Volume One, Chapter Three: Mountain, Little Sister, and Taste of Spring
Beneath a clear blue sky, the sun gently warmed the earth below. In the pleasant warmth, birds sang gleefully among the trees, delighted that spring had finally come.
The birds weren’t the only ones celebrating. Young leaves, having eagerly awaited spring’s arrival, burst into bud all at once, as if competing with one another.
The white snow had fully melted away; the meltwater sank briefly into the earth before gushing forth vigorously into the rivers. In the spring rivers, fish that had stayed still and stiff all winter began to dance, leaping energetically above the water’s surface.
Every living thing that called the mountain home had waited for spring, and at last, it was finally arriving.
Deep within the mountain, alive with the rustling green of spring, a girl pushed her way mercilessly through the still-weak, freshly sprouted undergrowth, heading further into the mountain’s depths. Moving at a brisk pace, she scanned her surroundings carefully without letting her guard down, searching for something specific.
She’d come quite deep into the mountains, but still hadn’t found it. Even so, her instincts told her that this something was very close by—she had to be nearly on top of it.
Narrowing her eyes as if trying to see straight through the trees to whatever lay beyond, she gazed off into the distance, but ultimately couldn’t find what she was after. She let out a long breath and released the tension in her shoulders.
The girl opened the thermos she’d brought and took a hearty drink.
The fragrant, roasted aroma of green tea wafted up through her nose. Not piping hot, but comfortably warm, it soaked into her stomach—and she found herself a little surprised to realize just how much her body had been craving hydration.
Next, she pulled a salt candy from her pocket and popped it into her mouth. Rolling the candy idly around in her mouth while surveying her surroundings, she spotted a familiar shock of blond hair in the distance.
The person who had finally caught up—Cain—shot her a resentful, breathless glare.
“…Pant, Pant. Hiyori, you’re way too fast.”
—Well, of course I’m faster than someone climbing a mountain weighed down by heavy armor.
The girl swallowed the words that had nearly escaped her throat and simply gave him a bright smile. Cain wiped the sweat from his face with a complicated expression.
Even so, Cain was actually one of the faster ones—the guard knights who were supposed to be protecting them hadn’t even come into view yet.
Hiyori—the girl—noticed Cain had brought nothing with him and handed over her thermos and salt candy.
Cain drank down the contents without hesitation, let out a relieved sigh, and finally seemed to catch his breath properly.
“So, what’s the real reason you suddenly wanted to come all the way out here into the mountains?”
At the question, Hiyori paused for a moment—oh, right—recalling that she’d thrown out some vague excuse about "training" earlier, but hadn’t actually told him the real reason.
She hesitated for a second on how to explain, but figured he’d realize it soon enough anyway, so she decided to just be honest.
With a slightly mischievous grin, she said, sounding delighted:
“I came to gather a feast, Cain.”
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“So, um, this is called a vacuum cleaner, and…”
“Hmm, is this powered by wind magic?”
“No, it doesn’t use any magic at all, really.”
Early afternoon. Not a cloud in sight to block the sun, the pleasant warmth of the day practically inviting sleep.
The thought crossed my mind that a nap out on the veranda right now would feel wonderful—but the man standing in front of me showed no sign of allowing such a thing, and I found myself quietly exasperated.
Neatly combed dark brown hair, a perpetual furrow between his brows, jade-green eyes behind silver-rimmed glasses. Whatever came out of his flatly set mouth was strictly businesslike, with no wasted words. Diligent, if you wanted to put it kindly—stubborn and inflexible, if you wanted to be less generous.
The man, whose entire presence practically introduced itself without a word, had given his name as Luvan.
Luvan was this kingdom’s Prime Minister, apparently quite knowledgeable about magical devices, and had taken to visiting our house repeatedly in an effort to incorporate even a little of our original world’s technology and knowledge.
I had a vague sense that a Prime Minister ranks second only to the King himself, and I kept thinking he could easily just delegate this kind of investigation to someone else—but somehow, it was always he personally who showed up, squeezing the visit in between his busy duties.
Dressed today, as always, in his crisply pressed, wrinkle-free official robes, he followed me around the house once more, listening to my explanations of various appliances.
We made a full circuit of the house, and finally today’s session was over. I let out a quiet sigh of relief.
As usual, something about Luvan’s general demeanor made me unreasonably tense, and touring the house with him always left me exhausted afterward.
Feeling thirsty, I offered him some tea, as I always do out of courtesy. And, as always, he immediately declined with a flat "No, that’s fine." Incidentally, he had never once accepted my offer of tea.
“Come to think of it, I hear you’ve been making rather convenient use of your guard knight outside his actual duties?”
At Luvan’s sudden remark, I felt an internal jolt.
His sharp, accusatory gaze pierced straight through me without mercy.
I’d indeed been leaning on Jade’s kindness, letting him help with cooking. On top of that, I’d gotten carried away and even given him an apron to wear. I’d felt reassured hearing that Dazil, his commander, had already given his approval—but I was fully aware it probably didn’t look great from the outside.
…And that from the perspective of someone in Luvan’s position as Prime Minister, it likely wasn’t something he’d approve of either.
“…Uh. I’m sorry.”
