The next morning, I was jolted awake by a noise while the sun was still far below the horizon.
Perhaps it was the proximity to the lake, but the air was bitingly cold. I threw on my gear, making only the most necessary preparations, and stepped out of my room. The sound seemed to be coming from the kitchen up ahead.
"Good morning," I said as I entered.
"Oh! Good morning," Mei replied.
"Did we wake you?" her mother asked.
The two of them were busy preparing food by the flickering light of the hearth and a single small candle.
"Not at all. I went to bed early last night, so I feel completely refreshed. If you don't mind, please let me help with the breakfast preparations."
"My word. I wish my foolish sons would follow your example," the mother sighed.
"Well, since you're offering... do you know where the well is? If you do, I’d like you to fetch some water and fill this jar," Mei said.
The jar she pointed to was massive, nearly as tall as I was. I knew where the well was, but for a volume this large, there was a faster way.
"In that case... Water."
Mei blinked in surprise. "Ryoma-kun, you can use magic?"
"Yes. Come to think of it, I don't think I mentioned much more than my name yesterday. There, how’s that?"
"That’s more than enough. Next... could you grind these up for me?"
She handed me a mortar and pestle along with the ingredients. I looked down at the pile.
"Wasabi?" I muttered.
The shape was identical to the wasabi I knew, though these were bright yellow.
"Wasabi? Is that what you call Horas in your neck of the woods?" Mei asked. "Yesterday you were calling the Water Spiders 'crabs,' too."
Horas. The name triggered my knowledge of medicinal herbs. It grew in clean, shallow rivers or in mud and possessed a distinct pungency. It was highly antibacterial and often used as a deworming agent. It wasn't exactly the same as wasabi, but it was close.
"I believe they’re very similar plants. How finely should I grind this?"
"Until it's a smooth paste, please. I’m going to use it for the soup base."
"Understood."
So this was the source of the heat in yesterday's soup. Satisfied with the discovery, I got to work. I stripped the leaves, gave the roots a quick rinse, chopped them into small pieces, and tossed them into the mortar. I crushed them down with firm, steady pressure before beginning the actual grinding.
It was a significant amount of work, but the sharp, unique aroma was invigorating.
"By the way, do people around here ever eat this raw with fish?" I asked.
"Some do, but there are parasites in the lake that can wreak havoc on your stomach. I’d advise against it, especially this time of year."
It was a shame, but I knew better than to ignore local wisdom. Since heated or processed foods were safe, I decided I would stick to those for the duration of my stay. That thought reminded me of something. I still hadn't handed over the souvenirs I’d brought.
"Souvenirs? For us?"
"Yes. Please excuse me for just a moment."
I stepped back into my room and activated my Space Magic. I entered the Dimension Home, which had grown larger than a gymnasium, and headed toward the section where my recently acquired Clever Chickens lived.
"Kokehh! Kokehh!"
One bird spotted me and let out a loud cry, prompting a black chick to come scurrying out from the huddling flock.
"Good morning, Big Bro! You're early today!"
"Morning, Kohaku. It's a bit ahead of schedule, but can you give me today’s eggs?"
"Oh, I’ve already got them ready for you. No problem at all!"
Kohaku, the Genius Chicken and the sole high-tier species of the flock, approached me with a sycophantic wring of his wings. He led me toward several cloth-lined baskets, two of which were piled high with eggs.
"I’ll take these, then. Once I’ve finished the inspection, I’ll set out your meal."
"Yes, sir! I’ll be waiting by the feed box!"
After being seen off by Kohaku—whose initial arrogance had vanished without a trace—I carefully carried the baskets over to the slimes' area. I had a Big Cleaner Slime wash them while I checked for any cracks.
Despite my providing multiple baskets, the Clever Chickens had piled them all into just two, proving they didn't care much for their own eggs. Granted, these were unfertilized decoy eggs that would never hatch, but their handling was still remarkably sloppy.
I sighed as I watched the Big Cleaner Slime use its body like a gentle tentacle, taking in the eggs one by one and lining them up neatly in the clean baskets.
My relationship with the Clever Chickens had settled into a business-like arrangement, but things had been rough at the start. Their previous owner was a professional, and I had secured his feeding regimen through the Saionji Company, so they had no complaints about the food. The problem was their housing.
When I brought them back to the abandoned mine and tried to discuss their territory, the fact that I had contracted all of them to enable communication backfired. They began shouting a litany of selfish demands. Ultimately, they decided they wanted to live inside the Dimension Home because it was winter and the outside world was too cold. Since I provided the food, they figured they’d rather lounge around in a climate-controlled room than go out and hunt for worms.
They had even demanded that I migrate to a warmer region on their behalf, like a flock of migratory birds, but I had shut that down immediately. Even after moving into the Dimension Home, they continued to grumble about the size of their space compared to the slimes and Rimur Birds.
However, after a bit of "re-education," the hierarchy had been firmly established:
Me > Rimur Birds > Slimes > Kohaku (Leader) > The Flock.
It had taken a lot of effort to get them to respect the slimes. I lost count of how many times I had to wash the birds away with a literal tsunami of slimes to humble them. They hadn't messed with the Rimur Birds much—perhaps they had a complex about not being able to fly—but they had viewed the slimes as nothing more than a tasteless food source.
