Isekai Rebuilding Project: Volume 1

by Yukika Minamino

  “Which means that doctors in this country haven’t figured out how to cure beriberi, yet.”

  “Yep... This might be worse than the Edo affliction.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “Let’s walk and talk.”

  In the end we left the Adventurers’ Guild without even taking a quest, while feeling some stares on our backs asking why we even bothered to become adventurers. We headed toward the shop of the merchant who bought my watch.

  “Explain what the Edo affliction is first,” Tiamat asked, as we walked through the main street side by side.

  “Mm-hm.”

  The Edo affliction was another name for beriberi in Japan. It came from most cases of the disease occurring in Edo (modern-day Tokyo), whereas in the countryside, there were almost no examples of it. People with the disease who moved to the countryside even saw their symptoms subside.

  “How strange.”

  “Yep. But not once they figured out why. Edo at the time was wealthy, and the epicenter of culture.”

  And the height of luxury at the time was white rice. Apparently, even the lowly samurai who moved there from the country ate white rice just to keep face. Once out in the country, they ate brown and wild rice instead of white rice, which naturally treated the beriberi.

  “So silver rice was the problem?”

  “No. If that were the case, all of us in modern-day Japan would be dying from beriberi.”

  I wondered what percentage of modern-day Japanese people ate brown rice regularly. There were important differences in meals from the Edo period and meals in modern day: the amount of rice each person ate, as well as the variation and amount of sides.

  “At the time, they ate about two kilos of cooked rice a day. Per person.”

  “How hearty.”

  That was a little surprising, in my opinion. That’s about ten large bowls of rice. While their love for carbs was astonishing, so was their lack of sides. In fact, lunch was just about the only meal with any semblance of a side, which was usually a small grilled fish. As for breakfast and dinner, they might have had a few slices of pickled vegetables, as well as miso soup in the morning.

  “How did they live like that? They were much more physically active than people in modern day, surely.”

  “Carbs are energy. They did have plenty of fuel, at least.”

  “I see. That’s why you asked Garish if he exercised,” Tiamat recalled.

  I nodded. Exercise improves metabolism, which spends more and more vitamin B1 to break apart the carbohydrates.

  “And a lot of vitamin B1 can be found in brown rice, or the bud to be specific. It wouldn’t be a problem...”

  “If they didn’t throw that nutrient away by refining the rice.”

  “Bingo.”

  “Why don’t you and other modern-day Japanese people suffer from beriberi? You eat white rice, don’t you?”

  “Vitamin B1 comes in other foods, too. Pork, eel, cod roe, soybean, potatoes.”

  “That a good variety.”

  “Mm-hm. If you eat a balanced diet, you usually won’t get beriberi. Pork, especially, is the superstar.”

  “Oh. I think I’m beginning to see what you’ll prescribe.”

  “I think so. Food culture is another thing, too.”

  For example, I couldn’t expect a Muslim person eat pork, even for their health. While for different reasons, pork had been avoided by most people during the Edo period. There was even a poem from the time that reads Yang Guifei / Such a pretty face but / eats pork meat. Apparently, this was a poem expressing disgust towards the Chinese affinity for eating pork. A divide in food culture could run deep. Personally, I love the dish Genghis Khan, but many people in mainland Japan don’t enjoy lamb. It’s so good, though.

  “That’s why we’re seeing the merchant.”

  “Yep. It’s a good connection I wasn’t expecting to make. It’s our chance to ask some things about food in Azur.”

  “You didn’t seem too heartbroken when handing over your watch. So this was your plan all along. Quite the strategist, you are.”

  That was not true. I was heartbroken, and the decision was very difficult. I just knew that we couldn’t do anything without money, just like in my world, and we had absolutely no other way to procure any than to hand over my watch. Now that my watch was gone, though, I wanted to get the most out of it I could. It was the least I could do out of respect for my dear Chronograph.

  8.

  The shop we arrived at was nearly as big as the Adventurers’ Guild.