“There’s no need to apologize. I’m aware Dazil has already given his permission, so I have no intention of raising further objections on my own account. …That said, you might want to give some thought to your own position here.”
At his entirely reasonable words, I deflated a little.
Eyeing my dejected state with a narrowed gaze, Luvan gave a small "hmph," said "Excuse me, then," and left with his usual efficient, no-wasted-motion stride.
“…Akane? Has the Prime Minister left?”
While I sat there counting the tatami mat seams in gloomy silence, Jade poked his head in from the hallway. Noticing my downcast state, his eyes widened slightly. Without hesitation, he came over, placed a hand gently on my head, and peered down at my face.
“Did he say something about me, perhaps? …There’s no reason for you to feel down or responsible about this. I’ve properly gone through the right channels to help you. I already explained the reasoning to you before, didn’t I?”
Jade offered his usual gentle reassurance.
But something uneasy still smoldered inside me—since it was something I myself had brought about, I couldn’t quite let it go so easily.
“You’re such a serious person, Akane. That’s one of your virtues, but… please don’t dwell on it too much.”
Saying that, Jade gently reached his hand toward me. Though undeniably a man’s hand, his long, slender, elegant fingers softly stroked my cheek.
“If anything’s ever troubling you, please, always talk to me about it.”
—Because I’m your guard knight.
Seeing the earnest look in Jade’s eyes up close as he said that, I could feel the blood rushing straight to my face.
…Wait, what?
Thoroughly flustered by my own unexpected reaction, I hurriedly thanked him and retreated to my room under some flimsy excuse.
Touching my cheek, sure enough, it was burning hot. Probably bright red by now.
—The destructive power of a handsome man… terrifying…!
The sheer damage a good-looking guy could inflict on a woman just by acting the tiniest bit meaningful was unbelievable!
I paced around my room like a caged bear for a while, muttering "handsome men are scary" under my breath while cooling my hot cheeks with both hands, when I heard my sister calling from the front entrance.
Poking my head down the stairs to peek toward the entryway, I found my sister spreading out a huge pile of something across the floor.
“Hiyori?”
At my voice, she turned toward me, beaming happily.
“Oh, big sister! Look, look! Big haul today!”
Of course, what she’d brought back wasn’t fish, "big haul" or not.
It was something familiar from our old world—
—a whole bounty of wild spring mountain vegetables.
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Wild mountain udo, angelica sprouts, bracken fern. Bamboo shoots, butterbur sprouts. The huge heap of them sat there, giving off a thick, earthy mountain scent.
I was initially just stunned by the sheer quantity, but gradually a nagging sense of wrongness crept in.
Yeah—that same feeling I’d had before.
Wanting to figure out where that feeling was coming from, I stared intently at my sister’s face, and she immediately looked away.
—Ah. This is it.
—This is exactly the reaction she has whenever she’s hiding some mischief, or when she’s screwed something up.
Perhaps it was a guardian’s intuition. I could always tell when my sister was hiding something.
“Well? Pretty amazing, right, big sister?”
“Wow, that’s amazing… By the way, little sister.”
“Wh-What?”
“There is something your big sister is wondering about.”
“I-I-I don’t think there’s anything to wonder about!”
“First. Some of these mountain vegetables shouldn’t be in season at the same time. …Butterbur sprouts appear around March, when the snow melts. And bracken shouldn’t be available until it gets a little warmer, doesn’t it?”
“Wow, coincidence, maybe?”
“Second. This is another world, not Japan in the first place. I don’t think we should be able to find the exact same wild vegetables here.”
“Other worlds sure are so mysterious, right?”
…Still holding out, huh, little sister.
Fine, then.
“Third. When I use Appraisal, it says ‘Blessing stolen from the Lord of the Mountain.’ Care to explain that one?”
“Big sister, isn’t magic supposed to be impossible without Jade around!?”
“I can manage it once in a while on my own. Don’t underestimate me.”
“Guuuh…”
My sister’s eyes darted wildly, sweat beading on her forehead—even now, she clearly had no intention of coming clean.
Left with no choice, I lifted my gaze to Prince Cain, standing quietly behind her, hoping to hear the story from him instead, when—
“Puh!”
I heard a rather silly little snort, and right at Prince Cain’s feet, I found an adorable, round little wild boar piglet. Round black eyes, a tiny brown body, and a set of miniature but properly formed tusks flanking its round little snout—the piglet stared right back at us.
Every so often it would glance around nervously, give a little shudder, and kick lightly at the dirt beneath it.
Absolutely adorable, but for some reason, it wouldn’t budge from Prince Cain’s feet. Our dog, fascinated by the newcomer, kept sniffing curiously at the piglet’s rear end. The piglet clearly hated this and tried to dodge away from Leon, but rather than simply running off—the obvious solution—it kept desperately dodging while refusing to actually leave the spot.
The result was a bizarrely peaceful, comical scene of the piglet and the dog chasing each other’s rear ends in a circle, completely out of place given the situation.
“…Is it a pet, Your Highness…?”
“Even I don’t have the nerve to keep something like this as a pet.”
Where Prince Cain pointed with a resigned expression, something looked strange about the little piglet’s backside. Squinting to look closer, I saw—from that round, plump rear that Leon had been sniffing at so persistently—a small branch sprouting, thick with green leaves.
