Nothing but Problems!
Nothing but Problems!
1.
“...I want to go home...”
“What are you talking about, Eiji.”
“I’m tired... My feet hurt...”
“What’s the use moping over it?”
Tiamat rolled her eyes, but I couldn’t help that I was tired. We were walking down a highway under the early summer sun, the view never changing. Surely there were plenty of other people who would have been disheartened if they were in my place.
“We’ve barely walked for three hours. Get yourself together.”
“Urf...”
I hobbled along, using a random branch I found as a walking stick. Fancy dress shoes were never meant to be worn for long walks.
“A salesman’s job is mostly legwork.”
“I’m more of an office worker.”
Just a little public worker. The most manual labor I’d done was planting flowers in front of the building. Even during my student days I never spent a day on a sports team.
“Weakling.”
The dragon’s fangs clicked together. Apparently, that was a laugh. The difference between a dragon’s physicality and a human’s aside, I was simply too weak. How were all of those Isekai protagonists so physically active? Some of them who had spent a few years never leaving their room should’ve had less endurance than me, if anything.
“Damn cheat codes.”
“You might want to curse your old age instead. Most of those protagonists are high schoolers, aren’t they? A big difference from a man in his thirties.”
That was harsh. It wasn’t like I turned thirty by choice.
“Any complimentary rides on your back, Tia?”
“Sure. If you can figure out how to stay on it.”
She walked on her hind legs. Her height was similar to mine at 180cm or so. Accounting for her thick and sturdy tail, she would have been over 195cm easily.
“Piggy-back style?”
“Idiot.”
Couldn’t argue with that. I couldn’t hold onto her to begin with. Dangling on her neck by my arms would have been more exhausting than walking.
“Not that I can’t walk on all fours. I don’t think it’ll be all that comfortable, though.”
With that, she put her arms / front legs down on the ground. Since those were shorter than her hind legs, her back sloped down to the front. It seemed terrifying to ride like that.
“Here. Hop on.”
I did. My feet still touched the ground.
“Thought so...”
We were nearly the same height. What was I supposed to do with my legs while riding on the back of someone my own height?
“Bend your legs. We’ll try this out.”
“A-All right.”
As soon as I managed to bend my knees, Tiamat started running. Thud. Thud. Thud.
“Graough!! Ow! Ow! My butt’s going to crack open!”
There was no saddle or anything. The bumps in the road directly shot up to my tailbone. And there was still nothing to grab onto, not even a pair of reins. Bumpy, painful, and scary from the sharp lean forward. It was the worst.
In the end, I decided to walk myself.
“I think I understand why humans almost exclusively ride horses,” I remarked as I rubbed my butt.
“There are many animals faster than the horse, and a good number of those would follow commands. The biggest reason for riding horses has to be their steady galloping form.”
A thoughtful explanation from Tiamat. I recalled a video game where I could ride an ostrich or something, but that seemed limited to the realm of fiction. I suppose horses were the go-to species for humans to ride.
“At the end of the day, I don’t even get a mode of transportation. What is this world coming to?”
“There’s no audience to hear your showboating lamentations. You have two legs your parents gave you. Why not be grateful that you were born with an able body.”
“No cheat codes. No transportation. No items. All I get is a preachy sidekick. My life sucks.”
“I see. You don’t need me, then? This is where we part ways, it seems,” Tiamat declared with a distant tone. What had I done? Our duo was at the brink of destruction. Without a doubt, I was in the wrong.
“I apologize. I didn’t mean that.”
“Remember, Eiji. We are partners. Not a master and his subject.”
“Won’t happen again, Tia.”
“Hm.”
With a light nod, my partner accepted my apology. Japanese people often get themselves in trouble because of what they say. Almost every day, some politician loses their job over saying something they shouldn’t have. While we Japanese are often seen as humble, it seems we get carried away and say too much, too. It appeared I was no exception.
“You reading too many Isekai fantasies was a bigger contributing factor than your genetics, Eiji.”
“You got me there.”
In many Isekai stories, the protagonist is rewarded for no reason, sympathized, respected, loved, and worshiped. I must have considered that to be the norm. I’d mistakenly thought that I could disrespect Tiamat with impunity; of course that wasn’t the case.
We had spent much too short of a time together to form a powerful bond. If this was an average interpersonal relationship, we would have still been in the stone ages. Because she had appeared before me with the role of assisting me in this world, I had gotten it into my head that she would accept anything I did. Even under the most generous assumption in my favor, she was only here because it was her job.
“I was full of myself, I have to say.”
Had I learned nothing during the past 31 years of my life?
“You noticed that fact, and tried to correct the course. That’s good. It’s important to learn from your mistakes, but you shouldn’t keep them around your neck.”
“I’ll keep that in mind.”
I chuckled at what Tiamat said. I could hear the early summer wind rustle through the grass field.
Even a loving married couple can end up in divorce from the smallest rift in their relationship, whereas Tiamat and I had only just met. We could expect plenty of instances to come in the future when our gears wouldn’t click. That’s exactly why Tiamat told me not to drag it on. When I make a mistake, I just have to learn from it and do better next time. My partner was too good for me.
“Thanks, bro.”
“Now, Eiji. Call me old-fashioned...”
“Why?”
“...but I think that ‘bro’ should only be used man-to-man. Lest you’ve forgotten, I am a female.”
“Grrf...”
And she never forgets to educate me. She’s too good of a partner, indeed.
We had made it out here from the city of Lishua in order to hunt gagd. Apparently, they lived not too far off, but close enough to walk. We had been told that there was a forest beyond the field, which was magibeast territory. Gagd, apparently, were not one of the more dangerous magibeasts. They were also of a rather timid nature, and wouldn’t attack humans on sight. While I didn’t know how I would fare against them, we were told that Tiamat, Miss-S-Rating-All-Around, wouldn’t break a sweat. So, we decided to scope the forest out with just the two of us.
“Mister Garish deceived me...”
I mumbled as I hobbled on. When it takes a whole day on foot, that is not a walkable distance. That’s false advertising.
“A two days’ walk at your pace, Eiji. How many breaks do you need to take?”
“So it’s my fault? It’s all my fault?”
“Not that I would make the effort to understand how you feel. Do you realize that you’re making it harder on yourself every time you stop?”
“What...?”
“That’s why mountain climbers seldom sit to rest. They only set their pack down on a rock or something, and stand still for a short time.”
Once you sit down, it’s hard to get back up. Both physically and mentally, it takes a lot out of you to stand all the way up; that was Tiamat’s explanation.
“I wish you would have told me sooner...”
“Even if I did, you would have sat all the same. It’s something you have to live through to learn.”
She let out a roar of laughter.
2.
I spotted a forest in the area. We didn’t walk through an area where trees appeared here and there with increasing density, but instead there almost seemed to be a line where the field ended and the forest began.
“By any natural course of time, this kind of terrain shouldn’t exist.”
“...Right,” I answered, lacking any sort of energy.
As Tiamat had predicted, we arrived at the forest the morning after we departed... Which meant that the previous night we had slept under the stars. On the ground.
My whole body hurt. No recharging had been done. I couldn’t even tell if I had slept at all.
There may be some person out there who could sleep like a baby in the darkness illuminated by nothing but the moon and starlight, without a bed or even a sleeping bag, while all sorts of beasts could be heard in the distance. That person, if they did in fact exist, was not Eiji Kazama. The fool by that particular name instead spent the whole night clinging to Tiamat out of terror.
“Nothing to be ashamed of. You know that you can’t do anything in combat, so you relied on me, who could do something. That’s all there was to it.”
The almighty dragon laughed without a care in the world. Sure, she hit the nail on the head, but even I had a semblance of pride. There are some things in this world that men still take pride in.
“It’s not the be-all-end-all. You’ll just get in the way if all you can offer is some macho bravado with nothing to back it up.”
“You’re right, of course...”
“What you should be ashamed of is assuming that you had physical capabilities comparable to the inhabitants of this world. You had plenty of time to see that you don’t.”
“...Uncle.”
I was a feeble, modern-day man accustomed to living the easy way. There was no way for me to walk as fast as Mister Garish had expected, and my endurance was nowhere near his. When I stayed the night in Lishua I should have realized at least that much.
I suspected that Tiamat didn’t give me prior warning on purpose. This was something I had to learn the hard way, she must have assessed. She was neither a tour guide nor a babysitter. Who was I to expect white-glove service?