  “As expected, I’d say,” I mumbled.

  This shop belonged to the merchant who purchased my wristwatch. From how easily the man had struck up a hundred-gold-coin (or ¥1M) deal, I had estimated the scale of this man’s finances. I would have hesitated to make even a 100,000 yen purchase. I would’ve hesitated a lot. In any case, if this man was a successful merchant, that was all the better. A successful merchant surely had considerable influence in this town.

  We entered the shop with a greeting. Immediately, an apprentice or sales clerk welcomed us.

  “Welcome! Are we looking for anything in particular today!?”

  It was an energetic voice that belonged to a young girl with brown hair and eyes. Her small stature seemed ready to burst with excitement. As far as I could tell, her age was around fifteen or sixteen. If I had seen her in Japan, I would have pegged her to be in high school, but it was really difficult to guess the age of this world’s residents from their appearance. I could never be sure.

  “My name is Eiji. The shopmaster and I struck a deal earlier. Has he returned?”

  “Yes! We’ve been expecting you! This way, please!”

  She showed us the way with a great smile. It seemed like the merchant had already set things up.

  Tiamat and I followed the girl. The shop had a spacious interior too, and I could see a few customers looking at the items on display and speaking with some of the employees. All in all, business seemed well.

  “Oh, Sir Eiji. I’m so glad to see you,” Milon, the shopmaster, greeted us.

  He was a portly, middle-aged man like Mister Garish at the Adventurers’ Guild. He invited us to his table, where he seemed to conduct his business negotiations.

  “I hope we weren’t too early.”

  “Of course not. I have been looking forward to your arrival... Oh, excuse me.”

  As we were walking together and chatting, Mister Milon tripped... on air. He reached for the table to hold himself up.

  “...”

  He could barely lift his toes. He was afflicted also; it was only natural. Mister Milon was wealthy, had plenty of food on his table, and seemed to move around a lot since he was busy running his business. He checked plenty of the boxes.

  “Mister Milon, how are you lately? Do you feel lethargic at all?” I asked, as I took my seat at the table. It’s not worth noting, but Tiamat managed to sit up in a chair, too. Wasn’t her tail in her way? How did the chair support her weight?

  “What is it?” she asked.

  “Nothing...”

  “Yes, I do feel lethargic. My doctor told me to get out of the shop and get some exercise, so I’ve been walking quite a bit, but it’s not doing much. Although,” he concluded, “I suppose the silver lining is that I’ve run into you and a good deal on one of my walks.”

  Pleasantries aside, that doctor...! Vitamin B1 can’t be made by photosynthesis. What was the point in making him exercise?

  “Hm. This is grave, isn’t it? This doctor’s prescription would only worsen his symptoms,” Tiamat said, crooking her neck.

  At the same time, her chair creaked.

  Just don’t break the chair, please... I couldn’t help but plead silently.

  “Ignorance isn’t a sin. Something like this was a common case in history, I think.”

  “Is everything all right? Sir Eiji? Miss Tiamat?” Mister Milon asked, suspicious of our whispering.

  “In fact, Mister Garish has al
so been troubled with lethargy. We have just started to take some action against this seemingly widespread condition.”

  “Oh, that is wonderful news! I would love to have mine treated, too.”

  “Yes, of course.”

  I returned a smile. This was my opening.

  “Do you know of anyone else with similar symptoms, by the way?”

  “Yes, quite a few.”

  Mister Milon’s expression shifted, his cheerfulness fading as he grew somber.

  “I hear that many of them have lost the ability to walk, and have passed away,” he added, with somewhat of a hushed tone. I hadn’t realized how bad the situation was; I had to hurry.

  “Have you heard of anyone who improved after leaving Lishua?” I asked.

  “No... Not that I know of.”

  “I see.”

  All right. This wasn’t the beriberi that became widespread during the Edo period but the beriberi that was an epidemic during the Meiji and Taisho period, when commoners could begin to regularly eat white rice after the improvements in rice refinement technology: the beriberi known as one of the two diseases the Japanese were most affected by in history. Things were much worse than I had thought.

