Sandwiches—a simple dish consisting of ingredients layered between slices of bread. Because they were so straightforward, they were nearly foolproof as long as the ingredients were chosen well. It was only natural, then, that many of the villagers claimed sandwiches as their specialty when asked.
The High Ogre maids, however, often cited far more intricate recipes when asked the same question. It made me feel a bit nostalgic. Thinking back to when I first arrived in the village... ah, never mind. No sense in dwelling on the past.
The High Ogre maids were excellent cooks, and that was all that mattered.
Their roast Giant Boar sandwiches were currently a massive hit among the children. The roast itself was truly exceptional; it tasted wonderful on its own, and it was just as good when tucked into a bun. Even the maids were full of praise for the quality of the meat. I’d have to ask them to walk me through the preparation steps sometime.
The second most popular choice among the kids was the fruit sandwich. However, the children had divided themselves into rival factions based on which fruit was used as the filling. Strawberries, kiwis, oranges, mangoes, and melons were the heavy hitters. Some children preferred the mixed fruit sandwiches that used a bit of everything. They were all delicious in their own way, so I didn't think there was any need for such rivalry.
Still, they couldn't live on fruit sandwiches alone. I hoped they would eat some of the Katsu or ham sandwiches as well, especially since we had so many varieties available.
We had been harvesting rubber from the trees I’d planted back when the village was first founded, so we had accumulated quite a significant stockpile. Much of that rubber had been processed and used for tires on our carriages and wagons. To make the rubber durable enough for tires, it had to be mixed with other substances to harden it. Up until recently, we hadn't put much research into it because random additives had worked well enough, but that changed when the research-minded members of the Angel Race took up the cause.
Thanks to their hard work, a variety of new rubber products had appeared. Rubber gloves and boots were a godsend for those doing water-related chores, and the new slip-resistant soles were highly regarded. The rubber packing they developed was less conspicuous, but the Mountain Elves were absolutely beaming over the improvement.
Then there was the clothing. By using rubber, garments could be made to stay in place without being overly tight, making them easy to wear and, more importantly, not at all restrictive. This was met with overwhelming praise from the village women. Zabuton and her children were also thrilled by this surprising new material, immediately getting to work using it to modify existing clothes and create new designs.
Finally, we produced balls using the new rubber. While we had tried making rubber balls before, we’d struggled to achieve the right balance of elasticity and strength, and they tended to shatter easily. That issue had finally been resolved, which made me happy. It would certainly expand the children’s options for play.
By the way, the balls I usually threw for Kuro and the others were made by wrapping beast skin around a rounded wooden core. I’d experimented with different types, including solid wooden balls, but the pack seemed to prefer the skin-wrapped ones because they were the easiest to sink their teeth into. I tried giving them a rubber ball, but they chewed through it in just a few tosses. Their fangs were even sharper than I’d realized.
I also commissioned a massive ball about fifty centimeters in diameter. This was intended for the larger residents, like the Minotaurs and Giants, as the standard-sized balls were far too small and difficult for them to handle. The children of both races were delighted.
The first game we played with the giant ball was dodgeball, which turned out to be quite an intense spectacle. From there, they experimented with various other games until they eventually settled on basketball.
Since we were using rubber for the ball, it had plenty of bounce, but playing outdoors made for inconsistent games. The ground was simply too uneven for the massive Minotaurs and Giants to move around comfortably while dribbling.
To solve this, we built a dedicated basketball stadium. Naturally, the court's dimensions and the height of the goalposts were adjusted to suit their size. The floor was entirely covered in planks processed from forest timber. Underneath the boards, we used a rubber base layer, carefully adjusted so the ball wouldn't bounce too high. The goalposts were wooden but reinforced with metal at key points.
Initially, I thought the court alone would be enough, but it quickly became clear that we needed walls to keep the ball from flying too far away. I also decided we needed a roof as a precaution against the rain. The final result was a full-scale basketball stadium for the Minotaurs and Giants.
