The last can was stuffed full of bread. Canned bread had no water content, so it was extremely dense. I was still glad to be able to keep this staple food in my diet, though. I wouldn’t have been able to make it myself, after all. I cut up the log-like loaf on a wooden chopping board. Taking the pan off the heat, I dished it out into bowls and got spoons ready. It was a simple meal, the kind of thing we had every day. I got up and walked over to the table in the library.
“Nito, dinner’s ready,” I said, once I was standing next to her.
I got no response. She was the same way when she was painting: once she got into something, she was really into it. I did what I always did, shaking her shoulder. She looked up at me in surprise.
“W-What is it?”
“Dinner’s ready. You’re probably hungry.”
She stretched to look around me and saw the meal I’d prepared. Her face brightened.
“I am, actually,” she said as if just realizing it. “Thank you.”
She gently closed the book she’d been looking at and stood up, then stopped as if a thought had suddenly occurred to her. She had her left index finger in her right hand and she was tugging at it. I’d realized lately that this was a habit of hers when she was feeling unsure or was struggling to say something. She glanced up at me and then flicked her eyes toward the girl before looking back up at me. I wanted to laugh at her obvious hesitance, but I just nodded back to her instead. Her long, pointed ears twitched with conviction as she turned to face the girl again. After taking a moment to prepare herself, she spoke.
“Excuse me.”
The girl looked up and seemed almost taken aback at the enthusiasm written clearly on Nito’s face.
“W-Would you like to eat with us?” Nito asked.
The other girl soon realized what was going on, and her lips curved into a smile.
“Oh, you’re inviting me?” she asked.
“Um, if it’s not a bother, then yes.”
“It’s not a bother at all. Thank you.”
Nito breathed a “thank goodness” as all the tension unwound from her body, and then she smiled happily.
“Then, um, come this way,” she said, walking over to the makeshift dining area on the floor outside the door.
The other girl stood and gave me a questioning look as she passed. Somehow, I could tell she was asking if she’d be in the way.
“Well, I made extra just for this.”
“You’re both far too kind,” she told me with a smile before sitting down next to Nito.
I sat down across from them and we tucked into our modest meal. It was the same flavors we’d had a thousand times, but Nito still smiled and declared the food delicious. It was also nice to watch her eat her fill. She was still a growing girl, after all.
The bread was so dry that just folding over one of the thin slices I’d cut would have been enough to snap it in half. If you tried to eat it plain, it would suck up all the saliva in your mouth and dry it out, so instead we spread a thin layer of the bean and tomato stew over each slice. That increased the moisture content, softening the bread enough to bend it into a bowl shape that could hold another spoonful. Once we’d done that, we could fold it over and bite into the resulting sandwich.
As we ate, I noted the bread’s strong wheat-flour aroma and its firm texture under my teeth. The surface was still parched, but the center had absorbed the moisture from the stew and become chewy. It reminded me of pizza dough, and it went perfectly with the saltiness of the beans and the bittersweet taste of the tomatoes.
The bread had vanished in moments and then all we had left was a thin soup. It was actually a broth made of the same powdered stock I used for stews, but Nito and I often dissolved the stock in hot water and ate it on its own. You couldn’t really say it was tasty, though. I called it soup for the sake of convenience, but it was more like the water left over after boiling some meat and vegetables. The best thing about it was that it was warm and relaxing.
Nito and the girl sipped at the soup once they’d finished their food. The girl opened the bag at her waist and reached inside. Despite the bright light from the lantern, the interior looked pitch-black. She pulled out a bright-red apple.
“As thanks for the meal,” she said, offering it to me.
A wordless conversation passed between us, and then she nodded, turning to offer it to Nito instead.
“Really?!” Nito asked with a gasp, her eyes sparkling.
She loved fruit and other sweet things. We rarely saw anything like that, though, especially not fruit that looked freshly picked and hadn’t been treated for preservation. Most fruit trees we came across didn’t actually have fruit on them anymore. Nito was a clever girl, and so she knew just how valuable such a thing was in this world.
The other girl just told her to go ahead, though, holding out the apple toward her, so she couldn’t refuse it. She took the apple with shaking hands and looked at it reverently. The tips of her ears, visible through the silvery curtain of her hair, were practically vibrating. It looked like the girl found Nito’s happiness just as charming as I did. I mouthed my thanks to her and she simply offered me a shrug.
“Um, please tell me your name!” Nito blurted.
Apparently, she was trying to make a new friend. The other girl seemed a bit self-conscious about the unfamiliar experience, pulling her cap down slightly before answering.
“I’m Charolles.”
“Thank you for giving me such a wonderful thing, Charolles. I’m so happy! Oh, I’m Nito, and this is Keisuke.”
Aha, she’s finally given the introductions herself! Until now, that had been my line: “I’m Keisuke, and this is Nito.” I was happy about her growth, but somewhat saddened at the same time.
“Are you a traveler, Charolles?” Nito asked with an innocent look, clutching the apple to her chest.
“I am indeed. I was a courier first, though.”
“A courier!” Nito exclaimed.
“A courier?” I murmured.