This creature… isn’t just an ordinary wild boar piglet!?
“This is the Lord of the Mountain. Akane. I have a rather serious favor to ask of you.”
—A distinctly bad feeling crept up on me.
Mouth twitching, I turned to face Prince Cain.
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In the living room, there was one particularly cozy spot near the veranda where the sunlight poured in. I stacked three fluffy cushions meant for guests there, creating a special seat for the round brown piglet.
In front of it were arranged several large plates, and the piglet watched them with clearly expectant eyes, waiting eagerly for food to appear.
Perhaps as a sign of anticipation, it occasionally let out a little "Puhii!" and thumped its wooden tail against the tatami.
That seemingly innocent little movement was enough to keep the entire knight order, led by Dazil and stationed just outside the veranda, on high alert. They watched the adorable piglet’s every move closely, braced for any unexpected turn of events.
—What my sister and Prince Cain had brought home was a being that could be called the ruler, or "Lord," of a certain mountain.
A spirit born from the mountain’s concentrated life-force, having possessed the body of a long-lived beast after its death. A being that governed the mountain, protected it, and existed for its sake. Though distinct from monsters, they were by no means friendly to humans. However, if someone happened to encounter one in the mountains by chance, it might occasionally bestow some of the mountain’s bounty upon them on a whim.
So, why exactly was such an enormous, significant being here at our house? That much could be summed up in one line: my sister had messed up.
Apparently, as part of her Saint training, she’d been studying various monsters and spirits. Along the way, she’d learned about the Lord of the Mountain, and that it was a being capable of bestowing mountain bounty on people.
The instant she learned that, her head had filled entirely with thoughts of mountain harvests.
—Wild mountain vegetables! Tempura! The taste of spring!
Once her appetite was stirred, nothing could stop her.
This was, after all, a sister so relentlessly food-obsessed she once threw a spectacular tantrum in front of royalty just so she could eat her big sister’s cooking. In no time at all, she’d changed her next training destination to the mountains, secured Prince Cain’s schedule, ignored the escort knights’ attempts to stop her, marched deep into the mountains, and actually found the Lord of the Mountain.
Then, using her overflowing Saint’s magical power, she "subdued" the Lord of the Mountain and had it “summon” the mountain vegetables she wanted one after another using the mountain’s magic. That was how she had obtained the mountain-sized pile of vegetables before us.
“Well, it’s just, I finally found it, and it was about to leave without giving us anything, you know? So I went—bam, with the magic—hold up right there!—and it started trembling and just… started producing all this stuff. It was all Japanese mountain vegetables too, which surprised me a little.”
My sister explained this while looking somewhat embarrassed, and I couldn’t find my words.
“There’s a theory that the bounty a Lord of the Mountain grants reflects what the visitor themselves desires. It’s likely that, in order to fulfill Hiyori’s wish, the mountain’s magical power forcibly ‘summoned’ vegetables from your original world.”
Prince Cain added this explanation, before continuing with a deepening frown:
“Because of that, a significant amount of the mountain’s magical power was consumed, and both the mountain and its Lord are now considerably weakened. …If left as is, this could affect the mountain’s harvests and ecosystem going forward. Many communities around that mountain rely on its bounty to survive. We can’t simply leave this be.”
Hearing all that, the blood drained from my face. As my sister’s guardian and stand-in parent, I felt I owed the most sincere possible apology for the outrageous thing she’d done, and moved to prostrate myself on the floor… but everyone immediately stopped me.
Even without knowing exactly what a full dogeza meant, it seemed everyone had understood the sentiment behind it well enough. Left with no other outlet, I grabbed my sister’s head firmly with both hands and forced her to bow deeply in apology on my behalf.
But that alone wasn’t going to solve anything. While I anxiously wondered how I could possibly take responsibility for this, Prince Cain explained there was something I could do.
The cause of the Lord’s weakness was a lack of magical power. If that was the problem, then the solution was simple: replenish what had been lost. It seemed the summoned mountain vegetables, having crossed the boundary between worlds, carried a substantial amount of magical power within them. If they were cooked and offered as tribute, it should go some way toward resolving the issue.
Apparently, simply offering the raw ingredients wouldn’t do. The act of putting time and effort into cooking them was what made something count as a proper offering. That’s apparently how offerings from humans to non-human beings worked.
So, with all that, today’s household menu would be an all-out tempura extravaganza.
But even so—this was still, technically, within the royal palace grounds.
The Lord of the Mountain, despite appearing as an adorable little piglet, was ultimately a non-human being that could potentially prove dangerous and couldn’t simply be left unsupervised.
Which is why today, several times the usual number of guards, including Dazil himself, along with numerous knights, surrounded our house—full, maximum-level security. Everyone was deadly serious; not a word was spoken by anyone. In that eerie, tense atmosphere, I had to cook—and found myself nearly in tears from the pressure.
—As her older sister, I will absolutely take responsibility for what my little sister has done!
With that resolve firmly in my heart, I faced down the mountain of foraged greens.
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—When making tempura, preparation is everything.
—Flour, eggs, water.
—Chill the batter ingredients thoroughly in the refrigerator beforehand. That’s the important part.
—Akane, just doing that one small thing makes it dramatically more delicious. Amazing, isn’t it?
