arrogance. It was simply the truth.

A soul that had once stood at the summit of another world didn’t become fragile just because the rules changed.

He’d just never been forced to show it before.

Tōma released the focused breathing state he’d maintained throughout the fight and stretched his arms, muscles loosening. It had been a good battle. A rare one.

He bent down, hooked an arm under the unconscious man’s shoulder, and hauled him up with one hand, slinging him over his back like a sack of rice.

Then he started walking.

Time had been meaningless where they fought. No sun. No shadow. No sense of flow. It could have been hours or days.

When the gates of the Eleventh Unit finally came into view, someone was already pacing in front of them.

Akiyama Ikkaku froze when he saw them.

Then his eyes lit up like a fuse catching fire.

"Captain! You’re back!"

The shout sent ripples through the compound. Shinobi poured out from all directions, gathering in seconds.

Tōma tilted his head. "Was that really necessary?"

He shifted the weight on his shoulder and passed the unconscious captain forward. "Relax. He’s fine. Just exhausted."

"Ex... exhausted?" Ikkaku repeated, eyes bulging.

In the Eleventh Unit’s dictionary, that word didn’t exist.

Their captain didn’t run out of stamina. Ever.

Then Ikkaku looked at Tōma again.

Looked properly.

The realization hit him like a blade to the spine.

Their monster of a captain was unconscious... and this man was standing there like he’d just finished a warm-up.

Ikkaku quickly checked the captain’s condition, then froze.

Cuts. Gashes. Scars layered over scars.

"...You said he was fine," he said slowly.

"He is," Tōma replied flatly. "That kind of injury barely registers for him. If his recovery wasn’t this strong, the fight would’ve ended long ago."

A voice chimed in cheerfully.

"He’s very happy."

A small girl appeared on Ikkaku’s shoulder without warning, squatting there and cupping her cheeks in her hands as she looked at the unconscious man.

Yachiru grinned. "Even when he’s asleep."

"...Get off my shoulder before you talk," Ikkaku snapped.

She giggled and hopped down.

Tōma glanced around. "How long were we gone?"

"...You don’t know?" Ikkaku asked.

"Hard to track time out there."

"...A week," Ikkaku said. "You both vanished for a full week."

Tōma blinked once.

"...Longer than I thought."

It made sense, though. No hunger. No fatigue signals. A place where time barely moved. Two abnormal bodies hacking at each other with nothing but raw stamina.

A week was reasonable.

"Take care of him," Tōma said, turning away. "When he wakes up, tell him to keep training. I’ll come find him again."

Ikkaku nodded, no jokes this time.

Tōma left.

The Fourth Unit was quiet when he returned.

Not because he lacked status.

But because everyone was used to him disappearing.

He didn’t seek out the unit commander. Instead, he went straight back to his residence and collapsed onto the bed.

Sleep took him instantly.

A ripple of space shimmered beside him.

A small, pale creature stepped out, crimson eyes soft as it approached. It nuzzled Tōma’s cheek once, then curled up beside him and closed its eyes.

Sleep wasn’t something Tōma needed.

Not here. Not anymore.

He hadn’t slept much even in his previous world. Too much time chasing something just beyond reach.

But this time, he let go.

And no one disturbed him.

They knew better.

Several days later, Tōma opened his eyes.

"...That felt good."

He stretched, joints popping lightly, a rare sense of comfort washing through him.

The creature stirred, licked his cheek once, then vanished back into space.

Tōma stepped outside.

His courtyard was filled with flowers. Too many, really. The unit commander had run out of room and dumped them here.

He didn’t mind.

For once, he stood still.

Resting.

Then his hand settled on his sword.

Peace ended.

Memory replayed the fight. The moments where his opponent’s blade had slipped through. The strikes that shouldn’t have landed.

Why had they?

He practiced. Again. And again.

Days blurred.

The answer refused to come.

Finally, his blade stopped.

"...I see."

Perfection didn’t exist.

Even if he perfected a defense now, it would fail the moment his opponent grew stronger.

Instinct.

Not replacing technique.

But blending with it.

Tōma began again, this time with the most basic cuts. Simple. Clean. Foundational.

The air shifted.

Power surged, restrained perfectly.

When he finished, the courtyard was untouched.

The unit commander stood at the gate, staring.

"...You’re a monster," she said quietly.

Tōma smiled.

"Maybe."