Chapter 36: Atka Mackerel and Pork Miso Soup
I quickly introduced Kirara to Amate before things escalated any further.
“The branch manager of the Adventurers’ Guild’s Papel Village branch…?”
Amate repeated the words cautiously.
“Yup, that’s me.”
Kirara flashed her carefree grin and waved a hand.
“No enemy here.”
“Then why did you point a blade at Father?”
The temperature in the air seemed to drop.
Through the narrow gap in her bangs, Amate’s eyes fixed upon Kirara with an icy intensity.
The stare was enough to send chills down anyone’s spine.
Even I felt a shudder crawl up my back.
Kirara, however, merely scratched her cheek.
“I heard about you guys from Grandma Larsa. Wanted to see how well Eight-kun could protect himself, so I poked at him a little.”
She looked away awkwardly.
“…Though the results weren’t exactly encouraging.”
Ouch.
That was hard to argue with.
What she meant was obvious.
My self-defense skills were terrible.
And since it was completely true, I couldn’t exactly protest.
“Anyway,” Kirara continued, turning back toward Amate, “you’re the one protecting him in this village, right?”
“Y-Yes.”
Amate straightened immediately.
“It is my mission to protect Father.”
“Then you won’t be able to fulfill that mission.”
“W-What…?”
Amate froze.
Kirara’s expression softened slightly, but her words remained blunt.
“If I’d actually wanted to kill Eight-kun, I could’ve done it before you arrived.”
“Ah…”
Amate faltered.
Her lips trembled.
“…She’s got a point.”
I hated admitting it, but Kirara wasn’t wrong.
“N-No!”
Amate quickly shook her head.
“If someone with hostility or malicious intent approaches Father, I can sense it!”
“I see.”
Kirara nodded.
“That’s impressive.”
Then she smiled.
“But I didn’t have any killing intent just now. No hostility either.”
“…”
“And there are people in this world who can hide those things completely.”
“Auu…”
Amate’s shoulders drooped.
Her confidence visibly crumbled.
“But honestly?”
Kirara suddenly pointed at me.
“The person most at fault here is Eight-kun!”
“Me!?”
I blinked.
Why was this suddenly my fault?
Kirara sighed dramatically.
“I already heard most of this from Grandma Larsa, but let’s confirm.”
She folded her arms.
“How long have you been in this world?”
“Uh…”
I scratched my cheek.
“Three years.”
“And despite living here for three years, your danger awareness is still nonexistent!”
She pointed accusingly.
“Are you a kiwi!?”
“A kiwi?”
“The bird!”
Kirara exclaimed.
“The one that nearly went extinct because it has absolutely zero sense of danger!”
Ah.
That kiwi.
The famous flightless bird from New Zealand.
For some reason, being compared to one hurt a little.
“Well, that’s hardly surprising.”
The village chief stepped in.
“The dangerous monsters in the forest are periodically culled by yours truly.”
He proudly puffed out his chest.
“As long as one lives in this village, there is little opportunity to experience life-threatening danger. Naturally, vigilance doesn’t develop.”
Then he added helpfully:
“Though Eight shows excellent instincts when farming.”
That was true enough.
The Imomodoki incidents had taught me a few painful lessons.
Still—
“Wait.”
I turned toward him.
“You’ve been culling monsters?”
“Naturally.”
The chief nodded.
“It is my duty to protect this village.”
Then he grinned.
“At this rate, peace will continue for another hundred years.”
“You really plan on living another hundred years?”
“Of course.”
I sighed.
“If only you didn’t insist on becoming naked every chance you got, I’d respect you unconditionally.”
“Heh heh.”
The chief scratched his head bashfully.
“You’re making me blush.”
“…Was that supposed to be a compliment?”
Apparently, he thought it was.
Kirara burst out laughing.
“Hahaha! If Grandpa lives another hundred years, he’d practically be a yokai!”
“…Yokai.”
The word made me pause.
Something felt strange.
