Chapter 11: Communal Living (3)

Of course, I had no intention of spending ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠the rest of my life getting chummy with the magical girls.

But since we were stuck together for the time being all the same, a few ground rules were in order—if only to keep communal living from falling apart at the seams. I had merely permitted them to hole up here for a while; I had not acquired slaves.

...For some reason, Hayun had once said something awfully similar to me, but even so, as a civilized modern human being, I had no intention of running with that logic one hundred percent.

"First up—this is a radio."

I set it down in front of the kids as I spoke. It looked like nothing more than a plain speaker, but it had two knobs, one for volume and one for frequency, along with a small display underneath that showed how the current station was tuned.

"No need to worry about electricity, either. It runs off my weapon."

Magic and electricity actually operated in quite different ways. With electricity, you needed separate facilities for generation and for storage. Even if you ran a generator at full tilt producing power, any surplus beyond what you were using at that moment would simply go to waste unless you had somewhere to bank it for later.

Magic was different. Once generated, a certain amount of it lingered in the surrounding area. Granted, building dedicated capacitors or batteries let you hold onto it far longer, but so long as a circuit kept running at all times, the energy could be sustained stably even without a dedicated storage site.

In other words... think of a video game. In a survival game where you can build this and that, a generator usually just needs to be placed within a certain radius and it works—no laying wires or installing infrastructure piece by piece like in real life. That was what a 'circuit' was.

The aliens, for their part, apparently had plenty of people who could handle mana natively, so they got by either by staffing enough of those personnel or by fitting batteries charged up with portable generators. That was still far more convenient than Earthlings producing and consuming electricity—but the idea that a person merely carrying a circuit counted as 'generation' in itself was radical even by those aliens' standards.

It was part of the reason magical girls and the heroes of other nations existed only on Earth, and part of the reason generators were so difficult to build: whatever produced that enormous output had to remain stable at the same time.

...Anyway, the upshot was that as long as I could fabricate the equipment, quite a few problems could be solved right here.

Summing up the chatter drifting from the radio, the government still hadn't figured out why the magical girls had gone on the run with me in the first place. Even pooling notes with the Federation had turned up nothing of substance.

"Guess they don't do counseling sessions, huh?"

I tossed the remark out, soaked in sarcasm—

"Well, sounds like you got 'counseled' by the Company plenty often yourself."

...

Rose's comeback left me with nothing to say.

"Why are you looking at me like that?"

When I turned to James, he reacted as if I were being utterly ridiculous.

What do you mean, why? You did counseling-adjacent things too.

Ah. Right. That wasn't counseling, that was intimidation. Come to think of it, this creature bore a fair share of responsibility for the state I was in now.

"Let me make one thing clear in advance: Squeak-seong-in have more bone than flesh. Eating one would never fill you up."

He looked plenty plump to me, though. He'd even felt a little squishy when I held him and fiddled with him in my palm.

Then again, that might have been the hide and the fur. If you actually meant to eat one, you'd have to remove the organs and drain the blood anyway—after all that, there might genuinely not be much meat left.

Still, there was a partial workaround.

Nuts made up a sizable share of the foodstuffs I'd stockpiled. The reason was simple: I could eat them, and so could James. Besides, I hadn't wanted to lay in anything like dried mealworms.

So all I'd have to do was force-feed him those nuts, fatten him up, then slaughter him. Wouldn't that stretch one mouthful into two?

And if that didn't work—

"How many children do you all give birth to at a time?"

For a split second I nearly said pups instead of children, but I managed to remember that James, too, was an alien treated as a 'person,' and rephrased in time.

Whether they caught my meaning or not, the magical girls' faces went deathly pale.

"...Joke or not, kindly refrain from saying such gruesome things."

Villains, of all people, were shuddering as if they'd broken out in goosebumps.

Hmm.

Rodents often bore large litters at once, and their lifespans ran a mere two years or so. In other words, they reached adulthood in next to no time. I'd figured that if I could secure enough of them, raising them would go some way toward easing the food shortage.

Then again, he wasn't a true rodent. Even granting big litters, assuming they'd reach adulthood in a month or two was a stretch.

"If we can't solve the food problem, we'll all run dry within days. Those kids are here now, after all."

I said it while looking at the magical girls.

One after another, they averted their eyes. So they did have consciences after all?

"That doesn't mean we can just surrender, can we? You wouldn't want that either, would you?"

"Even so, surrender is better than being eaten."

She had a point, I supposed.

"Um... e-excuse me...!"

As I shrugged, Dahlia timidly raised one hand.

Hair came in every color imaginable in this world, but Dahlia's wasn't red. Then again, in most magical girl or sentai shows, the 'Yellow' rarely actually had yellow hair or blonde locks.

Dahlia's hair was orange. She was supposedly the moody, mercurial type, but right now none of that 'mercurial' energy was showing.

Her hair fell to just below her neck, none too tidy, with her long bangs swept back behind one ear. It was greasy from days without a proper wash, but she had clearly done her utmost to make herself presentable.

Impressive. I'd given my face a cursory splash at the stream that morning and called it done. The water was still bitterly cold, so I'd given up on washing in earnest.

