Side Story 3: Sautéed Pork

Side Story 3:
Sautéed Pork

 

Slightly annoyed by the drizzling rain, I hastened my pace, heading toward the village.

Just ahead of this road was a small village near a forest where a handful of ogres lived. The ogres had been attacking and eating local livestock and little girls, so the village was having some trouble. The problem was that, when villagers posted a request that someone destroy these sorts of monsters, the payout was typically so cheap that nobody picked up the job.

Overhearing this particular tale in a bar I happened to be at, I’d decided to head for the village. Yes, the pay was cheap, but saving villagers from ogres might as well have been part of my job description as a warrior. Plus, I’d yet to cut down an ogre on the Eastern Continent. So, why not?

That said, I almost gave up when I heard that I’d have to walk through empty grasslands for three straight days before hitting the village.

There were no mountains to be seen, no matter how hard I squinted. After walking for two straight days, there was still nothing but empty plains. That served as a reminder that I really was a long way from home. This kind of geography simply didn’t exist there.

 

***

 

When I’d aged past twenty, I’d realized that—however talented I was in the way of the sword—I had no chance of inheriting any status because I had four older brothers. At the rate I was going, I’d have to serve for the rest of my life under my weaker, untrained siblings, who envied my abilities.

So, I’d left home for the capital with only my two swords by my side, slaying ogres and monsters to pay for food and shelter. Eventually I heard that, across the ocean, young folks like me called “adventurers” survived using only their skills. That was when I decided to cross the ocean to the Eastern Continent.

Three years had passed quickly. I’d learned the language and gotten used to the culture that ate bread instead of rice. I was finally losing my Western Continent accent.

As someone who’d grown up in the mountains, though, I still wasn’t used to the geography here.

Let’s see. Is there somewhere I can take shelter from this rain? Hmm?

As I looked for a tree or perhaps a large stone I could use for cover, my eyes stumbled upon something strange.

A door.

A little way from the road, a door stood in the middle of a field.

What the…? Why would a door be in a place like this?

Struck by curiosity, I made my way off the path and toward the door. As I got closer, I saw a cat illustration on its front.

How mysterious…and fascinating. As luck had it, I’d just started to feel a bit bored.

I didn’t hesitate for a moment as I placed my hand on the golden doorknob and turned it, opening the door. The sound of bells ringing made its way to my ears. After confirming that no ambush was coming from the other side, I stepped through slowly.

Beyond the door, I found myself in a truly unexpected place. There were no windows, but it was strangely bright. Eastern-style tables and chairs were arranged throughout the room.

Bizarre.

A man sitting at one table was drinking some sort of golden ale. He must’ve been a mage, judging by his clothes and the staff nearby.

Where am I? Since I wasn’t exactly the brightest, I decided to ask the only other person present—the mage.

“Pardon me, sir. Where exactly are we?”

The mage stopped sipping his ale and stood up. “Ah. Long story short, this is an eatery in another world—the Restaurant to Another World.”

“Excuse me?”

“You heard me right. It’s a restaurant in a separate world and dimension, connected to ours via an ancient elven relic. Actually, you’re the first person other than me to come in here. That door must be multiplying, just as I imagined.”

It appeared as though I’d wandered into a place far more mysterious than I’d first thought. With that in mind, I stared at the mage, the only one who knew anything about this restaurant.

He looked back at me and spoke. “Hmm…you have a slight accent. Are you from the Western Continent’s Mountain Nation?”

“My word.”

These days, no one recognized where I’d come from, so the fact that this man saw my origins so quickly was quite a surprise. As a mage, he must’ve had an abundance of knowledge.

“My name is Tatsugorou.” Doing my best to correct my accent, I bowed my head to the mage. “As you suspect, I hail from the Mountain Nation on the Western Continent, Sir Mage.”

Based on the magical energies coming from this mage, he was clearly more accomplished than any of the sorcerers I’d seen in my homeland.

“Now, now. No need to be so serious. It was pure chance that I heard your accent. A long time ago, I traveled with someone from the Mountain Nation. Your accent resembled theirs, is all. That’s how I figured it out, honestly.”

The mage was quite candid, very different from the spiteful sorcerers of my homeland and the Ocean Nation. He seemed easy to talk to.

He introduced himself. “My name is…let’s see…call me Pork Loin Cutlet. As you can tell, I’m just an older gentleman who uses a wee bit of magic.”

“Pork Loin Cutlet?!” What a bizarre name.

“Indeed. Well, it’s nice to meet you, Sir Tatsugorou.”

“Pork Loin Cutlet” didn’t match up with the many names I’d heard on the Eastern Continent. I supposed that just meant there was still much for me to learn about this land. With that thought, I again bowed my head to the older man.

“The pleasure is all mine, Sir Pork Loin Cutlet.”