—So never forget it, alright?
My grandmother used to say that to me, over and over, without fail.
Every time I made tempura, I remembered her words.
When spring came, my grandfather and little sister would eagerly head into the mountains first thing in the morning, returning sometime after noon with huge amounts of wild mountain vegetables. My grandmother and I would heap lavish praise on their haul, playing it up as much as we could.
—That way, the following weekend, the two of them would eagerly head back into the mountains first thing in the morning as well.
Watching them go, my grandmother and I would exchange a satisfied little smile, well aware of what we were doing. Then we’d stand side by side in the kitchen, shaping rice balls for the two of them who’d surely come back starving, chatting idly about nothing in particular.
Springtime meals at our table were always a vivid green. The mountain vegetable dishes the four of us—me, my sister, our grandfather, and our grandmother—shared together were always delicious and fun. Memories like that fill me to the brim.
—So every time I taste the faint bitterness of spring mountain greens, something deep in my chest settles quietly.
Now then—the opponent was a massive pile of mountain vegetables. No time to hesitate. I gave my sister’s sulking backside a smack and put her to work helping with the prep.
First up: a huge amount of mountain udo and angelica sprouts.
I cut off the tough calyx portions near the base with a knife. For any udo that had grown too large with fully opened leaves, I separated the tender leafy parts from the tougher stem sections.
Next, the butterbur sprouts.
For the batch going into tempura, I gently opened up the closed buds like unfurling flowers, taking care not to detach them entirely. I also set aside some to fry with the buds still closed. Since some would go toward other dishes too, I divided those out as well.
Finally, the bamboo shoots and bracken fern.
These gave me trouble. Both have a bitterness that requires time-consuming preparation to remove. Honestly, I didn’t have the leisure to spend ages on that step.
While Jade and I stood there puzzling over what to do, the Lord of the Mountain came trotting over on its short little legs.
It stared intently at us with its round black eyes for a moment, then whacked the bamboo shoots and bracken with its wooden tail—thwap, thwap—before returning to its cushion. And then:
“Puh-hii.”
With that single cry, the bamboo shoots and bracken briefly glowed a faint green.
“Jade, was that just now…”
“…I’m not entirely sure, but I think it might have helped us out.”
We exchanged a look at that.
Whatever the mysterious action from the Lord of the Mountain had just done, it somehow felt like the bitter-removal step was no longer necessary, so I just went ahead and boiled a large pot of water, parboiling the bamboo shoots directly.
Bracken turns mushy and unappetizing if boiled too long. So instead, you just soak it in boiling water and let it sit until it cools. That’s all it needs.
While at it, I also boiled the udo stems. Once they’d softened up nicely, I lifted them out into a strainer and peeled off the skin.
And with that, prep on the mountain vegetables was finally done.
All that was left was to actually cook everything deliciously.
“Akane, I’ve got the dashi ready.”
The dashi Jade had prepared was, as always, a beautiful golden color, with that lovely fragrant bonito scent. Though it was sitting in a massive stockpot—an absolutely enormous quantity.
With this dashi, I’d start by making wakatake-ni—bamboo shoots simmered with seaweed.
I rinsed the salted wakame seaweed to remove the salt and cut it into bite-sized pieces. Into a large pot went the dashi, sake, and the bamboo shoots cut into manageable sizes, then simmered.
Every so often, foam would rise up, which I skimmed off.
Once the dashi came to a boil, I added light soy sauce, mirin, sugar, and a bit of salt. I simmered the bamboo shoots in the softly soy-tinted broth. Once the bamboo had cooked through to a certain point, I took it off the heat and let it sit, allowing the flavor to soak in further. The final touch would come right before serving.
While the bamboo shoots simmered, I decided to make miso soup too. Since all the side dishes were leaning heavily on green mountain vegetables, I went with tonjiru—pork miso soup.
That meant I’d need root vegetables.
I had Jade, who was in charge of the peeler, peel daikon, carrots, onions, and potatoes for the tonjiru.
“…Onions really can be peeled layer after layer forever, huh?”
“Oh…”
I’d left him entirely to his own devices for the peeling, only to find the onions had basically been dismantled to nothing—I couldn’t help but laugh. He looked rather embarrassed, muttering, "I had no idea…”
Next came the knife work. The peeled daikon and carrots got cut into quarter-rounds, the onions thinly sliced, and the potatoes cut into bite-sized chunks.
“There’s a lot of it; are you sure you’ll be okay?”
“Leave it to me! I’ve gotten pretty used to this by now.”
Despite his confidence, his knife skills were still noticeably shaky.
Watching him carefully and slowly cutting through the ingredients, in a manner that screamed complete beginner, made my heart ache a little from nerves. I quietly cheered him on internally while keeping an eye on him. …After finally finishing cutting everything, Jade looked over the pile of ingredients in the strainer with satisfaction, laughing proudly, "See? I told you it’d be fine.”
The remaining step for the tonjiru was just simmering. In a pot, I stir-fried the thinly sliced pork—that same premium orc meat from before—in sesame oil. Once the color changed, I added the root vegetables and stir-fried them briefly too. Once the oil had coated everything, I poured in enough dashi to just cover it all, skimming off foam as needed, and simmered until everything softened.
Jade was in charge of skimming foam off the tonjiru.
