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WOULD the pact with Techi and her clan lead me to profit or loss? I decided to drop that question for the moment, saving such thoughts for after the harvest. Techi and I hadn’t said anything to each other for a while, so I watched the kids at work in the orchard instead.
Some were enthusiastically working hard, some sleeping soundly, and others were enjoying a game of tag with their friends or generally running around and playing. As I observed them, I saw that some were serious, some were happy, and some were smiling away. But I didn’t see a single look of misery or pain or distress. Gradually, my heart lifted and I was finally convinced—no one was coercing these children. There was no forced labor here. I let out a deep sigh and kept watching.
After a while, a new thought arose from the quiet.
“Miss Techi,” I said. “Could you write down all their names for me? It doesn’t have to be today.”
Techi acknowledged my question with a contemplative noise and thought about it for a while.
“I mean…sure, I can,” she replied eventually. “But what on earth do you need that for?”
“I was thinking it’d be a good idea to make them nametags. See, if a kid gets hurt or there’s some other sort of trouble, the last thing I want is to not know their name. An injured kid crying their eyes out is going to have a hard time answering my questions. But, if everyone has a nametag, I can immediately see exactly who was where and figure out what happened. That’s my thinking anyway.
“You may know everyone’s names, but, I hate to say it, these kids all look alike to me. It’ll take me a while to remember their names and faces. I think it’s important. It may not seem necessary if you’re always here, but you never know what may come up.”
“…That’s fine. Well said. You’ll have your list tomorrow,” she replied. “Tomiyasu was very good with names. If he met someone new, he’d remember their name right away…but I guess you’re still fresh from the outside. You haven’t seen many beastfolk yet. That probably makes things difficult.”
“Gramps could tell all those kids apart?” I asked, very impressed. “Wow. I’d expect nothing less. Speaking of which, I guess Great-Grandpa was able to keep this place running right up until his hospitalization thanks to these kids’ hard work, huh?”
“Yeah, that’s right,” said Techi. “He had a pact with us, so we looked after the orchard for him. He’d sit out here drinking green tea while he supervised the little ones. Other days, he’d be toiling away at that weird hobby of his. Well, there’s a limit to what you can do out here while also watching the kids, but he always found some prep work he could do.”
Great-Grandpa’s hobby. The treasures that he’d produced had once filled that warehouse to the brim. That hobby of his had saved my life once, back when I was a little boy.
Whenever I thought of him in his later years, completely obsessed with his favorite pastime, as happy as the day was long, it brought a warm smile to my face. It must have done so now as well, as Techi was giving me a strange look.
“So, what’re you gonna do?” she asked. “Your ‘orchard education’ isn’t exactly going to take very long, and the tasks you’ll need to do yourself are few and far between. If you don’t find something to do between now and the autumn harvest, there’s a real risk you’ll go a bit loopy from having too much time on your hands. You’ll need a hobby too.”
Too much free time? That was an unimaginable problem to most citizens of modern Japan. I’d be the envy of every working adult in the country, many of whom fantasized about exactly such an existence. How curious, I thought. I had long since figured out exactly how I’d spend such time, given the chance.
“I’m going to take up Great-Grandpa’s hobby. The very same,” I replied matter-of-factly. “I want to uphold his vision, humble as it was. When I was a kid, looking up and down the shelves in that warehouse, every little space crammed with colorful bottles and jars…I thought it was the most beautiful thing in the world. The mere sight of it inspired me. I’d like to recreate it.”
Techi let out a small sigh and shook her head in disbelief.
“Tomiyasu had some peculiar habits,” she admitted. “So…I guess I shouldn’t be surprised that the same strange blood flows in his great-grandson’s veins. I used to think that only a man like Tomiyasu would consider preserving food to be an engaging pastime. But now I’ve met two of you maniacs.”
Gramps loved preserving food. It was his favorite way to spend his free time.
Salting foods. Sugaring them. Pickling in vinegar. Pickling in alcohol. Smoking. Drying. Canning. Bottling. Vacuum packing. Freezing. He could make umeboshi, jam, compote, dried fruit, beef jerky, pickled wasabi, western pickles, frozen jellies, even freeze-dried tofu. He loved it all. He made such a vast range of foods. And they kept so well, retaining their delicious flavor for years at a time.
Sometimes, he’d send them to relatives. Sometimes, he’d eat them himself. And occasionally, he even organized “preserve parties” just to enjoy them with other people. They brought him joy in so many ways. I was sure that even the sight of all that countless glassware lined up neatly on the shelves must have filled him with a deep sense of satisfaction.
And it was those countless jars and bottles that’d saved my life as a boy when I’d come to visit Gramps one summer.
I’ll admit, I’m exaggerating a bit when I say that, but it definitely felt that way at the time. That warehouse full of food let us weather a very scary situation with hardly a care in the world.
“One summer, when I was just a kid,” I began to explain, “I was visiting Great-Grandpa like I did every year. This was…fifteen years ago now. Summer break had just started and I’d just arrived at the house…when that huge disaster happened.
“The Great Disaster, they’d called it. This whole area had been hit—the town at the mountain’s base had been completely devastated, as had the road connecting the town to the forest. In an instant, Great-Grandpa’s house had been cut off from the rest of the world. Although, I suppose that the result would’ve been the same even if the road had been spared.
“In the news reports, the town looked like a picture of hell itself. Homes, schools, roads; everything was damaged or destroyed. Everything the townspeople would normally take for granted about daily life had been snatched away. Nothing was coming in or out; everyone was stuck here. The camera crews filmed the survivors piling into the evacuation shelters, desperate for food and water. Seeing the aftermath unfold before me on TV, I was terrified of what was to come. I was sure that I’d starve. I thought there was nothing but suffering ahead and I started bawling my eyes out.
“But…Great-Grandpa simply smiled and told me there was nothing to worry about. He said that, until the town reopened and I could return home at the end of the summer, I could eat as much as I wanted of all my favorite foods.
“He led me straight to the warehouse building. Normally, it was strictly off-limits to us kids, so this was my first time seeing the glorious spectacle hidden inside. It was quite a shock. I remember the long rows of jam jars caught my eye right away—a full rainbow of the most delicious-looking hues. I wondered what fruits had been used in each jam—some of the colors were so exotic, I couldn’t even begin to guess. I was drooling at the thought of all those different flavors.
“At some point, I realized I’d stopped crying…and true to Great-Grandpa’s word, I enjoyed an amazing summer without a moment’s hunger or fear. What’s more, as soon as he got word that the road had finally been repaired, Gramps went down the mountain and handed out jars of food to everyone he knew. They were all so grateful—Gramps seemed like a real hero in that moment, you know?”
That, I reflected as I finished, was when I came to understand the charm of preserving food. I’d tried making jam and umeboshi a few times, first at my parents’ house and then in my own apartment. But I could only ever make small batches. There was simply no space to store all those jars for later. I was only a dabbler.
But this place? The house was huge. I could make as much as I wanted and more. I could finally sink my teeth into this world that’d fascinated me for so long, filling up the shelves in Great-Grandpa’s warehouse with delicious preserves of my own making. My hands tensed into fists—I could barely contain myself.
Techi’s eyes narrowed.
“…Is that so?” she said. “What a…great story…” She didn’t make the slightest attempt to hide her disinterest. Unconvinced by my impassioned speech, she just stared at me with puzzled indifference.