The matter was finally settled when I held a one-on-one duel. A single Sticky Slime beat one of the chickens senseless with a staff. If that hadn't worked, my only remaining options would have been cages or the butcher's block.
The bird that had been beaten was remarkably stubborn, having the gall to ask for a "medical leave" from egg-laying duties because of its injuries. I healed its wounds with magic and promptly rejected the request.
Truthfully, I had a great deal of respect for Kohaku. He was only a few months old, yet he managed that entire difficult flock. As a Tamer, while my technical compatibility with Clever Chickens was high, our personalities were a terrible match. Communication was possible, but never pleasant.
When I consulted the Tamer Guild Branch Master about it, he told me that struggling with the personality of a familiar was actually the norm. He said that my previous experiences—where my monsters were either highly intelligent or naturally submissive—were the real anomalies. Many Tamers relied on a system of rewards and punishments to train their monsters like animals. It made sense; they were living creatures, after all.
I chose to look at it as a learning experience. Kohaku acted as an effective buffer, and the benefit of receiving a massive supply of eggs five days a week was too good to pass up.
A Big Cleaner Slime nudged my leg. It seemed the washing was finished.
"Thank you."
I checked the count. There were fifty-two intact eggs and eight cracked ones. I appraised a few to ensure they were safe for consumption, gave the cracked ones to the slimes that had been eyeing them, and collected the rest. I made a quick trip to fill the Clever Chickens' feed box before leaving.
"Good work," Kohaku said. "How was the count?"
"Eight out of sixty were cracked."
"Yikes... I really need to beat it into them to stop piling the eggs up."
"It's still better than it was at the beginning," I offered.
Our contract required the flock to provide sixty eggs a day, five days a week. Out of the twenty-six birds, twenty were adults, meaning they only had to produce three eggs each.
"Take your time with the egg-handling, but I’m counting on you for the hygiene and the chicks."
"Don't you worry. No one’s complaining about the Scavenger seniors cleaning the nests or the Cleaner seniors washing them. I won't allow it. And I’ve got the education of the chicks well in hand."
Hygiene was a priority for maintaining the environment and preventing disease. Even the Rimur Birds participated. As for the chicks, they were our hope for the next generation. The adults were set in their ways, but the five chicks were still young. They were stubborn, but they were better than the adults. With the right education, there was a chance they could be raised properly.
"I’m counting on you. I’ll help out however I can."
"I'll give it my all. I want to increase the number of allies on my side, too," Kohaku said, his eyes burning with determination.
I bid him farewell and left the Dimension Home, returning to the kitchen with the fresh eggs.
Breakfast was soon served.
The menu featured the same Mustard Soup as the previous night, though today it served as the local version of miso soup. It was packed with leftover crab meat and the eggs I had provided. Beside it was a stack of thin-pressed bread made from Kotsubuyarikusa, accompanied by a side of pickled vegetables.
The fishing village started its day early, so the standard breakfast was a quick soup and a hearty side to keep them full until lunch.
"Whoa! What’s all this? This is a feast!" Kai exclaimed as he came in.
"Where did bird eggs come from?" his brother asked.
"Ryoma-kun gave them to us as a souvenir," Mei said. "Apparently he keeps chickens using Space Magic."
"He even helped with the cooking," their mother added. "You two could stand to learn a thing or two from him."
Kai and the others ignored the jab, their eyes glued to the soup. I was glad to see the gift was a hit.
"My... thanks," Hoi grunted.
"Oh, you're welcome," I replied, a bit taken aback.
Hoi had muttered it so softly I almost missed it, but he met my eyes to confirm the sentiment. Then he immediately picked up his bowl and began eating in silence. I wondered if he just had low blood pressure in the mornings; he was a completely different person compared to the night before.
"I’m sorry about him," the mother whispered. "My husband hardly speaks a word unless there's alcohol in his system. Usually it's just 'Food,' 'Booze,' or 'Sleep.'"
"I see." I had heard rumors, but I hadn't realized he was that taciturn.
"He isn't angry, so don't let it bother you. Dig in, Ryoma-kun."
She piled a mountain of Kotsubuyarikusa bread onto my plate. I followed the family's lead and started eating.
It was delicious. The bread had a unique, slightly grassy flavor on its own, but when dipped into the Mustard Soup, the broth soaked in and turned it into something wonderful.
As I ate, a strange feeling washed over me. The flavor of the soup felt nostalgic, as if it was tugging at a memory from my previous life that I couldn't quite grasp.
"Is something wrong? You have a strange look on your face," the mother asked, looking worried. "Is it not to your taste?"
"No, I was just thinking. The flavor of this soup reminds me of something I ate a long time ago... but I can't quite remember what it was."
"Oh, is that all? You had me worried."
She looked relieved, and I was glad I hadn't offended her. I decided to stop overthinking and just enjoy the meal. Everyone else was eating quickly, and I had a long day ahead of me hunting Mad Salamanders. I needed to be at my best.
Thinking back, I’d named Kohaku based on his feathers, not the gemstone amber. I’d briefly considered "Shirokuro" for his black and white down, but that felt too simple. "Hakukoku" sounded strange, and "Kokuhaku" meant confession. Removing one syllable led me to "Kohaku." It sounded right, even if my naming sense was probably a bit questionable. As for the twenty adult chickens, they didn't have names. Perhaps the five chicks would earn them once they grew up.