Clutching a bowl of water and a ladle, he stared down at the pot’s contents with fierce concentration, burning with determination to remove every last bit of scum.
—You can do it!
Just then, the rice cooker announced the rice had finished cooking.
“Akane, let me help too.”
“Your Highness Cain!?”
At that moment, Prince Cain approached, sleeves already rolled up.
Caught completely off guard by the unexpected offer, I froze.
Having just gotten an earful from Luvan earlier, this was honestly the last thing I needed right now…
Sensing my visible distress, Prince Cain seemed to pick up on what was going on. He closed his eyes for a moment in thought, then scratched his head roughly—a gesture wholly unbefitting a prince.
“…Did Luvan say something to you, by chance? Hmph. This entire situation is partly my fault too, for failing to stop Hiyori. Supervising her is my responsibility, after all. Standing by silently doesn’t sit well with me here. Let’s see… if he says anything to you about it, tell him this: I’m accompanying Hiyori on her purification journey as well. Depending on circumstances, we may camp outdoors at times. Preparing meals is an essential part of camping. Tell him this is practice for that purpose. He’s a man who dislikes waste. If you put it that way, he should have no grounds to complain.”
—Though I doubt I’ll actually be preparing meals myself on the real journey, honestly.
He said this with a rather mischievous, slightly wicked grin, then laughed heartily.
I’d always thought of Prince Cain as someone constantly at the mercy of Hiyori’s whims, but this display of surprising cunning made him seem genuinely reliable—a whole new side of him I hadn’t seen before.
“…Alright, then, if you’d like to help.”
“Understood. You can count on me.”
At my words, Prince Cain nodded with clear satisfaction.
What should I have him do? After some thought, I settled on something he could manage right away—making rice balls. Just shaping white rice into triangles, it should be manageable even for someone with little cooking experience.
After I demonstrated by shaping one myself, Prince Cain looked almost relieved. “…Huh, this is simple,” he said, promptly reaching for the freshly cooked rice.
…Ah, wait—the water.
Prince Cain, without wetting his hands at all, dropped a scoop of rice straight from the paddle onto his palm. Sure enough, startled by how hot it was, he flung his hand wildly, scattering rice everywhere.
“Akane, what in the world is your hand made of!?”
…There’s really no need to look quite that shocked.
Prince Cain stared intently at his own faintly reddened hand, then looked at me as if I were some kind of monster, going so far as to suggest that the skin on my palms must be as tough as the soles of my feet.
—It’s just practice, that’s all…!
After that, while Prince Cain struggled to shape decent rice balls, my sister—who I hadn’t even noticed had disappeared—reappeared carrying the frilly “newlywed” apron she’d bought as a joke. Naturally, that led to quite a commotion over whether or not Prince Cain would be made to wear it.
The illustration’s description: Akane looks at astonished Cain, whose hands become red after he tried to shape rice.
Needless to say, I gave my sister’s head a good, hard smack for fooling around.
Next up: fuki-miso—a spring appetizer made from butterbur sprouts and miso.
Chopping the butterbur sprouts released a fresh, green herbal aroma. However, if I left it sitting around, it would quickly turn dark. So the trick is to have every seasoning and the pan ready before you even start chopping.
I stir-fried the chopped butterbur sprouts in oil right away, and once they’d softened, added miso thinned out with mirin. The miso caramelizing against the pan’s surface gave off a wonderfully appetite-stirring smell. After a bit more stir-frying, I adjusted the flavor with a little sugar.
The ideal flavor was slightly bitter, with just the right amount of sweet and salty.
By then, the bracken that had been soaking in hot water was just about the right temperature to handle.
Pressing it with a finger gave a satisfying crisp resistance. Snapping it revealed just the right amount of sticky texture—a perfect finish.
I cut the bracken into rough pieces. Half went straight onto a plate, topped with bonito flakes, to be served as a simple ohitashi—a lightly blanched dish—with soy sauce and mustard. The other half I stir-fried together with fried tofu and pork. Our family always used oyster soy sauce, though mentsuyu worked just as well.
Bracken and pork actually go surprisingly well together.
Next, it was time to finish the wakatake-ni. I reheated the pot of bamboo shoots that had cooled and absorbed flavor, and once it started gently bubbling, added the wakame seaweed and simmered briefly. To keep the wakame’s color from fading, I turned off the heat as soon as it warmed through. Then plated it—done.
Thanks to Jade, the tonjiru had turned out with a clear, scum-free broth. I dissolved in the miso, topped it with chopped green onions, and that was finished too.
Finally, the udo stems. I simply cut them into five-centimeter lengths, then sliced them thinly. Tossed with a mixture of vinegar, sugar, and miso. Finished with white sesame seeds on top—and there it was, udo with sweet vinegar-miso dressing. A refreshing little palate cleanser between bites.
That covered everything up to this point.
All that remained now… was the final battle with hot oil!
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“Puh-hihiin.”
Sitting atop its three-cushion throne, the Lord of the Mountain was half-sunk into the fluffy padding.
The knights, as ever, kept watch on it with tense, unmoving expressions.
Amid that heavy atmosphere, I laid out the dishes before it, one after another.
Wakatake-ni.
Bracken ohitashi.
Stir-fried bracken.