At the same time, I was sure that she would be kind enough to give me advice if I were to ask for it after thinking it over on my own. In the example of my current predicament, if I had asked her whether or not she thought it possible for me to adhere to Mister Garish’s ETA, she would have told me ‘no.’ By cutting that tiny corner I had left the city without the necessary preparations to keep me from sleeping under the stars. My luck had it that this was only a couple days’ trip for me, but if it had been a more long-term endeavor I could have ended up dead.
“Moving forward, I’ll make sure to ask for your advice on most things.”
“Hm.”
Tiamat nodded. I remember the dragon’s expression resembling a smile, somewhat.
We were in the forest when I began to notice shadows in the distance peeking in and out of my vision. They were considerably large, and I pegged them to belong to magibeasts. These weren’t stray cats, after all. Not a lot of wild beasts would easily show themselves to humans.
“Even on Earth, those on the top of the food chain don’t hide in fear. Same logic applies here.”
“Gotcha.”
Perhaps there was some truth to that. In the case of humans, we simply grouped together because we couldn’t hide or camouflage ourselves very well. That was our ticket to the top of the food chain on Earth. In the wild, though, it was each creature to their own. As a result the stronger individuals would be more keen to show themselves.
“I wonder where the gagd lies on the food chain. If it’s too up there, it’s not going to be easy to hunt.”
“It would be easy for me. Difficult to gauge that for humans, though.” Tiamat said, crooking her neck.
Although small in stature, she was a dragon. The tippy-top of the chain, and belonging in another dimension entirely than feeble, groveling, mortal humans. A falcon soaring in the sky and a worm crawling on the ground would naturally have different points of view. How could those who have it all sympathize with those who don’t?
“What’s with the self-pity, all of a sudden?”
Tiamat glared at me side-eyed as I was moping on.
“It’s a staple.”
“Idiot. I’m not talking about the difficulty of the hunt. You humans can’t eat your prey whole, can you?”
“Me eat you whole.”
“I am in your care.”
“So what do you mean, exactly?”
“I appreciate the lack of acknowledgment. We dragons can eat them raw, but you humans need to perform various tasks like skinning them, picking out the edible body parts, etc.”
She had a point. Come to think of it, I was sure that any wild-spirited people who would eat magibeasts alive were in the minority. Our methods of hunting differed to begin with.
“But we have ‘killing them’ in common, don’t we?”
“True. No sense debating whether hunting one is feasible or not. Let’s try it.”
Tiamat squinted. I followed her gaze to see a giant silhouette in the distance.
“There’s one. A gagd.”
“That’s not close to the size of any boar I know.”
It was easily four meters long and two meters tall. It was just, so big... And it even had some vicious-looking fangs. The creature was leaps and bounds above my expectations; it looked like it belonged in an anime. I was in a fantasy world, after all.
Could I hunt it? Not a chance.
“I want to go home...”
“No can do. It noticed us too. It seems it deemed us hostile.”
The gagd slowly turned towards us. Tucking its head down, the creature kicked the ground a few times with its forefoot. Even I, without any knowledge of wild animals whatsoever, could tell that it was about to charge.
In an instant the gagd began dashing towards us with thunderous stomps that felt like they were shaking the very ground below my feet. It came towards us, knocking down some small trees. Its red eyes glowed with aggression. I estimated that we were about 250 meters apart; at the speed it was going, it would reach us very soon.
“W-W-W-W-What are we going to do!?” I yelled, scared out of my absolute mind.
“I don’t know what kind of attack will kill it. I’m sure tearing its head off in close combat would do the trick.”
In complete contrast to me, Tiamat observed calmly. Yeah, we didn’t need to be doing any kind of analysis here.
Can’t you do something, already? Like, please??
I could almost hear the magibeast’s breathing. With every moment, the gagd appeared to grow in size. It was a trick of the mind, caused by my fear and the fact that the beast was approaching. It already appeared to be as big as a semi to me.
This is bad. Super-duper bad.
I was sure that I would die on impact.
“It may not be wise to let it struggle so much that it flattens you, Eiji.”
Well, yeah. Very unwise indeed.
But if you stand there and do nothing, that’s what’ll happen anyway. Don’t you see that? Hello? Miss Tiamat??
“A breath attack then, I suppose. I can’t really gauge this thing. Let’s try it with maximum power.”
The little dragon sucked in some air, and her bluish or greenish scales began to glow silver-blue. She opened her eyes; the roaring sound came a moment later. What I was able to see was a blinding light. Laser Breath. That was the name that came to my mind as I closed my eyes from the sheer brightness. I couldn’t help but feel like it was overkill. Carefully, I opened my eyes.
“I went a little too far.”
Tiamat was scratching her chin with her short forelegs. I was impressed that she could do that. If the scene in front of me hadn’t required my devoted attention, I would have addressed the matter. But in front of me was a straight line that must have stretched two kilometers where there were no longer any trees or anything else that used to be there. It looked as if a certain giant, god-like warrior had come through.
Naturally, the gagd was nowhere to be seen. I assumed it didn’t flee but was evaporated. Without a trace. This end result didn’t seem like where we should wind up on a hunting trip. ‘Obliteration’ was a word that better suited the picture.
“What are we going to do about this...?”
“Let’s see. We can play dumb, or just run away,” Tiamat said, looking to the distance.
I understood her sentiment, but why would we flee the scene?
3.
Nothing happened. When we had arrived to the forest, it was already at the state it was now. Some giant magibeast must have gone berserk. Maybe one fought another like a scene from a Kaiju movie.
“We don’t have much of an alternative. It would be pretty embarrassing for me to admit that I made my attack too powerful.”
“Uh-huh. I wasn’t worried about dignity, Tiamat.”
I didn’t have even the teeniest, tiniest, pint-sized care for that. The problem was that her attack was as powerful as a weapon of mass destruction. If people found out that Tiamat was the culprit of this, it would be a huge deal. With great power came great trouble. Those with this kind of power would be feared and eliminated, or used for nefarious means. Either way, it wouldn’t be sunshine and rainbows.
The various overpowered protagonists would make some effort to conceal their powers if they didn’t live in the realm of fiction. The only excuse for one not to do so would be if their mental capacity was that of a teenager’s. Just as the tall trees catch more wind, life becomes harder the more one showcases their talent. That’s a lesson that anyone learns once they make it out to the real world. It’s exactly why fictional protagonists possess boundless powers, and even act like they don’t have a care in the world. If you were to act that way in real life, people would fear you, use you, and hate you until you die alone. It’s sad, but that’s human nature.
Imagine that there’s someone in your school or workplace who has good grades or is good at their job, but is a massive jerk. Could you ever sincerely enjoy their company? I couldn’t. As an adult, I would maintain some sort of cordial relationship all the while wishing for their destruction.
“In short, you’re saying I should conceal my strength.”
“Yes. I personally don’t think you’ll use it for evil, but I can’t say the same for other people.”
“Mm-hm.”
“Besides, if you kept getting all the praise, I would get jealous. Not very noble of me, I know.”
I played it as a joke, but that was the truth. Tiamat was a good soul and a good partner, that much was indisputable, but having someone extraordinary at your side is an arduous task for someone extra ordinary like me. Doctor Watson, who continued to show unchanging friendship to Sherlock Holmes despite continuously having the disparity in their intellects shoved in his face, must be of truly admirable character.
“You’re an honest man, Eiji. It may be a virtue, but it must not be easy to envy an ally.”
“Especially because you’re an ally. If you were an enemy, I’d just have to hate you. Besides...”
“Besides?”
“Part of me wants to be proud. Of what an amazing partner I have.”
It wasn’t easy because it was complicated. Intricate, perhaps. Apparently, after a mere 31 years, I was nowhere near solving the maze of the human mind.
“I’m a high-maintenance man.” I shrugged.
“You are human, after all. Tia-o.”
Tiamat smiled a smile that made things okay. My partner, indeed, had a big heart. I looked up to that.
As we continued our either fruitful or fruitless (I couldn’t tell which) conversation, something came out of the forest. A gigantic wolf appeared, walking onto the path carved out of the earth by Tiamat’s breath.
It was huge. It was bigger than huge; at least thrice as large as the gagd from earlier. It was covered in silver fur and wore a dauntless expression. Something about the creature seemed kingly.
“A Fenrir. It’s supposed to be high up the ranks of magibeasts,” the dragon explained to me.
While it may sound naïve, even I could tell that the Fenrir had no intention of attacking us. In fact, it seemed more ready for a discussion. When it reached a spot about twenty meters away from us, the wolf stopped.
