The two of them followed the mountain stream downward.
They were looking for a spot. Whether for cooking or eating, nothing would work without a comfortable place to sit. The way the sunlight filtered through the canopy, the flatness of the rocks where they could rest, the proximity to the water—every time they found a candidate, they compared notes, decided to go just a little farther, and walked on.
The first spot had too much direct sun, and at the second, all the sitting stones were slanted. The third wasn't bad, but Yuna said, "Just a little further," so they continued downstream. It was quite a luxurious deliberation.
Three days ago, they had been desperately wondering if they even had drinkable water. Today, they were choosing a spot based on the scenery.
Before long, they came to a place where the stream curved gently. Sunlight played across the shallows, the stones along the bank were wide and flat, and overhead, hidden birds called back and forth to one another. The opposite bank was blanketed in thickets, fronted by a single tall, moss-covered boulder that rose in a rounded mound. The murmur of the water was faint, the breeze gentle.
"Isn't this place great? We can sit down, and even if it's small, there's a river right here."
"There's shade, too."
That settled it.
Yuna picked out and wiped down a flat stone to lay out the plates and chopsticks, while Eiji gathered dry branches and stacked them on the bank. He put the thin kindling at the bottom to catch easily and the thicker wood on top, then encircled the assembled mound with stones as a windbreak. Once the preparations were complete, Yuna crouched before the kindling and held out both hands.
"O holy fire, light this firewood—<Holy Flame>."
With a single short chant, flame caught in the heart of the dry branches. A sharp pop echoed as the fire took hold.
Since they had left their pot at the village hearth, they would be grilling on a stone slab. Eiji hauled another flat stone out of the shallows, wiped it dry, and set it across the fire. Then, opening his <Relicta Arca>, he arranged the magic wolf meat and the herbs they had gathered today along the bank.
However—with a slab of meat in hand and the kitchen knife at the ready, Yuna froze.
"Ah... a cutting board."
She let out a quiet murmur.
"Ah. Totally forgot."
Eiji's cheek twitched.
They had a blade, but no board to cut on. Slicing directly on stone would chip the edge, but he couldn't very well have her cut it in the palm of her hand.
Until yesterday, it was a tool they hadn't needed. After all, they had had nothing to cut and no knife to cut with. Only after making a blade did they realize they lacked a board to lay beneath it.
"Hold on a second."
With that, he retraced his steps a few paces along the water's edge.
He remembered seeing a bleached, dry piece of driftwood lying around when he was searching for branches earlier. Washed by the current, stripped of its bark, dried facing upward—it had long since finished its duty as a branch on some distant shore and drifted all the way here.
He carried it back and set it down on a flat spot on the bank, and the appraisal flowed into his mind. Among its evolution paths: cutting board. Rolling the chant across his tongue, a brief pulse of white light rose, leaving behind a board of perfectly uniform thickness. Even the annual rings along the cut edge looked as clean as if they had been polished.
"Tada. Pretty good work, right?"
"Wait, you made it already?!"
"Hehehe. This was one of the easier ones."
When he puffed out his chest, Yuna's eyes went wide as she took the board.
Making a knife made them realize they needed a cutting board. Once they made a cutting board, what would they realize they lacked next?
It seemed their chores weren't decreasing, but merely changing shape and multiplying. Still, it didn't feel like a chore at all. It was all leading to a better life with Yuna.
From that point on, Yuna took the lead.
"Eiji-kun, can you slice that meat a little thinner?"
"About like this?"
"Wah, you're good at that. The thickness is so even."
"Keeping the thickness even is pretty much my specialty."
In his grandfather's workshop, he had done endless hours of work shaving materials down to exact measurements. Scribe a line, and guide the blade along it. That was all it took. Drawing the edge through the meat atop the board, uniform thin slices lined up one after another. Even by his own estimation, his hand was steady. He knew how to cut.
What he didn't know was what came next. Which herb, how much of it, and when to add it. Eiji couldn't envision the right answer on the plate at all.
