The moment Fujimoto Tōma opened his eyes, his expression changed.
"Elder Fukasaku, today's training is over. I need to head home. Something urgent," he said quickly.
"Oh? Alright." Fukasaku nodded, puzzled by the sudden panic, but didn't press further.
Tōma didn't waste another second. He released the reverse summoning technique and vanished.
Not long after he left, Elder Shima arrived, carrying an enormous bowl piled high with plump, glossy bugs. She glanced around, then frowned.
"Where's the boy? Even with the secret medicine, real food tastes better."
"He said something came up at home," Fukasaku replied, already guessing the truth. Tōma had probably sensed her coming.
Shima clicked her tongue. "Ran away, huh."
Fukasaku chuckled to himself. Was it really that terrifying? He popped a bug into his mouth. Juicy, rich, perfect texture.
Kids these days have no taste.
Then Shima noticed the fruit set aside nearby.
"What's that?"
"Oh, Tōma asked Gamakichi… no, Gamachū to bring him fruit from the forest," Fukasaku said after a moment's thought.
Shima's expression darkened instantly.
"So he'd rather eat that than the bugs I carefully picked out? I spent half the day on these!"
She stormed off in a huff.
The next day, Tōma stared bitterly at the bowl of bugs placed in front of him.
Shima loomed over him, clearly holding back her temper.
"I prepared this myself. Took hours."
The message was obvious. Refuse again, and she would explode.
Tōma swallowed. The fact that he hadn't thrown up already was a miracle.
Fukasaku calmly picked up a bug and ate it, looking satisfied. "It's really good."
Tōma sighed, then spoke carefully. "Elder Shima, I truly believe your cooking is excellent. Anyone can tell just by how much Elder Fukasaku enjoys it."
Her expression eased slightly. "Then eat."
"…The problem," Tōma said seriously, "is that humans and toads are different species. Bugs aren't part of a human diet. It's not that I don't want to eat them. I physically can't."
Shima's face darkened again. "Jiraiya ate them just fine."
Tōma had no rebuttal for that.
"So you're just being picky," she huffed. "What's so good about fruit anyway?"
Before things escalated, Fukasaku stepped in. "Enough. The boy isn't wrong. Different species, different tastes."
Shima snorted and turned away, clearly displeased, but didn't force the issue.
"Thank you," Tōma said quietly.
Fukasaku nodded. "Still, are you sure you don't want to try? They really are good."
Tōma smiled weakly. "Everyone has foods they absolutely can't eat, right? For me, this is one of them."
"…Fair enough."
Training continued.
On the third day, Shima returned again.
Tōma had already steeled himself. If I have to give in, I'll give in. Secret medicine matters more than pride.
But when he looked down…
Fruit.
Cut fruit. Definitely fruit.
"Now you can eat, right?" Shima said sharply.
Tōma nearly cried with relief.
He picked up the bowl and started eating without hesitation. The fruit was incredibly fresh, far better than anything he'd tasted outside.
Seeing him eat at last, Shima's mood visibly improved.
"It's delicious," Tōma said sincerely. "Your cooking really is amazing. People would line up for this."
Her eyes lit up. "Of course they would."
Fukasaku tried a piece and shook his head. "Still think bugs are better."
"Don't compare yourself to him," Shima snapped. "Your taste buds aren't the same."
She left smiling, already promising to bring more the next day.
Tōma finally exhaled.
Survived…
Training was exhausting.
But this?
This was worse.