“Honorable Dragon-god Princess.”
It spoke to us fluently. Yes, it was weird for a wolf to speak, but I wasn’t particularly surprised. Dragons could speak, too! In fact, the wolf’s words surprised me more than the fact that it uttered them.
“It could tell that you’re a woman, Tia.”
“Of course it could. What male would look like this?”
I’m sorry I can’t tell a male dragon from a female dragon.
I had no idea which of her characteristics made it so obvious.
“I beg your pardon. I must inquire, with what purpose have you initiated an attack upon my territory?”
Depending on our response, the wolf would stand its ground and fight. That much was apparent from the determination it exuded. In its eyes I saw the melancholy of someone who had accepted death. Dragon versus wolf... the result of that matchup seemed clear as day. I had just witnessed Tiamat’s breath, too.
...Which seemed like more power than any one creature should have, by the way.
“That’s on me. An unfortunate accident,” Tiamat answered, scratching her chin.
That was no accident. There was no arguing that it was 100% preventable.
“Accident...!?”
“Mm-hm. I wanted to try hunting a gagd. I didn’t know how much power I needed to take it down, so I just went full force. Then, voila. Imagine my surprise.” Tiamat laughed.
Imagine your surprise? Imagine my surprise!
And there she was, blabbing about the whole thing we just swore not to tell a soul. Although, on second thought, we weren’t dealing with another human, and it already knew we were the culprits.
“You...!? Fired a Laser Breath just to take down a gagd!?”
I was glad that Mister Fenrir was also surprised. I couldn’t help but feel a sense of kinship. One-sidedly, of course.
“Mm-hm. What was I to do? It was charging at us, and Eiji could have been caught up in the battle if it came down to close combat.”
She gave me a glance. Okay. That was true. For example, if Tiamat happened to have thrown the gagd towards me via a German Suplex or something, I would have died.
“Human...?”
The Fenrir turned his gaze to me, as if it hadn’t noticed me until this very moment. In fact, I was confident it hadn’t. How could it have noticed anything but Tiamat in this situation?
“Hm. He is technically my godfather.”
“The godfather to a Dragon-god...!”
A dash of fear entered his eyes as they stayed on me.
Wait a minute. Sure, I had named her ‘Tiamat’ but this kind of reaction was unexpected. Had I majorly screwed up?
“Don’t worry about it, Eiji. It’s an old custom. A dragon gives the honor of naming them to someone they’ve come to respect. Then they love, cherish, and hold that person dear like their own parent... Until that person’s bloodline comes to an end.”
Tiamat informed me of this with an almost musical flow. So it was a ridiculously big deal. It didn’t seem like something that should have been taken so lightly. Eh, Tia?
“...Shouldn’t you have explained that in the beginning, Tia? I just named you without a clue of any of that.”
“Old custom, like I said. I’m the dragon that’s hip with the kids, so YOLO. No need to let it bother you.”
“I’m bothered by your outdated choice of words...”
I was getting really tired, all of a sudden.
“Human...”
The next emotion that entered the wolf’s eyes was pity. Ignored, feared, and now pitied. How colorfully the wolf had received my presence. I would have put up ads all over for anyone to take my place.
“Then, Fenrir, the gagd from earlier vanished.”
Ignoring the awkward eye contact between the wolf and I, Tiamat continued. This woman walked at her own pace.
“I want your permission to hunt some gagd in the forest. You’re the master of the forest, are you now?”
That was a request. I couldn’t help but imagine Tiamat firing her Laser Breath left and right under the excuse of experimentation. I was sure that the Fenrir imagined the same.
“If gagd is what you desire, I will have my kin bring it to you. Please, don’t move from here.”
“Hm? That’s easy for me, but I don’t want to impose.”
“It is no trouble whatsoever. Please, remain where you are.”
That seemed about right. You couldn’t really confront Tia with the fact that she would have caused more trouble by acting on her own. I understood, Mister Fenrir. Tiamat acted without much thought. She was incredibly smart and kind, but acted out of the feel of the moment more often than not. This very revelation had just struck me.
“In that case, please and thank you.”
“You can count on us.”
Mister Fenrir gave me a glance as he graciously accepted the responsibility.
I don’t envy you, his eyes seemed to say.
4.
For the time being, we decided to sit down on the ground and wait. Tiamat was powerful enough to push past the wolf, but that would have been pointless.
“I didn’t mean to give him so much concern,” Tiamat said, as she plopped down on the ground.
“I’m sure they didn’t want their living quarters destroyed.”
“Excuse you, Eiji. The next one was only going to be at half strength.”
How different, really, was a destructive beam that reached a kilometer and one that reached half that. Potayto potahto. Let’s call the whole thing off.
“Since they volunteered, it would be better to leave it to them. I’m sure even you couldn’t fully get the hang of things after only a couple tries. There’s much to learn from failures, but it’s not like we want to become hunters, anyway.”
Our end goal wasn’t to hunt gagd. Our current objective was to popularize dishes using the gagd meat to Lishua, and eventually the entirety of Azur. Even that wouldn’t be the end of it, though. Boar meat wasn’t enough to make up for the lack of vitamin B1. Our endeavor would only be successful once we ingrained a balanced diet of sides into the culture here. The road ahead of us seemed endless, but we had to hurry. Lives were at stake. If my efforts could save even one or two lives, not trying was not an option.
“Hm? What’s wrong, Tia?”
I noticed that Tiamat was staring at me. We were already partners, so she wasn’t looking at me like she wanted to join the party.
“Nothing. I was only surprised at how earnest you are.”
“...Was I thinking out loud?”
“I mean no offense by this, but I had pegged Japanese bureaucrats to be much more lackadaisical.”
“I don’t deny that some of us are.”
I couldn’t help but chuckle. When asked why they chose their profession, many bureaucrats would cite the steady pay and job security. I don’t think that’s a bad reason either. Everyone works for themselves or their family, and there is nothing wrong with that. Even bureaucrats can’t be expected to be altruistic. In my case, however, I had someone I aspired to be like.
“Who?”
“Not a direct acquaintance. Saw him on TV.”
“Oh?”
In 1986, Mount Mihara on Izu Ōshima had a major eruption. It was Mister Akita, the assistant official, who had taken command of the evacuation to get the ten thousand plus residents and tourists off the island without a single casualty. He pleaded with all sorts of institutions, did everything that needed to be done, and stayed behind on the island to watch the final rescue boat leave.
Of course, I had no direct knowledge of this event. It took place in the year I was born. I learned of it in the year 2000, through a TV program aired on the national broadcast channel. I was a fourteen-year-old middle schooler.
“I looked up to him. He was admirable. I wanted to be like him.”
“This formed your career path, then.”
“I don’t know if I was that determined about it, but... I want to help other people. That’s never left me.”
I placed my hand on my heart.
...Perhaps it was a little too cheesy.
“I see. I feel like I’ve cracked a mystery. It was curious why you worked so hard for the sake of the people in this world.”
“It’s a little embarrassing that it all started from a TV program.”
“No matter the drive behind it, good deeds are exactly that. Nothing to be embarrassed about. Ah. While we were learning about your embarrassing past, Mister Fenrir has returned.”
“So should I be embarrassed or not?”
Concealing my embarrassed grin with a chuckle, I stood. In front of us was a gagd of considerable size, as big as the one Tiamat had turned to ash. Its freshly dimmed red eyes looked up at us begrudgingly.
“Now, what will you do with it, Human?”
“You can call me Eiji.”
“Then, I permit you to address me as Baze.”
Permission was granted from a very high horse. Although, from a Fenrir’s perspective, it had no reason to speak with a human. At best, a human could only hope to be seen as an enemy and not prey.
“I believe we need to drain its blood first.”
“Hm. How?” Tiamat asked.
“...”
How, indeed? It was a popular plot point in fantasy pieces, especially ones that focus on pioneering or survival. However, I didn’t know how to take apart an animal. Even if I did, what was I supposed to do with a four-meter boar? How could those protagonists make it look so easy? Was it a skill obtainable by watching someone do it a couple of times? More importantly, how could they be so unaffected in the face of a freshly killed carcass, animal or otherwise? I was beginning to doubt that these protagonists were genuinely Japanese. Perhaps they were already hunters and gatherers.
I, in the meantime, was chickening out. Terrified, to be honest. A charging gagd was terrifying too, but a corpse was terrifying in another way.