Mountain udo with sweet vinegar-miso dressing.
Tonjiru served in an especially large bowl.
Instantly, the room filled with a mouthwatering aroma.
The Lord of the Mountain slowly climbed down off its cushion and began sniffing at the food, one dish at a time.
The knights and Dazil watched the unfamiliar dishes with curious fascination.
Then Prince Cain appeared, carrying a charcoal-filled shichirin, sending a ripple of shock through the ranks. …None of them had apparently expected the prince of their own kingdom to show up carrying a portable grill.
And what’s more, he was about to make grilled rice balls. …I’m terribly sorry for putting your prince to work like this.
Paying the flustered knights no mind whatsoever, Prince Cain set down the shichirin and began grilling the rice balls my sister had brought over.
As the surface of the rice balls seared over the flame with a light crackle, the moisture gradually evaporated, turning them crisp.
Soy sauce would’ve been delicious too, but this time we used the fuki-miso I’d made earlier.
Once both sides had crisped up, he spread the fuki-miso on just one side and grilled it further.
As the miso began sizzling and charring, a fragrant, distinctly green scent of spring filled the air.
The smell was so tempting that someone nearby audibly swallowed.
Struggling a bit against the crackling heat of the coals, he finally finished grilling a batch and set the plate down in front of the Lord of the Mountain.
As for me, I was back in the kitchen, wrestling with hot oil.
Sweating and huffing from the heat, I fried the battered mountain udo, angelica sprouts, and butterbur sprouts one after another.
The tempura batter my grandmother had taught me to make always fried up light and crisp.
I simply mixed the ingredients, which had been chilled until ice-cold in the refrigerator, roughly and without worrying about lumps. That was all there was to it.
But the moment the batter warmed up from the heat of the oil, it became soggy. That’s why I prepared plenty of batter and took it out of the refrigerator little by little as I fried.
I also made sure to lightly dust the opened butterbur buds with flour first.
Floating in the oil, the butterbur buds looked almost like blooming flowers.
Sizzle, crackle, crisp.
Once the batter turned a light golden yellow, it was done.
Enjoyed with tentsuyu dipping sauce and grated daikon, or simply with natural salt.
Just holding it with chopsticks, you could tell how satisfyingly crisp the coating was—it turned out looking absolutely delicious.
I piled this onto another plate and set it before the Lord of the Mountain as well.
—A whole row of mountain vegetable dishes, lined up.
Every single one, an enormous quantity.
The Lord of the Mountain surveyed them all in a slow sweep, then looked over at me.
Its round black eyes gleamed with anticipation.
I smiled and said:
“Go ahead, please enjoy.”
—The Lord of the Mountain lunged at the food with tremendous force.
Wakatake-ni, bracken ohitashi.
Munch, munch. Crunch, crunch.
Puhhii, puh-hihi. Whether it was delicious or not, the Lord of the Mountain made happy little sounds as it ate.
It moved on to the mountain udo with vinegar-miso dressing… and that’s when it suddenly hit me.
—Pork… meat?
The pork used in the cooking. The little wild boar piglet right in front of us.
A boar piglet… a wild boar’s child… wild boars are the ancestors of pigs…!
What a horrifying realization.
Had I, without even meaning to, in some sense fed the Lord of the Mountain its own kind!?
Stunned, I whipped my head around toward Prince Cain.
He too, apparently just realizing it himself, had his right eyebrow twitching, twitching.
But when our eyes met, he discreetly pointed—trying not to draw attention—at the Lord of the Mountain.
Startled, I looked back and found the Lord of the Mountain devouring the pork dish with great enthusiasm, showing no sign of noticing anything at all.
—This is…
I turned back to Prince Cain and mouthed silently: C-A-N-N-I-B-A-L-I-S-M?
He mouthed back: S-H-U-T. I-T. I-T’S. D-O-E-S-N-‘T. K-N-O-W.—and gave me a firm thumbs up.
Cautiously, I looked at the Lord of the Mountain once more.
Having sampled a bit of everything, it now seemed intent on finishing off its favorites first—and, wouldn’t you know it, it was fully engrossed in the pork-stir-fried bracken…!
At that point, everything just stopped mattering to me.
—It’s fine! As long as it doesn’t find out!
In that moment, I think I understood, just a little, the mindset of a petty criminal.
Chomp, chomp. Puhhii. Chomp, chomp, chomp…
The only sound in the quiet room was the Lord of the Mountain eating.
My sister, Prince Cain, all the knights—every single person held their breath and watched.
One plate, two plates, three plates… with every mountain of food that vanished into the Lord of the Mountain’s stomach, everyone’s tension climbed higher.
—And there was a reason for that.
The piglet that had started off small enough to hide behind Prince Cain’s leg was, before our eyes, growing steadily bigger, one size then another, until now it towered above us.
It could no longer be called a piglet at all—its form was that of a powerful beast, one that had lived through countless long years.
Its head nearly grazed the low ceiling of the Japanese house. Its legs were thick and solid as tree trunks. Its once-fluffy brown fur had turned coarse and rippling, and for some reason plants and flowers had begun sprouting from various patches of it. Its once-small, adorable little tusks had curled upward into enormous, magnificent things, like elephant tusks. Its wooden tail had grown to the size of a proper young tree, poking straight through the veranda and out of the house entirely.
