The Raid

 

 

 

The Raid

 

IN that moment of reflection, I’d strengthened my resolve to protect the orchard. I looked at Techi, then looked at the children. I’d keep that selfish, greedy troublemaker far away from them.

I was ready to get on with my day. But just as I was about to pick up my phone and resume my search for boar meat recipes, it rang.

I picked up.

“Hello, Mikura Moriya speaking… Yes… Yes… Um, excuse me? …I see… No, I assure you that I’ve no appointments today. I’m not at home right now… No, I’m out on business; I can’t see anyone… Yes, that’s right. Yes… Yes, please go ahead and do that… I’m sorry for the trouble. Thank you for letting me know.”

I hung up. Techi looked at me inquiringly, wanting to know what the phone call was about.

“Well, speak of the devil. It seems our favorite chestnut buyer is down at the border gate, asking to be let through,” I told her. “The gate staff called to ask me what they should do.”

Techi lifted her chin out of her hands, her ears pricked up, her tail stiffened, and she stood up furiously. Her eyes were intense—almost crazy. She looked ready to sprint all the way to the border gate to deal with him on her own terms.

“Calm down, Miss Techi!” I said. “I told them not to let him through because he hadn’t contacted me in advance. They won’t open the gate, so he can’t get through. He’ll give up and go home.”

That’s what I was counting on. The border was a high-security operation; the gate itself was quite high-tech and made of durable materials. There was always at least one armed member of the Japan Self-Defense Forces on duty. It wasn’t the kind of facility you could just sneak through.

In order to cross the border, you needed special permission and the right paperwork, and you had to inform them in advance. Moreover, you needed to undergo certain medical examinations during the crossing, without which it was impossible to enter or leave the Wilds.

If he tried to barge his way through regardless, he could be charged with any number of crimes—interfering with the duties of a public servant, trespassing, even assault. Anyone with a lick of sense would turn back.

“I don’t get it, though,” I said, puzzled. “Surely he knew that he wouldn’t be able to see me without advance notice.”

Techi let out a ragged sigh as the adrenaline left her system and she thumped back down on the bench.

“You got advance notice,” she muttered, sounding thoroughly fed up. “You got a call from the gate staff just now, didn’t you? He’d pull this nonsense all the time, showing up out of the blue. Tomiyasu never complained; he just told the gate officials to let him through. I guess he thought he could keep doing the same thing with you, Mikura.”

“Wow…” I said. “That’s so entitled… So, he feels equally entitled to keep buying our chestnuts? And without so much as a phone call to introduce himself? I wonder what he hoped to achieve, showing up out of the blue like this…”

But as soon as I said it, I was pretty sure I knew the answer. He almost certainly wanted to sign a contract.

What would normally happen if a buyer heard that someone had inherited the orchard? They’d pay them a polite visit to ask if they could keep trading on the same terms as before. After what Techi had said though, I strongly doubted that was this man’s intention.

What if this guy discovered that a successor had appeared…because he heard through the grapevine that I was already in discussions with another buyer, as was indeed the case? He’d probably show up out of nowhere and attempt to play on my inexperience to trick or threaten me into giving him a monopoly on the chestnuts. This seemed a far more likely story.

He’d show up in person because it’d let him keep the hogwash flowing long enough to try and fool me. He’d talk in a loud, authoritative voice, citing nonexistent contracts and made-up laws. There are plenty of people in this world who’ll say anything to get what they want. He was clearly one of them.

With that line of thinking settled, I unlocked my phone and found an article on how to smoke meat.

Smoking meat may sound straightforward, but there are many different flavors, aromas, tools, and methods to choose from. I started wrestling with the abundance of choice, but Techi glowered at me through half-closed eyes, as she often did. She couldn’t believe I was doing nothing about the man at the gate. I took a break from my research.

“Look, Miss Techi,” I said, “there’s nothing to be done right now. There’s no point in going to see him—the guy isn’t worth the effort. What’s more, I don’t have any kind of contractual obligations toward him. He’s a perfect stranger as far as I’m concerned. If I refuse to acknowledge him, he can’t set up a meeting and, without a meeting, he can’t get me to sign a contract. Let him make the first move.”

I had no intention of doing anything, nor was there any need to. I’d carefully read over his contract with Great-Grandpa, and that much was clear. But I was going to have a professional look it over too—if push came to shove, I could ask one of my old work contacts. I’d made my preparations and, rather than let him get inside my head, I preferred to think about something fun. I would be far better off concerning myself with my new hobby.

I resumed my Internet research…but Techi kept staring at me pointedly, with a hint of concern in her eyes. She still doubted my conclusion. I looked her right in the eye.

“It’ll be okay,” I said, my face deadly serious. “I’m not going to let anything happen to this orchard. And I will face that brute head-on when the time comes. I’m fully committed. I’ve already made what preparations I can. Now the best thing for us to do is to wait and see how he reacts. …Of course, there’s always the remote possibility that he won’t be willing to try anything stupid, and the problem will fade away on its own. That’d be no skin off my nose.

“…By the way, Miss Techi, have you made any preparations for dealing with this guy?” I asked.

Techi scoffed, balled her hand up into a fist and showed it to me.

“This is all the preparation I need,” she said. “The only way to deal with a man like that is to beat the snot out of him. Crush his spirit. I may look slight, but I train a lot. Give me a pole or leave me my bare fists, it’s all the same to me.”

I couldn’t believe what I was hearing. Her expression was far more serious than mine had been a moment ago. I broke into a cold sweat and tried to talk her down.

“No, no, no, that won’t do!” I said. “No violence. That’s no good at all. You said it yourself. This is an international issue—you’ll cause a diplomatic incident. We can’t strike first. If this blows up, I could lose the right to live here… So, please…let’s do things my way.”

I tried to change the subject.

“R-Right, enough of that! What do you know about smoked meat? The idea with smoking is to imbue the meat with a fragrant wood smell while also intensifying the flavor of the meat itself. Smoking also melts a lot of the extra fat off, so the end result can be extremely delicious. Depending on the exact technique you use, it can even have preserving effects. You spent time with Great-Grandpa; you’ve probably eaten plenty of smoked meat,” I listed off the facts as fast as I could.

Techi lowered her fist and sighed deeply yet again.

“Sure, I’ve had it several times before,” she said. “But as long as the meat’s edible, I don’t really care how it’s prepared.”

It was quite possibly the bluntest thing I’d ever heard her say.

This would be a challenge, but I was determined to make her something special that’d open her eyes to the beautiful flavors of smoked food. I eagerly dove back into the Internet to sort through the relevant information and began to hatch a plan for smoking the rest of the boar meat.

🐿🐿🐿

SMOKING meat is actually very straightforward.

First, season the meat. Then smoke it.

Like I said, simple.

When it comes to choosing your flavors though, things get more complicated—the combination of the seasoning and the type of smoke you use has a huge influence on the final result.

For seasoning, the most common method is to soak the meat in a pickling liquid. Dissolve the required amount of salt in water to attain the right level of saltiness for your recipe. Add sugar, herbs, and other ingredients to craft your desired flavor and boil the whole mixture. Leave your meat to pickle in the liquid for several days. When done, desalinate, remove any excess moisture, and the smoking process can begin.

In Japan, we refer to a salt and sugar solution as Saumur fluid, but once you’ve added herbs and spices, I’d really call it a pickling liquid. However, introductory books on smoking food often use the term Saumur fluid, no matter what it may contain, so at some point, it seems to have become a standard term.

Every decision can affect the final flavor: how you make your pickling liquid, what herbs you choose to add, the pickling duration, how long you desalinate your meat at the end… The possibilities are endless. You’ll need to use your own judgment.

Consider what flavors go well with the meat you’ll be smoking and consider your personal tastes. Will you be eating the smoked meat as is? Or will you be cooking it in other dishes? Different approaches will give you different results.

On this occasion, I wasn’t thinking of my own tastes. My main objective was to make something Techi could enjoy; something that might win her over, even a little bit, to the joys of preserved food. So I’d try to play to her preferences.

In that case, the most important thing would be the choice of herbs.

Herbs are an important part of the process. They can mask any odors (for example, in boar meat), help preserve the food better, and help tenderize tougher cuts of meat. Herbs are also very good for your health. As you can see, there are many advantages to using herbs to add flavor to your food.

However, with great potency comes great flavor. Some herbs have a very strong flavor, fragrance, or both. If these aren’t prepared properly or used in the right quantities, it’s very easy to overpower the flavor of everything else. Every bite you take will have a strong whiff of the offending herb and little else. You can’t enjoy the food’s varied flavors if everything tastes the same. This kind of blunder is to be avoided at all costs.

Additionally, people’s tastes vary. What may be the perfect combination of aromas for you may be unbearably stinky to your dinner guests. That’s also something to watch out for.

That last one was particularly relevant to my current situation.