"How much of this should I put in?"
"Hmm, a pinch....No, a little bit more."
Yuna formed a pinching gesture in midair to demonstrate. Asking him to gauge an exact quantity from that was an impossible task.
"I have no idea what 'a little bit more' means, though."
"Huh? It's obvious."
"I'm telling you, I don't get it."
As they bickered back and forth, Yuna laughed and took the chopped greens from Eiji's hands. With practiced motions, she kneaded them into the thinly sliced meat. The mystery of the pinch was settled through demonstration.
"I wonder if that shampoo herb we picked earlier could be used to mask the gaminess?"
"You're using it for that?"
The plant they had gathered for washing began pulling duty on the culinary side. It had gained another purpose.
Their roles divided naturally. Eiji sliced, washed, and handed things over. Yuna adjusted the portions and watched the heat. The thick, juicy leaves were washed and kept raw. The pungent herbs were finely minced into a garnish. The aromatic herbs were worked into the meat before being laid atop the hot stone.
With a sizzle of rendering fat, steam and smoke rose. The wild gaminess of the beast yielded to the fragrant herbs, fading into the background. The mouthwatering aroma was undeniable, and Eiji's stomach let out a demanding rumble. It should have been swallowed by the crackle of the fire, but Yuna's shoulders gave a small quiver, so she had definitely heard it.
Eiji had no idea when to flip the meat or when to pull it off the stone. Every time he asked, Yuna gave brisk replies like "Not yet" or "Almost." Even if he could craft blades and boards, this culinary intuition of "almost" was something he could never manufacture.
Three days ago, he had intended to shoulder every burden alone. Now, he was content to craft the tools and pass them over. It felt right.
The meat was done.
Plated up, it looked like a proper meal.
Grilled meat, washed fresh greens, minced garnish. With two plates, there was no need to scramble for portions. Sitting across from each other with the flat stone between them, they pressed their hands together.
Thanks for the food.
Their voices overlapped.
Picking up their chopsticks, they started with the greens. A bite released a burst of crisp moisture, sending a fresh, grassy aroma through their noses, followed by a faint, pleasant bitterness.
"...Ah, it's good."
Yuna let out an admiring murmur.
Eiji nodded in agreement.
"Yeah. The greens are great. Never thought the day would come where I'd call wild grass delicious, though."
"It's not grass, it's vegetables, okay?"
She fired back instantly.
"No, this is definitely grass."
"It is, but thinking of it as grass makes me sad, so let's call it vegetables, okay?"
Bantering back and forth, they sent the impromptu salad down into their stomachs.
It was their first fresh greenery in four days. Rather than merely tasting good, it felt as though something their bodies had desperately lacked was finally being replenished. Deep inside, beyond just their stomachs, their bodies rejoiced. When he topped his second bite with the pungent garnish, the sharp kick woke up his palate.
Next came the meat. During yesterday's dinner, the gamy flavor had clung to their tongues the more they ate, until they ended up washing it down with gulps of water. Today, no lingering stench followed the bite. Instead, the bright aroma of herbs bloomed in their mouths.
"The smell's completely gone from the meat, too. Herbs really are something else."
"Right?...Still, though."
"Yeah."
Both sets of chopsticks halted. Yuna and Eiji wore the exact same expression, searching for something missing on their tongues.
It was delicious. There was no question about that. Yet right in the center of the flavor profile, an empty seat remained for something that belonged there.
"...Just one more pinch, huh."
Salt. That single dash of saltiness was something they simply couldn't produce.
From there, it turned into a game of craving the impossible.
After salt came soy sauce. The moment the words "soy sauce on meat" left their lips, both groaned in unison. At "miso soup," Yuna clutched her chest, and at "mayonnaise," Eiji's chopsticks froze midair. With every item named, the dining tables of their memories launched another assault.
"Don't you think it would be completely perfect if we just had salad dressing?"
"Totally perfect. Who knew dressing was such a big deal?"
