Chapter 42

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Translator: True Detective

Chapter: 42

Chapter Title: Win

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1.

The light illuminating the surroundings slowly faded away. And soon, another light began to gradually spread. A sweet fragrance slowly filled the air. A warm energy enveloped the space.

This was a memory of taste, a lingering echo of emotion.

I quietly watched the scene unfolding before my eyes.

A small kitchen.

Two pots sat side by side on the counter, marked by the traces of time. One had a lid on it, while steam rose gently from the other.

"Grandma, I'm hungry!"

In front of the counter stood an elderly woman with a hunched back and a child with a youthful face.

The ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠child jumped in place, grabbing the old woman's leg and shaking it lightly. The woman called Grandma smiled quietly and stroked the child's head.

"Nagi! Don't bother Grandma—come over here and do your summer homework!"

A sharp woman's voice came from somewhere. The child flinched.

"Yeees...."

The child called Nagi trudged toward the source of the voice with a sullen face.

I moved to the large window. Outside, a familiar rural landscape came into view at a glance.

It seemed like I could hear the sound of cicadas, and the sunlight gently flowed over the glass. A cool breeze from outside fluttered my hair.

'Summer vacation at ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠the countryside.'

I returned to the counter and carefully lifted the lid of one pot.

One was freshly cooked white rice, steam rising whitely, carrying a savory aroma that tickled the nose.

The other was a simmered vegetable stew, reduced to a thick sauce. In the deep brown broth, lotus root, fish cake, carrots, and shiitake mushrooms simmered away.

"Hm."

It was simpler than expected. Well, Grandma's cooking wouldn't be anything fancy. What mattered wasn't the food itself, but the human touch behind it.

'Yura...'

I went to the room she had entered. A child sat at the table, diligently doing homework, with a candy in her mouth. A fan beside her spun quietly.

'Cute.'

I stroked the child's head and channeled holy power into my fingertips. Time began to flow quickly.

Clouds raced across the sky outside the window. Sunlight shifted, sweeping through the room. Shadows followed suit.

"Itadakimasu!"

Time froze perfectly, and a lively voice came from the living room. I followed the sound.

In one corner of the living room, four people sat around the table eating. They all had calm faces, but the child's was unmistakably full of dissatisfaction.

"Ugh...."

On the table were neat homemade side dishes. Lightly soy-braised lotus root with a subtle soy aroma, appetizing grilled fish, miso soup steaming away, and snow-white rice.

It was a spread anyone would call home cooking, but the child's chopsticks barely moved.

"...Grandma. No sausages? Sausages...."

The child's lips drooped, a complaint spilling out. At the whining, the young woman's eyes sharpened instantly.

"Nagi, what did Mommy say? No complaining about side dishes. Grandma made this with care, so chew thoroughly and eat up."

"But still...."

"If you don't want to eat, then don't!"

The child pouted. The woman abruptly stood, snatching the rice bowl and chopsticks. The child stared at her mother in shock, then rubbed her eyes, on the verge of tears.

"Don't be too harsh. You used to complain about side dishes all the time when you were little too."

Grandma smiled quietly as she spoke. The woman averted her eyes, and the child bit her lip with tears welling up.

"......I won't eat! Just don't make me!"

The bowl and chopsticks were returned, but Nagi gritted her teeth and jumped up from her seat. She slammed the door ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠and vanished into her room.

"That kid, she just...!"

The woman let out a disbelieving scoff. The father beside her silently gauged the mood and picked up his spoon. An awkward silence filled the living room.

"I'll take care of Nagi, so finish your meal first."

Grandma said with a smile, but the woman shook her head firmly.

"Mom, just leave her be. Kids like this need a good scolding to learn. She doesn't appreciate food... It'll make her spoiled."

"But we can't let her starve, can we?"

She set down her chopsticks there. Then she stood and headed to the kitchen. Grandma began preparing more food again.

'So this is what it felt like when she was little.'

Judging by Yura's personality now, you'd think she grew up in a harmonious home. But seeing this, it was actually quite strict.

'Grandma's influence?'

Grandma wore a gentle smile, her every movement leisurely.

'Rice balls, huh.'

This wasn't anything special either.

White rice, the green tops of green onions, dried shaved bonito, sesame seeds and salt, kelp. And finally, what was commonly called umeboshi—a pickled plum.

'Grilling the outside.'

She lightly grilled the umeboshi's exterior to enhance the flavor. That one difference might be why it stuck in her memory.

I sped up time again. Confirming it had grown slightly dark outside, I went to Yura's room.