When making smoked meats, you can always sidestep the problem of overly strong herbs by using highly fragrant wood in the smoking process, such as cherry or apple. The smoke from these woods has a wonderful smell and can potentially mask other odors in the meat. Some people will even skip the herbs entirely and use this technique instead.

I decided to go halfway. I’d only use a few herbs and rely on my wood chips for a strong fragrance rather than taking a risk by overloading the meat with herbs. To figure out which herbs I should use, I asked Techi what herbs she liked most, but her response wasn’t very helpful.

“…I dunno.”

My next strategy was to bring her a few different herbs to sniff. I tried bay leaves, rosemary, and a few other common picks, but not a single one got a positive reaction from her. This girl was just not into herbs.

“My brother serves herbal teas at his shop,” she’d said. “They’re not bad; I’ll drink one from time to time. The lemon grass one is actually quite good.”

I briefly considered buying a range of herbal teas, including lemon grass, and making pickling liquid with them. But given that I was trying to make a good impression, perhaps it wasn’t a good time for such wild experiments. I decided to skip the herbs entirely.

🐿🐿🐿

“SMOKED meat? Sounds great! Have you ever made it before?”

Two days had passed. I’d decided to get up early before today’s shift at the orchard so I could start all the prep work for smoking the boar meat. Through some unknown sixth sense, Kon had guessed that I’d be doing something interesting today. He arrived with the usual scurrying sound of his little feet, I turned around to look and the next moment, there he was, sitting in his little chair next to the sink.

“Yes, a few times,” I replied. “I never did anything elaborate, though—I used a simple technique you can do at home on a regular stove.”

Step one was pickling, so I lined up my various seasonings on the countertop.

“M-Mikura? What’s all this?” asked Kon. “I thought you were smoking meat today. What’s with all the pickling stuff?”

I flashed him a reassuring smile. Oh Kon. You still have much to learn.

I took the remaining boar meat out of the fridge and placed it in a plastic ziplock bag I’d prepared—the kind that’s often used for marinating food. Finally, I opened a bottle of pickling liquid I’d bought at the supermarket. This particular brand was often advertised on TV for making Japanese-style pickled vegetables.

“Heh heh heh,” I chuckled knowingly. “You’re quite right, Kon. This product is intended for pickling vegetables. But it also happens to be perfect for pre-curing meat that you intend to smoke. It has just the right level of saltiness and it has a pleasant mix of other ingredients, including a very tasty dashi stock. This time, I opted for their kombu dashi variety. This handy bottle is a great shortcut if you want to skip the fiddly process of making your own pickling liquid.”

There’s no need to calculate or measure anything when using a store-bought liquid. Since the level of salinity is perfect out of the bottle, you don’t have to worry about using too much or too little salt. If you want to add any herbs, simply add them straight to the liquid. Otherwise, use as-is.

This stuff was a lifesaver. It was perfectly good for its intended purpose of pickling vegetables, but it may as well have been specially designed for smoking meat. If you don’t want to risk any mistakes, if you don’t have time to make everything from scratch, if you’re overwhelmed by all the options in the recipe books, it’s a great shortcut that produces great results.

Pour a generous amount of pickling liquid into a plastic ziplock bag, enough to cover the meat while minimizing the amount of air left in the bag when sealed. Place the bag in the refrigerator and leave it to pickle for five days. Desalinate in running water for five to eight hours and remove any excess moisture. Once dry, the meat is ready to be smoked.

“Wow, that’s simpler than I thought,” said Kon, head tilted to one side, waving his tail around as he watched me work. “But after that, you’ve gotta make a whole buncha smoke to smoke everything! That sounds like a lotta work.”

I placed a second piece of meat inside the ziplock bag with the pickling liquid.

“That depends on what equipment you’re using,” I replied. “Some people make their own smokers out of cardboard boxes, or you can get a cheap DIY kit at the hardware store. If you’re willing to pay extra for the convenience, they even sell electric smokers. Some food smokers are very hands-on, while others, you just need to flick a switch. The smoker I have is pretty easy to use.”

I pointed to the floor, where I’d placed my smoker. It looked like a regular earthenware pot at first glance. But inside, it had a removable rack for your food and a space at the bottom to put wood chips.

You place the whole contraption on a normal stove top, and the wood chips heat up and begin to produce smoke. Then it’s just a matter of putting on the lid and adjusting the heat to control the amount of smoke to your liking. It was a very convenient item.

“In any case, today, I’ll just be cleaning out this thing to get it ready for next time,” I told Kon. “The meat needs a few days to pickle first before I can smoke it… But even when I’ve smoked this batch, I’ll still have a lot of boar meat left over. I wonder what I should do with the rest…the remaining meat is quite tough. If you don’t mind meat that’s a little harder to chew, I could try grilling it with salt? That should help make it easier to eat.”

Kon made a gulping sound at the mere mention of salt-grilled meat. I’m sure he was carefully imagining the taste.

All the tastiest parts of the boar were pretty much gone, and a lot of what was left would be hard, sinewy, or have a strong odor. But if Kon wanted to try it, I wasn’t going to stop him—it was much better than him growing up a picky eater.

When I’d finished most of the prep work, I washed my hands and was clearing everything away when my phone started ringing on the countertop.

Once again, it was the phone number for the border gate. I grabbed my phone and went into the living room before answering, as I thought it was better for Kon not to hear.

“Hello, Mikura Moriya speaking… Again? Yes… Yes, I’m home right now, but I’m about to leave for work… No, he did not contact me. He does not have an appointment… Yes, please let him know that I cannot see him… You can tell him that I require all visitors to schedule their arrival, no exceptions. I cannot conduct business without being notified in advance… Yes, thank you, please do.”

He was back. That good-for-nothing bum was kicking up a fuss at the gate, insisting that surely, I must be home at this hour of the day. I asked the border staff to tell him that I needed all visitors to contact me in advance if they wanted to be let through. The worker on the phone confirmed that he’d pass on the message, and I hung up.

Kon toddled into the living room carrying his little chair in both arms, a sympathetic look in his eyes.

“Mikura, it sounds like you’re having a hard time,” he said quietly. “That man’s causin’ a lotta trouble for the workers at the gate, huh…”

I placed my phone on the living room table.

“What?” I said in disbelief. “Don’t tell me you could hear all that?”

“Sure can!” boasted Kon. “Us beastfolk have really good hearing when we’re little. You were only in the next room, so I could hear the voice on the other side of the phone pretty well. When we’re workin’ in the orchard, I hear some of what you and Techi talk ’bout too.”

“I-Is that so…”

Another incredible new detail. I made a nervous mental note to be more careful with what I said when the children were around, then I set about preparing to leave. Not that there was much to do—I washed my face, checked myself over in the bathroom mirror, and changed from my home clothes into a slightly nicer shirt and trousers. Ten minutes later, I was ready. I grabbed my phone, stuffed it deep in my trouser pocket, and headed for the veranda to put on my shoes.

I knew I should really use the front door, but leaving by the veranda was so convenient that it was starting to become a habit. Kon followed me out the same way, but he stopped on the grass, his ears twitching. He could hear something. He turned his head in the direction of the border gate.

He listened for a while, ears still twitching away…then he turned to me with a look of some confusion.

“I think he’s trying to force his way past the guards,” he said, shocked. “He’s screaming to be let through, and the border staff are tellin’ him to get back, or they’ll arrest him. Everybody’s yelling.”

“Are you serious? I can’t believe he’s so persistent…” I said. “Well, it’s up to the border staff to keep him out, so we should let them do their jobs. We shouldn’t get involved.”

Kon agreed, nodding deeply, then started toward the orchard, bobbing a little as he walked.

Being able to hear voices on the phone was one thing, but hearing the commotion at the border from all the way out here… The gate was over two miles away, even though it was a straight road with few obstacles that would block the sound. If there was a really, really loud noise, I might be able to hear it, but forget about human voices—let alone being able to pick out individual words. I wasn’t even sure if a high-end super-directional microphone could do that.

Yet another amazing demonstration of beastfolk abilities. I looked at Kon with a renewed sense of respect and set off after him. Glancing back at me, I think he must’ve noticed the look of awe on my face. He grinned and started walking with large, confident strides, swinging his arms high with each step. He was very pleased with himself, strutting along like that.

When we were almost there, Kon seemed to suddenly remember something. He reached into his pocket and pulled out his name badge, which he attached to his chest. Now he was ready to face the workday.

Everyone else was already at the orchard when we arrived, so Kon rushed over to join the others in line. Techi counted them and gave them their daily warnings about safety and thoroughness as usual, and then the work began.

The sky was slightly cloudy today and a light, chill breeze was blowing. Perhaps due to their fur coats, the children didn’t seem to mind, and they quickly climbed their trees and set about their work. I sat on my usual bench, watching the children busy themselves. I decided I should tell Techi everything that’d happened that morning, from the smoking preparations to the phone call and the struggle at the gate.

“…I see,” she said, propping her chin up with her hands. “You can skip the meat pickling story next time, but thanks for keeping me updated about the other two.”