Its enormous body completely filled the room. The tiny figures of the knights peering at us through the occasional gaps only emphasized just how gigantic it had become.
Strangely, despite growing this enormous, our old house didn’t creak or strain in the slightest.
This was probably the Lord of the Mountain’s true form, but the mismatch between such a massive boar and our cramped little living room only made the whole scene feel even more surreal.
“Prrr-r-r-r!”
The Lord of the Mountain had been steadily working through the food, but once it had finished a decent amount, it suddenly raised its head.
Then, that same unchanged, adorable little cry rang out—louder than ever before, and clearly satisfied.
We—the humans—froze, unable to move.
The Lord of the Mountain rose slowly to its feet, its massive legs lumbering, and brought its snout close to me, sniffing curiously.
Turning its enormous eyes, each bigger than my head, toward me, it narrowed them into what looked like a smile.
Then it gave a tremendous brrr-r-r-r-r shake. The resulting gust was so powerful that I could hardly breathe, and I instinctively squeezed my eyes shut.
—When I opened them again a moment later, the Lord of the Mountain had vanished without a trace.
“…Haaahhh.”
Someone let out a long breath, and soon everyone else did the same.
Despite the sheer force of wind that had just blown through, not a single thing in the room was out of place.
While everyone relaxed with relief, their shoulders loosening, I stared in disbelief at an unbelievable sight. The huge quantity of food that the Lord of the Mountain had surely just devoured was sitting there, completely untouched, exactly as I’d originally set it out.
A cold sweat trickled down my back.
—Did it not like my cooking?
—Did it leave because it hated it?
Sinking into despair over this devastating outcome, someone gave my shoulder a light pat.
“Akane, well done. Thanks to you, the Lord of the Mountain has recovered its strength and seems satisfied.”
“B-But that can’t be… all that food, it’s still… left over…”
At my words, Prince Cain’s eyes widened briefly, then he smiled softly and ruffled my hair roughly.
“The Lord of the Mountain is a spirit. It surely enjoyed your cooking to the fullest. As proof, all the magical power that had been in the mountain vegetables is now completely gone. …That’s simply how offerings from humans to supernatural beings work, Akane.”
I turned my attention back to the food.
Honestly, I couldn’t tell the difference myself.
…I couldn’t quite grasp it, but—was that really how it worked?
While I stood there with a puzzled expression, Prince Cain called out to everyone present:
“The Lord of the Mountain has departed! That resolves the matter entirely! Now then—everyone must be exhausted! It’s proper etiquette that whatever remains of an offering afterward should be finished off by people! I know these are unfamiliar dishes, but Akane’s cooking is delicious; I guarantee it myself! Bring drinks from the palace kitchen—you may use my name if needed! Eat as much as you like!”
His voice carried a satisfying sense of accomplishment, and hearing it, everyone’s lingering tension finally eased away.
Dazil and the rest of the knights let out an enthusiastic "Yes, sir!" and happily scattered off in different directions.
◇◆◇◆◇◆◇◆◇
Lively voices filled the slightly chilly spring night air.
There was simply too much food to finish, so word had gone out far and wide, and a great many people had gathered at our house.
In our living room and on the veranda, not just Dazil and the knights but even the security soldiers had settled in comfortably, savoring the food. The alcohol had started flowing nicely too, and cheerful voices echoed all around us.
I’d worried whether unfamiliar Japanese food would suit everyone’s tastes, but thankfully the response was overwhelmingly positive, and everyone seemed to be enjoying it thoroughly.
Amid all that lively commotion, we sat off to the side in the small Buddhist altar room.
“Grandpa, Grandma. Mom, Dad. Here’s this year’s first mountain vegetables of the season. …The Lord of the Mountain already had some, but they’re still delicious, so please enjoy.”
I set a tray of mountain vegetable dishes on the small, roughly half-tatami-mat-sized wooden altar. For my grandfather, who’d loved his drink, I offered a cup of sake as well.
Pressing my hands together, I closed my eyes for a while, letting my thoughts drift to the family we’d lost. The faint white smoke curled up from the incense, its scent settling my heart.
“…What a curious custom. Enshrining the spirits of the deceased right within one’s own home.”
Prince Cain murmured this quietly.
“…We do have a separate grave where their remains rest. But to offer prayers every day, we also keep a place for the dead here at home.”
…I’m not sure I explained that well. But having never formally studied Buddhism, nor being a priest myself, that was really all I could say. The custom of dividing the spirit across the grave, the altar, and several other places seemed like it was really just the living’s own selfish wish to be able to visit the dead every single day. And the tradition of offering the food we ourselves eat to the deceased before eating it ourselves afterward—that felt oddly similar, in a way, to this other world’s rituals of offering tribute to supernatural beings.
Once the incense had burned down, I brought out a folding table in front of the altar. I set down the offering tray and arranged the extra dishes I’d brought over, and we all decided to eat together.
“Itadakimasu!”
The tempura had gone a little cold by then. But biting in, the batter still made a satisfying, crisp crunch.
The plain, lightly salted angelica sprout tempura had a fresh, crisp bite and a wonderfully vivid green fragrance drifting up through the nose.