“Hang it upside down and slit its throat,” Tiamat enlightened me.
Whether this was a necessary piece of knowledge or a trivial one, it was nice to have someone that knew the steps. Nice, but the problem was how. How were we going to hang a four-meter-long beast? I didn’t have the strength to do it, and Tiamat couldn’t physically do the task as she was the same size as me. Mister Baze the Fenrir was larger than the gagd, but his forelegs were not as well suited for things like holding or tying rope. We didn’t even have any rope in the first place.
“What should we do...”
“I can fly up with its legs in my mouth.”
“You can fly, Tia?”
“I have them on my back. These wings aren’t just for show. Ha-han.”
“Can you please start pulling gags I can understand?”
Tiamat’s proposal was for her to bite down on the gagd’s leg and fly up. Once it was upside down, Mister Baze would slit its throat to let out the blood. It was the most brute-force way I could have imagined to bloodlet. I was beginning to worry that the entire area would become flooded in blood.
“Why don’t you just bite it as-is, Eiji?”
The Fenrir shook its head, nearing the edge of his patience.
“I’m not the one who’s going to eat it, Mister Baze.”
The people back at the city needed to eat it. We needed to let the blood out, and make it into a delicious dish. If the notion that gagd didn’t taste good was established, it wouldn’t be easy to retcon.
On the flip side, if the gagd dish made a good first impression on people, the dish could spread fast and wide. If that happened there would be other issues to worry about, of course, like damaging the woodlands and overhunting. Turning the gagd into livestock may be the shortcut, surprisingly enough.
“Then they should be the one to do it.”
A grin seemed to flash on the Fenrir’s face. I followed its gaze to see a hint of a dust cloud in the distance.
“A carriage is approaching. Seeing that they are screaming your name, they seem to be looking for you, Eiji.”
“You can tell from this distance?”
“The human senses are much too dull. You would never survive in the wild.”
“That’s why we formed groups, built cities, and passed down our knowledge to the next generation in order to survive.”
Baze scoffed at my generalized study of human society. Nowhere in history had there ever been a country of magibeasts. Nor an empire of demons, or a kingdom ruled by a Demon Lord. There had only ever been human nations. Didn’t this historical fact back my theory, in a way? That was exactly why Mister Baze wore a disdainful expression.
5.
Mister Garish from the Adventurers’ Guild and four other adventurers were aboard the carriage. They had formed a search party, concerned that we hadn’t returned from what was supposed to be a day trip. I was, just, terribly sorry.
One of the adventurers who accompanied Mister Garish specialized in hunting. A deus ex machina if I had ever seen one. Thanks to him, we succeeded at taking apart the gagd. However, not without some complications.
“Is that all you’re going to call it?” Tiamat offered her criticism, accompanied by a chuckle.
Mister Garish and his group had spotted us easily. At the same time, they naturally spotted Mister Baze, the Fenrir and the King of the Forest. Anyone would have been astonished.
With that in mind, the actions the four adventurers took were surely admirable. Each of them were drained of color, but they formed a stance to guard the carriage.
“We’ll hold it off! Run, Mister Garish!”
And they came out with this tearjerker. In a movie, this would have been their climax. That was, I’m sure, why Mister Baze played along...
“You dare stand in my way, humans?”
...with a line like that.
“I’ll show you what humans can do when they’re cornered.”
This was the response by a swordsman-looking adventurer. Let’s call him A for the time being.
“Yeah. I’m getting married after this gig. I can’t die here.”
“Taking it down counts as holding it off, right?”
Let’s call them B and C. They looked like a rogue and mage, respectively. The last of them, the hunter-looking adventurer D, silently held up his necklace and kissed it, before nocking an arrow on his bow. The necklace must have been something dear to him. Left behind by his lover, perhaps. Jeez. They were practically trying to set up their own deaths.
“I admire your courage. Leave this place with pride that you’ve fallen to my fangs.”
Baze made his silver, brushy hair stand. He was another problem. Why was this wolf getting so into it? Throughout this encounter, I had been poking at Tiamat with my elbow.
Say something, I was trying to communicate to her. Naturally, I was completely ignored.
With no one else to turn to, I explained our situation. It’s quite tiring to walk calm and collected into a heated play-pretend. If you don’t believe it, you should try some time. That apathetic reaction was extremely stressful, to say the least.
“To think you’ve formed a friendship with a Fenrir, Sir Eiji,” Mister Garish said, as we watched the gagd being steadily taken apart. With the adventurer experienced in the process taking the lead, things were moving smoothly. Baze and Tiamat were helping too, all buddy-buddy.
“The credit for that goes to Tia. I haven’t done a thing.”
“You’re too modest. There is such a thing, you know.”
Unfortunately for Mister Garish, I was telling the complete truth, but I decided to let it slide. It wasn’t something worth arguing over, and Tiamat’s and my accomplishments would tend to be considered one in the same, anyway. We were partners, after all.
On the other hand, if I screwed up, the shame would befall Tiamat as much as it would me. I mean, things were the same in any organization or corporation. One person’s mistake can damage everyone’s reputation. Bureaucrats like me tended to face backlash harsher than most.
“In any case, once we cut it, we need to cook it. I’m glad you came in a carriage.”
“Indeed, Sir Eiji. I can’t say I wasn’t surprised that you hadn’t thought of a method to transport the meat back to town.”
“My apologies.”
Not a shred of forethought on my end. I hadn’t thought of a single step beyond hunting a gagd. Not about taking it apart, not about carrying the meat back to town, and not about how and where to cook it. I surprised myself that I had the gall to suggest going hunting. If it weren’t for my ultra-competent partner and Mister Garish’s quick thinking, I would have died a miserable death.
“Speaking of, will the meat hold until we get it to town?” I asked, as the question sprung to my mind. It was early summer. While it was comfortable weather for us, it would not be wise to keep fresh meat exposed to it for long. Because of food poisoning, and all that.
“It should be fine. It will take less than a day to get there. Besides, no one’s going to die from meat that’s a little spoiled.”
“I suppose... No one’s going to eat it raw...”
It had slipped my mind that there was no refrigeration devices in this world. Even in Japan, before the 1920’s, anyone living in the mountainous areas of the country would have been hard pressed to enjoy any seafood. It wasn’t that eating seafood wasn’t a part of their culture, it was just a problem of transportation and preservation. Any seafood would have rotted before anyone there could have eaten it.
I remembered that the predecessors of refrigerators and frozen foods were not invented until the nineteenth century. It was only in the 1970’s that those things resembled what they look like today. That was around the same time as the invention of TV dinners. Those, of course, didn’t exist in this world. Even the food carried around by traveling adventurers weren’t given any real best-by date. Bacteria and nutrition had not even come up as concepts in this world. Any foods that people traveled with were a mish-mash of foods that kind of seemed to last longer and foods that kind of seemed to spoil slower.
Specifically, they were dried or salted meat. Those were about the only two options they could take. Preventing the growth of bacteria by cutting out moisture; in a world oblivious to the existence of microscopic organisms, this was the method of food preservation developed through trial and error. That being said, the longest one could hope for their food to last with such a method was a week or ten days.
“We’ll just boil it.”
Mister Garish laughed.
“Right...”
There it was, the ‘you can eat anything if you boil it’ philosophy. Even in Japan, those who lived through the mid- and post-war impoverishment became rather obsessed with food. Basically, they couldn’t throw anything away. Even if the food was obviously spoiled, they would try to consume it, somehow.
The most common method to do so while cooking is boiling it. As a result, they could get sick. A stomachache could be laughed off, but eating spoiled food and dying from food poisoning is so ridiculous it’s not even funny, to say the least.
“We have to think about preservation and transportation, too...”
I was beginning to recognize the mountain of problems in front of me. It wasn’t just about stopping the spread of beriberi. It was clear that trying to revert the distortedly evolved world to its natural course would be no easy task. Breaking it’s the easy part, you know? Mister Piece-of-Shit Hero?
In any case, if I didn’t follow through with preserving and transporting the meat, we would soon have a scurvy outbreak on our hands... Although, treating scurvy seemed easier than beriberi, since that was caused by the lack of vitamin C.
“Oh. Lost in thought again, are we, Eiji?”
Perhaps concerned by me and my mumbling, Tiamat approached me. A blood-soaked dragon. Soaked bright red from head to toe in the blood of the gagd. It was just plain scary.
“You really are an earnest man.”
