Chapter 133 – A Different Kind of Training
The Uchiha clan's defenses had been tightened. With only thirty Jōnin available, it was impossible to guard the entire compound, so the clansmen were gathered closer together. The defensive perimeter shrank, easier to hold but also far more concentrated.
Around Fugaku's residence, thirty Uchiha Jōnin rotated between rest and watch duty, ever-vigilant in the shadows.
At the rooftop, the highest vantage point with the widest view, a small squad kept constant watch: Uchiha Itachi, Hoshigaki Kisame, Deidara, Kakashi, and Hyūga Tokuma, accompanied by several Hyūga Special Jōnin. From here, any approach—whether by Jiraiya or Orochimaru—would be spotted immediately.
Yakushi Nonō had wished to remain as well, but Itachi had insisted she return to the orphanage. Though she possessed Jōnin-level skill, the clan already had more than enough elite fighters on hand. The safety of her children mattered more.
"Boring," Deidara muttered, slumping against the parapet. "Where's this so-called 'Great Serpent King'? We've been sitting here for hours. I'm ready to pass out."
Itachi cast him a sharp glance, considering whether to let him sleep. But the thought of Deidara—volatile, eccentric, and carrying explosive clay—anywhere near Sasuke's or Naruto's rooms quickly killed the idea.
Instead, his voice was cold and firm.
"Have you already forgotten your own words, Deidara? You called your art eternal. Is it so fragile that a little patience can break it?"
The moment "art" was mentioned, Deidara's drowsiness evaporated. His eyes lit with fiery indignation.
"Hmph! Don't twist my words. I never said I'd back out. But even artists need rest. Nobody's even shown up. Why not just tell me where that snake is hiding? I'll blow him to pieces and save us all this waiting!"
"His name," Kisame interjected with a toothy grin, "is Orochimaru. Not 'Great Serpent King,' little brother."
"Little—!" Deidara's face flushed. "You again! I told you not to call me that!"
The memory of their first flight together still stung—this grinning shark-man calling him "little brother" as though it were some joke. He had half a mind to throw Kisame off the clay bird right then and there.
"Sorry," Kisame said, though his grin widened, rows of serrated teeth gleaming in the moonlight. "Slipped my mind."
"You creepy fish-man, stop smiling like that. Gives me chills." Deidara wrapped his arms around himself with an exaggerated shiver.
Having grown up in Iwagakure, far from the sea and its people, he'd never seen anyone like Kisame. The gills, the slate-blue skin, the jagged teeth—it all looked more monster than man. Sometimes he wondered if Kisame was even human at all.
Kisame only chuckled, rubbing his nose. And this brat calls me rude…
He cast a sideways glance at Itachi and relaxed. Polite, composed, humble despite being the son of the Hokage—Itachi was a man Kisame genuinely respected.
"It's still training, Deidara," Itachi said softly, eyes glinting. "Even waiting can sharpen an artist's focus."
"Tch. Artistic training, huh?" Deidara huffed. "My giant bird's perfect already. You just wait—once I've trained my left eye to counter your genjutsu, I'll show you which of us truly understands art!"
His grumbling faded, but at least he no longer whined about sleep.
Kisame's gaze drifted from Deidara to the silent, masked ANBU nearby, before he finally turned back to Itachi.
"Mr. Itachi," he asked carefully, "earlier, you mentioned Hokage-sama heading to the front. Does that mean… he's moving forward with the plan?"
Kakashi, who had been half-lost in thought, suddenly sharpened. His ears pricked, though his face remained neutral. Deidara, bored again, tilted his head curiously.
Itachi hesitated. He knew exactly what Kisame meant—the grand promise his father, Fugaku, had made. But…
"I don't know," he said at last. "Since Kumogakure started the war, perhaps Hokage-sama went only to drive them back. It's too soon to speak of more than that."
After all, Itachi thought grimly, it hasn't even been a month since Father spoke of unifying the shinobi world. How could such a plan be realized so quickly?
Even with the Eternal Mangekyō Sharingan and unrivaled Susanoo, could one man truly bring the Five Great Nations to heel?
Itachi doubted it. Peace would not come easily.
Before the silence could stretch, a soft voice cut through.
"You all must be tired. I've prepared tea, fruit, and some snacks."
Uchiha Mikoto approached with a warm smile, balancing a tray. She set it down carefully, the fragrance of cut fruit and fresh tea easing the heavy atmosphere.
"Kasan, you shouldn't trouble yourself," Kisame said quickly, bowing his head in respect. His loyalty to Fugaku naturally extended to his wife. "We're fine."
Mikoto only smiled, urging them to eat before she turned to leave. But Itachi's eyes caught movement beyond the compound walls.
"Kasan—wait. The Great Elder is here."
On the path below, the tall silhouette of Uchiha Sihu approached, his pace urgent.
"I'll see what's happening," Mikoto said, hurrying down the steps.
"Kisame. With me," Itachi ordered softly, vaulting from the rooftop. Chakra clung to his feet as he descended the wall, landing silently just as his mother stepped out of the doorway.
The night air grew heavier. Whatever news Sihu brought, it would not be trivial.
---