Dozens of varieties had lined the supermarket shelves back home: Japanese shiso, creamy French, separated Italian vinaigrettes. Each cost only a few hundred yen, and while shoppers might hesitate over which to pick, no one ever treated them with reverence. Nobody thought of them as anything special. If only a single bottle from that aisle were sitting on this riverbank right now.
"The one I always bought was the green shiso one. And the sesame one."
"For me, it was... what was it called again? You know, the one with the green cap."
"Green...? I don't think that cap is green."
"It's green. Probably."
Yuna began counting possibilities on her fingers. Someone who cooked regularly had an entirely different level of detail stored in their memory of supermarket shelves. For his part, Eiji had lived off his grandfather's shopping and convenience store meals, so not a single brand name came to mind.
"...Ah, I think I know which one you mean. Isn't it that one? The one named after an Italian guy."
"Why do you even know trivia like that? I didn't even know that."
Frustrating as it was, she was probably right. Now that she mentioned it, he could even picture the slender glass bottle.
It was the one that was always tucked into the refrigerator door pocket. His grandfather had constantly nagged him to shake it before using it, but he forgot every time and ended up pouring only the clear oil off the top.
He had walked past that aisle hundreds of times. Never had he understood the true worth of a single bottle as much as today. If only he could conjure one right here, right now.
He craved it, certainly. Yet strangely enough... he didn't feel a desire to go back.
Confirming that feeling within himself, Eiji carried the remaining meat to his mouth.
"I wonder if we can make it someday. Dressing, I mean."
Yuna said.
Not "let's buy some when we get back." It was "I wonder if we can make it someday."
It seemed Yuna hadn't wished to return either.
"...Let's make it. Someday."
Saying it aloud, the idea felt surprisingly right.
Oil, an equivalent for vinegar, and herbs. If they gathered the ingredients one by one, it didn't seem entirely impossible. Miso and soy sauce came from beans, which meant they would need fields, and fields required purifying the soil. Behind that single envisioned bottle hung an endless chain of tasks.
Salt, soy sauce, miso, dressing. Dreamlike goals continued to stack up at the bottom of their to-do list. Though the lack of salt alone had felt daunting this morning, watching the list grow was, for some reason, genuinely fun.
While they brainstormed, Yuna kept ticking items off on her fingers, running out of digits and looping back around for a second round.
Once their plates were bare, the two headed down to the stream to wash them.
The water was chilly, and rubbing the stone with their fingertips washed the grease right off. Yuna stacked and carried the clean plates and bowl, while Eiji shoveled sand over the fire to smother it. A single wisp of smoke rose, then faded into nothing.
"On the way back, let's gather a few more herbs, okay? If we dry them out, they might keep."
"Good idea. They won't rot if we store them in the Arca, but yeah, the more the better..."
Right then, a piece of the world's sound vanished.
The birds had stopped singing. They had been so noisy just moments ago. The wind hadn't died down, yet even the leaves overhead hung in eerie silence.
All that remained was the faint murmur of running water.
"...Yuna."
"Hmm?"
"Don't move."
As he spoke, Eiji stepped smoothly and deliberately in front of Yuna. The freshly washed plates slipped from her grasp, clattering softly in the shallows.
The boulder on the opposite bank moved.
No... what they had taken for a boulder was not stone at all. It was the back of a living creature. The moss was growing directly from its fur.
The rounded mass uncoiled. Thick forelegs crushed through the brush, and as its neck rose, its massive head climbed to the height of the tree branches.
"Hey, hey, you've gotta be kidding me."
It was a colossal bear. Easily three times the size of any bear Eiji had ever seen.
The six magic wolves from yesterday suddenly seemed downright cuddly by comparison.
The thing they had thought was a rock was staring straight at them.
"Eiji-kun..."
Yuna clutched anxiously at his sleeve.
Backing down was not an option.
"It's going to be fine. Back me up, all right?"
Eiji drew his magic sword—and dropped into a combat stance.