Year 38 of Konoha.
The Second Great Ninja War had already raged for over a year.
On the battlefield of the Land of Rain, Konoha, Sunagakure, and Amegakure were locked in a meat-grinder of chaotic warfare. Even the academy students, forced to graduate early, had been cycled through multiple batches.
In contrast, the front in the Land of Rivers had settled into a stalemate.
Though both Konoha and Suna had reinforced their troops, with skirmishes breaking out daily and casualties mounting on both sides, they remained relatively restrained. No large-scale battles had erupted yet.
The two nations used the western Shinano River as a natural boundary, creating a tense standoff.
From an aerial view of the Shinano River defensive line, both sides had set up numerous patrol squads along their outer perimeters.
Konoha, in particular, had fortified its position along the river and surrounding mountainous forests, establishing a three-layered defensive line spanning hundreds of miles to prevent Suna's elite forces from infiltrating deeper territory.
Among these defenses was the Umino Patrol Squad—an utterly unremarkable, expendable sentry unit.
If Suna's elite forces decided to breach their section of the line, this squad wouldn't stand a chance. They'd crumble at first contact.
But at least they could serve as an early warning system.
Their job was simple: if trouble came, they'd signal the alarm.
Of course, whether they survived long enough to do so depended entirely on whether the Pure Land felt like handing out their "lunchboxes" that day.
"Please, just don't let Suna's elites pick our sector to break through..."
Theirs wasn't the only patrol squad, after all. Downstream, the Tetsubishi Squad's area had just been wiped out—perfect terrain for an assault. Upstream, the Aoba Squad's zone had wide-open sightlines, but they were the worst patrol team. If Suna struck at night, they might slip through unnoticed.
This sentry duty seemed dangerous, but in reality? It was absolutely unsafe. Life or death came down to luck.
But for a cannon fodder squad like theirs, it was still a good assignment.
This was war. Where wasn't dangerous?
Compared to other missions, sentry patrol was practically a cushy job. If not for the "gifts" from the Land of Wind and some friendly negotiations with Nara, the logistics officer, they wouldn't have landed such a sweet deal.
All they had to do was survive ten days without incident, and it counted as a completed C-rank mission.
That was far better than those suicidal assault missions.
The cannon fodder sent on those had to survive on soldier pills while risking their lives—only to have their hard-earned merits divided among higher-ups, barely amounting to a single C-rank reward.
If they were lucky enough for it to be counted as a B-rank? Well, they'd better pray they were strong enough to live long enough to enjoy it.
Starving, fighting tooth and nail, all for scraps.
But this patrol mission? Sure, it was long, but it was stable. Relatively safe.
At least they weren't starving on soldier pills before charging to their deaths. Even if Suna did pick their sector, they'd at least die on a full stomach.
"Captain… are we really okay with stewing soup and roasting fish like this every day? What if the mobile patrol catches us—"
"So what if they do?" Umino Yoru cut him off. "We'll just make extra and share. Build some camaraderie."
He stirred the pot of fish soup, completely unfazed by battlefield regulations.
"If our sector gets attacked later, they'll rush to our aid faster—if only to keep getting free meals."
The broth was perfect—creamy white, glistening with oil. He scooped a spoonful, blew on it half-heartedly, then took a sip.
The rich, savory flavor exploded across his tongue, sending a shiver down his spine.
Damn, that's good.
He couldn't resist another sip, closing his eyes to savor it.
This is the life.
The Ninja World, blessed by natural energy, produced ingredients far superior to anything back on Earth. The flavors were unreal.
He filled a bowl to the brim and shoved it into his subordinate's hands.
"Rō, if you ever want to become a jōnin, listen to your senior here—eat fewer soldier pills."
Umino Yoru looked at the young genin, whose eyes still held that adorable mix of naivety and stupidity, and spoke with the gravity of a wise elder.
"Those 'cute little' soldier pills? Rather than wasting them, just let me trade them for an explosive tag. Much more useful."
Inuzuka Rō hesitated, but his gaze kept drifting to the creamy soup in his hands.
Gulp.
Memories of its deliciousness flooded back, irresistible. His mouth watered.
Discipline? What discipline?
When faced with this kind of flavor, rules went out the window. One bowl? Make it two.
Yoru served another bowl and set it in front of Rō's ninken, Kyūtamarō.
The dog wagged his tail furiously, barking in delight.
Rō wanted to resist—this wasn't his first time, after all—but the weight of his clan's honor made it hard.
Yet, seeing Kyūtamarō already digging in, his resolve crumbled.
"Thank you, Captain!"
Even as his stomach growled, Rō maintained basic etiquette, offering a polite bow before carefully blowing on the soup and taking a small sip.
"Mmm—!"
His eyes widened.
The taste was divine—so rich it felt like his soul was being lifted to the heavens.
All pretense of manners vanished as he gulped down several more mouthfuls.
So good! The captain's cooking gets better every day!
Who cared about rules? Let the others choke on soldier pills.
Yoru nodded approvingly. Good kid.
A true ninja had to break conventions.
Even the "Greatest Teacher in the Ninja World," Jiraiya, preached that ninja should defy common sense.
And Jiraiya had trained multiple Kage-level shinobi. He had to be right.
Nearby, Shukudō and Kogure—two bottomless pits—saw Rō finally cave and immediately lunged for the pot, filling their bowls to the brim.
Shukudō, the glutton, was already eyeing the fish roasting in the embers beneath the pot.
These kids… If Yoru wasn't careful with their budget, they'd eat him out of house and home.
But this meal meant a few more soldier pills saved.
Over a ten-day patrol cycle, that added up to 40 pills—enough to trade for one explosive tag.
On the front lines, that wasn't just an extra tool. It was a lifeline.
Explosive tags were gold. Most ninja were glass cannons—even a Kage would be in deep trouble if caught in a direct blast.
Soldier pills weren't as rare, but they were still military supplies. One pill could replace two meals, restore chakra, and were easy to carry. A handful, with some water, could sustain a ninja for a month in the field.
The perfect ration for murder and mayhem.
Even without the black market, 40 pills (at a 20-30% discount) could be negotiated with the logistics officer, Mitokado, for an explosive tag.
Stockpiling tags was never a bad idea.
This war was far from over. Even if they didn't need them now, explosive tags—already twice as expensive as peacetime—would only keep rising in value.
But beyond hoarding supplies, Yoru genuinely cared about his team's health. He'd learned the hard way.
Soldier pills were convenient—they could replace meals and boost chakra—but unlike real food, they drained a ninja's potential over time.
A double-edged sword.
The choice between future growth and immediate survival seemed obvious.
But often, there was no choice.
What good was the future if you didn't live to see it?
For low-ranking cannon fodder, eating one or two pills a day solved supply issues and forcibly unlocked their potential, giving them the strength to survive the genin meat-grinder.
A few life-or-death battles later, and promotion to chūnin was almost guaranteed.
A battle-hardened chūnin was Konoha's backbone—still expendable, but at least they'd graduated from low-grade fodder to premium fodder. Not so easily discarded.
And if they survived the war?
In peacetime, a Konoha chūnin was upper-middle class.
Finding a wife wouldn't be hard—some civilian families might even pay a hefty dowry just to marry into a shinobi clan.
The good news?
Yoru had transmigrated into Umino Yoru, a chūnin—one of Konoha's reliable, if expendable, mid-tier ninja.
The bad news?
He was stuck on the Land of Rivers frontlines during the Second Great Ninja War, just trying to survive long enough to see the end of it.