After briefly tending to his injuries and washing the slime off himself with Mount Myōboku's water, Watanabe Ichiro heard rustling behind him and turned around.
Jiraiya and the others trailed some distance behind him like little ducklings. Having just come close to losing him forever, they still couldn't quite relax. They huddled together hesitantly, looking as though they wanted to say something but couldn't get it out.
Realizing how awkward they felt, Watanabe Ichiro beckoned them over, patted each of their heads, and reassured them gently.
"I'm fine. I'm not going to die."
What could possibly be wrong with me?
I'm just forcibly keeping this Disguise alive with points. Every minute I breathe, another adorable little point goes up in flames.
Luckily, Black Zetsu really came through. Scamming him a while back earned me a huge pile of points, enough to keep this Disguise running for ages. Still, I need an excuse to log off as soon as possible.
After facing death once, these kids probably won't be quite so heartbroken.
Sure, points are there to be spent, but using them to keep a Disguise alive still feels a little wasteful.
"But, Sensei, your eyes?"
Dan Katō looked at Uchiha Ichiro's noticeably grayish-white pupils and had a bad feeling.
"It's normal. Everyone in the Uchiha Clan ends up like this... it's the price of power."
His Sharingan had little ocular power left, and his nearsightedness had gotten worse.
Now, he could still make out facial features within arm's reach; beyond three meters, he couldn't tell a person from an animal.
"Yilong-sensei, could you try this?"
Tsunade suddenly remembered something and rummaged through her ninja tool pouch, pulling out a small bottle. It held a few drops of solution with an ominous pale-red tint.
"My second grandfather gave it to me