  During the Edo period, the symptoms of beriberi subsided somewhat just by the patient moving to the countryside. In addition to eating less white rice, the patient would have more access to soba noodles, beans, and potatoes. Surely the economic disparity between the city and the countryside must have been a factor, but I assumed that there was a sort of general knowledge on how to prevent beriberi.

  Possibly through old wives’ tales; they can be more on the mark than one might expect. It isn’t too uncommon, for example, for tsunami predictions calculated by a pinnacle-of-modern-technology super computer and the predictions given by the fishermen according to their generations-old signs to match up.

  When Mister Mightier-Than-Thou Piece-of-Shit Hero overwrote entire cultures in this world, he made sure to stomp right over the failsafe that is cumulative knowledge. I was so thankful, I would have bowed to that hero in worship if I could have... and begged for the smiting to stop.

  “Mister Milon. Your lethargy is caused by an illness. Without treatment, you will die.”

  “No...”

  “We will treat it. Not just you and Mister Garish, but we will treat all who are afflicted.”

  “Oh, mighty Hermits...”

  “But I need your help, Mister Milon.”

  “Anything.”

  He pounded his chest. As a powerful merchant, he might have expected us to ask for his help in the financial department. We would get to that eventually, of course, but not for a while.

  “First, I need to know your diet. Do people eat pigs here?”

  “$%&? What is that?”

  The word he used was unintelligible. I glanced at Tiamat, who nodded.

  “Since the word doesn’t exist in this world, it seems it wasn’t translated. Of course, Milon doesn’t know what it is, either.”

  “I see.”

  Pigs aren’t entirely a product of nature on Earth, after all. They were originally boars. Through a painstakingly long time (since the ancient Mesopotamian civilization) the species was gradually modified to become livestock. Different worlds lead to different civilizations and histories. This was only natural.

  “Do you know what boars are, then?”

  “Do you mean gagd? A magibeast species?”

  It seemed that he understood this time. The different name for it wasn’t a big deal, as long as knew that they existed.

  “Do you ever eat them?

  “Are they edible? I imagine hunters may eat them on occasion, but I have never seen them in shops.”

  “Hm.”

  While he hadn’t eaten the pork variant before, it seemed that people in Lishua didn’t have an aversion to eating meat. That alone was an important piece of information to gain.

  I went down my mental list of foods rich in vitamin B1 in the same manner. As a result, eel was a no-go. Mister Milon couldn’t even understand what sort of creature it was. While he knew of soybeans and potatoes, they were not commonly eaten by humans here. Apparently, those were mainly used as feed for their livestock, which was a creature akin to the ostrich or emu. That was a major food for them. I wondered if it would taste good; its taste aside, though, I didn’t know and didn’t have any way of finding out how much vitamin B1 the particular meat contained. I shouldn’t count on it, I thought.

  The other option was brown, unrefined rice, but this was out of the question too. Mister Piece-of-Shit Hero had instilled the technology of refining rice at the same time as introducing the crop itself. Everyone in Azur had it in their minds that rice is, and will always be, white. No matter how much I campaigned for eating brown rice and its nutritional value, I doubted that I could overturn the image in these people’s minds that rice must be white.

  In truth, it could have been possible over a long-term awareness campaign, but countless people would die in the meantime. In Japan, from the start of the epidemic in the early Meiji period until a decade into the Showa period (when the quality of food declined across the board due to World War II) about 10,000 to 20,000 people died to it annually over those seven decades or so. According to a quick calculation, that adds up to more than a million.

  Don’t you get it, Mister Piece-of-Shit Hero? You’re about to kill off so many more than the oh-so-evil Demon Lord ever did.

  9.

  I had decided on a direction to take. I would popularize soybeans and potatoes, currently used as livestock feed, as food for humans. If soybeans were presented as edamame and potatoes as french fries, I doubted that anyone would consider them livestock feed. This was my first-aid.

