“Down the road, we should properly domesticate them,” I responded as I rubbed my jaw.
The gesture didn’t hold a particular significance. It was just sore. It seemed that the people in this world had tougher teeth and jaws than me. The gagd thigh, in particular, was tough as nails. Chewing on the hardened muscle made me feel animalistic. Its savory flavor aided in me overeating but my jaw was paying the price. It was once again clear that the people of Lishua, who could chow down thick steak after steak, were of a different breed than the modern-day human like me.
“What were you thinking of, specifically?” Mister Milon asked, as he wiped the sweat from his forehand with his hand towel.
We were in a bath house. There were many of them in Lishua, and we had decided to enjoy a soak after our meal. Most of them, by the way, were coed. Therefore, Tiamat, Millia, and Maley, along with other women, were sharing the large bath with us. Apparently? The Hero? Who introduced the concept of baths? To this country? Told them that coed? Was normal? Uh-huh. As if we were in the Edo period.
If I recall correctly, in the movie Shogun (set in the Edo period) a Japanese woman and a Dutch man share a bath. In response to the man’s surprise, the woman says:
“In this country, we believe that there is an invisible wall between men and women. That is why no one is ashamed when showing their skin in a bath.”
Or something of the like. Don’t quote me on it.
In any case, it didn’t really matter. I was about 90% sure that the mighty hero in question wasn’t from the Edo period, nor did he spread the culture of bathing according to his own experiences. He just wanted to take coed baths. Though not as a privilege just for himself, but with the reasoning to make it normal; or otherwise his excuse for convincing people that coed baths were nothing to be embarrassed about had just stuck around. I imagined it was something like that.
Just so everyone is aware, a woman washing up with seductive gestures in these scenarios is solely a product of male fantasy. It’s only seductive in fiction and film. Why would anyone, when this was a normal day in their life, wash their body with the gaze of the opposite sex in mind?
“Sir Eiji?”
Mister Milon looked concerned as I was lost in thought watching the women wash their hair and bodies without a shred of sensuality.
“Oh, sorry, I’m fine. In terms of domesticating the gagd, you mean?”
“Yes.”
“I’m not an expert in the matter, so I can’t be too sure, but...”
With that disclaimer, I gave a quick rundown. Fortunately, we had gained the acquaintance of Baze, the lord of the forest. If he could provide us with a few gagdlets, we could multiply them to set up a steady supply. Since people here already raised livestock, I was sure that they already had a system for raising them.
That being said, gagds were magibeasts with large fangs, which would require caution. I couldn’t imagine the turn of events if a gagd farmer were to end up injured or killed.
“Pigs have fangs, too,” Tiamat, who smoothly swam through the bath to approach us, informed me.
“Really?”
“Pigs are domesticated boars. Why would they lose their fangs just from being domesticated?”
Come to think of it...
“Pigs have their canine teeth cut off on the day they are born,” she continued. “Although, that’s also to keep them from hurting the mother while nursing.”
“They’re literally defanged, then.”
Which, figuratively, means to be made much less aggressive. Perhaps the phrase originated from practices like this. Humans were raising these beasts for their own benefit after all. It wouldn’t do if they were left with elements of the wild. It may seem cruel, but it also seemed necessary.
“This isn’t something we can fix in a matter of days, though.”
“Mm-hm. There will be cracks in the foundation if we try to force it. Domestication of livestock on Earth has been going on for over ten thousand years. It isn’t something we can alter with a flick of the wrist.”
Indeed, that history was built on trial and error by generations going way back before the Common Era. It was too dangerous to turn all of that on its head with nothing but half-hearted tidbits of knowledge. The last thing we could afford was to make the same mistakes Mister Piece-of-Shit Hero had made.
“There’s your answer, Milon. We lack the proper knowledge of raising livestock, so we cannot provide you with any detailed process.”
“No need for concern, Master Tiamat. You have given us enough hints already.”