Both the mountain udo and the butterbur, oddly enough, had their bitterness transformed into sweetness once fried. Dipped generously into the tentsuyu sauce, the dashi and soy sauce soaked into the batter, turning soft and juicy—a completely different flavor experience.
Bitter, yet faintly sweet—this precious, fleeting taste of spring had my chopsticks reaching for more, one bite after another.
Once my stomach started feeling worn out from all the oil, I popped a bite of the vinegar-miso dressed mountain udo.
The mountain udo’s fresh green flavor and the sharp vinegar washed away all the greasiness, giving me the energy to move on to the next plate.
The dashi-fragrant wakatake-ni released a burst of savory juice with the first bite. The smooth texture of the wakame seaweed and the crisp bite of the bamboo shoots made for a genuinely enjoyable eating experience.
As I happily crunched my way through the bracken ohitashi, the grilled rice balls with fuki-miso finished cooking.
Grilled until the edges of the miso had charred slightly, the crisp, moisture-free rice paired beautifully with the sticky, bittersweet-savory miso. Best eaten piping hot, huffing between bites, stuffing your mouth full.
The instant I swallowed, I immediately popped in a bite of the bracken stir-fry. The fried tofu, sticky bracken, and pork—the oiliness and the bracken’s texture, brought together by the savory oyster-flavored soy sauce, were just incredible. The flavor practically demanded rice alongside it, so I reached for another bite of the grilled rice ball right after.
Finally, I slurped up some tonjiru and stuffed my mouth with a piece of potato. The potato was soft and creamy, soaked through with miso and the rich flavor of pork. Potatoes were my favorite ingredient in tonjiru.
Having gone through pretty much everything once, with so much food still remaining, I found myself mentally licking my lips over what to try next.
Just as I reached for another piece of tempura, I noticed something off about my sister.
She was still munching away at the food, but sniffling quietly, her nose running slightly.
“…It tastes like Grandma’s cooking.”
I quietly agreed, "Yeah.”
Mountain vegetable dishes were our grandmother’s flavor. The taste we’d eaten so often after moving to our grandparents’ house, after our parents died. A flavor overflowing with nostalgic, happy memories.
—So every time I taste the faint bitterness of spring mountain greens, something deep in my chest settles quietly.
And yet…
—It also brings back the memory of our late grandparents, and with it, a quiet loneliness.
My sister must have felt the same way, because tears began spilling from her round eyes, one after another.
“Big sister, Cain, everyone, I’m so sorry… th-this is all my fault—”
“I know.”
“I never thought it would turn into such a huge deal…! I just thought that since we were here this year, I wouldn’t be able to eat mountain vegetables…”
“I know.”
“Once I realized that… I just felt unbearably lonely…! But I’m s-sorry…!”
I pulled my crying sister into a tight hug, burying her face against my shoulder.
Then—pat, pat—I rhythmically patted her back.
Her shoulders were trembling.
I kept patting her gently, hoping the trembling would settle sooner.
“I’m sorry…! For causing so much trouble… I’m so sorry…!”
As she kept apologizing, I tightened my hold around her even more.
My sister, always so strong and cheerful, sometimes lets her feelings run too far ahead of her and charges forward recklessly.
But whenever that happens, it’s always me who has to rein her in, scold her, and clean up after whatever she’s done.
“Hiyori, your big sister took care of it. It’s fine now.”
Loosening my hold, I looked at her face and grinned.
“Can you properly apologize to everyone else you troubled?”
My sister pressed her lips into a tight line, sniffling, and nodded firmly.
I hugged her tightly once more, then ruffled her hair thoroughly into a mess.
—A few days later, the two of us went together on an apology tour, visiting the knight order, the guard soldiers, and all the officials who’d had to arrange everything on such short notice.
Everyone, glad that nothing serious had come of it in the end, laughed it off and forgave us kindly—though part of that was probably because, given her position as the Saint, they couldn’t exactly scold her too harshly.
Only at Luvan’s office did both of us get scolded thoroughly enough to feel like our stomachs might develop ulcers. His measured, low-voiced, endlessly reasonable lecture, delivered with that perpetual furrow between his brows, was truly something else. In this other world, having someone who’d actually get properly angry at us was, honestly, something to be grateful for.
Since then, I think my sister’s grown noticeably more careful about things.
This spring’s big incident was, for better or worse, probably a valuable lesson for her.
…And, as a small footnote:
Ever since that day—the day we made an offering to the Lord of the Mountain—every so often, when I woke up in the morning, I started to find mountain vegetables or fruit, gifts of the mountain’s bounty, placed on the veranda in a basket woven from grass leaves.
There were always small piglet footprints in the garden soil, so it was surely a gift from the Lord of the Mountain.
Sometimes Japanese mountain vegetables were included among the gifts as well, and I gratefully accepted them.
Occasionally, when I set a tray of food on the household altar, I’ll hear an adorable little "Puhin" coming from the altar room, so I’m sure the Lord of the Mountain’s enjoying the meal too, wherever it is.
—Today again, I spotted a woven grass basket, and my cheeks relaxed into a smile.
At this rate, it looks like we’ll get to enjoy mountain vegetables again next spring too.
Breathing in a full chest of the fresh, green scent of spring’s bounty, I made my way toward the kitchen with a light step.
