Night fell, and dim yellow light glowed inside Kame House.
The round dining table, which had never been particularly large to begin with, now looked like a volcanic crater on the verge of erupting.
The table was piled high with food like little mountains.
There was a steamed king crab the size of a washbasin, an entire roasted wild boar leg glistening with golden oil, white rice heaped up like a pyramid, and a large pot of fresh fish soup bubbling away.
This was the "luxurious dinner" Master Roshi had prepared after personally diving into the sea to catch food for his returning disciple.
"I'm digging in!"
With that command, the warm dinner atmosphere instantly collapsed, replaced by the smoke of a battlefield.
Yamcha had been stewing all afternoon with nowhere to vent his anger, and now he transformed all his grief and indignation into appetite.
He grabbed a gigantic crab and, too lazy even to remove the shell, shoved it straight into his mouth. He chewed it to pieces with loud crunches that made everyone's teeth ache.
"If I can't beat you, then I'll eat you into poverty!"
Yamcha mumbled incoherently as he chewed.
His chopsticks blurred as he frantically shoveled rice into his bowl.
Krillin watched Yamcha eat like a starving dog, but he did not hurry to pick up his chopsticks.
A blue light flashed in his eyes, and Genius Intellect activated once more.
[Target: Roasted Wild Boar Leg. Calories: 45,000. Optimal entry point: rear-leg tendon joint. Feeding strategy: Bone removal requires 0.3 seconds; chewing efficiency increased by 200%.]
He was no longer merely a martial artist. He was a precision energy-conversion machine.
The side effect of the Saitama Template was... hunger.
It was a hunger that felt as if every cell in his body were screaming for energy, leaving him utterly unable to resist.
"Too slow."
Krillin suddenly struck.
His chopsticks traced an elegant arc through the air, one that conformed to the laws of fluid dynamics, then pierced through Yamcha's defensive net with surgical precision and cut into the roasted pork leg.
His wrist gave a slight flick.
"Smack."
A large chunk of the most tender meat, complete with crispy skin, instantly came free from the bone and landed in Krillin's bowl.
"You!"
Yamcha was just about to explode when he realized his chopsticks had closed on empty air, leaving him with nothing but a bare pig bone.
"Eat more bones for calcium. Your bone density is a little low."
Krillin cheerfully sent the meat into his mouth. He swallowed it after chewing twice, a blissful expression appearing on his face.
"Mmm, the heat is just right. The food the master makes really is the best."
"Damn it! That was mine!"
Yamcha lost his temper and abandoned all table manners, reaching directly for the plate of steamed fish.
"So this is the world of survival of the fittest."
As Krillin spoke, he easily blocked Yamcha's attack with his other hand.
At the same time, his chopsticks shot out like lightning, each strike precisely snatching away the most succulent pieces.
The two pairs of chopsticks clashed repeatedly above the plate, ringing out like weapons striking one another.
Grains of rice flew in every direction. One fish bone even shot into the face of Sea Turtle, who was watching television, frightening him into retreating into his shell.
Master Roshi sat at the head of the table with a cup of wine in his hand.
Watching his two disciples devour the food like starving ghosts reborn, his eyelids twitched frantically.
"Slow down... No one's going to steal it from you..."
The old man's voice trembled slightly.
Before he had even finished speaking, the basin of rice—enough to feed ten fully grown, robust men—was already empty.
"Another bowl!"
"Me too! And add more meat!"
The two of them raised their empty bowls at the same time and shouted in unison.
Master Roshi looked at the two bowls, clean as new with not a single grain of rice left, then glanced at the completely empty rice cooker. A bead of cold sweat trickled down his forehead.
This meal had originally been the food reserves he had spent two days preparing.
Yet in less than ten minutes, all that remained on the table was a pile of fish bones, crab shells, and pig bones.
Krillin in particular—was this kid's stomach connected to another dimension?
He had always been able to eat a lot, but never to the point of swallowing the plates along with the food.
"Um... there's nothing left."
Master Roshi coughed dryly, trying to remain calm.
"Nothing left?"
Yamcha froze.
"I'm only five-tenths full! How are we supposed to train like this?"
"More or less the same for me."
Krillin rubbed his stomach, which felt like a bottomless pit.
The moment the food entered, his powerful digestive system broke it down into pure energy, which his famished cells absorbed completely in an instant.
"Master, do you have anything else stored away? Even compressed biscuits would do."
Master Roshi said nothing.
He silently pulled a frog-shaped wallet from inside his clothes, its surface shriveled like a dried orange peel.
With trembling hands, he opened the wallet and shook it upside down.
"Jingle."
Only a few pitiful coins fell onto the table, producing a crisp yet desolate sound.
Besides that, there was a crumpled supermarket coupon bearing the words, "Void after expiration."
The air suddenly fell silent.
The sound of the waves seemed especially desolate at that moment, as if mourning Master Roshi's wallet.
"Ahem."
Master Roshi quickly put away his wallet, then stared solemnly at his two disciples, trying to use authority to conceal his poverty.
"As martial artists, you must learn to endure hunger! That is also part of your training! How can you think about eating all day long?"
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