"Th-the food problem, I can solve it to some extent."

"How?"

When I cocked my head, Dahlia went on, still looking a touch nervous.

"That plot out front you cleared for planting, right?"

Apparently she'd spotted the tilled rows in front of the building.

To be honest, I hadn't shaped it so much as it had already been half-tidied when I arrived. It must have served as a vegetable patch once. In midsummer it would have been choked with nameless plants, but winter had killed off nearly everything growing there, and since I had time to burn, I'd pulled out whatever roots remained.

I'd never tilled a field with my own hands, but I'd at least seen one, so I'd molded it roughly into what a 'field' looked like in my head. Perhaps people had tended it with real care before they left—there were hardly any large stones to be found.

When I nodded, Dahlia's expression eased with relief.

"Which means you have seedlings, too."

"...So?"

It wasn't a wide selection, but I did have a few of what I'd judged 'growable from seed.' Cucumbers, eggplants, zucchini. And a few alien vegetables besides. There were several planets with natural environments much like Earth's, and plenty of the flora and fauna thriving there was edible for humans—same principle as James eating Earth-grown nuts.

...Truthfully, I hadn't packed them with any grand plan to farm. I'd just figured having them beat not having them. Growing crops would take months at minimum, and I'd never farmed a day in my life—whether I could keep anything alive long enough to harvest it was an open question.

But Dahlia's face had brightened as she listened, so she clearly had something else in mind.

"If that's what you've got, I can manage it somehow."

"...You know how to grow them?"

"No—something far better than that. I can accelerate a plant's growth."

I stared at Dahlia for a long moment, then looked down at James.

"It's possible. Though it isn't my specialty, so I can't vouch for the details."

Vegetable and fruit prices had, in fact, dropped sharply after contact with the Galaxy Federation. I'd always assumed that was because they could now be grown across a vast number of planets.

"Alien vegetables would be even better. Some cultivars have been bred specifically so that magic-accelerated growth comes out looking natural."

Dahlia kept explaining.

"It's basically the same thing they do at the treatment centers. Ever since contact with the Federation, even wounds heal within a day, right? It means the technology exists to boost healing without serious side effects, while preserving the lifespan of the tissue being treated."

So human growth rates could be regulated too, then. On some alien worlds, that was probably just ordinary.

Actually, I'd ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠heard that plenty of aliens enjoyed lifespans overwhelmingly longer than Earthlings'. Only five years had passed since first contact, so the question of lifespans was still too fresh for serious public debate.

In practice, it had probably already seeped deep into Earth culture—but with no one around me who needed to worry about dying, ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠maybe I simply hadn't felt it.

"...Fine."

Too lazy to think it through any further, I nodded. Well... if she said she could do it, she probably could. I couldn't imagine anyone lying about that in a situation like this.

I stole a glance at Hayun. She was smiling serenely. It felt a little strange to admit, but that smiling face made me trust the plan all the more.

"...I'll help too."

Seeing Dahlia rise, Delphinium got up as well.

Weren't those two supposed to be rivals, each keeping the other in check?

Well, that was how the webtoon framed it, but they weren't enemies. It had shown they were capable of setting the rivalry aside when it mattered.

I got up as well, ducked into the tent, and brought out the bags of seeds. There weren't many, but if we harvested and multiplied them, we'd manage somehow. Worst case, the next time a kaijin appeared, I could swing by a supermarket on the way back.

After handing over the bags and turning around, I found Iris and James deep in conversation.

"If we can make use of that energy, couldn't we build something like a stove?"

"I hadn't planned on staying long enough to warrant it, so I've kept us ready to withdraw at a moment's notice. But hearing that, a stove does sound like a sensible option."

So they were going to install a stove after all. Not a bad call. I had a sleeping bag, but those kids had nothing of the sort.

When I'd checked on them that morning, they were huddled in a pile, wrapped in the leftover plastic sheeting. I couldn't speak for the others, but seeing Hayun tangled up in that heap put me in a spectacularly foul mood.

Spare parts, at least, I had stacked to the rafters in sub-space, and they were retrievable even now. If I dug some out and handed them over, the two of them would sort out the rest—James had turned out all manner of contraptions single-handedly, after all.

"Then we'll build a bathtub!"

Hayun sprang up from her seat.

"Ooh, good call. I was feeling grimy anyway."

As Hayun rose, Rose stood to join her.

"The actual tub's all shattered, but... I saw a big washtub. Looks like you could sit right down in it."

...There was something like that?

When I'd first arrived, my body was wrecked and my head wasn't much better, so I hadn't gone poking through the truly ruined parts of the place.

"We should round up buckets and stockpile a mountain of them. Hauling water every single time is a chore, so we can boil a big batch all at once and keep it stored in containers."

"Yes, that'll work nicely!"

"Hmm... if we can build some kind of motor, we could pump water, too. I'll have to look into it."

Iris replied, listening in on the two of them.

And I stood there watching the kids spring into motion, profoundly flustered.

Why was everyone taking this so seriously?

I could understand Hayun wanting to stay. It's a little embarrassing to put into words myself, but the two of us were genuinely close.