In a world filled with monsters, demons, divine beasts, and all manner of supernatural creatures, the concept of a yokai didn’t really exist.
I looked at Kirara more carefully.
Unlike most people in the Kingdom of Elde, her facial features seemed familiar somehow.
Less deeply carved.
More distinctly Japanese.
Then there was the fact that she’d referenced a kiwi.
And—
She’d pronounced my name perfectly.
Not “Eight.”
Not some localized variation.
But exactly as it would be spoken in Japanese.
A possibility surfaced in my mind.
Surely not…
“…Are you Japanese?”
“Huh?”
Kirara blinked.
Then smiled.
“Oh. You figured it out?”
“…No way.”
A beat passed.
Then the realization finally hit me.
“Wait. Seriously!?”
The shock crashed into me all at once.
I’d never imagined meeting another Japanese person here.
Granted, this world supposedly had a long history of summoning heroes from other worlds.
So it wasn’t impossible.
Still—
Actually meeting someone from the same homeland was a completely different matter.
The feeling was surreal.
“Alright then.”
Kirara grinned and offered her hand.
“Official introduction time.”
She tapped her chest proudly.
“I’m Kirara Hoshikawa.”
The familiar Japanese name sounded almost nostalgic.
“I ended up in this world five years ago and became an adventurer.”
Then she shrugged.
“Though I dropped the family name over here. Everyone just calls me Kirara.”
“I understand!”
I immediately straightened.
“Then you’re my senior!”
Three years versus five years.
That made her my senior by two years.
Kirara laughed.
“Hahaha! That’s kinda cute.”
She pointed at me.
“Junior.”
The word somehow felt strangely comforting.
A little piece of Japan surviving in another world.
“Oh, right.”
Kirara suddenly leaned closer.
“I heard something from Grandma Larsa.”
“Hm?”
“You can make food from our world, right?”
“Yeah.”
I nodded.
“I can.”
“Then…”
For the first time since we’d met, Kirara looked genuinely nervous.
She fidgeted awkwardly.
Then leaned in and whispered near my ear.
“…Can you make Japanese food?”
The desperation in her voice startled me.
“I’ve tried reproducing it myself ever since I got here.”
Her shoulders slumped.
“But it never turns out right.”
The homesickness hidden beneath those words was impossible to miss.
I immediately smiled.
“Of course I can.”
“Really!?”
“If you’d like, I’ll cook for you.”
“FOR REAL!?”
“For real.”
The reaction was so dramatic I couldn’t help laughing.
And just like that—
Tonight’s dinner menu was decided.
While Kirara remained behind discussing the design of the guild branch with the village chief and the carpenters, I returned home.
If I was going to treat a fellow Japanese person to a proper meal, I wanted to do it right.
Standing in front of the refrigerator, I crossed my arms and considered the menu.
“Rice is mandatory.”
That much was non-negotiable.
“And fish…”
I snapped my fingers.
“Oh.”
A memory surfaced.
“I bought frozen hokke during that sale a while back.”
Opening the freezer, I found it.
Still frozen solid.
“Perfect.”
I placed the fish under running water to thaw.
Now for the soup.
“Kenchin soup…”
I considered it.
Then shook my head.
“No.”
If I wanted to give Kirara a genuine taste of home—
“Miso soup.”
Not just any miso soup, either.
Something hearty.
Something comforting.
Something that felt unmistakably Japanese.
As I planned the details, time slipped by unnoticed.
Before long, it was already around five-thirty in the evening.
I peeled daikon radish and carrots before slicing them into thin quarter-moon pieces.
Konjac was torn into bite-sized chunks by hand.
Burdock root was carefully shaved into thin strips, then soaked in water to remove bitterness.
Green onions were cut diagonally.
Everything was prepared.
“Alright.”
I poured sesame oil into a pot.
“Let’s do this.”
The daikon, carrots, and konjac hit the pot first.
The vegetables sizzled immediately.
After sautéing them until fragrant, I added thin slices of pork belly cut into roughly three-centimeter lengths.
