Half a month later.
Inside Ryūchi Cave.
A figure was sent flying by a tremendous force.
He slammed hard into the wall, then crashed heavily to the ground.
"Ow, that hurt."
Obito climbed to his feet, grimacing.
Every part of his body seemed to ache.
TAT
Seeing his grandson's bedraggled state,
Madara put his hands on his hips and burst out laughing.
"Hahahaha! Don't look like that, Obito."
"I only send you flying a hundred or so times a day. You're making it look like Grandpa's abusing you."
"Well? Can you feel how much you've improved?"
Thinking back over the beatings he had taken during the past half month,
Obito nodded repeatedly and said with heartfelt emotion,
"I can. At first, I couldn't last ten moves against you, but now I can hold out for a hundred exchanges!"
Madara landed in front of his grandson with an elegant somersault.
He brushed the dust off Obito's clothes, looking pleased as he said,
"You used to rely too much on your dōjutsu and all your other abilities, neglecting the most basic—and most important—part of combat."
"But through this special training, Grandpa has helped you shore up that weakness."
Obito scratched his head with a goofy grin and said sincerely,
"Hehe, thank you, Grandpa Madara."
During this half month of trying to dance before the master himself,
Lord Madara had generously poured all his lifetime's experience into Obito.
It felt rather like the cramming-style education of his previous life.
Though Obito had only grasped a small part of it, he had already gained a great deal.
His control over the rhythm of battle had now improved by well over half a level.
Seeing that Obito had recovered, Lord Madara beckoned to him with a smile.
"Come on, let's keep going, Obito."
Obito shook