Naruto: Orochimaru's Disciple

Chapter 222: Chapter 222: If the Price Is Low Enough, There’s Nothing to Criticize

Chapter 222: If the Price Is Low Enough, There’s Nothing to Criticize

High end ingredients often only need the simplest cooking methods.

Kenichi watched the beef sizzle in the pan, oil popping softly. He flipped it at an unhurried pace, making sure both sides browned evenly. In the next moment, the air filled with rich, mouthwatering aroma.

When the pan fried beef was done, he plated it neatly. Then, with a solemn expression, he reached for the rice cooker.

Now was the moment of truth.

”Honestly, why do I suddenly feel a little nervous?” one Shadow Clone couldn’t help muttering.

Kenichi’s mouth twitched. He was nervous too. It was a ridiculous feeling.

It was just a meal, after all.

”It’s burning! It’s burning! More exciting than Boruto!” another Shadow Clone cheered from the side.

Kenichi took a deep breath and opened the rice cooker.

Steam billowed out, and a unique scent spread through the room. Kenichi frowned and inhaled twice, trying to find the right description.

Compared to the raw smell from earlier, this was like durian that had been steamed. It was pungent. Even for someone who liked durian, it would still be a serious challenge.

Still, steamed durian had always been like that. The smell was strange, but the taste and texture were usually normal. It was not like chewing something disgusting. The texture even turned sweeter, as if steaming broke down part of its structure and let the sweetness seep through.

Kenichi took a bite of rice.

Instantly, the durian sensation returned, like the grains had been soaked in durian essence. It was incredibly odd.

But as he continued eating, he realized it was not as terrible as he had imagined. The smell was heavy, but the taste and texture were basically the same as ordinary rice.

In fact, if Kenichi had no sense of smell, the rice in front of him would have been identical to normal rice. And more than that, the faint durian flavor somehow became addictive the more he ate.

”It’s surprisingly good,” Kenichi concluded, nodding. ”The flavor isn’t ideal, but considering the yield, it really has no flaws.”

This experimental product was a success in its own way.

If the price was low enough, people would tolerate a lot of shortcomings.

In his previous life, when milk tea competition was brutal, most shops sold drinks for ten or twenty yen. Then another company burst onto the scene. Four yen lemonade. Seven or eight yen milk tea. Strawberry boba and other cheap items. It seized the lower tier market everyone else had ignored.

One thousand yen phones captured the same kind of market.

The principle was identical to the rice in Kenichi’s hands.

If one mu of ordinary rice produced only one hundred kilograms, then this durian flavored rice produced one hundred and forty five kilograms. That nearly fifty percent increase was enough for most people to ignore taste entirely.

”But it’s unlikely this can be promoted on a large scale, right?” a Shadow Clone offered. ”I’d guess only people in the Village would choose to plant it.”

In the Five Great Nations and many smaller countries, traditional rice still dominated the mainstream market. Amegakure was planting new rice now, but it still was not on the same scale as widely established varieties.

”So what?” Kenichi pursed his lips. ”Someone still has to care about those people. Does this world only revolve around the powerful and the wealthy?”

He understood perfectly. This rice would never become the ”mainstream.” It might even be labeled as poor people’s food.

These days, plenty of people loved flaunting ”taste” and ”uniqueness.” For them, price was the simplest divider. They praised meals costing tens of thousands, hundreds of thousands, even millions, while sneering at cheap things.

There was nothing inherently wrong with spending money. But some people who were not truly rich, just a little better off, loved discriminating too, like mocking ”plebeian drinks.”

So once this rice entered the market, some would surely scorn it, both for its strange taste and for its low price, branding it as something only the poor would eat.

But so what?

Only when people ate their fill did they have the energy to think about anything else and try to improve their lives.

Food was the most important necessity. That was not just an empty phrase.

”Keep planting it,” Kenichi ordered. ”Use these seeds as samples for further experiments and induce genetic mutations. See if we can cultivate even better seeds.”