“N-Now hang on a second,” I sputtered, “the meat pickling is just as important, maybe more so! I’m smoking this boar for your benefit, Miss Techi. So please come round to my place and enjoy some when it’s done, five days from now. If you like alcohol, beer goes well with smoked food… Say…do you even drink? Can beastfolk drink alcohol? I guess there was plenty of alcohol at the supermarket. What’s the drinking age here? Is it the same as in Japan?”

“Sure, we drink. Beastfolk can drink,” Techi replied. “But only adults. Young beastfolk are only allowed to start drinking when their bodies have fully grown out of their animal form. Letting young people get drunk while they still have an animal body would be a disaster. Combining that kind of strength or agility with booze is a really bad idea.”

“I see. So that’s how it is,” I said. “I thought it might be health-related, but that’s also a very good reason… Well, in that case, you definitely have to come! I’ll pick up some delicious beer for us, maybe some Ebisu-sama!”

Techi’s ears suddenly twitched at my outburst, standing on end. I think it was actually a sign of embarrassment—it was followed by her cheeks turning red. She sharply turned her face away a moment later.

“…I don’t know why you’re getting so excited over a couple of beers,” she huffed. “Why are you going to all this effort anyway? If you wanted to make smoked meat, you could just eat it on your own.”

“I could…” I replied, “but I wanted to find a way to spark your enthusiasm for preserved foods. Besides, think of it this way. It’s not just preserved food; take something like cookies or dinner or whatever. When you make something delicious, don’t you want to share it with other people? Doesn’t everyone feel that way?

“There’s nothing wrong with cooking for yourself; that’s very enjoyable too. But when you share your food—when you share that joy—don’t you think the food tastes better? I enjoy it ten times more! So, I thought, Miss Techi, since we’re coworkers, we should share some of that food and some of that joy, especially as we’re out here together every day.

“Great-Grandpa preserved more food than he could ever eat in one lifetime. You can bet he did it because he wanted to share it with other people.”

At the time of the flood, I’m sure Gramps wasn’t thinking about making himself feel better. He just wanted to help a little in whatever way he could. But when things calmed down a bit, and people started telling him how delicious his preserves had been, how they made the situation feel a little brighter…when word got back to him about how much it’d helped, he must’ve been over the moon.

Well, that’s my guess anyway—I wasn’t there to see it. By that point, the summer break was over, and I’d already gone back home. But I have no doubt that’s how people reacted, and it must have made Gramps very happy. I too wanted to experience that feeling, even if it was just a shadow of what he got to enjoy.

Making the preparations for smoking the meat, buying the beer—this minimal effort was a small price to pay for the thrill of sharing a meal with somebody else. I was really hoping I could introduce Techi to a new, delicious food and generally show her a good time. That’d make me very happy indeed.

When I was done with my sentimental tirade, Techi still wouldn’t look at me.

“If you insist, then I’ll join you,” she said in a quiet voice…with the smallest hint of excitement.

🐿🐿🐿

THE next five days passed quite uneventfully. No phone calls, no disturbances, and no unexpected visits from that man. Eventually, Monday rolled around again.

I was awakened by my alarm clock, and I headed for the kitchen to finish preparations for the boar meat I planned to smoke. I took the meat out of the refrigerator and placed it in a bowl that I’d left in the kitchen sink. When I turned the faucet, the gentle stream of water flowed directly over the meat. This would gradually desalinate it.

The purpose of desalination is to reduce the saltiness of previously cured meat. If I were to use this cut of boar as it was, it’d taste unpleasantly salty. Opinions on how long you should desalinate vary a lot. Some people say one hour’s plenty, others prefer five, and others still will not settle for anything less than eight. Some people also think it’s fine to use still water. Personally, I’m in the eight-hour camp, and I always use running water.

That said, I don’t like to use too much—you do have to pay for it after all—so I use a very gentle stream—barely a trickle. When you use so little water but leave it running for a long time, you can still get good results.

After that was set up, I ate my breakfast, got ready for the day…and once again, Kon showed up.

“Mornin’, Mikura!” said Kon, bright-eyed and bushy-tailed.

“Morning, Kon!” I replied, showing him to a floor cushion I’d prepared in the living room. I turned on the TV and entrusted him with the remote control. “I’ll be spending most of the day cleaning and tidying, which isn’t much fun to watch, so just make yourself at home. I’ll make us some lunch around noon.”

Kon grinned and nodded. I gradually cleaned the house and got it into a state to receive guests. I’d already purchased the beer. You can’t really serve smoked meat on its own, so I also picked up some snacks and other ingredients to round out the meal, so cleaning was the only big chore left to do.

I opened all the windows, vacuumed the whole house, and quickly wiped down all the surfaces. I also cleaned the toilet and bath, and while I was in there, I gave the washstand a quick clean as well.

I’d been at it for a while when the doorbell rang, and I went to the entryway to see who it was. It was the old gentleman from last week: the one who worked for the delivery company.

“Good day,” said the old man, smiling just as before. “I’ve got a delivery for you. Should I bring it through here, or would you prefer I put it on the veranda?”

I think he said exactly the same thing last week, word for word… I also repeated my response from last week and asked him to leave it on the veranda. He swiftly piled up the cardboard boxes with the movements of a man half his age. When all the documents had been signed, he took them from me, smiling. He looked at me, his smile fading ever so slightly, his voice taking on a little gravity.

“I heard recently that some man’s been hassling the staff at the gate. Well, no doubt they contacted you about it, too…” he said. “Apparently, that man’s become very quiet all of a sudden, not making any more trouble. Only a few days ago, he had the guards on edge, reaching for their weapons whenever he approached. Now he seems like a completely different person. It’s very strange.

“Don’t think that the man’s lost interest in this side of the border, though. He shows up at the gate almost every day and just loiters there aimlessly. Nobody knows what he’s thinking. The gate staff have no idea what to make of it.

“It’s such a strange situation that there’s even been talk among the border guards of getting a court order against him before he has the chance to do anything brash… Well, I somehow doubt he’d be able to make it onto this side, but it may be best for everyone to stay on their guard…just in case.”

I gave the old man a polite smile. “I see. Thank you for going out of your way to let me know.”

There were plenty of other things I would’ve liked to ask. Why do you know all this? Why are you making a point to tell me about it? There were still so many unanswered questions. But I couldn’t be sure that this man wasn’t a wolf in sheep’s clothing. I didn’t want to give too much away, so I played dumb and pretended I didn’t understand, rather than risk playing into his hands.

He didn’t seem dangerous at a glance, though. He didn’t seem to be hiding any malicious intent, and his actions also seemed to show genuine concern for my well-being.

I peered down at Kon, who was standing at my feet with a relaxed expression on his face. As a beastchild, Kon’s ears, eyes, and sense of smell were all extremely acute and he had excellent instincts in general. If he was relaxed in this situation, I doubted we were in any immediate danger. I decided to trust Kon’s gut.

Seeing that I didn’t completely distrust him, the old man gave me a fresh smile and bid me farewell with a simple “See you next week.” Then he got into his delivery van and drove back toward the gate.

Kon and I unpacked the packages and put away their contents, just as we had last week. We were breaking down the cardboard boxes when I realized that it was already noon.

“Kon, it’s time for lunch. Is there anything in particular you’d like to eat?”

Kon continued to bounce up and down on a folded cardboard box as we spoke.

“What do you want to eat, Mikura? What can you make?”

“I can cook most things,” I told him. “Nothing too involved, though—we want something that’s quick to prepare. What’s good for lunch… Egg fried rice, yakisoba, omelette and rice, Napolitan spaghetti, pizza toast…any of that sound good to you?”

Kon stopped jumping. His eyes went completely round.

“Omelette with rice? Napolitan spaghetti? Pizza?! Mikura, that’s amazing! You’re like a restaurant!”

He whirled his arms and tail around with excitement.

There was nothing difficult on that list—they were all simple recipes where you could roughly eyeball the seasoning and they’d still taste great. Yet judging by Kon’s reaction, he seemed to think of them as fine dining that you could only enjoy at a restaurant. They were all kid favorites—that’s why I’d listed them—but I didn’t expect this kind of reaction. Perhaps his parents didn’t cook much at home? Or maybe they preferred Japanese food?

Kon was still flailing around, apparently unable to stay still while thinking through his choices. Finally, he stopped waving his arms and opened his eyes. He balled up his paws into little fists. He’d made up his mind.

“Pizza toast!” he shouted.

He went straight for the simplest recipe. I would’ve asked for something fancier in his shoes.

I’ve never seen anyone get so excited about pizza toast before. What a kid.

“Pizza toast, coming right up,” I said and headed into the kitchen. I washed my hands thoroughly and put on my apron.

The basic ingredients for pizza toast are onion, bell pepper, bacon, cheese, and, of course, bread for the base. Ketchup is a popular option for seasoning. When cutting up the ingredients, you want them thin enough so that they’ll easily cook all the way through but large enough so that they’re still satisfying to bite into.