She burst out laughing. I very much wanted her never to laugh while looking like that ever again.
“I’m already here. I know that’s a cheap reason.”
“There’s nothing cheap about helping people. But, for now, why don’t we rinse off? Baze told me there’s a spring nearby.”
“Good idea. I’m a ball of sweat.”
While I was only covered in sweat and dirt, Tiamat, Baze, and the adventurers were soaked in blood. Returning to town looking like this may cause some alarm.
6.
The spring was coed. Of course, I would have been more surprised if the spring had a partition that divided itself in half to accommodate males and females separately. I’m sure chivalry would have dictated that us men waited until the ladies finished, but the female, mage-looking adventurer nonchalantly gave her approval for coed bathing.
“Just don’t stare, all right?” she added.
How laid-back. Tiamat, the other lady of the group, had no qualms since she already walked around everywhere naked.
Wait. Are her scales like a layer of clothes?
With inconsequential thoughts like that, I washed up with the clear spring water. The water temperature was quite low. Although it was early summer, it felt like I would be chilled to the bone if I stayed in too long.
“Whew. I can’t wait to go back to town and take a hot bath,” the swordsman-looking man said, as he cleaned himself beside me. I noticed his handsome face, along with his well-toned, sabre-like body. Urgh. No, I wasn’t jealous, dammit! I was an office worker!
“Oh, do Hermits take baths, Sir Eiji?”
Noticing my glance, the man asked a question with a dimpled smile. It was too bright. His cool guy aura was too much for me.
“We do, but no need for all the formalities. I’m just an F-rank.”
I reciprocated the smile. Tiamat and I were both newly registered F-rank adventurers. In other words, we were barely out of orientation. On the other hand, I was told that the team that came to rescue us was solely comprised of A-ranks.
A bona fide A-Team. A certain theme song sprang to mind. In any case, it seemed like an occupation that seniority had no place in. No sense for an ace player to address a rookie with honorifics.
“Oh, no! I wouldn’t dare risk offending a Hermit!” Mister Swordsman waved his hand in denial. “Besides, I don’t like this ranking system. Doesn’t feel right for a kid like me to act all high and mighty just ’cus I got a higher rank.”
“Is that so?”
Exchanging some vague smiles, we stepped out of the spring. While the man was shorter than me, he was almost six feet tall, which made him taller than most in this world. He quickly put on his clothes and extended his right hand.
“I’m Syfer.”
“Nice to meet you. Eiji.”
Charming, down-to-earth, didn’t let his rank get to his head, and had a handsome face and well-toned body. To top it off, Syfer had blonde hair and blue eyes. What a protagonist-type. He must have been quite the lady killer. Like I said, I wasn’t jealous, dammit. I was engaged myself.
“You said you don’t like the ranking system?” I asked, glancing at the rest of the party still in the spring. It seemed like we would have a few moments to talk.
“I’m only seventeen. I’m just a kid with a few more muscles than most, and I know how to swing a sword. But since my abilities on my registration card were high, I got a lot of sweet gigs.”
“Really?”
“Lucrative stuff, both in pay and glory. Went through a bunch of those, and I’m A-rank before I know it. Just two years into the business. What do you think, Mister Hermit?”
“Hm...”
I had to think about this. In the world of bureaucracy, it’s uncommon to see anyone climb a ladder much faster than others. In most cases, seniority rules. No matter how much talent one displays on the job, no one is promoted based on accomplishments.
What about in private corporations? While connections must matter anywhere, I’m sure some private businesses promoted people based on their performance. In two years, though? Not a chance. It’s hard to imagine that someone would be anywhere beyond a step above a rookie after only two years in the business. They wouldn’t even be self-sufficient at that point.
Perhaps I had to compare this to a much more performance-oriented career than a 9-to-5, like professional sports. How about a professional baseball player? Could a star player get away with talking down to someone in the Minors? Of course not.
From what I have heard, people in those career paths are even more particular about etiquette. There are players straight out of high school, and players out of college. Some are drafted later in life, and some people join the team through trades or free agent negotiations. Their time spent in a particular team varied, too.
The only thing they could use to set up a hierarchy in such a situation is age. Regardless of their time spent on the team and their position in it, older members are respected and younger members are looked after. A nicer way of putting this would be to say that one’s experience in life matters more than their experience in the business.
In Syfer’s case, he would have still been a high-schooler in Japan. It was only natural that he was unsure of what to do with the sparkly title given to him.
“I see. I am fourteen years your senior, Syfer. You don’t mind if I speak frankly with you?” I said, speaking frankly already.
“Of course not! Wait, you’re 31, Sir Eiji!?” he replied with joy and surprise at once. This young man was a multitasker.
“You’re almost my father’s age! Do Hermits not age!?”
“No, no. Of course we do. I’m not even fit. My whole body hurts from walking all day yesterday and today.”
Sadly, it was true. I wondered if my muscles would ever be released from soreness.
“Perhaps you just need to train better, Sir Eiji?”
“Maybe I’ll start working out once we’re back in town.”
I shrugged. While a tireless body might have been unachievable, I wanted to be better than spending two days one-way on a journey the average citizen of Azur could make round trip in a single day.
“Oh, I can help you with that. Even just doing the basics would make a big difference, I think.”
Apparently, Syfer was willing to get me into shape. While grateful, I turned down his offer with a smile. Carrying on the baseball comparison, that would be like a little leaguer taking private lessons from a major league star. There would be nothing the little leaguer could learn if the star had any prowess at all. I would have felt too much guilt to use up Syfer’s, or any A-rank adventurer’s, valuable time for such a fruitless activity.
“A nice excuse. The real reason, if I were to put money on it, is that you don’t want to get yourself into what must be rigorous training led by an A-rank adventurer.”
Coming out of the spring with immaculate timing, Tiamat spouted some accurate nonsense.
Come on, you’re making me blush. I’m just a feeble bureaucrat.
In a Japanese period drama, I would have been the one killed three minutes into the episode, or a face in the crowd killed in the climactic sword fight.
“It’s true that I can’t argue any part of the assessment you’ve just made, Tia, but it’s also true that I wouldn’t be able to stand taking time away from Syfer’s life.”
Time is a precious commodity. On top of that, the people of Azur lived much shorter lives than I would.
“Then pay Syfer for his time. You can’t deny, also, that you should get some sort of training.”
Dammit. My partner seemed dead set on getting me to exercise, but I wasn’t done. My heart remained yet unbroken.
“I have no money to hire an A-rank adventurer.”
“How do you know without asking the price? What do you say, Syfer? Just for two hours, each morning. How much would it take to occupy you for that long?” Tiamat asked, with a half-grin on her face.
“How about three silver coins a day?”
That was the equivalent of paying him about 1500 yen an hour. Maybe doable for a couple of sessions, but that wasn’t a price I could afford day after day.
“I can’t afford...”
“Now, now. Don’t rush to conclusions. Let’s ask Syfer’s comrades if that price is adequate. What do you say, adventurers?” Tiamat asked the adventurers as they emerged from the spring.
“Way too high. You kidding me?” said the rogue-looking man.
“I would ask if he didn’t mean to say a different type of coin.” said the mage-looking woman.
“Rip off...” said the hunter-looking, older gentleman.
It was unanimous.
“Wrong coin, huh? Fine. Three bronze coins it is.”
Syfer corrected his price. To 300 yen. Only 150 yen an hour. Despite the ridiculous price-slash, he was sitting there smiling.
“Hm. It’s done, then. Aren’t you glad, Eiji? You now have a combat trainer,” Tiamat declared, as cheerful as ever.
I could smell the corruption from a mile away!
7.
The wheels of the carriage turned with heavy clunking as it headed straight for Lishua. Mister Garish was the one holding the reigns as I sat next to him; the rest of the party members were on foot.
We had loaded up the carriage with gagd meat to the point where there was no room for anyone to sit in it. Five hundred kilos of it, easy. This was after discarding the guts, head, spine, and other parts of the carcass no one knew how to cook or use, yet it still ended up being close to the maximum load capacity of the carriage.
As a result, the adventurers ended up walking home. Syfer the swordsman, Yuri the ranger, Maley the mage, and Gorun the archer, as I had just been introduced. Tiamat the dragon and Baze the Fenrir also walked with them. I felt bad for getting special treatment, but my butt hurt pretty bad. There wasn’t even the concept of suspension, after all.