He left it at that and prepared to go.

These seeds were excellent, but their influence on the ninja world was still limited. This was not a world where everyone had similar strength. It was a world where the strong ruled. Without enough power, all these achievements would simply become work done for someone else.

Kenichi always kept that line clear in his mind.

”Oh, right, Main Body, about that hydrofluoric acid preparation from before...” A Shadow Clone suddenly called out and stopped him.

At the same time, a plastic bottle filled with colorless liquid was pushed into Kenichi’s hand.

”...I seriously can’t believe this,” Kenichi blurted.

If he did not know his Shadow Clones would never harm the main body, he would have suspected they were deliberately causing trouble.

Hydrofluoric acid.

And they were just handing it to him like that.

Kenichi felt like he did not even want this hand anymore.

”They actually made it?” He stared at the bottle, emotions complicated. He truly had not expected it to be produced so quickly. It was hydrofluoric acid, though the preparation itself was not as complicated as people imagined.

”Of course,” the Shadow Clone replied, sounding proud.

Kenichi patted the clone’s shoulder, then left with the hydrofluoric acid.

This still needed to be tested, but not right now. First, he had to deal with his Sharingan work. That step would be troublesome, because his Sharingan research had hit a bottleneck.

Genetic programming was not something that could be achieved easily. And even if he produced genes similar to Obito’s, whether he could awaken the Mangekyo Sharingan would still require specific experiments.

He did have a ready made test subject, Shiori.

But Shiori was currently the only individual who had survived Orochimaru’s genetic programming. Using her as a test would absolutely earn Kenichi a scolding.

”In that case...” Kenichi stretched. ”Let’s first see if the two Uchiha we acquired can awaken the Three Tomoe Sharingan, then use them for genetic programming research.”

With that decision made, Kenichi once again buried himself in his busy, relentless experimental routine.

...

”...Tsk. Konoha’s been lively lately.”

In a dim base, Obito sat in a chair, still brooding over where his eyes had gone. The silence did not last long before Black Zetsu interrupted him.

”What is it?” Obito snapped, irritation obvious. He was deep in thought, and Zetsu always chose the worst moments to speak.

Zetsu noticed the impatience but did not care. Smiling, he reported his discoveries about Konoha.

When he finished, Obito sneered.

Those ignorant clansmen were still fantasizing about earning Konoha’s recognition and returning there. How ridiculous.

”However,” Zetsu added, ”I found something else. It seems some people are missing from the Uchiha Clan. And Danzo said that Shisui defected, taking a portion of the clan with him.”

Zetsu remembered the timing clearly.

Earlier, both he and Obito had been busy dealing with the Mizukage of the Hidden Mist Village, so they had neglected Konoha. They did not expect so much to change after such a short lapse.

But it could not be helped. The ninja world was vast. Zetsu could not watch every corner at all times. Some oversights were inevitable.

”Defected? Shisui?” Obito’s tone turned even more mocking. ”I’ve heard of him. The so called genius, Shisui of the Body Flicker.”

When Obito said the word genius, it dripped with contempt.

Zetsu knew who Obito was thinking about.

Kakashi.

A genius ninja who could not even protect a single woman, and who had even killed Rin.

”Should we investigate those Uchiha?” Zetsu asked, tempted. ”Their combat power is inconsistent, but they’re still a usable force. Recruiting them could help the plan, at least save time.”

”No need,” Obito said coldly. ”They’re trash. They don’t even dare face their own clan once they leave home.”

Were those people even worthy of being called his clansmen?

”What if your eyes are among them?” Zetsu asked, smiling.

Obito fell silent.

To this day, he still could not determine where his eyes had gone. His biggest suspect remained Kenichi. The problem was, after previous tests, Kenichi had not displayed the Mangekyo Sharingan.

The one who had shown it was Shisui.

”...Fine,” Obito said at last, coldness flashing in his eyes. ”You help me locate them. I’ll go to them myself.”

.....

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