Spread the ketchup onto the bread slices, add your toppings, and sprinkle everything with cheese. Place the bread in the toaster oven on a layer of aluminum foil.

Kon suddenly appeared beside me, clutching a bread plate. He must’ve taken it down from one of the shelves when I wasn’t looking. He seated himself comfortably in front of the toaster oven, peering in through the glass door to keep a watchful eye on the toast as it cooked.

“I don’t know if this is true or not, but I’ve heard that the red light from the heating elements in a toaster oven is bad for your eyes,” I warned him, “so don’t stare too long, okay?”

“Okaaay,” said Kon.

He sat there a full five minutes until the cheese had all melted and was sizzling, the bread was crispy, and the delicious pizza aroma was wafting through the kitchen. As soon as I approached the toaster oven, he thrust his plate out with both hands. I opened the door, dragged out the aluminum foil by one corner, and transferred the pizza toast to Kon’s plate. He raised the plate high above his head, drooling slightly as he rushed it to the living room table.

🐿🐿🐿

“THAT pizza toast was sooooooo tasty… The way the cheese and ketchup melted was amazing,” said Kon absentmindedly.

It’d been hours since lunchtime—in fact, it was almost evening—but Kon was still thinking about his pizza toast. It must’ve made quite the impression.

Kon was lazing around on the living room floor. He’d grabbed one of the thinner floor cushions and wrapped it around his body, turning himself into an oversized sushi roll. Now he was rolling this way and that, his face blissfully relaxed. I couldn’t help but grin as I watched him.

It was about time to get started on the final preparations, so I got up and returned to the kitchen. The sushi roll followed me, rolling all the way to the kitchen doorway before speaking.

“What are you doing?” asked Kon. “Are you makin’ dinner?”

“No…have you forgotten?” I responded. “We’re eating smoked boar tonight. It’s time to smoke the meat. I’ve been desalinating it all day; most of the salt should be washed out by now.”

I removed the meat from the bowl in the sink and dried it thoroughly with a wad of kitchen paper. Then I tore off some fresh sheets to carefully wrap up the meat. In the meantime, Kon shed his protective cushion and came into the kitchen to join me. He lightly kicked off of several drawer handles to make it up onto the countertop and sat on his little chair in his usual spot.

“Oh yeah, I ’member now…” he said. “I’ve never had smoked meat before. Is it yummy?”

“Of course it is,” I replied. “I love it, personally. To get the very best results, it’s better to take time to dry the meat thoroughly, but I’m sure you want to get down to eating as much as I do right now. So, we’ll just give it a quick smoke and be done with it.”

I’d been rubbing the meat through the kitchen paper to dry it as much as I could. I removed and discarded the damp kitchen paper, took a moment to wash my hands, and started setting up the earthenware stovetop smoker.

Place the smoker on the stovetop, removing the lid and the food rack. Insert the cherry woodchips into the bottom compartment, then replace the wire rack. Carefully arrange the meat on the rack and turn on the burner, leaving the lid off the smoker for now. Keep on high heat until the wood starts to give off smoke.

“Oooh, it’s making a weird smell!” said Kon excitedly. “It’s like a burning tree…but not in a bad way. It smells kinda nice.”

Kon came right up to the edge of the stove, poking his nose out and sniffing away. I still couldn’t smell a thing, but it seemed that young Kon’s powerful sense of smell was already picking up the gentlest aroma of woodchips. After a while, the woodchips started giving off white smoke.

“Now that there’s smoke,” I said, “it’s time to replace the lid and turn down the heat. That said, these cuts of boar are larger than store-bought meat, so I’m going to keep the heat slightly higher than usual. After heating it for around ten, twenty minutes, take the smoker off the heat and wrap it in aluminum foil or a thick dishcloth so that it doesn’t cool down—the smoking process will continue as long as everything remains warm. After that, we’re done!

“Exactly how long you should heat the smoker and how long you should keep it wrapped up depends on what you’re smoking. In this case, I’m going to have to rely on my own limited experience and the timings I’ve seen on recipe websites.”

As I was explaining all this and loading up the smoker, I could hear Kon sniffing the air the whole time. He seemed to be quite taken with the aroma of the cherry woodchips. I suppose that, as Kon and all the other chipmunks are very much tree people, living deep in this dense forest and working closely with the trees every day, it made sense that they’d enjoy this woody aroma.

My one concern was that they might not appreciate a smell that might make them think of a forest fire. But it was different enough from a regular burning tree smell—much more aromatic and appetizing—that it seems my concerns were unwarranted. Kon certainly wasn’t bothered by it.

In any case, once enough time had passed, I returned the foil-wrapped smoker back to the stovetop and slowly opened the lid, revealing the meat. It was beautifully browned, with a brightly glistening surface. It looked deliciously enticing, and Kon’s earlier sniffing sounds were replaced by an almost catlike purr of anticipation.

“Looks good, doesn’t it?” I said to him. “Some people let the meat sit a while so that the aromas can settle deep into the meat, but I prefer to eat it fresh out of the smoker. If you leave the meat, it gradually loses moisture, which makes it shrink and harden somewhat. But I find that makes it lose some of its…meatiness. Well, sometimes I’ll still do that—let it sit to fix the aromas, that is. Then you can fry the meat to release all those amazing smells again. It’s pretty great.”

I wasn’t sure if Kon was listening to what I was saying, but his mouth was watering so much that he had to swallow several times during my explanation. I began to worry that he might leap straight onto the slab of smoked meat, and I thought it might be best to slice it up right away. At that moment, the guest of honor arrived.

“…You can smell that from a mile away,” said Techi. “I guess you’re done smoking then. Huh…this is my first time seeing meat fresh from the smoker, but it looks a lot like chashu pork, doesn’t it? Very appetizing.”

Concluding that we’d be starting right away, Techi headed straight for the bathroom without waiting for me to reply. In the time it took me to transfer the meat to a chopping board with a pair of tongs, Techi had already washed her hands, returned to the kitchen, and grabbed the beer and some chilled glasses from the refrigerator. She carried everything to the living room and arranged it on the low table.

“Kon, are you okay with milk?” she asked. “I don’t know how well it goes with smoked meat…but you’re just a kid, so you don’t have much choice.”

Techi poured a glass of milk for Kon, who was still sitting on the countertop, looking like he might burst from anticipation at any moment. She then picked him up in her arms and carried him and his milk to the living room. She plonked him down on a floor cushion at the table, presumably so he’d be out of the way while we set the table.

I proceeded to cut the smoked boar meat into bite-sized pieces, carefully checking to see if they were cooked all the way through. When I was satisfied, I arranged them on a large serving plate.

If your smoked meat fails to cook all the way through—if you’re worried it might be a little too pink for safety—you can always finish it in a frying pan. Frying it will not diminish the taste at all, and some people even claim it strengthens the flavors and aroma. You can improvise with this step, too—add some light seasoning to the pan or fry an egg alongside the meat until everything is slightly crispy.

As I’d smoked the meat on a somewhat higher heat than usual, there was no need for any kind of touch-ups. However, if the meat had been a little too pink, I would’ve preferred to play it safe to make sure none of us came to regret it later.

Finally, once everything had been plated up, there was one final important step. I filled the earthenware smoking pot with water before leaving it in the sink. As the smoking process causes excess fat to melt off the meat, it all pools at the bottom and mixes with the smoldering woodchips. If you leave that to cool down and solidify, it becomes an absolute nightmare to clean. So remember: if you fail to prepare, prepare to scrub.

The rest of the cleanup could wait until later. Now the fun could begin.

I took the plate with the smoked meat to the living room, where Techi and Kon were impatiently brandishing their chopsticks as I approached. No sooner had the plate touched the table than their chopsticks were already moving toward it.

They both popped a piece of that lean, aromatic meat into their mouths at the same time…and both of their expressions started to change simultaneously.

Now, that was to be expected. It was freshly cooked meat and that brings a great deal of joy to a great number of people. But it seems that the additional cherry aroma took this to a whole new level for this pair of tree-loving beastfolk. I’d yet to see a look like that on either of their faces. It was a look of deep satisfaction and pleasure, but somehow more than a smile.

Clearly, they were enjoying something truly exquisite: something that perfectly aligned with their tastes and their palate. They both sat there and chewed away in silence, swallowed the meat, reached out for their drinks—beer for Techi, milk for Kon—and completely drained their glasses in one go.

I was still standing at this point, so I sat down and joined them. I picked up my own chopsticks, selected a piece of smoked boar, and popped it into my mouth. The cherry aroma and the fragrance of the meat lit up my senses. The remaining fat was deliciously sweet, while the meat itself was perfectly done. You could even taste a hint of the underlying umami of the dashi stock and the other flavors from the pickling liquid as they played on the tongue.

---

---

It was too good to wash down with beer, too good to cover up with rice. I simply let the taste fill my mouth, chewing thoroughly as I enjoyed the flavor. Finally, I gulped it down greedily and let out a satisfied gasp.