The aroma intensified.
Once the pork changed color, I poured in prepared stock made from water and granulated dashi.
The soup came to a vigorous boil.
After skimming away the foam, I reduced the heat and let everything simmer gently.
Ten minutes later, when the vegetables had softened—
I added the green onions.
Then finally dissolved red miso into the broth.
Carefully.
Patiently.
Never allowing it to boil afterward.
The rich scent filled the kitchen.
“Pork miso soup.”
I smiled.
“Done.”
“Eight.”
Raphiel appeared beside me.
“So today it’s pork miso soup.”
“Ah, Raphiel.”
I nodded.
“Kirara wanted Japanese food.”
“I see.”
Raphiel nodded knowingly.
At that exact moment—
“Ooooh!”
A voice echoed from the entrance.
“It’s really a building from our world!”
Kirara had arrived.
Her eyes were sparkling as she looked around my home.
Apparently the Japanese-style influences I’d introduced here stood out immediately to someone from Earth.
“Kirara.”
I laughed.
“Dinner’s almost ready. Please wait in the living room.”
“Roger that!”
She gave an exaggerated salute.
“Okay-maru Fisheries!”
“…What does that even mean?”
Some phrases truly transcended dimensions.
I placed the thawed hokke into the grill.
Thankfully, it was already seasoned.
Convenient products were wonderful things.
A while later—
Dinner was ready.
“Kirara.”
I carried the dishes to the table.
“Your requested Japanese meal is served.”
“Ooooooh!”
She practically jumped out of her seat.
“I’ve been waiting for this!”
“I-Itadakimasu, Father.”
Amate folded her hands politely.
“I hate fish.”
Eve immediately complained.
“The bones are annoying.”
“You truly are troublesome.”
Raphiel sighed.
Without missing a beat, she skillfully separated the meat from Eve’s fish using chopsticks.
Every tiny bone.
Every piece.
Perfectly cleaned.
“…”
I stared.
She was completely acting like an older sister.
“The flavors of the vegetables and pork have dissolved into the soup!”
Raphiel took a sip.
Then immediately flinched.
“It’s delicious!”
Another sip.
“It’s also extremely hot!”
A flash of divine light appeared.
“So I’ll heal my tongue while drinking it!”
“Saint girl.”
Kirara looked at her blankly.
“You know you could just wait for it to cool down, right?”
“Today’s meal is delicious too, Father!”
Amate’s face lit up.
“The warmth spreads all the way through my body!”
Good.
Everyone seemed happy.
But the most important reaction was Kirara’s.
So I turned toward her.
And froze.
“…Eh?”
Tears were streaming down her face.
“Whoa!”
I nearly dropped my chopsticks.
“Kirara!?”
“Was it that bad!?”
“No, no!”
She quickly waved her hands.
“It’s the opposite.”
More tears spilled down her cheeks.
“It’s really good.”
Her voice cracked.
“And…”
She looked down at the meal.
The rice.
The grilled fish.
The pork miso soup.
Simple things.
Ordinary things.
Things that existed everywhere in Japan.
Yet—
“…It’s nostalgic.”
Her fingers tightened around her chopsticks.
“The food here has never really tasted right.”
A shaky laugh escaped her.
“And this is the first time I’ve eaten proper white rice in five years.”
Five years.
Five entire years.
Away from home.
Away from family.
Away from familiar food.
Away from everything.
“I…”
Kirara wiped her eyes.
“Sorry.”
She laughed awkwardly.
“I’m so overwhelmed I don’t even know what I’m saying anymore.”
Then she took another bite.
And another.
And another.
Tears continued falling.
But she never stopped eating.
The grilled hokke.
The pork miso soup.
The steaming rice.
She devoured everything while crying and smiling at the same time.
And naturally—
“Another bowl of rice!”
She asked for seconds.
Then thirds.
Then fourths.
And honestly?
Watching her eat like that made me happier than I expected.