Nanakusa-gayu roots back to the Heian Period. On the seventh day of the New Year, the Imperial Court prepared porridge with the seven spring herbs to exorcise evil spirits and pray for health. The common people followed suit.
The Seven Herbs: water dropwort, shepherd's purse, cudweed, chickweed, nipplewort, turnip, and radish.
The purpose: to rest the stomach with gentle greens after the heavy feasting of the New Year.
Jude's version wasn't quite so refined.
Rice, millet, barley, corn, chopped spinach, watercress, wild onions, carrot tops, radish leaves, turnip greens, dandelion, celery, cabbage. Plus a bag of dried seaweed he'd thrown in for good measure.
The main principle: diversity. Use whatever you have.
He sent a silent prayer of thanks to the system mall's food processing function. For a few asset points, it could shell, peel, and air-dry ingredients instantly. Even better, it compressed overnight soaking time into seconds.
Magic. Convenient, practical magic.
Jason watched in fascination as Jude added ingredient after ingredient to the massive pot. Familiar items. Strange items. Things he'd never seen before in combinations that made no sense.
He swallowed reflexively.
The porridge looked... colorful. Smelled incredible. Whether it tasted good remained to be seen, but Jason's stomach didn't care about details like "taste." It just wanted "food."
Jude added water and stirred with a long wooden spoon. The heat from the fire dried his snow-soaked clothes in minutes, steam rising from his jacket while he hummed something incomprehensible.
"Seven herbs, shepherd's purse, Before the birds fly in from the land. Chop the greens and boil the rice, Spring is close at hand."
Jason didn't understand the words, but the tune reminded him of Christmas carols. Like Santa Claus was supposed to sing while riding his sleigh down chimneys to deliver presents. Nursery rhymes and gifts and magic.
The chef even looked a bit like Santa. If Santa was an exhausted Asian guy in his twenties who'd just run fifteen blocks through snow.
Jason swallowed again. The spoon stirred steadily. Radish roots and dried seaweed and spinach broke down under the heat, integrating into the thick mixture. Creamy white and dark forest green swirled together. The smell of savory rice intensified until Jason's mouth watered continuously.
His hand crept toward the pot.
"Don't!" Jude swatted at reaching fingers without looking up. "This porridge is scalding hot. You'll burn your mouth off."
The children reluctantly withdrew their hands.
They settled for staring at the pot instead, imagining how it would taste. Jason heard the repeated sound of swallowing from all around him.
Jude smiled despite himself, then sighed.
How many other children were suffering tonight? How many ruined buildings across Gotham held kids just as hungry, just as cold, with no mysterious chef arriving to cook them dinner?
He'd gotten this mission from reading about the Wayne relief centers. Which probably meant he was supposed to work at an official location, and this impromptu cooking session might not even count toward progress.
Not that he minded. He'd wanted to see what the "Festival" attribute did anyway.
Still, maybe the relief center could wait. The mission was optional. He could start it later. He had no intention of rushing through it regardless.
"Alright, it's almost ready." Jude raised his voice over the eager shuffling. "Nobody's allergic to anything in here, don't worry. Now go grab bowls and spoons from my car."
The Horn of Plenty's secondary benefit: any food it produced came with built-in therapeutic effects that overrode adverse reactions. Including nut allergies, which were common in America and definitely present in Gotham. Jude had no idea how many of these kids had allergies, so he'd made everything using the Horn.
Problem solved.
The older children cheered and ran outside, returning with bundles of wooden bowls and spoons. They distributed them with practiced efficiency, then crowded around the fire to watch Jude ladle porridge into each bowl, filling them to the brim.
Jason held his bowl up with both hands, feeling oddly childish. Like waiting for Santa Claus to give him presents. Back when his parents were alive and Christmas meant carols and small handmade trees and the warmth of family.
Back when things were good.
"Don't be impatient—"
Jude didn't finish the sentence before spoons plunged into bowls simultaneously.
Half an hour of waiting. The smell of hot food. Hunger gnawing at their stomachs.
No chance in hell they'd show restraint.
"Hisssss—ha, ha, ha—"
Multiple children tilted their heads back and breathed upward, mouths open, trying to cool scalding porridge with cold air.
"It's hot," Jude said unnecessarily. "I told you not to rush."
He grinned without sympathy. "You've only got yourselves to blame."
Jason, eyes watering from the burn, grabbed the wooden spoon and scooped porridge directly from the pot. Shoved it into Jude's open mouth.
"Hissss—ha, ha, ha—"
Jude's head snapped back, breathing desperately at the ceiling.
The kids erupted into giggles.
"You little—" Jude gasped between breaths. "That was—you're holding grudges already? Fine. Next time I'm putting extra daikon chunks in your bowl specifically."
Nobody paid attention to the threat. They were too busy eating.
Devouring would be more accurate.
The porridge was thick and sweet and unlike anything they'd ever tasted. Rich beyond description. Every spoonful brought genuine satisfaction, filling stomachs that had been empty for days.
Seaweed bloomed salty and rich on the tongue. Radish roots provided texture. White rice melted soft and smooth. Wild herbs added earthy freshness.
And warmth.
Not just temperature. Real, spreading warmth that flowed from stomach to chest to limbs. Cold fingers and toes grew pink and healthy. Frostbite that had blackened skin for weeks began to heal, dead tissue regenerating into smooth, unblemished flesh.
The little girl with ruined hands stared at her palms in shock as cracks sealed and color returned.
HORN OF PLENTY
A cornucopia that continuously produces food. With it, you can survive in the harshest environments. Food produced grants life recovery and vampiric effects when killing enemies.
Jude had chased Jason for blocks. He was hungry too. He made himself a bowl and drank slowly, savoring the familiar taste of home.
Three sips in, a system notification appeared.
SYSTEM NOTIFICATION
Mission: Winter in Gotham City
Status: In Progress (0.037%)
Reward Activated
"Festival" Attribute Effect Unlocked
Festival Food Created: Nanakusa-gayu
Attributes Gained:
Harmonious Nourishment: Mixed grains harmonize and supplement. Enhanced nutritional effects for all who consume.
Warming Body, Dispelling Cold: Warm-natured ingredients. Enhances resistance to cold weather.
Current Attribute Enhancement: 0.037%
Note: The mission description never specified a location. Why limit yourself?
Jude stared at the notification.
The mission didn't require him to work at a relief center.
He could feed orphans anywhere. Cook anywhere. The system just needed him to provide festival food to children who needed it.
A slow smile spread across his face.