“…That turned out even better than I’d hoped,” I found myself saying, without intending to. “I’m so glad.”

🐿🐿🐿

THE plate with the smoked meat had been picked clean and we’d drunk a fair amount of beer (and milk). It’d been a decadent meal of many delights. Now, the three of us were sitting around, shouting and laughing as we watched TV. I suddenly became aware that it was completely dark outside.

“Wow, it’s getting late,” I said. “Shouldn’t we start thinking about getting Kon back home?”

Hearing this, Techi looked at the clock on the dresser. “Yeah, it’s about that time…” she murmured.

Kon wasn’t happy to hear that and he wanted us to know it. He puffed up his cheeks in that way only chipmunks can. But his parents would be worried about him by now, and that wouldn’t do.

Since it was already totally dark, Techi and I decided to walk him home together. As we were getting up to go, Kon’s ears suddenly twitched. He dashed out onto the veranda, his little feet scurrying across the floor, and stood there, ears on end.

“…What? Why? H-How?!” he chattered, nervous and confused. Something was happening and he didn’t have any idea what to make of it.

Techi, on the other hand, clocked on immediately. She was on her feet right away, ran out to the veranda, and hopped down onto the ground. She crouched down, reached underneath the veranda…and pulled out a pole. I had no idea when she’d hidden it there.

She reached in again and grabbed a shorter one for Kon…and finally one for me. She placed them on the wooden floorboards and Kon picked his up without a word, gripping it tightly. I followed them both to the veranda and picked up my own weapon.

As it was deemed a good idea all around for me get some exercise and learn a little self-defense, Techi and Kon had both given me a few lessons in how to fight with a staff. I had plenty of free time and quiet gaps in my day, after all. I nervously gripped the pole as I’d been taught. I looked to Kon.

Kon was staring into the darkness, in the direction of the gate, ears bolt upright. “Any minute now,” he whispered.

What, exactly, is going to happen any minute now?

I considered the possibilities. An animal attack didn’t seem likely—surely any wild beast would come from the forest, like the boar, and not from the gate. If it wasn’t an animal…then it had to be human. But who on earth would show up at this hour, without any kind of advance notice?

Kon and I stood guard on the veranda while Techi firmly tied up her boots. Then she went out to stand guard ahead of us, in the garden. We waited for a short eternity, without saying a word to each other…

A middle-aged man wearing a jacket and carrying a flashlight came into view, immediately followed by a group of around ten other rough-looking men. It seems that he was in charge. I addressed the middle-aged man before he had a chance to speak.

“Mr. Seika Satoira, I presume.”

I didn’t expect to remember his name, but it floated up when I needed it.

This man was one of the two chestnut traders my great-grandpa had sold to. He was cheap to the point of dishonesty, had tried several plans to kidnap beastfolk children, and could safely be described as an all-around, good-for-nothing scumbag.

The man was pleasantly surprised and grinned at me.

“Yeah, the one and only,” he said, his voice gravelly from heavy drinking. “I’m flattered you recognize me. That’ll speed things up.”

Why the hell would you think I recognize you? I replied in my own head. Who else would show up on my doorstep like this in the middle of the night?

It was a mystery to me how he’d managed to cross the border, although I shouldn’t be too surprised that this man would find a way.

“You know, it doesn’t matter how tight security is. It’s always possible to reach some sort of…arrangement,” he sneered.

I hadn’t asked, but he’d smugly volunteered the information anyway. Apparently, he’d bribed the border guards. I was a little ticked off that our well-salaried public servants could be bought off like that. But I tried not to show it and did my best to maintain my business face. I brought out my salaryman smile for backup as I considered what to say next.

But Satoira didn’t wait for me to speak. He’d been eagerly awaiting this opportunity, so, seeing victory within his grasp, he pushed on, almost fervent in his speech.

“Well, since we all know each other, we can get right down to business. Would you mind signing this contract for me?” said Satoira, feigning professional politeness.

He reached into the satchel he was carrying, took out a thick stack of papers, and took a few steps toward me. Seeing this, Techi, who was already pointing her staff at him, made an intensified show of force. Her menacing presence was overwhelming. She was out for blood.

Of course, Satoira noticed this. He flinched but didn’t stop moving and continued walking toward me, closer and closer. I watched him approach and examined his fake smile. There was something impatient, even anxious about it. I wondered why.

So he greased someone’s palm to sneak through the gate…but with such a massive group, that might still attract attention. If other staff started asking the corrupt officials questions, their cover could be blown very quickly. When that happened, you could bet that the Japan Self-Defense Forces would be on them like a ton of bricks.

Besides, this was beastfolk territory. These guys had no way of knowing if and when they might run into local beastfolk, and if they did, they could be damn sure that no bribe would be large enough. No wonder Satoira was in a hurry to wrap everything up.

“I’m sorry,” I replied, “but I must decline. Your company clearly has a poor idea of protocol and compliance. I cannot possibly do business under such circumstances.”

I lowered my pole, putting one end on the ground and leaning the other against my shoulder. I waved him away dismissively with one hand, hoping to rile him up. In the meantime, I discreetly snuck the other hand into my pocket to unlock my phone. Then, with a series of motions that were second nature by now, I opened up the recent call list, chose the most recent number, and tapped the dial button.

At least, I hoped that’s what I tapped—you can never be sure where you’ll end up when you’re not looking at the touch screen. Still, in this situation, trying seemed better than doing nothing. I just needed to alert the gate staff to the situation up here. I prayed that whoever picked up the phone wouldn’t be the same person who had taken the bribe…

I took a deep breath. Whatever I said, it had to be loud to make sure it could be heard at the other end of the line.

“What do you think you’re doing?!” I shouted. “You show up in the middle of the night, with no appointment! You bring a band of thugs with you, and you demand I sign a contract? Where did you learn how to do business?

“Even if you could get me to sign that phonebook of yours, I could lodge a complaint with any courthouse in the country and get this dismissed for being signed under coercion. That thing’s null and void before I even put pen to paper! What do you hope to achieve here? You’re playing a losing game! You must realize that!”

You must remember that this outlandish speech was for the benefit of the border official who I sincerely hoped was listening on the other side of the phone. I was very much making this plan up as I went along. I was almost at my wits’ end…but somehow, I was able to string a logical-sounding argument together. It soon set things in motion.

The first to react was Techi. She grinned at me, baring her teeth in a way that unmistakably said Way to tell off the bastard! To be perfectly honest, the look in her eyes scared me a little. Techi then fixed her murderous gaze back on Satoira and continued to stare him down with even greater intensity.

Next was Kon, who seemed to look up at me with some new level of respect, his eyes twinkling as brightly as I’d ever seen them.

Satoira was last…and what a reaction it was.

He fell for my provocation hook, line, and sinker. His face went completely red, and he was grinding his teeth with a visible fury.

Unbelievable! I wasn’t expecting him to fly off the handle so easily.

I’d barely stated a few facts. This man had been in business for years. Surely, he must’ve heard far worse before? Any businessman worth his salt has to endure a constant stream of rejection and a great many blunt, abusive words. You have to keep your cool in the negotiating room. How could any professional have this little resilience?

As I thought these things, I maintained that façade of outer calm that’d been drilled into me at work—my loyal, tired, ever-present companion, the classic salaryman smile. I smiled that inoffensive, noncommittal smile as I racked my brains for what to say next.

Satoira was not happy.

“Wipe that grin off your face, you smug bastard! You tryin’ to pick a fight with me?!”

His face was no longer red. Even in the dim light coming from the living room behind us, it was perfectly clear that he’d gone a deep shade of purple. What was going on in his head? I couldn’t understand why he was getting so riled up.

Even during my first year at the company as a naïve graduate, I somehow had more patience and perseverance than this man. I’d been dressed down countless times; shouted at by superiors, put through the wringer by clients. Sometimes their choice of words was very colorful indeed, but I was always able to let them wash over me and get on with my job. So why was this man so quick to anger?

I had experience with a wide range of business troubles, but this was a first. Back in the corporate world, I’d never seen this kind of ham-fisted approach—the lack of negotiation, the implied threat of violence, the complete lack of respect. It was, quite frankly, barbaric.

I couldn’t begin to understand it and I had no idea what to do. I had no strategy—I was purely in reactive mode…and as I tried to come up with something, anything, that I could do, Satoira started barking out instructions to his lackeys. Some of them started running toward us.

Oh no… It looked like the violence was no longer just a threat. Was he really going to do this? Did he really think he’d leave here with a signed contract? Did he really expect to casually pick up his chestnuts at harvest time after this display? Satoira had completely lost sight of what he came here to do, and I was in shock at how the situation had escalated.

Then there was a flurry of motion.

Techi leaped forward with an incredible speed and fury toward one of the oncoming thugs, smashing her pole hard against his arm. A disturbing cracking sound echoed through the clearing, followed by a loud scream.

“AaaaAAAAAHHH!”