Gurgle~

She lay sprawled on the floor, staring blankly at the ceiling. Faint tear tracks still lingered around her eyes, not fully dried.

"......I'm hungry."

Yura murmured as she sat up. Opening the door a crack, her eyes fell on the rice balls. Neatly arranged on a small plate.

Click!

She quickly grabbed the plate and retreated into her room. She closed the door carefully, leaned against it, and sat on the floor. Peeling off the wrap gingerly, she murmured.

"...Itadakimasu."

Rice balls mixed with green, pink, and sesame. Yura grabbed one and cautiously put it in her mouth.

"Salty...."

She said that, but still ate the rice ball. Tears slowly trailed down her cheeks.

"...Sorry for complaining about the side dishes."

"No, Mommy was too harsh too."

That evening.

Yura timidly emerged and reconciled with her mother. Sukiyaki was on the table, and the four ate while laughing.

The memory ended there. Just like the words from that slightly salty, warm day.

'This feeling.'

It was everyday life, something commonplace. Maybe that's why it was missed more. Memories were like that.

"...Jealous."

I murmured and rewound time. To when Yura entered her room. Sitting in her empty spot, I slowly tasted the food on the table.

"Thank you for the meal."

I savored each one carefully, then bowed my head. They couldn't see me here, but manners were manners.

Snap.

I summoned holy power. The surrounding scenery vanished entirely. This time, another scene unfolded before me.

Whoosh―

Rain poured heavily from the sky. Rainwater soaked even the streetlights. A girl trudged through it.

'Yura.'

Her long hair hung limp and wet, shoulders slumped. No umbrella, no raincoat. Her uniform skirt clung to her thighs; she was drenched through.

She walked with her head down. No emotion visible. If anything, that made it more worrying.

I followed her like a camera. Yura turned into a neighborhood alley. She stopped at a small, old single house, opened the door, and entered.

"...I'm home."

A wet voice.

Mom, dozing against the sofa, opened her eyes. As she got up and headed to the entrance, their eyes met.

Yura's mom opened her mouth, then closed it. Worry filled her eyes, but she said nothing more.

"...Got caught in the rain?"

A small voice. No scolding, no surprise.

"Yeah. I was just walking and... no umbrella, so...."

"Go wash up with warm water. You'll catch a cold if you stay like that."

"...Okay."

Yura left water footprints as she headed to the shower. Meanwhile, her mom prepared food in the kitchen.

I watched her mother's cooking from the side. Chopping a thick cut of pork into cubes.

'Fancier than expected?'

She roughly chopped various vegetables. Thinly sliced onions set aside. Once prep was done, butter in the pan, then onions sautéed.

'Next comes...'

I fast-forwarded through the cooking. Confirmed the curry brand, then tonkatsu.

'Using butcher shop product, huh.'

Not handmade pounded, but pre-breaded from the butcher, fried as-is.

'Tricky.'

Since it was Yura's memory, I couldn't see how the butcher prepped the tonkatsu pork.

'Gotta compromise.'

I'd taste it myself, but 100% replication seemed tough.

The other foods weren't perfectly identical either. Everyone's touch was unique.

'Holy power's versatile, but not omnipotent. Can't be helped.'

Yura finished showering, towel wrapped around her hair as she emerged.

Freshly fried tonkatsu on a plate. Curry simmering gently in a small pot.

Sweet spice aroma. Golden fried tonkatsu. Smoothly spreading brown curry.

"Sit. It'll be ready soon."

Mom, back turned, carefully ladled curry into a bowl. Her tone was curt, but her actions gentle.

"...Okay."

As Yura sat at the table, the bowls arrived. Tonkatsu, curry, and rice in order.

"...Itadakimasu."

She gingerly scooped curry. Her mom brought another towel and dried her hair.

The curry was sweet and salty. The tonkatsu's crisp fry was exquisite. With warm rice too.

Tears fell quietly, drop by drop. Yura swallowed rice amid sobs.

"...Thanks, Mom."

"If you need Mom's help, just say so. I'll always help."

"Yeah...."

The memory ended there. With a flick of my fingers, a golden magic circle appeared, enveloping the surroundings.

*

"The tonkatsu from back then was truly fantastical... The curry was mostly sweet, I think...."

Regaining consciousness, Yura lay before me. Her ears twitched as she mumbled, groping through the memory's flavors.

Yura's account continued for a while, ending after about five minutes.

"That's all Yura remembers. Was it helpful?"

She opened her eyes cautiously. Her face full of worry. Her sister's expression beside her wasn't great either.

All the viewers expressed doubt. Yura and Sis felt the same.

I curled my lips upward and said,

"Win."