Mister Milon didn’t even seem disappointed. He hadn’t grown his business this large on dumb luck.
9.
First thing in the morning the next day, Syfer came to visit me. Forcibly dragging me out of bed, he put me into rags (as if I was a slave) before bringing me to the courtyard of Milon Manor. To boot, he sat me onto the ground and shoved my back down to make me grovel on the ground.
“So cruel... What have I done to deserve this...?”
A demon had been sent to bring hellish torment unto me.
“What do you mean, Sir Eiji? You could get hurt if you don’t stretch first.”
“Urgh...”
His overly charming smile was blinding. Where was all his energy coming from?
“You’re just a weakling, Eiji. Too sore to move? What a geezer.”
Tiamat added insult to injury. I had walked a lot the past two days! And I couldn’t sleep well with nothing between me and the ground.
What was the point of working out, anyway? I had finally returned to town, why couldn’t I have enjoyed a moment’s rest? My whole body was screaming in pain, tearing at the seams. This part wasn’t in the job application. Stop this madness, young man.
“The Bureaucrat in Captive, by Eiji Kazama.”
“I’m sorry, Sir Eiji. I don’t understand a thing you are saying.”
“Yep. It’s all nonsense, Syfer. Don’t mind me.”
I would have been dumbfounded if Syfer, a resident of another world, understood my reference to a poem titled “Ostrich in Captive” by Kotaro Takamura, published in 1928. In any case, I was the one who asked him to train me. While I couldn’t shake the feeling that I had been very maliciously set up, I couldn’t back out of it now, even if streaks of tears flowed down my face... I wanted to just go home.
“Stretching is painful for you? A little too out of shape, don’t you think?” Tiamat laughed, slapping the ground with her sturdy tail.
She, by the way, was playing with Baze. Apparently it was a game where each tried to pin down the other. A four-meter Fenrir versus a barely 180cm (if I didn’t count her tail) dragon wouldn’t be much of a fight if the game was contingent on size, but it seemed that Baze was the one being toyed with. Tiamat didn’t even let him inside a range where he could make a palpable hit, let alone grapple.
Of course, if I were to jump into such a ring, I would have been a corpse in one second flat. So I kept a fair distance between myself and them. Now Tiamat was interrupting my conversation with Syfer all the while parrying Baze’s attacks. How many legs did she have up on the Fenrir?
“In any case, Sir Eiji. I think you’re a little too stiff,” Syfer said, as he pulled my left arm and stretched it behind my back, more like a chiropractic session than a stretch. It felt pretty good.
“I apologize. Never had a job that required me to be physically active.”
“No need to apologize, but you might actually get hurt if we jump right into things.” Syfer half-sighed, half-chuckled.
Don’t joke about it.
Shout out to all the dads who have gotten themselves hurt during the dads’ dance portion of their daughters’ recitals. One can’t underestimate just how out of shape people can get.
“Not underestimating. For today, we’re going to focus on stretching. Get you on your feet tomorrow.”
“I don’t mind if we just keep stretching forever.”
It felt good enough that, if Syfer
were to become a masseur, I would go to him regularly.
“Then you’ll never get any training done.”
Yep. That was so true, I got teary-eyed.
“But you’re really good at this, Syfer. Where did you pick up these techniques?”
“Just did, after a while. Comes with knowing how to break the body.”
He casually dropped that scary notion. This was a man specialized in fighting, after all.
After finishing our morning training, we all came to the breakfast table. Mister Milon’s conditions seemed to be improving further. While I doubted that he had consumed enough vitamin B1 for a complete recovery, it seemed to be enough to get him out of the chronic state of malnutrition.
“It appears the Senzu are already working, Sir Eiji,” Mister Milon said, during breakfast.
Another meal filled to the brim with edamame dishes. The one that particularly caught my eye was a bowl of rice and beans. That was good. I couldn’t have enough of the white rice seasoned by the beans and their salt.
“How do you mean?”