Despite the danger of the situation, I found myself wondering if that could legally be considered self-defense…they were caught in the act of trespassing and were on the hook for some even more serious offenses, so…maybe it’d be okay in court?

…What the hell am I thinking about at a time like this?

As I looked on in a total daze, Techi swung her pole again, with the kind of fluid and powerful movements you’d expect to see in a kung fu movie. She spun the staff around, slammed it against another of Satoira’s men, then swept it in a low arc to trip a third man off his feet. Blow after blow, she dealt with the thugs one by one.

I didn’t know if it was because of her beastfolk abilities or if this was just Techi being Techi, but her onslaught was ferocious, while her movements remained beautiful and elegant. All I could do was watch in dumb amazement while Kon stood at my side, his short staff raised, ready to defend me if it came down to it.

I snapped out of my dazed state and berated myself for gaping at the scene in front of me like a slack-jawed fool, but there wasn’t much I could do. I was just an office worker, after all. I was a fish out of water, flopping around a dry riverbed. I was used to doing battle with words and documents, which left me ill-equipped for this conflict.

What happened to the pen being mightier than the sword?

Yes, Mikura. Very clever.

My stupid internal monologue continued unabated as Techi continued to strike the men again and again…but there were so many opponents. Her breathing was becoming more ragged. Techi could put a lot of power behind that pole of hers, but she was trying not to kill anyone. A blow to the head with that thing was too risky, so she was unable to knock anyone out…and so her opponents kept getting back up.

She was in trouble. She could actually lose…

I readied my pole, gripping it tightly, and took one shaky step forward. I’d no idea what I could do in this situation, but I had to do something. I took another step. Kon moved forward too, as if to encourage me. We stood there, ready to make our charge. We were about to leap off the veranda and join the fray, when suddenly…

“Hey! Kurikara! Sorry we’re late!” boomed a deep voice.

The voice hadn’t come from the garden, nor from the road leading back to the gate…but from the pitch-black forest behind it.

Who…?

Everyone but Kon and Techi was suddenly very uneasy. A large, looming figure appeared at the edge of the dark forest. It was a man. He was almost seven feet tall, very muscular, and he wore a black tracksuit with a single white line running down each side. From the pair of strangely adorable bear ears on top of his head, it seemed safe to assume he was a beastman. He stepped out of the trees, grinning from ear to ear, followed by a whole band of other bear-like beastfolk.

They carried no weapons, but they didn’t exactly need them. These folks were absolutely stacked with muscle. Moreover, they had what must’ve been teenagers in their group, because some of them still had bear paws instead of human hands—complete with very sharp-looking claws.

---

---

All of Satoira’s men recoiled at once. None of them were very interested in fighting Techi anymore. This was no doubt their first time seeing beastfolk of this kind, and not only were they dwarfed in terms of body size, the gang now found itself outnumbered as well.

They’d no fight left in them. They looked, unsurprisingly, as if they’d just met an angry bear in the woods and reacted as best they could. Some of them played dead, some made a mad dash for the gate, while others collapsed on the ground, losing all the strength in their legs.

The bearfolk responded in kind. The fleeing thugs were effortlessly pursued by bears who sprinted with the speed and elegance of Olympic athletes. Those who were playing dead were grabbed by the head and lifted up into the air. And those whose legs had failed them were in for a very nasty shock too—as they sat on the ground, the bears pounded the ground between their legs so hard that it crumbled.

Satoira, the mastermind of this nasty mess, couldn’t take the heat. Amid this terrifying display, his eyes rolled back in his head, and he collapsed on the ground, unconscious.

🐿🐿🐿

WITH Satoira’s thugs rounded up and safely subdued, it would’ve been nice if that had been the end of the story. Unfortunately, the whole incident caused us quite a lot of trouble after that.

I contacted the border staff again after the incident, who descended into a complete panic when I told them about the bribe and the raid. Their panic only increased when they were told the perpetrators had been apprehended by the beastfolk. Terrified that the whole matter could become a diplomatic incident, the border officials decided that they didn’t have the necessary authority and would need to contact their superiors—which, given the time, proved to be very difficult.

Before long, a group from the JSDF turned up to collect our unwelcome visitors. Some of them were wearing hazmat equipment, presumably so they could be rushed over the border without a medical examination. However, when they tried to take away Satoira and his gang, they were stopped by the bearfolk, who refused to hand them over.

They demanded an official apology through the proper channels before they’d release the culprits. The leader of the JSDF detachment told them that he couldn’t just call up his superior and ask the government to issue an apology, but the bearfolk wouldn’t budge.

Eventually, they managed to get a politician on the phone—a big household name that you’d often see in the newspapers. I was stunned—official apologies never went this far up the political food chain. Maybe they just managed to find someone else with the same first and last name? This incident must have really set off some alarm bells. In any case, once the apology had been made and accepted, the conversation turned to another matter.

Satoria and his men hadn’t undergone the necessary medical examinations before crossing the border. For the safety of all parties, anyone who’d been in contact with them would have to undergo a period of quarantine. As the offending group had quite literally had the snot beaten out of them, along with no shortage of blood, sweat, and tears, there was a small but very real risk of disease transmission from the outside world.

As a result, Techi, Kon, the bearfolk, and I could not be allowed to leave just yet. This was understandable for us adults, but the bears were furious about the fact that young Kon would be prevented from returning home to his parents. The politician on the other end of the line offered further profuse apologies and, eventually, they somehow managed to talk the bears down. I imagine it’d be a lot like trying to talk a grizzly bear down when it’s keen on charging you down…

🐿🐿🐿

WHEN they finally let us go, the sun was coming up.

We’d been prodded and probed and examined by medical staff all night, and we were now required to spend one week self-isolating at home while we waited for all the test results to come back. The Japanese government had instructed us not to leave the house, and it’d been recommended that we let somebody else handle business for us during this time—in our case, we were able to leave everything to Rei and the rest of the children.

However, as we were outside Japanese jurisdiction, none of that could be enforced, so the officials had politely asked—almost begged us, in fact—to exercise restraint and not meet with anyone outside our original group. They made the same request of the bearfolk, who were going to spend the next week living in tents pitched near the border gate. In this way, the authorities hoped to resolve things in a safe and controlled manner.

As the situation would significantly inconvenience Techi and her family, Kon and his family, and all the bearfolk and their families, the Japanese government was providing them all with special compensation to make amends for the fact that they’d be separated for a week. It was the one silver lining to this whole incident.

It may be worth mentioning that I was also being paid standard business closure compensation for my week off work, although it was a very paltry sum compared to what the beastfolk were getting. I suppose I should be grateful that I’m getting anything at all.

Sorting out everything had taken pretty much all night so, when we got home in the morning, I quickly prepared a room and bedding for Techi and Kon. We spent much of that day sleeping and relaxing, trying to recover from the all-nighter. For the next week, we’d be living under one roof as a trio—it almost felt like an extension of our shared dinner.

🐿🐿🐿

“MIKURA, breakfast with you is the best! There’s so much food to choose from! At my house, it’s always rice and miso soup!”

It was already two days after the incident by the time we were all fully rested and ready to resume normal life. Kon was thrilled about our eating arrangements this morning—it looked like I was right about his parents only eating Japanese food. We had egg sandwiches, vegetable soup, mixed nut salad, and fruit yogurt, among other things. A whole range of exotic foods covered the living room table.

“Yes, well, the government kind of went all out with the food supplies,” I told Kon. “We’ve got plenty of time to cook, so I guess we’ll be eating like kings right to the end of our quarantine. Oh, we can also call the gate staff if we have any special requests, so if there’s anything in particular you want to eat, just let me know.”

Kon closed both eyes and grinned at this good news. He clapped his hands together in an exaggerated motion.

“Thank you for the food!” he shouted at the top of his lungs.

Techi and I followed suit, giving thanks for the meal, and proceeded to enjoy our breakfast while casually watching some program or other on the television. When everyone was done, the three of us gave thanks for the meal in one coordinated chorus.

After breakfast, we cleaned up all the food and tableware, brushed our teeth, and got ourselves ready for the day. Once all those regular routine tasks were out of the way, we made some tea and coffee and settled down in the living room for a little post-meal relaxation.

After we’d had our feet up for a while, Techi raised a completely new subject.

“…What’s going to happen with that Satoira guy?” she asked. “He’s going to be punished, right?”

“Yes,” I said, recalling a phone call I’d received yesterday. “Based on your testimony about his previous attempts to target young beastfolk, they’re going to charge him as a…” I chose my next words carefully, aware that Kon was listening. “…degenerate.”

“…What? Are you serious?”

“I spoke to that politician’s secretary, and she said that’s the story they’ll be drip-feeding to the press. It seems that the whole bribery aspect is a very thorny issue that they’d prefer not to make public. Instead, they’re claiming that a long-running group of perverts and other degenerates managed to destroy a section of the border wall next to the gate by crashing a car into it and were thus able to enter the Wilds. Something absurd like that—they’re being vague about the details.