  In the meantime, I would hunt gagd and normalize eating it. Luckily, the people here didn’t seem to have an aversion to eating meat. My guess was that if it tasted good, people would eat it. As long as it tasted good, people had no problems eating pigeons that symbolized peace or killer whales that ruled the sea.

  “Let’s start by making edamame. Even I can cook up something like that.”

  “Shall I prepare some soybeans, then?” Mister Milon offered.

  I was just thinking about getting some at the market, so him taking care of that would be great.

  “If you don’t mind. Green, unripe ones in their shell. It’s fine if they’re sold by the branches, too. I’ll also need salt and water. Oh, is salt valuable here?”

  “It’s far from free. The soybeans are cheap, though.”

  So salt cost a considerable amount. Of course, salt in modern day did seem too cheap, in a way. In any other time in history, it was a precious commodity; wars had been started over sources of salt. On the other hand, I couldn’t boil edamame without salt. Some expenses couldn’t be avoided.

  “That’s fine. We’ll need a good amount of it. Specifically, we’ll need about 40 grams of salt for every 300 grams of soybeans.”

  They didn’t use the metric system in this world, so the actual quantity and units of measurement Mister Milon heard must have been different.

  “I can get that, no problem. In fact, I can pull that much from my kitchen,” he said with a laugh.

  With a long-term production plan in mind I knew I had to properly stock up, but this was just a test run.

  Soon, at Mister Milon’s orders, one of the employees from the shop brought over some edamame on their branches. It was the same girl who had welcomed us when we first arrived.

  “Here they are, Dad!”

  “Call me ‘Boss’ when we have customers. How many times do I have to tell you, Millia?”

  “Sorry!”

  A heartwarming exchange. It seemed that the girl was Mister Milon’s heir.

  “What am I going to do with this one? She’s nearly sixteen and has no prospect for a marriage. Where did I go wrong?”

  Mister Milon chuckled with humility, but it was clear as day how much he cared for his daughter. I was willing to
bet that he would be bawling at Miss Millia’s wedding.

  “Why doesn’t she give it a try while she’s here? It’s an easy dish to cook.”

  “Dish? I thought you were making medicine.”

  “Hermits don’t believe that pills should be hard to swallow.”

  I gave a bogus response to Mister Milon’s question. I couldn’t very well have called edamame a medicine.

  The three of us (plus the dragon) moved to the kitchen. This really wasn’t a difficult dish. I was sure that they would be able to cook it themselves after watching me do it once. In fact, they didn’t even need to recreate my process faithfully. I only remembered it from a life hack show that was playing on NHK (Japan’s national TV station) a few years back. This was just a method of boiling the beans that made them plump. Edamame that was simply boiled tasted fine, too.

  I took the edamame shells off of their branches and massaged some salt into them after cutting off both ends. I boiled the water in a pot, put in the salt and 300 grams worth of edamame, then let it cook for three to five minutes. I had used a liter of water in the pot, rubbed in ten grams of the salt and used the other thirty grams in the pot. Once they were boiled, I drained them in a colander before fanning the steam away. That was it.

  “How easy. You call this cooking, Eiji?”

  “To be honest, you don’t even have to be this exact with the ratio.”

  I decided to give Tiamat something more to roll her eyes about. Milon and his daughter stared at what they only knew to be livestock feed. The fresh edamame shone a vibrant, verdant green.

  “The shell is inedible, so try pushing the beans out with your fingers, like this.”

  I popped out a few beans onto a plate and ate them myself. It didn’t taste too bad. Being in early summer helped too, as that was the harvest season for edamame. A little bit later in the year and it would have been off-season. In other words, I was just in time arriving before midsummer, when beriberi would be at its worst.

  Tiamat chucked some edamame into her mouth. While they were still in their shells.

  “I told you, you can’t eat the shells.”

  “Don’t sweat it. Totally edible.”