Sage Arts demand innate talent.
Even if one possessed monstrous aptitude and the ability to sense natural energy, without Kage-level chakra reserves and the corresponding control, backlash would inevitably turn the user into stone, wood, or some other natural element.
As for becoming a jinchūriki—forget about it.
Not only would an average shinobi's body struggle to withstand the corrosive effects of tailed beast chakra, but the sealing techniques required were another hurdle entirely.
In a world where even basic elemental jutsu were hoarded like national secrets, high-level sealing techniques were practically unobtainable for outsiders.
Even the Five Great Shinobi Villages didn't have complete sets of tailed beast-level seals. The Uzumaki clan, masters of the strongest sealing arts in history, were wiped out precisely because of their coveted knowledge.
Conclusion?
Unless you were reborn as an Uzumaki, acquiring high-tier sealing techniques without jōnin-level strength was a pipe dream.
"Looks like Snake Auntie's core technology is the real cheat for commoners."
Yoru couldn't help but marvel. In a world ruled by bloodlines, Orochimaru was the sole existence who defied divinity with mortal hands.
Following in his footsteps—even if only replicating his discarded research scraps—would be enough to escape his current predicament. At the very least, reaching jōnin level shouldn't be impossible.
As for developing a second chakra nature, he'd have to wait until returning to the military camp and see if mission merits could be exchanged for relevant materials.
First priority?
Build the damn lab.
Return to Patrol Duty
Yoru didn't immediately unseal his supplies to expand the underground lab. Instead, he first returned to his lookout post.
Thanks to Aburame Shibi's kikaichū patrolling the perimeter, Shukudō and the others were unharmed—though they loudly complained about the awful taste of military ration pills and missed his cooking.
The moment he appeared, they cheered like kids on a festival day, immediately setting up a makeshift kitchen. Even the usually reserved Inuzuka Ryō dropped his act and joined in.
"Captain, go catch some fish! We'll handle the rest!"
Shukudō urged him, not because he couldn't fish himself, but because **Yoru had a knack for catching the rare "Golden Gong Fish"**—a delicacy in River Country, nearly hunted to extinction.
Left to his own devices, Shukudō would only manage small, common river fish.
"You're all bark and no bite."
Yoru pretended to kick Shukudō's rear, sighing internally at his self-appointed "vice-captain" antics.
Inuzuka Ryō (from a respected clan) got off relatively easy. Little Xiao, the team's admirer, bore the brunt of Shukudō's bureaucratic bullying.
After today's successful ambush against Suna-nin, where Shukudō showed off his mechanized tool mastery, his ego had inflated to dangerous levels. Even Ryō seemed to defer to him now.
This guy's a natural at playing the scheming lieutenant.
But Yoru let it slide.
Big fish eat small fish, small fish eat shrimp.
As long as he—the biggest fish—could keep Shukudō in check, he'd turn a blind eye.
Today's insubordination?
Consider it a reward for lending him millions of ryō worth of tools earlier.
But once this phase passes…
He'd remind Shukudō just how sacrosanct a captain's authority truly was.
Fishing with a Twist
Tap, tap, tap…
Chakra coating his soles, Yoru stepped onto the river's surface and activated Sonic Radar Technique.
"Without my summoned water bats, my sensing range drops by at least tenfold."
Now, he could only penetrate less than ten meters underwater.
With bat assistance?
Unless blocked by another chakra entity, his waves could pierce through most obstacles. In water (which dampened sound waves), his range still reached nearly 100 meters—far less than the 3 kilometers he managed in air, but still formidable.
He'd considered re-summoning a bat at the lab earlier, but hesitated.
If Aburame Shibi had sent kikaichū into their sector and traced the bat back to its nest, his hidden lab would be compromised.
Sure, water bats were natural predators of kikaichū, and Shibi was unlikely to waste effort exploring a bat cave out of curiosity—
But why risk it?
Better to wait until Shibi's insects withdrew before contracting a new one.
"Captain, why so slow today? You usually nail this in seconds!"
Shukudō, ingredients prepped and ready, grew impatient.
Emboldened by today's success, his tone even carried a hint of complaint.
Truly, "spare the rod, spoil the subordinate."
Had he already forgotten the terror of Captain Yoru's wrath?
Yoru ignored him, focusing on the hunt.
Golden Gong Fish typically lurked in deep waters—beyond his current unaided sensing range.
Rather than waste time (or raise suspicions), he swiftly formed hand seals.
"Suiton: Suirō no Jutsu (Water Prison Technique)!"
Palms pressed against the river, he channeled chakra.
"Rotate."
"Returning Heaven Water Prison!"
A whirlpool erupted, churning the river's surface.
"Found you."
A flick of the wrist—
THUNK!
A kunai speared through the fish's skull.
Soon, a bucket-thick golden fish floated to the surface.
Grabbing his prize, Yoru sprinted ashore—famished after hours without food.
Feast Under the Stars
Field cooking was second nature to them.
Soon, the aroma of grilled Golden Gong Fish filled the air.
Perhaps it was the adrenaline from battle, or maybe they were just ravenous, but today's meal felt especially satisfying.
Even the usually stoic Ryō loosened up.
The only thing missing?
Sake.
But military regulations forbade alcohol on duty.
For common-born shinobi, getting caught meant harsh penalties.
Clan kids?
A slap on the wrist at most—as long as the mission wasn't compromised.
(Not that Yoru had that privilege.)