Hayun had... relied on me in her own way at times, and I'd been a pillar for her at others. And because I tended to get snappish with the girls who hovered around her, there weren't many people who could be called truly close to Hayun.

Granted, most of those girls approached her with an agenda... but there's no law saying you can't become friends with someone just because they came to you with an agenda. Plenty of friendships form without a hitch even after a rotten first impression.

Which is to say, in a certain sense, the fact that Hayun had so few friends was partly my doing.

...

While I stood there gaping, dithering, the kids had all found their own tasks and scattered to do them.

Just as I moved to rise from my seat—

"Jieun, you rest."

Hayun said.

"What?"

"We'll handle it. You can take it easy for a bit."

...

I looked up at Hayun, faintly dumbfounded. She flashed me a bright grin and headed straight out the door. Rose studied my face for a moment, then trailed after her a beat late.

What remained inside the house was me, Iris fiddling with something, and one hamster.

Naturally, those two were off in their own technical back-and-forth, sparing me not so much as a glance.

Being ignored—well, in this case, that was the more helpful option.

On Iris's wrist sat a watch nearly identical to mine: a further-refined version of the spare James had built, tuned to run on my energy.

According to James, that alone wouldn't give away the source of my energy. Honestly, I couldn't say. Then again—at this point, what would change even if I was found out?

Things were flowing somewhere very different from what I'd imagined. If I had to put a name to it, in the magical girls' preferred vocabulary, this situation would be called 'Hope'—

and yet, for some reason, the Despair Circuit on my wrist refused to stop spinning.

By the time evening rolled around, things looked quite different from how they'd been when I was alone.

For one, the field had been planted. Nothing was remotely ready to harvest, but in the span of a few hours the seeds had sprouted and the seedlings had pushed a little way above the soil. Just as the girls had said—harvest might genuinely be close at hand.

"If we tend them like this every day, it won't even take a week. We'll harvest before the food we have now runs out."

"...And if we buy cultured meat, we can add more dishes to the menu."

Listening to Dahlia and Delphinium trade notes, the situation apparently wasn't all doom and gloom. They even said something that sounded suspiciously like praise for my stockpiling, but it didn't make me happy. I hadn't planned anything—I'd simply thought, aimlessly, this should probably do.

Without them, I might have met catastrophe before those plants were ever properly harvested.

Iris and James had clattered away at something and actually produced a stove. A stove that heated up on one hundred percent eco-friendly energy alone.

"If the temperature climbs a little higher, we may need to modify the structure somewhat."

Iris said it as if it were nothing. And not in a covertly smug way—her expression genuinely read no big deal. As if anyone could have done it.

I couldn't have.

"Iris built us a spare, so now we can warm water without any firewood. It won't reach a boil, but it should be hot enough to wash with."

Hayun's words made me shrink a little further into myself.

Never mind everything else—building a bath was something I could have managed with just a little forethought. Sure, ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠Hayun and Rose had spent hours scrubbing that washtub raw, but that didn't mean I couldn't have done it myself.

...And meanwhile, ever since arriving here, all I'd done was lie around, nibbling on cans day after day.

"Jieun!"

"Yeah?"

I was doing my best not to broadcast my gloom when Hayun suddenly called out to me.

"Let's take a bath."

"...Huh?"

I doubted my own ears.

"There's only the one washtub, and it barely fits two people."

"Then we just take turns, no?"

"Water's scarce, so we have to go in together."

Oh. Right.

No matter how many containers we'd secured, everyone needed to bathe, so there was no helping it. With two people in the tub, the water needed to fill it dropped by one person's share—so it was logical, in its way.

There happened to be six of us here, myself included. Two per bath meant exactly three rounds.

"That... does make sense, I guess."

Rose answered with a nod. And it wasn't just Rose—every one of the others felt the same.

For a single instant, I felt my brain simply... stop.

No. No matter how you looked at it...

That was... a thing that happened?

If I told these girls I wanted to bathe separately, wouldn't they just understand? Something told me they would.

But having watched them work all day, I couldn't bring myself to say it. However I turned it over, sharing really was the efficient call.

"Or would you rather bathe with one of the others?"

...

And this time my voice jammed in an entirely different way.

So that— that was on the table, too, huh.

No.

If pressed, bathing with Hayun would be the least mortifying option. To me, the others were complete strangers.

But still—

In the end, before I could finish sorting out my thoughts, Hayun led me along, and we ended up beside the agungi firebox.

"Jieun, have you ever bathed with someone else before?"

"...No."

I answered blankly.

In my past life, plenty of times. I'd been to bathhouses, naturally, and when I was very little I'd washed with my parents.

But in this world, I'd had no parents.

On school trips, we never all piled into one big bath—we went in small groups, a few to a room. I was almost always grouped with Hayun, so bathing separately had never been a problem.

So, no. Never.

"Me neither. Actually... that's why I'm a little embarrassed. About washing with the others."

The magical girls had to have facilities of their own. They'd wash there and head home.

Maybe they just never went in as a group?

No—that's not what matters right now—

"You don't want to?"

...

Hayun raised her eyes and looked up at me as she asked.

For a long, long while I couldn't answer. In the end, I let out a long, slow sigh.