Takeshi remained silent, immersing himself in his training.
It wasn't because he had an innate love for training, nor because he was naturally quiet.
It was simply because the current situation had left him completely speechless.
To his left sat Uchiha Obito, one of the culprits behind the Uchiha massacre, looking dopey as he carefully peeled the white fibers off orange slices at the bedside.
Straight ahead stood the legendary Uchiha Shisui—standing respectfully.
To his right stood the second culprit of the massacre, the eternally gloomy young hero of Konoha, the greatly moved filial son of the shinobi world—Uchiha Itachi—gazing distantly through the tent window.
All key figures of the Uchiha massacre gathered in his tent—how could Takeshi possibly remain calm?
He was drenched in sweat.
What the hell—is my last name Uchiha now?
With no understanding of why his place had become a gathering hub for the Uchihas, Takeshi could only sit cross-legged on the hospital bed and obediently train.
Mobilizing the chakra transmitted to him by Isobu, all Takeshi could do now was adapt to it and gradually increase his usage frequency.
Achieving synchronicity with a Tailed Beast wasn't as simple as calling out their name.
Whether it was a Jinchūriki or a Tailed Beast, true synchronicity required extensive training and mutual understanding over time.
"Takeshi? Takeshi?"
After carefully cleaning the orange slices, Obito called out to Takeshi twice. When he got no response, he pouted and shifted his attention to Itachi at the window.
"Hey, you're called Itachi, right?"
Hearing Obito, Itachi pulled his thoughts back, his expression taut as he turned toward him.
"Come on over. I got some orange for you."
Obito waved him over with a smile that somehow seemed genuinely warm.
Glancing at the meditating Takeshi, Itachi, out of courtesy, circled around the bed and walked up to Obito, taking a slice of orange.
"Thank you."
"Heh, no need for thanks. You're a polite little guy."
Treating Itachi like a normal kid, Obito reached out to ruffle his hair—only for Itachi to nimbly sidestep the gesture.
Well, not cute at all.
Obito's hand came up empty, but he wasn't embarrassed. Instead, he looked toward his other clansman.
"Shisui, want some?"
"No thanks."
Shisui looked at his cousin, unable to comprehend how this seemingly goofy guy had become a chūnin.
Then again, given it was wartime, when practically any achievement could get you promoted, maybe Obito's promotion wasn't all that surprising.
"Tch, so boring."
Seeing that no one wanted to engage with him, Obito sighed and stuffed the remaining orange slices into his mouth, then started peeling a second one.
He didn't dare bother Takeshi—he knew his temperament. If he did interrupt him, he'd be met with a flurry of fists.
Might as well prep another orange.
And so, Obito once again entered his battle with orange fibers.
Just as he finished the second one and was about to call Takeshi again, a large hand snatched the orange from his grip and shoved it whole into a mouth, chewing noisily.
"Tch, not very sweet. Where'd you get this?"
A loud voice rang out, and without looking, Obito knew exactly who it was.
"Peeping maniac!"
"Idiot. Call me sensei!"
A fist slammed down on Obito's head. Unlike Takeshi, Jiraiya didn't hold back. Obito clutched his head in pain.
"Jiraiya-sama."
Seeing Jiraiya appear so suddenly, Shisui immediately straightened up and greeted him.
"Shisui, huh. What, did Fugaku send you to take care of this ill-tempered brat?"
Having just seen the kid in Mitokado Homura's tent, Jiraiya responded casually, giving Takeshi a hard slap on the shoulder.
"That was a little obvious, Jiraiya-sama."
Rolling his eyes, Takeshi gave up on training and looked helplessly at the older man who had interrupted him.
He hadn't even figured out how to deal with the two new Uchihas, and now Jiraiya came barging in.
"Come on, don't sweat the details."
Jiraiya smoothed his white hair, shoved Obito aside, and plopped into his seat, flipping through the fruit Rin had brought for Takeshi.
"Oh, nice apple. Want me to peel it for you?"
Finding a big red apple, Jiraiya said this, but instead of peeling it, he just took a big bite.
"Shisui's a good kid. It's a shame to waste him on you."
He gave Takeshi a once-over, relaxed once he saw he was okay, though his words showed no concern.
When Jiraiya heard that Shisui and Itachi were sent to Takeshi, he'd been curious.
As a high-ranking official, Danzo should've known the Uchiha had the legendary ability to control Tailed Beasts.
Now that his son had become a Jinchūriki, it didn't make sense to place him in such close proximity to Uchihas.
Fugaku looked like he was trying to be friendly, but Jiraiya saw it as planting landmines.
But the moment Jiraiya arrived outside the tent, he understood Danzo's true aim.
Aburame Tatsuma—no one knew when he'd slipped into the Kirigakure front—but he was now silently watching every Uchiha around Takeshi.
That old fox Danzo... was he using his own son as bait?
"You seem awfully idle. Instead of taking revenge on me, how about writing a few letters to your students—strengthen those bonds."
Takeshi handed Obito the chair on the right side of his bed, then turned to Jiraiya.
This suggestion was genuine. Though Danzo had backed off, Uchiha Madara's followers certainly wouldn't let Nagato off so easily. Staying in contact would help Jiraiya keep tabs on his students' conditions—and plan his next move accordingly.
It was certain the Uchiha Takeshi had fought only possessed a three-tomoe Sharingan. Even after being gravely injured, the opponent never showed any sign of using dojutsu.
Takeshi could only conclude that his limit was the three tomoe.
But would Uchiha Madara really pick such a weakling as his proxy?
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Pls Drop some Power Stones
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