At that moment…
Gurgle… gurgle…
His stomach let out a series of protests. Waves of hunger crashed over him, and Umino Yoru felt his vision tinge green—like he'd devour anything in sight.
He quickly pulled out a pack of dried fish and wolfed it down. Only after nearly two pounds did the unbearable hunger finally subside.
He couldn't help but sigh. The law of energy conservation applies everywhere. The Akimichi Clan's Digestion Jutsu was powerful, but its food consumption was downright terrifying.
If he were in Konoha, with its prices, this eating habit would bankrupt him in less than half a year.
No wonder the Akimichi Clan owns so many businesses. It wasn't greed or lack of restraint—if they didn't hustle, they'd starve to death.
"Good thing I've mastered the Infrasonic Radar Technique. Even on the frontlines, I can be self-sufficient. The rations Konoha provides wouldn't keep me alive."
Beneath his feet, the river was a natural pantry—endless and inexhaustible.
With the water's flow, schools of fish moved like crops, ready to be harvested again and again.
Take the rare Golden Bell Fish—even after months of hunting, they were still plentiful. It just showed how rich the waters of the Land of Rivers were.
Maybe the soil here wasn't as fertile as the Land of Fire's, but when it came to fishing? A paradise. No wonder the Land of Wind coveted this place.
Right now, a few Golden Bell Fish were lazily nibbling on river weeds.
"Vibrate."
Umino Yoru unleashed an infrasonic pulse, instantly stunning the fish—along with every other freshwater catch nearby. Not a single one escaped.
"Water Release: Water Prison Jutsu!"
Hand seals flashed, and a massive water sphere formed, trapping nearly a hundred pounds of fish.
Hauling his haul ashore, he pulled out a filleting knife and got to work. To save time, he kept only the delicious swim bladders, tossing the rest of the organs.
After processing everything, he set aside the Golden Bell Fish—marinated for tonight's dinner with Akimichi Torifō—while the larger catches went onto the grill. Smaller ones? Smoked into jerky.
Smoking took time, but grilled fish was quick.
Umino Yoru, starving, grabbed a 20-pound sand darter and tore into it.
At the same time, he channeled chakra, stimulating his vagus nerve. Instantly, his intestines writhed—gastric acid, bile, and enzymes flooded his system, breaking down the fish into surges of energy.
"Water Release: Hidden Mist Jutsu!"
For a moment, he felt… rejuvenated. Like he'd been weak before, but now? Unstoppable.
He threw himself into training, alternating between jutsu practice and fishing—using Water Prison to snag premium catches and fling them ashore.
When his energy drained, he'd eat another ten pounds of fish, process the new haul, then repeat.
Like a machine, he cycled through: Eat. Train. Fish. Repeat.
Four hours later, as the sun dipped, he finally stopped. Time to prep dinner for Akimichi Torifō.
No more yellow-margined turtles today, but he had caught a massive River Mother Clam—as wide as a table. If it hadn't gaped open, revealing a giant pearl inside, he might've missed it entirely.
Not as rare as the turtle, but still a delicacy. Braised in rice wine? A nourishing feast.
And conveniently, Shikudō's storage scroll had a few bottles of premium liquor—originally meant for currying favor with superiors. Now? Put to better use.
Sensing Torifō approaching, Umino Yoru sped up, calling his team to help.
"Captain, this pearl's gotta be worth at least 100,000 ryō!"
"Ryō, you're the Inuzuka heir, and this is your guess? My aunt's pearl—30,000 ryō—was smaller and duller than this!"
Shikudō snatched the pearl, examining it. Bigger than a quail's egg, flawless—no less than 500,000 ryō.
"Huh. Nice haul."
Umino Yoru's eyes gleamed. This was worth nearly a hundred explosive tags!
But wartime wasn't the best market. "In peace, antiques. In chaos, gold." Selling it now? Pointless. Better as a gift.
…Though not for Torifō. The man wouldn't care. A feast would impress him more.
The clam weighed 200-300 pounds, but only 20% was edible—muscle, mantle, and glands. The rest? Trash. About 50 pounds of meat.
For Torifō's appetite? Barely enough. Add another bottomless stomach? Not a chance.
"Still time."
Torifō was two kilometers away. A few minutes at his speed.
Short, but doable.
The clam's golden glands were the ultimate umami boost—minimal seasoning needed for an exquisite broth.
And its giant shells? Perfect griddles for fish.
That huge iron pot? An ideal hotpot cauldron.
Pre-marinated fish went onto the shells to grill.
Next, oil in the pot, spices fried until fragrant, then the clam's golden glands—seared until caramelized. A splash of rice wine, then boiling water. A few more minutes, and the broth was ready.
While it simmered, Umino Yoru sliced fish and clam meat into thin platters, ready for dipping.
As for sauces? Shikudō's scroll had dozens. Take your pick.
Soon, rustling echoed through the forest. This time, forewarned, the team stayed relaxed.
"Wow. That aroma… incredible!"
The moment Akimichi Torifō arrived, the rich scent hooked him.