“As for the border official who took the bribe, they are being dealt with very severely, I’ve been told. As for Satoira’s gang, they’ll all be serving time in prison. And it doesn’t matter what they say or what excuses they make, everyone will think they’re predatory deviants—both inside the prison and after they’re released… Their lives are sure to become much harder with a label like that on their record. The person I spoke to on the phone was very adamant about that.”

Techi gazed through the veranda and out at the garden for a while. Then she let out a little sigh.

“I missed my chance to give them a really good beating,” she muttered, “but maybe we can leave it at that.”

From her expression, it looked as if some small weight had been lifted from her shoulders, and seeing Techi like that, I also let out a sigh of relief. Kon, who was drinking his barley tea, simply closed his eyes and smiled. He didn’t understand what we were talking about. But he could tell by our faces and body language that some kind of tension was finally gone, and he was happy for it.

After that, we returned to the deep pleasure of letting time slowly pass us by.

Shortly before lunch, Kon’s little ears pricked up, and his expression was suddenly very alert…but a moment later, it softened.

“Ah, it’s a bear person,” he said. Apparently, we had visitors.

“Heeey! Human! You got a minute?” boomed a voice from outside.

A middle-aged man wearing a tracksuit appeared in the garden outside the veranda. He was the largest and seemingly the oldest of the other day’s group of bearfolk. A hint of stubble adorned his chin. Neither Techi nor Kon were alarmed by his presence. But apparently, he’d no business with them, only with me. I couldn’t imagine why, and I stared at him blankly for a moment. Then I got up and headed out to join him on the veranda.

“Um…sure,” I said. “Can I help you with something?”

The bear ears atop the man’s head twitched, and he started sniffing the air loudly as he continued.

“The other night, you guys were eating some kinda delicious meat, weren’t you?” said the bear man. “It had the most amazing smell. Not that we could tell while everything was going down, but when things calmed down, and we were all standing around waiting for the humans to arrive, we noticed a beautiful smell lingering in the air. And to tell you the truth, we can’t stop thinking about it!

“The humans from the border had the good sense to bring us quality meats and wild salmon and honey, which all went down very well of course. But we’re still real curious about the smell from that evening. D’ya think we could try some of that stuff? Whatever it was.”

“Oh…you must mean the smoked meat,” I replied. “If you want to try some, I could make some more for you… The only problem is, it takes five days to prepare. No, make that six…it’d take another whole day to get the ingredients delivered. Our week of self-isolation will be over by then, won’t it? Well, I’m happy to get started on that for you, but you could always request some smoked meat from the gate staff. That might be a good alternative—it won’t be homemade, but some of the store-bought stuff is really good too.”

The beastman’s eyes went completely round with disbelief.

“THAT was smoked meat?” he boomed.

He went on to explain that in the old days, before they could easily get their hands on human refrigerators and such, it was very common for bearfolk to smoke fresh meat in order to preserve it. But by the sound of it, they used a very different smoking method, and since the main goal was long-term storage, little attention was paid to fragrance and flavor.

Once refrigeration was introduced, it was easy to store fresh meat that could then easily be fried or roasted, so they stopped smoking meat altogether. To the bearfolk, it’d simply become an irrelevant piece of culinary history.

Whenever smoked meat was shown or mentioned on a TV show, the elder bears who remembered eating it in their youth would scoff and complain about its hard texture and unpleasant taste. The younger generations knew better than to question their elders, so the idea that the captivating smell might have been smoked meat hadn’t even crossed their minds.

Well, even out in Japan, the only people who ate smoked meat were, for the most part, those who actually smoked meat as a hobby. If you weren’t familiar with its taste and smell, I guess it’d be difficult to guess what it was.

“In that case, we’ll put in an order for some smoked meat with the folks at the gate!” said the bear man. “Thanks for the tip! Either way though, we still wanna try your handiwork as well, so get your stuff ready too! That good with you?”

With his business concluded, the man trudged off back in the direction of the tents with long, whomping steps. As I watched him go, I turned to look at my two housemates.

Kon was waving his arms overhead, thrilled that he’d get to eat smoked meat again. Techi, on the other hand, put on an air of nonchalance. It seemed to say, with surprising specificity, I suppose I can lend you a hand, if there’s more smoked meat in it for me. The three of us sat down to discuss what kind of smoked meat we’d like to make this time around.

🐿🐿🐿

THIS batch of smoked meat was mainly for the bearfolk, so we decided to use the same vegetable pickling liquid as before for the base flavor, with no herbs. The bears had been captivated by the smell of the previous batch, and that’s what they were expecting, so it wouldn’t do to change things up by adding any strange herbs or other new ingredients.

There was no good boar meat left by this point, but if we called the border staff, we could get them to send us some regular pork belly, which would do nicely. The same went for the vegetable pickling liquid we needed.

“…That’s what I was thinking anyway,” I said.

I was explaining the plan to our new bear friend, who I had since found out was called Také. When Techi, Kon and I were sitting around relaxing after our lunch (Napolitan spaghetti, to be exact), he once again appeared in the garden. When I told him about the pork belly, he just smiled. His stubble seemed to have grown thicker in the few hours since we’d last seen him. He held up a large, black plastic bag and tried to hand it to me. It looked suspiciously like a garbage bag. When he opened it, it was full of meat.

“Nah, that’s no good! You’re new to the neighborhood—it’d be a disgrace if we saddled you with the bill for all that meat. Instead, we went out and found a boar of our own to save you the trouble. It’s just been butchered, so the meat’s fresh as can be. Oh, and we made sure to give you the belly—the human I spoke to said that’s the best part of the boar for smoking!

“…What’s with the funny look. Is it the bag? Well, that was the only thing we could find that was big enough. Don’t worry, buddy, we made sure to use a clean one!”

A sparkly-eyed Kon stood at my feet while Techi made a show of disinterest, sitting at the living room table and sipping her tea. I carefully took the heavy, meat-filled bag from Také.

“Well, thank you for putting it in a bag, at least…” I said. “This boar must’ve been as big as the one Miss Techi took down. Yes, this should be enough to feed everyone.”

“Hm? No, no, that’s the meat from two boars, not one,” replied Také. “We hunted down one at first. But after we butchered it, we decided one wouldn’t be enough, so we went out again and found another. The humans gave us plenty of advice while we were butchering them too, so it should all be very safe. Y’know, hygiene and all that. That’s some quality meat, so we leave the rest to you. I look forward to seeing what you make of it in five days.”

I was more than a little shocked that anyone could find, hunt down, and butcher two boars in the space of a few hours. I excused myself briefly to put the boar meat in the warehouse refrigerator.

If it was butchered quickly and it was going to be smoked, it was unlikely anyone would get food poisoning, but he was right to pay extra attention to hygiene, especially as people would be eating it. That meant it was important to get it into the refrigerator as quickly as possible. I stashed everything away, just as Techi and I had done last time, disposed of the garbage bag, and washed my hands thoroughly before returning to Také and the others.

“Thank you for waiting,” I told him. “Now, as I said, the preparations will take five days…but I’ve nowhere near enough seasoning or ziplock bags to deal with that much meat.”

I’d plenty of woodchips left and, as long as we did everything in small batches, washing out and drying the meat smoker between each batch, it shouldn’t be a problem to smoke all that meat—although it’d take some time. But I had only purchased a small amount of vegetable pickling liquid, and that’d definitely not be enough.

“I’ll have to place an order with the gate staff before I can begin,” I went on, “so it’ll probably be six days before—”

“Yeah, you did say that earlier,” said Také, raising his hand and stopping me mid-sentence. He reached into his pocket, pulled out his smartphone, and pushed it into my hand. “So before I came back here, I had a talk with the humans. If we call them right away, they said they can get us anything sold in a regular supermarket within one to two hours. So, with that lil’ head start, y’think you can turn it around in five days?

“I gotta be honest with you, me and my buddies are looking forward to this so much. Some of ’em are already sitting around, beer cans in hand, drinking and making merry. We’ll manage five days—we can keep things jolly for that long—but I don’t think they can wait a day longer. I’m sure it’ll be a lot of work, but do you think you can do it?”

I took his phone and selected the most recently called number, as instructed. Most likely, it belonged to some JSDF officer who was permanently stationed at the border gate. I tapped the call button and my call was answered almost immediately.

“Good afternoon. What do you wish to order?” said the person on the other end. They spoke briskly, with a lot of authority.

Shaking my head in disbelief at the whole situation, I rattled off our order. I asked for more pickling liquid and ziplock bags than I thought we’d need to make sure we didn’t run out, as well as some Ebisu-sama beers and some other bits and pieces. I thought we might as well make the most of the opportunity—while we were smoking the boar meat for Také and his group, we could sneak our own batch of meat in and enjoy a second smoked meat party of our own.

The person on the other end didn’t skip a beat, despite the size of the order. “Understood. We’ll have that with you shortly,” they said tersely and hung up the phone.

“That’s a big order!” exclaimed Také.