Putting the rice down for a moment, I asked for clarification. He wasn’t talking about his improvement. That was already apparent two days ago.
“While you were away, Sir Eiji, I provided some Senzu to a few bars owned by some friends. We’ve already received an amount of reorders this morning.”
“I see.”
I chuckled. No wonder the edamame dishes seemed refined at the tasting of gagd dishes yesterday. Preparations were already underway even before we had returned. Striking the iron while it’s hot, Mister Milon knew when to seize a business opportunity.
“Not without concerns, however.”
“What is it? Are we running out of edamame?”
If that was the case, things were dire. A supply that could be depleted in a matter of days could never provide for the entire population of this country.
“Oh, no. No need for worry there. We already grow plenty of it for livestock feed to begin with. In fact, most farmers are even annoyed by the plant growing rapidly on its own.”
Never underestimate the vitality of beans. As we spoke, Mister Milon’s business was buying up those pesky little beans by the cartful. The growers were left richer than before, and Mister Milon had a promising return to look forward to. A win-win. Considering that this could lead to improving the health of the people of Lishua, throw another win in there.
“Then, what are the concerns?”
“We have some complaints, mostly from women. Nothing major.”
“Which are?”
“That most of the dishes are bar food.”
“Oh, I see...”
I could only muster a chuckle at that. The boiling recipe I’d demonstrated was exactly that. While the chefs had developed some more uses, putting them in soup or rice for example, I believed that the rightful place of an edamame is by a cold pint of beer. Gagd meat was more of a masculine food too. Perhaps they wouldn’t be too popular with the ladies.
“Come to think of it, Maley didn’t eat much of it either,” Syfer chimed in.
Maley was the sole female of his party. She didn’t seem like the type to drink heavily, so I couldn’t imagine her choking down beans and meat with a side of ale.
“Hmm. An edamame dish that women would like...”
Quite the conundrum, especially since I had no expertise in the kitchen.
“Tia? Have anything up your sleeve?”
“Don’t women and children prefer sweets?” said the biologically-female dragon fighting Baze over gagd meat at breakfast. Seemed a little too simple to conclude that non-drinkers like sweetness.
“Hmm. Sweet, you say?”
Mister Milon was the one who seemed more interested. I looked around to find that Syfer’s and Millia’s interests were piqued too.
Then I remembered. In olden days, sweetness was a coveted taste. There were no sweets sold at the corner store, like modern day. Back in the day, people in Japan would chew on the roots of plants like jiaogulan in search of any semblance of sweetness.
Of course, I never lived through those times, but I assumed that the current times in this world were comparable to that. Perhaps a sweet edamame treat would explode in popularity.
“But a sweet edamame dish...?”
I dug deep into my memory bank, and everything I could recall was savory or spicy. In the first place, even if I knew the taste of some pre-packaged snack, I didn’t know how to make them.
“Remember? The traditional one in Japan.”
Tiamat grinned at me in my confusion. Was there really such a thing? I still couldn’t shake my perception of edamame as a salty food.
“Zunda mochi. Zuuundaaaa.”
“Why’d you say it like that?”
10.
Zunda mochi is a traditional dish of the Tohoku region of Japan. It’s usually enjoyed with ground edamame on top of the mochi. A historical drama on NHK a while back had even shown a scene where Masamune Date was serving them to the regional lords of feudal Japan. Apparently there was already a form of grocery store sampling back then. According to that particular drama, of course.
It’s worth noting that not all Zunda are sweet, and some of them can be savory. Nowadays, the sweeter varieties have become mainstream. I recalled a Zunda shake being sold in a basement level of Sapporo station. It was pretty good.
“That comedian called something Deluxe raved about it, too. It’ll be a hit with women and children.”
“The person you’re thinking of is neither a woman nor a child. And not a comedian, but a columnist.”
I did make these corrections to Tiamat’s statement. Not that I knew the person in question personally, nor was I particularly a fan, but I wanted us to acknowledge his occupation correctly... for some reason.