Then I caught a whiff of some sort of warm aroma.

Someone was right next to me. “Welcome to Western Cuisine Nekoya. Have a seat, please.”

I raised my head and found a stunningly beautiful woman standing before me. She had deep-black hair, and she wore clothes that reminded me of the Eastern Continent’s noblewomen. In her hands were some kind of soft cloth and a steaming tray.

I couldn’t help being shocked that this woman had somehow gotten next to me, a warrior, without my having noticed.

“The rain must be awful today,” the woman said. “I’ve brought you a towel and some tea. You wouldn’t want to catch a cold. Here, wipe yourself with this.” She moved without making a single sound.

“Ah, much obli…er, thank you very much.”

Upon closer inspection, the woman’s face had some very slight wrinkles. She must’ve been about the same age my late mother was when I came of age.

The woman smiled at me, and I frantically tried to hide my blushing face as she led me to my seat. I used the strangely soft cloth she handed me to dry my moist face and hair, then took a sip of the hot tea.

What a surprise! The tea the woman had brought me tasted just like rice but also had a slightly aromatic flavor. It warmed my cold body.

“I do indeed sense…er, this tastes like rice.”

“That’s because it’s black rice tea,” she said.

“Black rice tea?” I tilted my head. I’d never heard of it before.

Well, considering that this is another world, I suppose that shouldn’t be much of a surprise.

“It’s quite delicious,” I said. “In fact, it’s so good that I’d love another cup.”

I proceeded to down the cup of tea. It was truly marvelous and reminded me of how much I’d yearned for rice over the last few years.

The woman clearly picked up that I’d been craving rice. “Would you like me to bring out a bowl of white rice and some food?” she offered.

“Really?! That would be wonderful!”

Grateful for her kindness, I nodded enthusiastically at the fact that I’d get to eat rice for the first time in three years.

Rice didn’t exist on the Eastern Continent, but it existed here. I should’ve expected as much from another world.

“All right, then. Let’s see. How about sautéed pork to go with your rice? Pig cooked over flames?”

I nodded. “That sounds delightful.”

Pig meat was fairly common on the Eastern Continent. In fact, people raised the creatures specifically to eat. On the Western Continent, however, we really only ate pork when we took down a wild boar.

White rice…

This would be a feast for the ages—something I didn’t have access to very often. Particularly the rice. I couldn’t possibly let this chance escape me. I was willing to pay whatever I had to.

“Hey, that’s…” Sir Pork Loin Cutlet was about to say something.

The woman smiled and shut him up. “Oh, my. You’re only on your third dish. And you have plenty of time, right, Mr. Can-Use-a-Wee-Bit-of-Magic?”

“Urgh…fine.” The older gentleman forced the words out. “The young fellow can go first. But only just this once.”

It appeared as though Pork Loin Cutlet and the woman went way back. They were clearly comfortable with one another.

“I’ll be right back with your food.” The woman disappeared into the kitchen.

As I waited for my meal, I heard cooking noises from the back. Eventually, the sounds ended, and I sensed someone preparing to bring the food out to me.

But it was a man dressed in mysterious clothes who appeared before me, rather than the woman from earlier. He looked rather aged but definitely still had his stuff straight. He must’ve been the restaurant’s master and chef.

“Sorry ’bout the wait, pal.”

“Um, what happened to the woman from before?” I asked.

“My wife went home. It’s almost noon, and she doesn’t wanna leave our grandkids all by their lonesome after they get back,” the man answered bluntly.

“I see.” I couldn’t mask the disappointment in my voice. I would’ve loved to have spoken to her a bit more.

“Sorry you gotta deal with this old man instead. But, hey, here’s your teriyaki-style sautéed pork.” He placed the tray of food on the table lightly.

“Um, what’s this?” I looked down, confused.

I recognized the pork, which was decorated with some kind of brownish sauce. It was cut into strips, making it easy to pick up with chopsticks. Beside the strips was a bowl of brown soup with thinly cut bits of something floating in it.

I couldn’t find the most important part of the meal, though. The one thing I wanted to eat above all else. Where’s the rice? Wait…

“Could this be rice?”

In front of the pork and soup sat a bowl full of what I realized was rice. However, it was nothing like the dark rice I’d eaten back home. It was pure white, translucent, and shone like polished stones.

It was completely different.

“That’s right,” the man said. “When you take out all the sprouts and bran before cooking it, you get this pure-white rice. I’ve heard that brown rice is better for the body, but when it comes to taste, nothing beats white rice.”

“How grand.”

He hadn’t just peeled the hulls off; he’d even removed the rice’s sprouts and bran before cooking it. I couldn’t begin to imagine how much lighter the rice must be. Even in a house of proud warriors, one wouldn’t serve rice like this unless it were some sort of special occasion.