The reason I was the only one aboard the carriage wasn’t complicated at all, though. If everyone matched my pace on foot, the trip would take much longer. My feelings were not unhurt. While making it back to town wasn’t exactly an emergency, it was naturally better to be quick since we were carrying raw meat.
“At this rate, we’ll be back in town by sundown,” Mister Garish said.
That was a quick rate. What was unbelievable to me was the speed of the party on foot. Despite chatting and walking, they were going as fast as I could jog. What did they eat to make them this strong?
“That’s great. If we approach the city gates at night with Baze in tow, I think we’d be attacked before being asked any questions.”
“Oh, no. No one would dare attack.”
I heard a hint of a chuckle in his response. Evidently, a Fenrir wasn’t a creature that could be taken on so easily. A party of four A-rank adventurers were ready to die fighting it, after all. The soldiers who guarded the capital would surely win eventually from the sheer difference in numbers, but who knew how many people would be sent to the underworld in the process? If a pair of Hermits were to bring such a magibeast to the gate, the guards very well might surrender.
“I’m not looking to make a scene...”
I glanced at Baze, who was walking alongside the carriage. The lord of the Fenrir had requested to accompany us on our journey back to the city. His reason was to discuss hunting grounds with us if humans were to start hunting gagd. A little premature, I couldn’t help but think. I wasn’t even sure that gagd meat would be accepted by the people here.
I suspected that he intended this to be more of a jab towards the humans than a realistic negotiation. In any case, the matter of hunting grounds affected the life and death of the Fenrir. It would not have been wise for him to stand idly by.
“Of course, I can’t rule out that all that could just be an excuse for him to come sightsee,” I mumbled.
I doubted that the lord of the Fenrir would leave his forest for such a trivial motivation, but I also felt no sense of any determination from Baze at the moment, as he trotted along while chatting away with Tiamat.
Back to the subject of gagd: I personally had none of the skills necessary to cook it. For some reason most of the Isekai protagonists knew their way around the kitchen suspiciously well. How much cooking practice did you expect an unmarried man living with his parents to have? It was nothing to brag about, but I had only ever made ramen and instant curry at this point. And maybe edamame.
“If you can call boiling something ‘cooking,’ you do have some experience in the department, Eiji,” said my partner.
How, or why, did those protagonists cook like professional chefs? Was it a prerequisite for them to graduate culinary school before being summoned on an adventure?
Therefore, it wasn’t my job to cook the gagd meat we had obtained.
After entering Lishua without issue, we headed to the kitchen provided by Mister Milon, the merchant. The kitchen came completely equipped with chefs. What hadn’t this man done for us?
“And what have you done for us, Eiji?”
“Cutting deep, Tia. Look who’s about to cry. I am.”
Spent two days trekking a half-day hike; had Baze hunt the animal; watched Syfer and the rest of the party take it apart; used the carriage provided by Mister Garish to transport it; and Mister Milon had prepared both the kitchen and the chefs. It looked like I had achieved some sort of world record of uselessness.
“You don’t seem as bothered by that as you say you are.”
“Leave it to the professionals, I say. No sense lamenting about or envying someone over something that is beyond my capabilities.”
I shrugged. I had no combat skills and no physical endurance; that much would never stop being true. The same could be said about my miniscule connections and influence. This was nothing out of the ordinary. Naturally, there was only so much a single person could do. Anyone would come to that conclusion after living life for three decades.
“I contributed knowledge. That has to earn me some mark.”
“Mm-hm. Definitely not full marks, though.”
As we watched on during our meaningless chatter, the gagd meat was being cooked. Some of it was sliced thin and stir-fried with some vegetables, some was simmered in a pot, and some was ground into patties. In any case, each method aimed to serve the meat as a side dish.
That was requested by me, and the recipes for each were provided by Tiamat. While she couldn’t cook, of course, her data bank of trivia contained the right portions for each ingredient, and she could suggest substitutes from foods available in this world.
“The problem is spice. There just isn’t as much variety as there is in Japan,” she said.
“It can’t be helped, though, can it? I’d be spooked if there was as much variety.”
“Still, with little more than salt and herbs, we can’t vary the seasoning. Won’t that become an issue if you want the people to eat this habitually?”
“You might have a point...”
No matter how tasty the dish, it becomes bland after eating it day after day. However, I imagined that since meat was already being consumed by the people of Azur, they might have some spices at home. All we wanted from this first step was for people to think that gagd meat was the tastier choice.
Eventually, the transformed gagd was presented before us with a side of ale. Yep. Well, that was expected. I had the same thought back the Adventurers’ Guild, and at Mister Milon’s manor, but I was reminded again that most people in this country liked to drink. Almost as if they drank alcoholic drinks instead of water.
“Then, let’s dig in.”
I started things off by taking a bite, hoping to provide somewhat of a psychological encouragement. Many of them had never eaten such a food. I worried that it might be difficult for someone else to volunteer.
I had taken a bite of the vegetable stir-fry, which looked normal. Served with plenty of vegetables, it had the potential of a real side dish.
“But maybe a little bland,” I commentated, as I chewed on it and tasted the slight seasoning of salt.
If I were to phrase it nicer, I could taste the ingredients well, but it was a little lacking. Personally, I would have preferred more of a punch. For example, I thought the dish would taste incredible with the dipping sauces used for Genghis Khan grilled lamb.
“Here we go. Typical Dosanko, trying to use Genghis sauce on everything.”
“How dare you?”
“You’re the only one who would prefer such a pungent taste, Eiji. Look around. They’re pretty happy with the dishes as-is.”
I looked around to find the rest of the party enjoying the gagd dishes while each expressed their take on it. As my partner had just pointed out, no one seemed dissatisfied.
“Am I the crazy one?”
“You’re the modernized one. Too acclimated to strong flavors,” the small dragon cackled.
8.
As Tiamat and I were engaging in stupid chitchat, a bowl was placed before us; it contained a soft green soup. Lady Millia puffed her chest.
“I tried making the Senzu beans into a soup!”
“...”
Uh-huh. Her enthusiasm for experimentation was admirable, and I thought an edamame potage was actually a good idea. It sounded like something a certain café owner from an Isekai novel I had gotten into would come up with. So, that was fine. With a gentle visual, I was sure that it would be popular with women, too. That wasn’t the problem. The problem was its bizarre name.
“Um... Miss Millia? Did you say Senzu...?”
“Yes! It means the bean of a hermit. Dad said this is what we should call it!”
“Oh, I see... I was really hoping for the other possibility...”
If at all possible, I did not want this name to go around. What was this, an anime about half-monkey aliens? The beans were normal edamame...
“Hm. Not a bad marketing tactic. People would be more grateful for a hermit’s bean than an ordinary one.”
There went Tiamat, without a shred of a sense of responsibility. This was more than false advertising. This was fraud. We just happened to know that edamame contained vitamin B1. We didn’t add anything to it, much less a blessing or protection. It was worse than false-idol worship.
“You know, Tia...”
“You’re overthinking it, Eiji. Faith is in the eye of the beholder. What’s important is that we add some value to it.”
“Value...?”
“It doesn’t put the dish in a good light to just say it used to be livestock feed. Were you not worried about that?”
“Yes, you’re right, but...”
I was worried that people would be hesitant to try a dish from the preconception of it as livestock feed. That’s why I tried the gagd dish first.
“Telling the whole truth is not always the best option. What marketing campaign is complete without a little exaggeration?”
It’s not like we’d be lying, she added. Without me, no one here would have started eating edamame. In that sense, it wasn’t untrue that a Hermit had brought about the dish. It just wasn’t the whole truth.
“It can’t be helped, I guess...”
“You don’t seem happy with it.”
“Yeah. But I understand.”
I shrugged, choosing to believe that it was a necessary course of action. It wasn’t like I had a better idea for the name, either. Anyone in the workforce knows to present alternatives when disagreeing with an idea. Shooting down an idea for no reason other than disliking it is just a tantrum.
In the end, edamame was to be called Senzu, or Hermit Beans. It would be served as a bar snack, too. On the other hand, gagd meat would be served as full-on dishes.
“The beans are another story, but we can’t sell the meat at too low of a price,” said Mister Milon.
It was only natural since it wasn’t domesticated, and the supply of it solely depended on the yield of the hunts.
“It’s never too easy, is it?” Tiamat said, with a satisfied sigh from a full belly.
“Down the road, we should properly domesticate them,” I responded as I rubbed my jaw.
