The sky rumbled softly in the distance.
By the time the first fat raindrops began to fall across the roofs of the village, Ryuuji was already back inside the tool shed with a cloth wrapped around his head, sleeves rolled up, and the scent of old iron and oiled wood in the air. The rhythmic pattering on the roof was steady and calming.
He knelt over a spread of tools—spades, hoes, pruning shears, and sickles—all laid out like soldiers in formation. It was time for their weekly care: sharpen, oil, repair, polish.
"Everything needs rest," Ryuuji muttered as he slid a whetstone carefully along the edge of a blade. "Even tools."
Outside, the world had slowed. The villagers stayed indoors, the wolf pups napped lazily in corners, and the mist softened everything into watercolor.
A Quiet Kind of Busy
Elysia entered with a tray of warm rice tea and pickled plum onigiri. She didn't say anything—just set it beside him, kissed the top of his head, and left without a word. Ryuuji smiled as he reached for a rice ball.
After finishing the last pair of shears, he stood and cracked his back with a satisfying pop. That was enough tool maintenance for the day.
He stretched, made his way to the kitchen, and opened his small notebook.
Inside were recipes.
Old ones. Some remembered from childhood, others cobbled together during quiet nights when he missed the tastes of Earth.
Tamago yaki. Japanese-style curry. Pickled daikon. Sweet soy eggplant. Miso-marinated fish.
He flipped to a blank page.
"Alright. Let's test something new."
Ryuuji's Kitchen Experiments
The villagers had slowly come around to Ryuuji's odd food over the last year. At first, they were horrified at the idea of eating raw fish or fermenting things on purpose. But then they tasted his grilled miso eggplant. His vinegared rice rolls. His seaweed crisps.
Today's experiment was sweet-and-salty simmered burdock and fried rice with preserved greens.
Kiko peeked over the kitchen counter as Ryuuji poured soy-style sauce into a clay pan. "Papa, it smells like winter and happy."
"That's the point," he said, flipping the pan with practiced ease.
By lunch, half the village had gathered at the long house, weathered by rain and hungry for something warm.
They weren't disappointed.
Duncan took a bite of the burdock and blinked. "What is this? It tastes like… roasted meat and trees."
"Burdock," Ryuuji said. "Roots. Cooked slow. Picked fresh."
Reina leaned over. "This is better than jerky."
"Even I like it," Raphtael added, stuffing another spoonful into his mouth.
Marla, holding little Lina in one arm, gave a quiet smile. "It's like comfort in a bowl."
Dreams of Ferment and Fire
After the meal, as the rain eased into a drizzle, Ryuuji and Duncan sat beneath the eaves of the porch, drinking warm barley tea.
Ryuuji took a slow sip and muttered, "I've been thinking…"
Duncan side-eyed him. "That tone's either a new soup or another plan to build a chicken-powered windmill."
Ryuuji grinned. "Neither. I'm thinking about… sake."
Duncan blinked. "Sake?"
"Yeah. It's a rice-based alcohol from my world. Brewed with steamed rice, special mold, and a long fermentation process. Smooth and a little sweet, but it can get strong depending on how you make it."
Duncan leaned back, stroking his beard. "So... not like ale, then?"
"Not quite. Think clearer. Almost like rice wine."
"Wine... from rice?" Duncan stared at him, then let out a low whistle. "Your world is full of madness. I like it."
Ryuuji chuckled. "Well, I've already made miso. The next logical step is sake. It's a long process, but I think it's doable."
Duncan's eyes lit up with the kind of interest he usually reserved for rare swords and forge puzzles. "You're saying we get to build barrels, play with fire, and drink the results?"
"Pretty much."
Duncan stood abruptly, pointing dramatically at the rain-soaked sky. "Count me in! For research, of course. Scientific purposes only."
"Right," Ryuuji said, trying not to laugh.
"We'll need a brewing shed," Duncan muttered, already pacing. "Proper storage. Sealed jars. And if we're working with rice, we better check the harvest schedule. No sense starting if we can't feed ourselves too."
"You're really getting into this," Ryuuji said, genuinely impressed.
"I'm always into a challenge that ends in drinking," Duncan replied, grinning. "Besides, if this sake of yours tastes even half as good as your miso soup, then the village feast just got a whole lot better."
Later That Evening
That night, while the rain whispered against the windows, Ryuuji sat with Kiko beside the hearth. She was helping him design a label for the future sake bottle—though her version included a drawing of a daikon wearing a crown and the words "King Root Brew".
Elysia read beside them, legs curled under her like a cat. Sierra and Reina were sewing new planting gloves at the table, while Raphtael tuned his lute in the corner.
Outside, the village breathed slow and easy. Warm lights glowed from behind rain-dappled windows. The wolf pups dozed around the fireplace.
Peace wasn't the absence of struggle, Ryuuji thought.
It was the quiet strength of knowing you were home