“Yes,” I said, giving him my good ol’ salaryman smile. “Since you and your companions are making merry, I thought that the three of us could enjoy our own little celebration here as well. Do you mind if we use part of the boar to make a little smoked meat for ourselves as well?”

“Sure thing, buddy, that’s no problem at all,” said Také. “Just make sure you leave some for the rest of us, yeah?”

“Oh, one last thing,” I remembered. “Last time I used cherry woodchips, but there are many other options. What do you think? The aroma of the meat will change, although it’ll still be delicate—unlike when using a herb mixture. The fundamental experience stays very much the same, though—it’ll be just as delicious. As I said, what you smelled before was cherry wood. I also have apple, which smells just as you’d expect, and walnut, which gives a nutty aroma. Walnut is an especially good pairing for beer. Well? Would you like me to prepare a range of flavors for you?”

“Hmmm…” thought Také. “That all sounds mighty appetizing…but let’s stick to the plan for now. We’re all itching for that aroma from the other day, so let’s keep it to what my buddies asked for—their bellies are ready and waiting for that one thing, so I don’t wanna disappoint them. We’ll find another chance to try your full range of flavors, I’m sure.”

“Of course, that makes sense,” I said. “In that case, I’ll only use the cherry wood. I’ll get right to work on the preparations as soon as all the supplies arrive. If you come back in five days’ time at around six o’clock in the evening, I’ll have that all ready for you.”

“Great stuff! Thanks a lot, buddy,” boomed Také, grinning from ear to ear. Then he headed back toward the gate with long, heavy strides.

I let out a small sigh as I watched him go. Kon was once again bouncing around with excitement at the prospect of more smoked boar while Techi was poking around on her phone, apparently to find out what side dishes went well with smoked meat, judging by the page she was scrolling through.

It’d be a busy couple of days, I thought, and I found myself reflexively trying to hold back a big smile. First things first, I needed to cut up all that meat into smokable pieces. I went outside and headed back to the warehouse.

🐿🐿🐿

“MY goodness,” I said, half to myself, half to Kon. “I’m so glad they were able to get us more of this pre-mixed pickling liquid. Trying to make this much from scratch would have been a Herculean task…”

I’d finished the preparations, and all the meat was separated out into individual ziplock bags full of pickling liquid, which I had left in the warehouse refrigerator. I’d returned to the kitchen and was taking a little breather, while Kon sat in his usual spot on the countertop.

“Are you okay?” he asked, sounding genuinely concerned. “You look tired. Maybe I can help somehow? Shall I make dinner for everyone? I can make dinner…as long as it’s instant noodles.”

I smiled at him and opened the refrigerator.

“Thanks, little guy,” I said, “but you don’t have to worry. We still have this…” I reached into the fridge and took out the tray of boar pancetta we had made together. “We’ll cook up a simple pasta dish with our pancetta and serve it with the leftover salad from this morning’s breakfast.”

The pancetta had dried out and hardened slightly over the last week. As the water content gradually evaporates and the meat shrinks, the flavors get more concentrated—especially the umami taste. I placed the tray on the countertop with a thunk. Kon looked up at me, down at the pancetta, then up at me again.

“I forgot all about this stuff!” he shouted, shutting his eyes tightly and grinning.

“It’s matured nicely, so it’s about time we started using it,” I said. “Today, I’m going to use it to make a carbonara. It’s very easy to cook—you’ll watch me make it once and you’ll never forget the recipe.”

I quickly prepared the ingredients and started cooking.

Boil the pasta. While the pasta is cooking, prepare the sauce by mixing fresh cream with grated parmesan cheese. Cut up the pancetta into largish pieces—you want them to have a little bite to them. No need to go overboard with quantity either—if you have a lot of pancetta, store the rest in the fridge for another day.

Heat up a frying pan over low heat and add the pancetta. Slowly fry until the excess fat has melted and soak it up with a piece of kitchen paper. Pour the cream sauce into the frying pan with the pancetta and simmer for a short while. Then add the drained pasta and stir thoroughly. Once the pasta and the sauce are well mixed, add your egg yolks and stir everything again. Plate up the pasta and top with black pepper and some freshly grated parmesan.

“So much cheeeeese!” cried Kon as he ran out of the kitchen and into the living room.

Techi must’ve realized we were almost done, because she’d cleared the low table and wiped it down neatly. While I was serving the pasta, she took the salad and milk out of the refrigerator, prepared a salad dressing, and fetched cups for everybody.

When everything was ready, we all sat down at the living room table, put our hands together to give thanks for the meal, and proceeded to start winding spaghetti onto our forks.

I moved a neatly wound mouthful to my lips… Good. I was pleased with the flavor that spread through my tastebuds.

The cream, cheese, and egg yolks were well balanced—the whole sauce was rich, full of flavor, and coated the pasta well. After my first mouthful of pasta, I picked up a piece of pancetta and bit into it. The strong, herby aroma and the concentrated umami came through right away—the seasoning had been well chosen and the remaining salt tingled pleasantly on the tongue.

Thanks to the desalination process and the generous coating of fresh cream, the salt level felt just right. Once the initial salty hit had passed, the sweetness of the fat came through, and that was simply heavenly. It made me want to grab another piece right away.

“This is so good!” said Kon, barely able to tear himself away from the food. “Both the pasta and the meat!”

He immediately went back to his next forkful. As for Techi…it might’ve been a little rude of me to think this, but I was surprised to see how elegantly she ate her spaghetti. She had the perfect technique and would’ve been quite at home in an Italian restaurant. Techi gave a small nod and her expression softened ever so slightly.

“…I’ve never thought much of pasta,” she said, “but this is actually good… These strong herbs are not at all out of place… They’d work well with the smoked meat too, wouldn’t they?”

“Yes, they would…” I agreed, nodding. “I guess it’s a matter of taste, but if you’re using herbs, you do want to carefully balance them with the aroma of the woodchips. The reason I used so many herbs for the pancetta was to cover up any potential boar smell…but the final result turned out rather good. When you’re using high-quality pork with no boar smell, you can get away with using just salt and no herbs. But I find that using all these herbs gives it a kind of rustic feel—I thought it might be a good combination with a Western dish like pasta.”

“I see,” said Techi. “If you’re keeping things Western, are you going to use the rest of the pancetta to make more pasta?”

“Not at all,” I replied. “If we eat nothing but pasta, we’ll get bored of it very quickly. I was thinking pot-au-feu or a bean soup… Lemon sautéed vegetables would go well with it too. And we can always drop the Western theme—I’m sure it’d be really good in egg fried rice.”

“Hmm, I see you’ve thought this through,” said Techi. “…Well, with a slab that size, I guess you’ve plenty to experiment with. You won’t run out for a while. How long does pancetta like that last, though?”

“I did desalinate it, and it’s not going to dry out much more than this, so I don’t think it’ll keep for very long,” I replied. “If I really cared about preserving it, I’d have to make it incredibly salty and dry it out until it was stiff. Basically, you have to sacrifice flavor. You have to remember that I’m still an amateur, so while I am looking to start making things with a long shelf life, this was meant to be eaten rather quickly. That’s why I wouldn’t say this was something I preserved, as such. Rather, that I simply used a few techniques to enhance the taste.

“The same thing goes for smoked meats, really… But these are just the first steps. Going forward, I’ll be making long-lasting foods as well. There’ll be plenty of time, so there’s no need to rush things.”

So far in my endeavors, fruit jam was just about the only thing I’d made with any significant shelf life. Of course, that involved using airtight jars, carefully boiling and sterilizing everything, and a ton of sugar to keep bacteria from growing.

When I pictured the handful of jam jars in my little apartment refrigerator and compared that to Great-Grandpa’s warehouse, where the shelves were lined with row after row of different foods, it reminded me that I was still just starting out. These were only my very first steps into this exciting new world.

As the seasons moved from spring, through the rainy season, and on to the summer, a wealth of different produce would come onto the market—or perhaps I should say, into the supermarket. I planned to use a wide range of ingredients as I tried out various techniques for long-term preservation and continued to learn the craft. In a way, this year would be my apprenticeship. Everything up until now had just been a taster course.

I would fill up that warehouse again.

While I was lost in these daydreams, Kon had slurped up the last of his carbonara, finished his salad, and gulped down his milk.

“That tasted amazing!” he said loudly, beaming from ear to ear with both eyes screwed up tightly. I wondered if he really meant it, but he showed the most genuine smiles.

There was more to all this than just filling the warehouse. I wanted to introduce Kon to a whole range of new foods and keep him smiling in that joyful way of his. I realized that his simple but earnest compliments meant just as much to me as anything else. I wanted to give him plenty of good opportunities to share them.

While I was watching Kon, Techi was carefully observing me. This time, instead of her customary sigh, she simply said “Hm,” and allowed a tiny smirk to float across her lips.

“He’s right,” said Techi, her tiny smirk turning into a warm smile. “It was delicious. I’m curious to see what you cook up next.”