The days had begun to stretch again. Mornings arrived with a pale, golden light that touched everything in the valley with a sleepy warmth, and the wind had lost its winter bite.
Spring had come to the island.
It wasn't announced with fanfare—just the quiet blooming of wildflowers along the edge of the forest, and the soft burbling of creeks long frozen.
Ryuuji stood in the center of his field, hands resting on the handle of a hoe, surveying the freshly turned rows of soil. Beside him, Maru, one of the wolf pups, stood panting, his tail wagging proudly after having just helped "dig"—though half the time, he ended up digging in the wrong spot.
"Not bad," Ryuuji murmured with a grin, crouching to press his hand to the earth. "Still damp from last week's rain, but we can start."
Behind him, he could hear the faint sounds of Elysia and Kiko laughing near the well. The warmth of the sun on his back, the scent of tilled soil, and the familiar routine of preparing for planting made something deep inside him settle.
For Ryuuji, this was peace. Not the kind that came after victory, but the kind born of belonging.
Planting Season Begins
Rows of carrots, daikon, and sweet potatoes came first—crops that did well early in the season and could handle the occasional chill that crept in during the night.
Elysia tied her silver hair back into a thick braid and joined him with Kiko in tow, each carrying baskets of seedlings and compost tea. Kiko skipped between the furrows, her favorite wooden scoop—carved by Duncan—tied to her belt like a sword.
"Papa! Can I plant the first daikon?" she asked eagerly.
"Only if you promise not to name it again," Ryuuji said with mock seriousness.
"But last year Daikonimus the Third grew the biggest!"
Elysia stifled a laugh as she knelt beside her. "I think naming them might be your good luck charm."
"See?" Kiko grinned and pointed triumphantly at Ryuuji.
He just shook his head, smiling.
A Project of Patience: Miso
Later that afternoon, with the fields planted and the pups passed out in the shade of the porch, Ryuuji turned to something he had been planning for months: homemade miso.
It was a food that reminded him of his old life—a simple comfort, rich in flavor and memory.
The first step had started days ago: soaking soybeans overnight, then boiling them until soft. Now, in a wide wooden tub, Ryuuji mashed them by hand with a large pestle, the warm, nutty aroma rising like a quiet hum in the kitchen.
Kiko peered in. "It smells weird."
"Good weird," Ryuuji corrected. "You'll see."
He mixed in the koji—fermented rice he had painstakingly cultured in a warm corner of the pantry—and added coarse salt. The mixture was thick, warm, and sticky.
Jarred wandered in with baby Lina strapped to his chest, blinking sleepily. "You makin' food or bricks?"
"Both," Ryuuji said with a grin.
They packed the miso into large clay crocks, sealed them tight with salt, and covered them with breathable cloth.
"We won't eat this for months," Ryuuji said as he stacked the jars neatly in the root cellar. "But when we do… it'll be worth it."
Wolves, Blossoms, and Blessings
That evening, pink blossoms bloomed all along the edge of the village path. Sierra had gently coaxed the early sakura trees into bloom with a bit of harmless magic—a gift to celebrate the planting and the season of growth.
The four wolf pups—Maru, Suzu, Haku, and the runt Chibi—chased each other through the falling petals, occasionally getting scolded by Moko for knocking over baskets.
Elysia set up a long table beneath the largest tree, covering it with a simple spread: freshly grilled sweetfish, pickled turnips, steamed rice, and a clear soup made with the last of their winter miso stock. It was humble but full of warmth.
Marla rocked Lina gently on her lap as she sat beside Jarred, both of them smiling quietly while sipping warm tea. The baby was beginning to focus now, eyes wide and curious as petals drifted past her face.
Reina and Raphtael sat together near the tree roots. Reina was quiet as always, but her tail flicked contentedly. Raphtael was teaching Kiko how to play a gentle string instrument—though Kiko mostly just plucked it randomly and declared it a "battle lute."
Duncan, true to form, had carved four new planting signs, each bearing the name of Kiko's vegetables. One, she insisted, read: "Daikonimus IV – Fear Me."
Ryuuji didn't argue.
Later That Night
The stars above were crystal clear.
Ryuuji sat on the edge of his porch with a cup of barley tea, Elysia curled up beside him, her head resting on his shoulder.
Kiko had long since fallen asleep, curled up in a pile of blankets with Suzu and Chibi snoring gently on either side of her.
"You're always quiet after planting," Elysia said softly.
Ryuuji nodded. "It's when the work's done and the waiting begins. Something about that makes me… peaceful."
"You don't miss the fighting?"
"I don't even miss the old world anymore," he murmured. "Not when I have this."
She smiled. "Then tomorrow, let's try fermenting pickles."
"And the day after that, maybe rice vinegar," he added.
"Are we building a full Japanese pantry?"
"Absolutely," Ryuuji said, taking her hand.
He looked out over the fields—rows of planted hope—listened to the quiet snores of family, and felt the cool spring breeze pass gently through the trees.
For the first time in many years, Ryuuji was exactly where he wanted to be.