Continually surprised by the incredible feast the restaurant was serving me, I picked up the bowl of rice, swallowed loudly, and took a single bite.

Oooh! It’s so soft…and sweet?!

I knew I’d eaten rice. I knew it in my mind. Still, this rice tasted completely different from the stuff back home. It was pure and clean, yet its hot steam was flavorful. It was so soft that I could swallow it without chewing, but when I did chew it, I tasted something sweet.

Just this rice on its own would’ve been an incredible feast. It wasn’t long before I gulped down the entire bowl as though it were water.

“Oh, you’re a real pro, eh? Want seconds?”

“Absolutely!” I nodded with gusto at the master, handing him the completely empty bowl.

“Comin’ right up! Hold your horses.”

I watched the master disappear into the back and then turned my attention to the food on the tray. I wonder what all this tastes like.

Just the white rice had been enough to satisfy me. Still, I found myself enthralled by the scents coming from the other foods.

I’ll start with the soup.

I picked up the small black bowl and brought it close to my nose, breathing in the steam rising from it. The brown soup was full of cut vegetables. I didn’t recall ever drinking a soup like that out west or in the east. It had a mysterious aroma that was hard to put into words, so I simply took a sip.

It’s hot but delicious. In fact, the soup was so hot that I almost burned myself. As I drank more, I made sure to blow on it to cool it down. It was salty and had a slight earthy scent.

The vegetables floating in the broth were so soft, it was almost like they were about to melt. When I bit into them, their juices spilled through my mouth.

From its taste, I finally figured out what one vegetable was. Oh, this is radish.

In the Mountain Nation, I’d eaten radish quite often, so that really brought me back. It was a little less bitter than I recalled, but that was what was good about it.

Then I turned my attention to the green pickles. I only put a few into my mouth but found myself surprised by the slightness of their salty flavor.

Whoa. For pickled vegetables, these are far less salty than I expected. They’re even kind of savory!

At home, pickles were typically coupled with rice; otherwise, they were too salty to eat. But these green pickles had the perfect level of saltiness.

In exchange for that lack of salt, they were actually rather hearty and even a bit spicy. Did the master use chili pepels? I hadn’t expected much from these pickles, but I was wrong—they were delicious.

Everything here is good. It’s that simple. I want more rice.

As if he’d read my mind or something, the master appeared with a bowl of rice piled to the top. “Sorry ’bout the wait. Here’s some more white rice.”

“Oooh, you have my gratitude, sir!”

I ate the rice alongside the vegetables and soup. Truly a gift from the gods.

After devouring about half the bowl of white perfection, I noticed the scent of something sweet.

Oh, yes. I forgot about the meat.

I’d been so enthralled by the rice, soup, and pickles that I completely ignored the pork. I stretched my chopsticks out and picked up a strip of the pig meat uncommon in the west. I had no clue whether it’d pair well with the white rice, but its sweet aroma was positively captivating.

The light above reflected off the meat. I raised it and put it in my mouth.

As I bit into the thin strip, its juices spilled out. The meat’s taste fused with the sweet and sour sauce, producing a strong flavor that spread across my tongue.

It’s so tender. As I chewed the pork, I soon realized the secret behind its softness. The muscle had been cut with an extra-sharp knife and then pulverized.

This is a true feast. Is it really all right for someone like me to eat this on such an ordinary day?

The meat was carefully prepared, almost as though the master were going to serve it at a banquet or something. The problem was, it was clear even to me that eating this pork with white rice would make it that much more delicious.

This is bad. I’m not sure I can resist.

As a warrior, I understood that battle could break out at any given time, even after one’s meal. Thus, it was important that one didn’t fill oneself completely. That was what I’d been taught, and I’d stuck by that up until today.

Until today. Well, it should be fine. I may be a warrior, but I’m no longer of a warrior household. I’m just an adventurer now.

I recollected myself and yelled to the master. “Sir! Apologies, but could I have another bowl of rice?!”

By the time my stomach was screaming that it could hold no more food, I finally put my chopsticks down and asked for the bill.

After paying the extremely reasonable cost, I stood up. It was time to head to the village. “I shall return. The food was delicious.”

“Lookin’ forward to it! By the way, we’re open over there once a week. So, if you happen to be in the area, come on by.”

“Once every seven days. Understood.” I rubbed my stomach, wanting to lie down somewhere, and nodded firmly to the master before leaving.

The rain had stopped while I was gone. The sky was blue and clear—the one thing that was the same between the east and the west.

Now then, it’s time to slay some ogres so I can return to the restaurant again in seven days.

After watching the door disappear, I quickened my pace and made my way to the village.

Seven days later, I met Teriyaki Chicken and Seishu, my friends for life.