#makaro

Akimichi did not need to Eat often.

There was a difference between eating and Eating. One was done regularly and with great gusto, leading to a Clan reputation that was jovial, approachable, and somewhat gluttonous. The other was done every year and a half or so depending on the size of the Akimichi in question and was kept Very Private.

For obvious reasons.

Whether other oni in the world needed to Eat regularly, Choza didn't know. The Akimichi, it seemed, had streamlined their metabolisms- with the help of the calorie chakra control techniques- to better fit first with the Nara and the Yamanaka and then with Konoha and its mostly human population. The oldest members of the clan, like Great Uncle Torifu, could go nearly three years between meals.

The Akimichi clan was large but its core Old Blood numbers were not. When Choza took over after the death of his father Choumaru, there were forty Old Bloods. Now the number had increased to forty five. When considering that there were over eighty Old Blood shiki in the Nara clan and an equalish number of yurei in the Yamanaka it wasn't so impressive a sum.

Still it could be and was considered an alarming number of people who needed to Eat.

The Hokage's office was as accommodating as it could be, turning the other way when corpses of enemies went missing and setting up feeding missions like clockwork. There was a strict schedule and Choza made sure his clan stuck to it, and anyone who deviated knew they had better have a damn good explanation.

Clan members who chafed at the strict rules were free to go, with the understanding that once their hitai-ate was turned in they were guaranteed no protection from the Hunters that still roamed. No one had left in thirty years.

Choza thought about these things as he carried his kill back to the cavern hideout- one of several that dotted the Land of Fire, maintained by the Triad. Beside him Chicho also bore a body. It was a bit excessive but they were not just feeding themselves. Besides if there was nothing left for Mist's hunter-nin to track then so much the better.

Choza would have preferred something other than Mist Ninja for Chouji's first feeding, but you took what you could get. These were younger ninja. With luck they hadn't gained that gamy toughness that came with proximity to salt water.

Chouji and Makaro were waiting quietly, playing cards. When Choza performed the first portion of the seals that unlocked the door, he felt the soft flare of his son's chakra before Chouji finished it.

The illusion of a rock wall crumbled away and the two oni swiftly entered before the genjutsu returned. In the inner part of the cave Chouji and Makaro had both stood.

The two adults put their kills on a tall stone table, cut with deep furrows to channel blood away. Makaro and Chouji looked at one another, cautiously excited. Chicho had to smile as their disguises began to flicker until finally in their excitement the genjutsus dispelled entirely, leaving two growing oni with short horns.

"Hungry?" Chicho asked. Makaro nodded vigorously. Choza gestured for Chouji to come closer and the child did.

"What do you see, Chouji?" Choza asked his son. Chouji examined the bodies carefully.

"No wrinkles." He said. "They're young." He cautiously sniffed the air. "I smell saltwater. They're-Type A and B?"

"I thought it was A and O." Makaro said, worried.

"A and B." Chicho confirmed. "Don't worry, Makaro, it's hard to tell O and B apart."

Chouji sniffed again. "Pa I smell poison." He said. Choza nodded. "It's the kunai." He said, gesturing to the weapons pouch on one corpse. "We'll take them home to Shikaku. Auntie Sakuya, too."

The next steps were lessons largely unchanged for hundreds of years. The clothes were cut away, all identifying marks remembered. Personal items were catalogued and some were destroyed. Others were deemed useful to Konoha and kept. One body was cleaned and the other was not because you didn't always have time to wash your food before you ate it and it was a lesson best learned early.

Chouji and Makaro helped drain some of the blood into special jars which Chicho sealed into a scroll. No use wasting it- it would go directly to the Nara once they were home in Konoha. The hair was left because "The Yamanaka are picky."

Then came butchering.

Some Old Bloods thought it best to learn with tools. Chicho was one of these, Choza was not. They had compromised on the walk to the hideout- one would be properly butchered with teeth and claws, the other would be taken apart with blades.

It was a lot of meat, even for four oni. "We'll take the livers home to your mother," Choza said conspiratorially to Chouji, who giggled and peeled another layer of muscle off the 'proper butcher' body with his sharp claws. Makaro and Chicho were more scientific about it but the end result was the same.

Choza shared a heart with Chouji and wiped the dark sticky blood off his son's cheek. "Have you been washing your face?" He asked sternly, seeing dirt buildup in the flaps under his son's spirals. Chouji shied guiltily away and Choza sighed. "Full bath when we get home. You know better."

"Yes Pa."

"Chouji you gotta try this!" Makaro said, snapping a bone and offering half to his cousin. "Suck the marrow out first it's really good!"

When their meal was done Chouji lay on his back and stared at the ceiling.

"I don't think I can move." Makaro said.

"Well you're going to." Chicho said as he offered them bottles of water. "Wash up."

With only minimal grumbling, they did. Chicho and Choza walked them through cleaning the hideout, storing what was left of their meal in the same way they'd stored the blood for the Nara. A well placed fire jutsu burned up the dark stains on the stone table, an accompanying water jutsu drenched everything down.

They waited until nightfall to leave the hideout and travelled by night until they came home. Nara Hideto was guarding the gate when they reached Konoha and accepted the scroll of blood-jars from Chicho with a fanged smile and a 'welcome back'.

The lights in the Akimichi compound were burning bright and cheery for them. When the doors were pushed open the courtyard was aglow with lanterns and cheering.

Making it back alive from a feeding mission, especially a feeding mission with children, was always a cause for celebration.

The big red door closed behind them and disguises were shed. Chouji took up his favorite place on his father's shoulders, holding tight to Choza's spiraling red horns. There was laughter and music and even younger clan members whose horns hadn't yet gained a single layer gazing at Makaro and Chouji with admiration and jealousy.