Inside that stadium, the Minotaur first team and the Giant third team were currently locked in a fierce, close-scoring match. With both teams fielding players over four meters tall, the sheer scale of the game was incredible.
Suddenly, a Giant stole the ball. After two quick dribbles, they lobbed a soft pass toward the goal. Another Giant caught the ball in mid-air and slammed it through the ring. I believe that's called an alley-oop.
The Minotaurs weren't about to be outdone. They quickly transitioned the ball to the other end of the court and prepared for a shot, only to find themselves blocked by two Giants jumping in tandem. Seeing the opening closed, the player aborted the shot and whipped a pass to an open teammate, who cleanly sunk a three-pointer from deep. It was a thrilling, back-and-forth game.
I used to think sumo was the preferred sport for the Minotaurs and Giants, but it seemed not everyone was built for that kind of direct, physical collision. In that sense, basketball was a perfect fit. While it wasn't without its physical contests, the game placed a higher priority on ball handling and clever passing. Those who weren't fond of raw tests of strength were particularly grateful for the game.
A Giant spun through the air to evade the defense and hammered home a dunk. In response, the Minotaurs fought back with more three-pointers. Since a standard shot was worth two points, the Minotaurs’ reliance on three-pointers seemed like a winning strategy, but they were worth more precisely because they were harder to land. The Minotaurs were missing about one out of every three attempts.
Just when I thought they might fall behind, the Minotaurs changed their tactics. They drew the defense out by feigning another long-distance shot, then slipped a quick pass to a player who had cut under the basket for an easy score. It was a beautiful play.
The Giants didn't panic, though. Determined to reclaim the lead, they used rapid passes to surge toward the opposite goal. The Minotaurs maintained a solid defense, but the Giant players were exceptionally skilled at handling the ball. They used feints to bypass the defenders and took a deliberate, careful shot. Once the points were confirmed, they immediately sprinted back to their own half to set up their defense. They were very disciplined in their transitions.
Eventually, the referee blew the whistle to end the game. The sand in the hourglass had run out.
Watching the end, I realized we needed a way to track the time more clearly. As it stood, we couldn't easily account for time lost to fouls or injuries because the sand in an hourglass doesn't stop. I wanted to find a way to adjust for that, as time management is a vital part of the game. If only we had something that ticked at a constant rhythm.
As a side note, the Minotaurs and Giants had invested most of their Reward Medals into basketball-related equipment. While the main stadium was in the Village of the Great Tree, the Minotaurs had built outdoor courts with rubber flooring and half-courts in Village Two. In the Northern Dungeon, the Giants had constructed courts in their large common areas and installed goalposts throughout the various caverns. They also each exchanged for about ten balls. It was a good sign; it meant their lives had become comfortable enough that they could afford to focus on such hobbies.
Regarding the clock—or rather, a way to measure time—I didn't need to overthink it. Switching from a sandglass to a water clock solved the problem. We scaled up the water clock so the water level was easy to see, making it clear how much time remained. To pause the clock, we simply closed a sluice gate, and if we needed to add time, we added a set number of cups of water.
It was Gratz who had come up with the idea of using a water clock. He was truly impressive. Gratz had been throwing himself into the role of a coach for the Minotaur team.
"Keep your hips low on defense! Spread your arms wide! Don't just try to stop them with your body; focus on cutting off their path!"
I didn't mind him being so enthusiastic, but I worried the Deputy Chief of Staff might come and scold him again if he spent too much time away from his official duties. Was he going to be okay?
Apparently, he wanted to introduce basketball as a form of military recreation. I had no objections, though it would cost a bit of money. If he wasn't picky about the court, he could get by with just goalposts and a ball. I told him I’d provide the balls as long as he paid for them.
Setting that aside, I noticed a very nicely prepared sandwich. Was that Ronana’s handmade work? No, I wasn't trying to take it, so there was no need to hide it. I was just curious about what her specialty was, since it had become a bit of a topic of conversation in the village.