The gesture didn’t hold a particular significance. It was just sore. It seemed that the people in this world had tougher teeth and jaws than me. The gagd thigh, in particular, was tough as nails. Chewing on the hardened muscle made me feel animalistic. Its savory flavor aided in me overeating but my jaw was paying the price. It was once again clear that the people of Lishua, who could chow down thick steak after steak, were of a different breed than the modern-day human like me.
“What were you thinking of, specifically?” Mister Milon asked, as he wiped the sweat from his forehand with his hand towel.
We were in a bath house. There were many of them in Lishua, and we had decided to enjoy a soak after our meal. Most of them, by the way, were coed. Therefore, Tiamat, Millia, and Maley, along with other women, were sharing the large bath with us. Apparently? The Hero? Who introduced the concept of baths? To this country? Told them that coed? Was normal? Uh-huh. As if we were in the Edo period.
If I recall correctly, in the movie Shogun (set in the Edo period) a Japanese woman and a Dutch man share a bath. In response to the man’s surprise, the woman says:
“In this country, we believe that there is an invisible wall between men and women. That is why no one is ashamed when showing their skin in a bath.”
Or something of the like. Don’t quote me on it.
In any case, it didn’t really matter. I was about 90% sure that the mighty hero in question wasn’t from the Edo period, nor did he spread the culture of bathing according to his own experiences. He just wanted to take coed baths. Though not as a privilege just for himself, but with the reasoning to make it normal; or otherwise his excuse for convincing people that coed baths were nothing to be embarrassed about had just stuck around. I imagined it was something like that.
Just so everyone is aware, a woman washing up with seductive gestures in these scenarios is solely a product of male fantasy. It’s only seductive in fiction and film. Why would anyone, when this was a normal day in their life, wash their body with the gaze of the opposite sex in mind?
“Sir Eiji?”
Mister Milon looked concerned as I was lost in thought watching the women wash their hair and bodies without a shred of sensuality.
“Oh, sorry, I’m fine. In terms of domesticating the gagd, you mean?”
“Yes.”
“I’m not an expert in the matter, so I can’t be too sure, but...”
With that disclaimer, I gave a quick rundown. Fortunately, we had gained the acquaintance of Baze, the lord of the forest. If he could provide us with a few gagdlets, we could multiply them to set up a steady supply. Since people here already raised livestock, I was sure that they already had a system for raising them.
That being said, gagds were magibeasts with large fangs, which would require caution. I couldn’t imagine the turn of events if a gagd farmer were to end up injured or killed.
“Pigs have fangs, too,” Tiamat, who smoothly swam through the bath to approach us, informed me.
“Really?”
“Pigs are domesticated boars. Why would they lose their fangs just from being domesticated?”
Come to think of it...
“Pigs have their canine teeth cut off on the day they are born,” she continued. “Although, that’s also to keep them from hurting the mother while nursing.”
“They’re literally defanged, then.”
Which, figuratively, means to be made much less aggressive. Perhaps the phrase originated from practices like this. Humans were raising these beasts for their own benefit after all. It wouldn’t do if they were left with elements of the wild. It may seem cruel, but it also seemed necessary.
“This isn’t something we can fix in a matter of days, though.”
“Mm-hm. There will be cracks in the foundation if we try to force it. Domestication of livestock on Earth has been going on for over ten thousand years. It isn’t something we can alter with a flick of the wrist.”
Indeed, that history was built on trial and error by generations going way back before the Common Era. It was too dangerous to turn all of that on its head with nothing but half-hearted tidbits of knowledge. The last thing we could afford was to make the same mistakes Mister Piece-of-Shit Hero had made.
“There’s your answer, Milon. We lack the proper knowledge of raising livestock, so we cannot provide you with any detailed process.”
“No need for concern, Master Tiamat. You have given us enough hints already.”
Mister Milon didn’t even seem disappointed. He hadn’t grown his business this large on dumb luck.
9.
First thing in the morning the next day, Syfer came to visit me. Forcibly dragging me out of bed, he put me into rags (as if I was a slave) before bringing me to the courtyard of Milon Manor. To boot, he sat me onto the ground and shoved my back down to make me grovel on the ground.
“So cruel... What have I done to deserve this...?”
A demon had been sent to bring hellish torment unto me.
“What do you mean, Sir Eiji? You could get hurt if you don’t stretch first.”
“Urgh...”
His overly charming smile was blinding. Where was all his energy coming from?
“You’re just a weakling, Eiji. Too sore to move? What a geezer.”
Tiamat added insult to injury. I had walked a lot the past two days! And I couldn’t sleep well with nothing between me and the ground.
What was the point of working out, anyway? I had finally returned to town, why couldn’t I have enjoyed a moment’s rest? My whole body was screaming in pain, tearing at the seams. This part wasn’t in the job application. Stop this madness, young man.
“The Bureaucrat in Captive, by Eiji Kazama.”
“I’m sorry, Sir Eiji. I don’t understand a thing you are saying.”
“Yep. It’s all nonsense, Syfer. Don’t mind me.”
I would have been dumbfounded if Syfer, a resident of another world, understood my reference to a poem titled “Ostrich in Captive” by Kotaro Takamura, published in 1928. In any case, I was the one who asked him to train me. While I couldn’t shake the feeling that I had been very maliciously set up, I couldn’t back out of it now, even if streaks of tears flowed down my face... I wanted to just go home.
“Stretching is painful for you? A little too out of shape, don’t you think?” Tiamat laughed, slapping the ground with her sturdy tail.
She, by the way, was playing with Baze. Apparently it was a game where each tried to pin down the other. A four-meter Fenrir versus a barely 180cm (if I didn’t count her tail) dragon wouldn’t be much of a fight if the game was contingent on size, but it seemed that Baze was the one being toyed with. Tiamat didn’t even let him inside a range where he could make a palpable hit, let alone grapple.
Of course, if I were to jump into such a ring, I would have been a corpse in one second flat. So I kept a fair distance between myself and them. Now Tiamat was interrupting my conversation with Syfer all the while parrying Baze’s attacks. How many legs did she have up on the Fenrir?
“In any case, Sir Eiji. I think you’re a little too stiff,” Syfer said, as he pulled my left arm and stretched it behind my back, more like a chiropractic session than a stretch. It felt pretty good.
“I apologize. Never had a job that required me to be physically active.”
“No need to apologize, but you might actually get hurt if we jump right into things.” Syfer half-sighed, half-chuckled.
Don’t joke about it.
Shout out to all the dads who have gotten themselves hurt during the dads’ dance portion of their daughters’ recitals. One can’t underestimate just how out of shape people can get.
“Not underestimating. For today, we’re going to focus on stretching. Get you on your feet tomorrow.”
“I don’t mind if we just keep stretching forever.”
It felt good enough that, if Syfer were to become a masseur, I would go to him regularly.
“Then you’ll never get any training done.”
Yep. That was so true, I got teary-eyed.
“But you’re really good at this, Syfer. Where did you pick up these techniques?”
“Just did, after a while. Comes with knowing how to break the body.”
He casually dropped that scary notion. This was a man specialized in fighting, after all.
After finishing our morning training, we all came to the breakfast table. Mister Milon’s conditions seemed to be improving further. While I doubted that he had consumed enough vitamin B1 for a complete recovery, it seemed to be enough to get him out of the chronic state of malnutrition.
“It appears the Senzu are already working, Sir Eiji,” Mister Milon said, during breakfast.
Another meal filled to the brim with edamame dishes. The one that particularly caught my eye was a bowl of rice and beans. That was good. I couldn’t have enough of the white rice seasoned by the beans and their salt.
“How do you mean?”
Putting the rice down for a moment, I asked for clarification. He wasn’t talking about his improvement. That was already apparent two days ago.
“While you were away, Sir Eiji, I provided some Senzu to a few bars owned by some friends. We’ve already received an amount of reorders this morning.”
“I see.”
I chuckled. No wonder the edamame dishes seemed refined at the tasting of gagd dishes yesterday. Preparations were already underway even before we had returned. Striking the iron while it’s hot, Mister Milon knew when to seize a business opportunity.
“Not without concerns, however.”
“What is it? Are we running out of edamame?”
If that was the case, things were dire. A supply that could be depleted in a matter of days could never provide for the entire population of this country.
“Oh, no. No need for worry there. We already grow plenty of it for livestock feed to begin with. In fact, most farmers are even annoyed by the plant growing rapidly on its own.”
