What kind of concept was that?
His monthly allowance was only five hundred ryo.
One million ryo…
he would have to save for a hundred and sixty-six years!
No, even if he saved for two hundred years, he wouldn’t reach that amount.
“Brother Makoto…” Obito swallowed hard.
“Th-That must belong to someone else, right?” “Probably.” “Then we can’t take it!” Obito suddenly grew agitated.
“That’s someone else’s stuff!
It could be some old grandpa’s life savings, or emergency money for someone’s family!
If we take it, wouldn’t we be thieves?” Looking at Obito’s righteous indignation, Makoto sighed inwardly.
At this point in time, Obito really was a pure and kind boy.
He’d help old ladies cross the street, help lost kids find their mothers, and share his bento with stray cats.
Who could have guessed that in a dozen years, this guy would become a final boss who nearly destroyed the world?
“I didn’t say we were taking it.” Makoto patted his shoulder.
“I just found it and wanted to tell you.
With so much money, it was driving me crazy keeping it to myself.” Obito let out a sigh of relief.
“That’s good.
Even if we’re poor, Brother Makoto, we can’t do things like that.” “I know,” Makoto nodded.
“I’m just curious…
Obito, do you believe I actually found that tree hole?” Obito hesitated.
Did he believe it?
Brother Makoto never lied—at least not in his memory.
Brother Makoto said he could develop Flowing Iron Body, and he actually did.
Brother Makoto said he’d teach him taijutsu, and he genuinely taught him seriously.
But a tree hole with one million ryo?
That sounded way too much like a storybook plot.
“I…” Obito scratched his head.
“I believe Brother Makoto wouldn’t lie to me.
But that tree hole…
maybe I’m just too dumb to imagine it.” [Obito Uchiha’s trust in your lie regarding the treasure tree hole containing one million ryo: 50% trust, 40% manifestation.
Successfully manifested a tree hole containing 400,000 ryo!] It worked.
Even though it was only 40%, four hundred thousand ryo…
was plenty.
Makoto breathed a quiet sigh of relief, though his expression remained unbothered.
“Believe what you want.
I wasn’t planning on taking it anyway.” “Yeah!” Obito nodded vigorously.
“Brother Makoto is the most upright guy ever!” Upright?
Makoto offered a slight smile without replying.
Looking at Obito’s innocent, bright face, he felt a sudden pang of guilt.
Was using such naive trust to scam money a bit too despicable?
But on second thought, if he starved to death now, who would stop Obito from turning to the dark side later?
Who would change the Uchiha clan’s fate of total annihilation?
This was a “necessary evil.” Yeah, definitely.
“Anyway, Obito,” Makoto changed the subject.
“You said earlier you can harden half your body now?
Show me.” “Alright!” *** After seeing Obito off, Makoto went alone to the lower reaches of the Naka River.
There was indeed a massive cedar tree there, at least a century old, with a trunk so thick it would take three people joining hands to wrap around it.
Its gnarled roots spread out, forming a natural cavity where they rose above the ground.
Makoto squatted down and reached into the gap beneath the roots, his hand brushing against something soft.
He pulled with force, dragging out a heavy cloth bag.
The bag was dark blue, made of thick fabric, tied tightly with hemp rope.
He untied the rope and peered inside.
Stacks of banknotes, in denominations ranging from one hundred to ten thousand ryo.
He did a quick count—exactly four hundred thousand ryo.
He stood up and patted the dirt off his pants.
In the Naruto world, the purchasing power of one ryo was roughly equivalent to ten yen in the real world.
Four hundred thousand ryo was equivalent to four million yen in purchasing power.
“Finally, I can go eat some meat,” he decided.
“If my nutrition doesn’t keep up during my growth spurt, it’ll be trouble if I end up short later.” Makoto had no intention of mistreating himself.
Konoha’s butcher shop was on the south side of the commercial street.
The owner was a chubby middle-aged man named Tanaka, whose family had supposedly been selling meat since his grandfather’s time.
When Makoto walked up to the counter, Uncle Tanaka was chopping ribs.
Seeing a kid approach, he wiped his hands.
“Hey there, kid!
Buying meat?
How much do you need?” “Beef,” Makoto said.
“Give me five catties of the best cut.” Ten catties of beef, wrapped securely in oil paper, made for a heavy, substantial bundle.
Holding it in his hands, Makoto felt his arms shaking slightly.
Not from fatigue, but from hunger.
He wanted nothing more than to gnaw on a raw piece right then and there.
But he restrained himself.
Carrying the meat, he bought rice, vegetables, and seasonings.
By the time he gathered everything, the sun was already setting.
Laden with bags, Makoto returned to his dilapidated house.
Setting his purchases down, the first thing he did was start a fire to cook.
He cubed the beef and blanched it.
He poured oil into the pot and caramelized sugar.
In went the beef, tossed and fried, followed by soy sauce, cooking wine, and spices, before adding water to simmer over low heat.
The savory aroma of meat gradually wafted through the room.
Makoto stood by the stove, watching the tumbling beef cubes in the pot.
The broth bubbled lazily, the meat trembling in the liquid as its color shifted from bright red to deep, glossy brown.
He swallowed hard.
Picking up a piece with chopsticks, he blew on it and popped it into his mouth.
Tender, flavorful, and incredibly savory.
Rich juices exploded in his mouth, blending with the fragrant spices as it slid smoothly down his throat.
Makoto closed his eyes.
Delicious.
So delicious.
In the three months since arriving in this world, this was the first time he had tasted real meat.
Not minced meat, not meat broth, but actual big, soft, stewed chunks of beef.
One bite after another, he emptied the first bowl in no time.
He scooped himself another bowl.
By the time he finally stopped, Makoto was leaning against the wall, utterly stuffed, rubbing his stomach.
“Finally full!” That deep-seated hunger that seemed to seep from his very bones had vanished for the first time.
In its place was a warm, deeply satisfying sense of fullness.
*** Lately, Makoto felt like he was finally living like a human being.
Literally.
What kind of life had he been living before?
Coming home after daily training to cook a pot of thin porridge paired with a couple of pickled vegetables—eating until his face practically turned green.
During training, he’d be winded after running two laps and exhausted after jumping twice.
If not for the system sustaining him, he would have starved to death in some obscure corner of a training field long ago.
But now things were different.
With four hundred thousand ryo in hand, he bought the freshest beef from the butcher every morning, ordered the most expensive set meals at restaurants for lunch, and enjoyed desserts in the evening.
After three days of eating like this, he felt like he walked with a spring in his step.
And the change in his physical stamina was the most obvious.
In short, the problem of basic survival was solved.
Which naturally led to the next issue.
Humans, once full, start thinking about other things.
Take Makoto, for example.
Coming home after training every day and staring at his empty house, he couldn’t help but wonder if he should find some other entertainment.
And so, he turned his attention toward the Academy.
To be exact, toward the girls in his class.