The next morning, I took Pochi and Tama to the old man’s place.
“You two be good and listen to Yumoto-san. Also, don’t peck people. Or cats, dogs... You get the idea.”
At their size, if I let my chickens attack other animals, I’d probably get reported for animal abuse. Pochi and Tama were distracted and seemed to be paying me no mind as I spoke. Now listen here! I’m your owner, you know.
Incidentally, if you were wondering what became of the yamakagashi snake Yumoto-san killed, I was told they skinned and fried it. The bitterness of the meat is a “nice accent” or something. In other words, it generally doesn’t taste very good.
“All right, come pick them up on the weekend,” said Yumoto-san. “Pochi, Tama, come with me. I’ll give you guys a briefing.” The two chickens followed him obediently.
Well, I mean... It’s not like I wanted them to be devastated at our parting or anything... But they didn’t even look back at me—what’s up with that?!
“Okay then, I’m leaving!” I exclaimed, slightly louder than necessary.
“Sure! I’ll let you know if anything comes up!” Yumoto-san turned to me and replied, but the two chickens didn’t even give me a second glance. Coldhearted monsters. I left the Yumotos’ place angry and stopped by the tofu store.
It was a really simple, old-timey shop that also sold various kinds of fried tofu dishes. I liked their tofu for the size and texture, and they also gave you free okara with every purchase. I’d once asked them why they always gave something so delicious away for free, and they’d explained that since okara was a by-product of making tofu, they got a ton of it every day—it just wouldn’t be realistic to sell it all, especially considering that okara spoils quickly. Large tofu factories could afford to hire specialized services to dispose of it, but that wasn’t possible for a small shop like this, so they gave it to whomever might want it. I bought some fried dishes from the shop and got a whole bag of okara to go with them. I liked to stir-fry okara with vegetables every now and then, and it was also a big hit with the chickens. Nowadays, okara-based diet products, like okara cookies, also existed. If you wanted to throw it away, it would be considered industrial waste and taxed accordingly. It was important to find ways to make use of it.
After finishing up at the tofu shop, I went back to the mountain. There wasn’t a lot I could do today due to the rain.
“Yuma, I’m back.” I could see her head pop out to greet me as I parked the truck. She must have been looking after the house.
“I brought some okara for us.”
“For us!”
She waved her tail in excitement. I’m glad she’s happy about it, but lately, I’ve been thinking that their tails are basically lethal weapons. Imagine getting smacked with that... Ouch. That’s how they hunted the boar, right? That was, uh...before Golden Week? They weren’t this big yet... I was a bit frightened by their growth, but they didn’t seem to be having trouble finding prey for now, so I decided to pay it no mind.
I put my purchases in the fridge and went over to the fields to have a look. All the rain we were getting wasn’t good for plants’ health. The chickens took care of bugs and pests, but they couldn’t do anything about illnesses. Seems there’s nothing out of the ordinary for now.
“I hope we can get better weather soon.” I wanted to dry my laundry and futon outside. Dryers just weren’t the same.
That reminds me... There’s a theory you might have heard of. It states that the characteristic pleasant smell of clothes dried outside is actually the smell of dead mites. Apparently, that’s complete nonsense—what really happens is the ultraviolet rays in the sunlight break down fibers like cotton, causing that familiar “scent of the sun.” (It’s complicated—look it up.) I’m glad it’s not mites. I want to fill my lungs with the scent of the sun.
The chickens also look adorable and smell nice when they sunbathe. Only Yuma lets me smell her, though. Oh well.
That afternoon, I went down to the river, and the rising water level made me concerned. Once I returned home, I dried Yuma with a towel and then just lazed around. I hadn’t really thought about it during the day, but after I made dinner, it dawned on me—that’s right, Pochi and Tama aren’t here today.
Yuma ate okara and vegetable scraps, and I put the food I’d accidentally made for the other two in the fridge. Pulling myself together, I decided to take a bath with Yuma. If she grows larger than this, we might not fit in the bathtub anymore. The bathroom itself was quite spacious, so at least that wasn’t a concern. I guess I’ll need to buy a big washtub or something like that. That, or we just take turns bathing on our own. That’s a bit sad, though.
“Pretty quiet, isn’t it...?”
“Isn’t it...”
My chickens didn’t make too much noise, but usually at this time of the day, they were all inside, and you could hear the sounds of them moving around the house. It felt a bit unnatural to be enveloped in silence. I counted on my fingers: Today’s Wednesday, and I’m picking them up on Saturday, so it’ll be just me and Yuma until then.
“I might miss them more than I thought...”
Pochi and Tama weren’t touchy-feely, but I’d grown used to them being around. It just doesn’t feel right without those three. They’re irreplaceable members of my family.
I didn’t need any money—I just wanted the chickens to come back. But I’d already given my word.
“Yuma, can you sleep next to me?”
I didn’t mean she should get into the futon with me. I just wanted her to sleep in my bedroom instead of in the living room or hallway or somewhere else, like the chickens usually did. Yuma did as I asked and snuggled up to me. Such a kind and adorable chicken. I really don’t know what I’d do without you guys. Sorry for being such a lame owner.
That night, I felt a bit like crying.