Never underestimate the vitality of beans. As we spoke, Mister Milon’s business was buying up those pesky little beans by the cartful. The growers were left richer than before, and Mister Milon had a promising return to look forward to. A win-win. Considering that this could lead to improving the health of the people of Lishua, throw another win in there.
“Then, what are the concerns?”
“We have some complaints, mostly from women. Nothing major.”
“Which are?”
“That most of the dishes are bar food.”
“Oh, I see...”
I could only muster a chuckle at that. The boiling recipe I’d demonstrated was exactly that. While the chefs had developed some more uses, putting them in soup or rice for example, I believed that the rightful place of an edamame is by a cold pint of beer. Gagd meat was more of a masculine food too. Perhaps they wouldn’t be too popular with the ladies.
“Come to think of it, Maley didn’t eat much of it either,” Syfer chimed in.
Maley was the sole female of his party. She didn’t seem like the type to drink heavily, so I couldn’t imagine her choking down beans and meat with a side of ale.
“Hmm. An edamame dish that women would like...”
Quite the conundrum, especially since I had no expertise in the kitchen.
“Tia? Have anything up your sleeve?”
“Don’t women and children prefer sweets?” said the biologically-female dragon fighting Baze over gagd meat at breakfast. Seemed a little too simple to conclude that non-drinkers like sweetness.
“Hmm. Sweet, you say?”
Mister Milon was the one who seemed more interested. I looked around to find that Syfer’s and Millia’s interests were piqued too.
Then I remembered. In olden days, sweetness was a coveted taste. There were no sweets sold at the corner store, like modern day. Back in the day, people in Japan would chew on the roots of plants like jiaogulan in search of any semblance of sweetness.
Of course, I never lived through those times, but I assumed that the current times in this world were comparable to that. Perhaps a sweet edamame treat would explode in popularity.
“But a sweet edamame dish...?”
I dug deep into my memory bank, and everything I could recall was savory or spicy. In the first place, even if I knew the taste of some pre-packaged snack, I didn’t know how to make them.
“Remember? The traditional one in Japan.”
Tiamat grinned at me in my confusion. Was there really such a thing? I still couldn’t shake my perception of edamame as a salty food.
“Zunda mochi. Zuuundaaaa.”
“Why’d you say it like that?”
10.
Zunda mochi is a traditional dish of the Tohoku region of Japan. It’s usually enjoyed with ground edamame on top of the mochi. A historical drama on NHK a while back had even shown a scene where Masamune Date was serving them to the regional lords of feudal Japan. Apparently there was already a form of grocery store sampling back then. According to that particular drama, of course.
It’s worth noting that not all Zunda are sweet, and some of them can be savory. Nowadays, the sweeter varieties have become mainstream. I recalled a Zunda shake being sold in a basement level of Sapporo station. It was pretty good.
“That comedian called something Deluxe raved about it, too. It’ll be a hit with women and children.”
“The person you’re thinking of is neither a woman nor a child. And not a comedian, but a columnist.”
I did make these corrections to Tiamat’s statement. Not that I knew the person in question personally, nor was I particularly a fan, but I wanted us to acknowledge his occupation correctly... for some reason.
“In any case, I’m picking up what you’re putting down. If we can get the ingredients, maybe we can manage Zunda.”
All I’d have to do is grind it down and place it on mochi!
“The ingredients we need are edamame and sugar, and a little salt for taste. As for the mochi, we can work with the rice they have now. It won’t be as stretchy as Japanese mochi, but it’ll have a similar texture.”
Tiamat gave details from one of her knowledge DLC packs. My guess was that this time it didn’t come from the useless knowledge pack.
“Sugar might be a problem, though... Mister Milon, what sorts of sweeteners are the people of this country accustomed to?” I asked.
The answer I received from Mister Milon was maple syrup, which in my world was created by boiling down the sap from sugar maple trees. Naturally, no such tree existed in this world. Some unintelligible words were used in Mister Milon’s response.
“Syrup, you say? I don’t think that will go too well with Zunda.”
“In the first place, it isn’t easy to acquire, financially speaking. We also have a honey, but that is even more expensive.”
“Right.”
If it was easy to acquire, there would have been no reason for Syfer and Millia to show such interest for the topic. There was no such thing as ‘too sweet.’ Those were the times they were living in. And yet, they had plenty of white rice. Of course they would overeat it. Rice does have a subtle sweetness to it.
I was faced with the answer to a question I never thought to ask myself. What would happen when you introduce refined white rice to people who had been munching on rye for generations? A terribly distorted world. In order to correct it, I was about to distort it even further.
“It’s not as tragic as you think it is. Even without your guidance, these people would have eventually found edamame and gagd meat. And the concept of vitamins.”
Reading my expression, Tiamat comforted me. She had a point. Just like the people on Earth, these people had the smarts to save themselves from extinction. Eventually, they would have found a cure for beriberi. It was only a question of when.
It wasn’t until the 1920s when vitamins were categorized and understood. Were there no treatments for scurvy or beriberi before then? Not necessarily. From trial and error, some effective methods were realized. For example, it was publicized in the mid-18th century that fruit helped treat scurvy. They just couldn’t prove how.
If I were to assume that Azur Kingdom was about as evolved as a country in medieval Europe, that could mean as far back as the 5th century on Earth. Considering that the cure for beriberi was found in the 20th century, it could take a maximum of 1400 years for the people of Azur to find it.
I noted before that beriberi killed over a million people over the course of 70 years. If I kept the math simple, beriberi in this world could kill over 20 million in the time it would take them to find the cure. It could have meant the end of the world for these people, quite literally.
I wanted to avoid that, so I used the knowledge I had. I chose to correct a world misshapen by a cheat code called Modern-Day Knowledge by typing in a console command of the same name.
“And you made the right choice, Eiji. Florence Nightingale used her connections to save people’s lives in Crimea. Was that an evil deed?” Tiamat said, with a smile.
In the Crimean War, where the alliance of Britain, France, the Ottoman Empire, and Sardinia fought the Russian Empire, a nurse, Florence Nightingale, stormed into the field hospital and overruled the male-dominated army by using everything in her arsenal, including the influence of Queen Victoria, to reduce the mortality rate at the hospital from 42% to 2%. She saved lives using connections, wealth, media, and even violence. This depiction might be jarring from the Angel in White image most Japanese people hold of her; still, she was an angel.
An angel isn’t someone who gives out pretty flowers, but someone who fights for those who are suffering.
...to borrow her own words.
“Let’s make sugar,” I declared, and turned to Tiamat. “Tia. Can we get any beets?”
“You’re a Dosanko, after all. That’s your first thought, instead of sugar canes?”
Oh, can it. The northern wilderness that I called my home produces more sugar beets than any other province in Japan. Sugar beets, by the way, produce more than 70% of Japan’s sugar. Sugar cane? What’s that? You think I had any of those in Hokkaido?
“Long story short, they have beets. Albeit an unaltered species.”
Apparently, its sugar content was much lower than the modern-day variety.
“About 1%, to be specific. The modern-day species are about 20% sugar, so that’s not even close,” Tiamat explained.
“1%... Yeah, I wouldn’t call that close...”
“The world today was sharpened by the tireless efforts of those who’ve come before you. This is just one of the many examples of that.”
Of course. While we accept all of our modern-day technologies and conveniences without question, not a single one of them was possible without someone somewhere having an idea. These things are built off of someone dreaming of a future and dedicating themselves to making it a reality, through numerous trials and errors. Our lives are built upon the unfathomable efforts of countless people. And our efforts are carried onto future generations. That’s how human history has been woven together.
Now I could understand why the inspector of the Interstellar League of Nations (who didn’t call herself a goddess) had such a disdain for inter-world travel. It was blasphemous. Those who know the end result guiding a civilization to it. It may sound good on paper. It might even feel virtuous to those performing the deed. But it’s not.
People of worlds outside our own have the right to make mistakes. To make the wrong choice. To end up in a helpless situation. To correct those mistakes. To learn from their wrong choice. And to find a ray of hope at the brink of hopelessness. Not even a god should be allowed to take that away.
But that’s what that piece-of-shit Hero did. Were they the ones that selectively bred the white rice to make it the species they introduced to this world? Were they the ones that discovered how to refine the rice? Weren’t they the ones that simply showboated some tidbits of information they got from textbooks and the internet? Taking credit for those before you wasn’t enough? You had to go and ruin this world, too?
Dear Mister Piece-of-Shit Hero, I’ll fix the world you broke... using the same knowledge you had from modern-day Japan.