“In any case, I’m picking up what you’re putting down. If we can get the ingredients, maybe we can manage Zunda.”
All I’d have to do is grind it down and place it on mochi!
“The ingredients we need are edamame and sugar, and a little salt for taste. As for the mochi, we can work with the rice they have now. It won’t be as stretchy as Japanese mochi, but it’ll have a similar texture.”
Tiamat gave details from one of her knowledge DLC packs. My guess was that this time it didn’t come from the useless knowledge pack.
“Sugar might be a problem, though... Mister Milon, what sorts of sweeteners are the people of this country accustomed to?” I asked.
The answer I received from Mister Milon was maple syrup, which in my world was created by boiling down the sap from sugar maple trees. Naturally, no such tree existed in this world. Some unintelligible words were used in Mister Milon’s response.
“Syrup, you say? I don’t think that will go too well with Zunda.”
“In the first place, it isn’t easy to acquire, financially speaking. We also have a honey, but that is even more expensive.”
“Right.”
If it was easy to acquire, there would have been no reason for Syfer and Millia to show such interest for the topic. There was no such thing as ‘too sweet.’ Those were the times they were living in. And yet, they had plenty of white rice. Of course they would overeat it. Rice does have a subtle sweetness to it.
I was faced with the answer to a question I never thought to ask myself. What would happen when you introduce refined white rice to people who had been munching on rye for generations? A terribly distorted world. In order to correct it, I was about to distort it even further.
“It’s not as tragic as you think it is. Even without your guidance, these people would have eventually found edamame and gagd meat. And the concept of vitamins.”
Reading my expression, Tiamat comforted me. She had a point. Just like the people on Earth, these people had the smarts to save themselves from extinction. Eventually, they would have found a cure for beriberi. It was only a question of when.
It wasn’t until the 1920s when vitamins were categorized and unders
tood. Were there no treatments for scurvy or beriberi before then? Not necessarily. From trial and error, some effective methods were realized. For example, it was publicized in the mid-18th century that fruit helped treat scurvy. They just couldn’t prove how.
If I were to assume that Azur Kingdom was about as evolved as a country in medieval Europe, that could mean as far back as the 5th century on Earth. Considering that the cure for beriberi was found in the 20th century, it could take a maximum of 1400 years for the people of Azur to find it.
I noted before that beriberi killed over a million people over the course of 70 years. If I kept the math simple, beriberi in this world could kill over 20 million in the time it would take them to find the cure. It could have meant the end of the world for these people, quite literally.
I wanted to avoid that, so I used the knowledge I had. I chose to correct a world misshapen by a cheat code called Modern-Day Knowledge by typing in a console command of the same name.
“And you made the right choice, Eiji. Florence Nightingale used her connections to save people’s lives in Crimea. Was that an evil deed?” Tiamat said, with a smile.
In the Crimean War, where the alliance of Britain, France, the Ottoman Empire, and Sardinia fought the Russian Empire, a nurse, Florence Nightingale, stormed into the field hospital and overruled the male-dominated army by using everything in her arsenal, including the influence of Queen Victoria, to reduce the mortality rate at the hospital from 42% to 2%. She saved lives using connections, wealth, media, and even violence. This depiction might be jarring from the Angel in White image most Japanese people hold of her; still, she was an angel.
An angel isn’t someone who gives out pretty flowers, but someone who fights for those who are suffering.
...to borrow her own words.
“Let’s make sugar,” I declared, and turned to Tiamat. “Tia. Can we get any beets?”
“You’re a Dosanko, after all. That’s your first thought, instead of sugar canes?”
Oh, can it. The northern wilderness that I called my home produces more sugar beets than any other province in Japan. Sugar beets, by the way, produce more than 70% of Japan’s sugar. Sugar cane? What’s that? You think I had any of those in Hokkaido?
Isekai Rebuilding Project: Volume 1 Page 9