Outbreak Company: Volume 7

by Ichiro Sakaki

  “That lunch of yours, Elvia-san... It looks amazing,” I said honestly.

  Elvia-san was an artist, so it only made sense that she would be good at art. But we weren’t using drawing supplies like she was used to; we were using kitchen tools like knives and spatulas, along with ingredients that varied in toughness and color. It wasn’t really the same process. That only made it all the more impressive that Elvia-san had managed to come up with such a masterpiece on her first try.

  “I’m sure Minori-sama will be very happy,” I said.

  “Y’ think so?” Elvia-san responded, laughing shyly and scratching her cheek. Her unabashed cheerfulness was almost blinding to me at that moment.

  “Compared to yours, my own bentou is...”

  I had never been the most gifted at fine motor skills, so while cooking was well and good, working with tiny ingredients wasn’t my strong suit. I’d heard that the professional chefs who served in big noble households could make vegetables look like animals or people, and even build castles and towers and other beautiful structures out of their ingredients... but I had never had the chance to learn those kinds of techniques.

  Even so, I figured that since it was just another form of cooking, I might be able to make it work, and that was what had inspired me to try a kyara-ben like Shinichi-sama had told me about.

  I’ve already described the result. With no time to redo it, I’d swallowed my pride and brought the lunch, but after seeing how Elvia-san’s came out, I couldn’t shake the impression that my own effort was pretty pitiful. I even wondered if I should really be giving such a poor thing to Shinichi-sama.

  “I-It’ll be fine!” Elvia-san insisted. “Y-Yours will definitely taste better than mine, that’s for sure!”

  “Appearance and aroma are also part of cooking,” I said sadly.

  The human senses are remarkably fickle things. Two items can taste exactly the same, but if one of them is ugly and unpresentable and the other is plated beautifully, the latter will be perceived as tasting better.

  “Er, okay, but these are character lunches. I mean, I’m doing art all the time, right? It’s sort of the same thing.”

  I understood what Elvia-san was trying to say: artistic sensibility was key to a successful kyara-ben. For someone who could barely draw with a pencil on paper, trying to do art in a strange “medium”—specifically, food—wasn’t likely to turn out well.

  And we had been using the exact same ingredients. I had actually started doing the character lunch on my own, but when Elvia-san happened to walk by and see me, she said it looked interesting and asked if she could try. And so we ended up making lunches together. She hadn’t prepared any of the ingredients, just assembled them.

  There might be an issue with the specific combinations, but the basic flavors in both our lunches would be the same.

  “I’m sure yours will taste better than mine!” Elvia-san insisted, clenching her fist. Maybe she was just being nice. She hemmed and hawed for a moment, perhaps looking for a good change of subject.

  “Say, uh, Myusel—have you always been good at cooking?” she finally asked.

  “No, not really... It’s just, when I was in the military, they charged me with making the rice, so...”

  Military life was not all swinging swords and battling with magic. On longer marches, it became necessary to cook and to do laundry. And in most cases, rather than have the front-line soldiers attend to those tasks, it proved most convenient to have people who specialized in those roles. So, while I had certainly been taught a minimum of sword fighting and magic, the thing I learned the most about in the army was cooking.

  “Even the slightest bit of care and time in preparing was enough to make everyone very happy...”

  It should go without saying that the goal of food in the military is to make sure the soldiers have enough strength to fight. Therefore, quantity and nutritional value are paramount, with taste often becoming a secondary concern—but even a small amount of extra effort can change the flavor for the better. After a grueling day of training or fighting, to have everyone smile in surprise and ask, “Who made the food today?” made me very happy. Granted, my superiors usually took credit, but still...

  I was smiling, but Elvia-san frowned. “I’m amazed you enjoy it so much,” she said. “Kyara-ben are great and all, but when it comes right down to it, I’m not much of a cook.”

  “Maybe you’d like it if you tried it,” I said.

  How long to cook something was, after all, a matter of experience. It wasn’t quite like a drawing, where you could see it coming together while you were working on it—but that made it all the more satisfying when the finished product had the flavor you were going for.

  “I wonder,” Elvia-san said, crossing her arms. “I think maybe it’s just my blood.”

  “Your... blood?”

  “’Sright,” Elvia-san said with a broad gesture. “The blood—you know, the blood that runs through my veins, given to me by generations of my ancestors! This isn’t the blood of good cooks! My mom doesn’t cook, and neither do Big Sis Jiji or Big Sis Ama!”

  “Uh-huh...” I remembered that Elvia-san was one of three siblings.

  “I guess my dad was the best cook out of all of us, but was his stuff really, really good? I’d have to say... not really.” Elvia-san gazed into the distance. Maybe she was remembering the taste of her father’s cooking.

  “I don’t think blood has much to do with it,” I offered. “Although they do say that eating delicious food from a young age gives you a more sensitive palate.”

  Of course, maybe it was all relative. If you had to learn all about flavors when you were young in order to be a decent cook, then there was no way I should be able to make any kind of food. I felt like I hadn’t learned what good food really tasted like until I got into the military.

  Just as I was thinking that, Elvia-san said, “So Myusel, you grew up eating some really delicious stuff, huh?”

  “Oh... Uh, I’m not so sure about that.” I tried to put an ambiguous smile on my face.

  “Were your mom and dad really good at cooking?” Now Elvia-san was leaning toward me, her eyes sparkling with curiosity.

  I’m sure she didn’t mean anything by it. That’s why I tried to respond in kind.

  “I’m not sure. I guess I don’t really know.”

  I watched the scenery go by the window as I answered. The sky was clear and seemed to go on forever. It was blue enough to suck me in and never let me go.

  I wondered if those two people, my mother and father, were somewhere under this same sky. I had no idea where they were or what they might be doing.

  “Huh? .........Oh.”

  It was then that Elvia-san seemed to remember: I’m a half-elf, the offspring of an elf and a human. Come to think of it, her own country of Bahairam at least officially viewed everyone as equal under the king, so differences in the status of different races were ostensibly less pronounced than they were in Eldant. How would a half-breed like me have been treated if I’d been born in Bahairam? Would they still hate and harass me? Or...

  “Uh, er, sorry, I—”

  “It’s all right. It doesn’t bother me.” I shook my head. Maybe a little harder than I needed to, in the attempt to distance us from this subject. “Again, I don’t think your parents’ cooking ability has anything to do with it. I’m sure if you practiced, Elvia-san, you could learn to make perfectly delicious food.”

  “Y— Y’ really think so?”

  “You eat a lot, don’t you?”

  “Heh... Well...” She scratched her cheek.

  Elvia-san was the mansion’s resident “big eater”—what, with a little less tact, we might call a glutton. When she was completely focused on her art, she seemed perfectly happy to go without food, but perhaps as a result, when she did eat, she could easily manage three times what I ate.

  “I think people who like to eat are ideal chefs,” I said.

  “I wonder.”

 
“Do you think someone who hated to look at art could become an artist?”

  “I guess I see what y’ mean.”

  “If you know what people want from a meal, you’ll be able to do more for them.”

  “Hey, I get it!”

  It seemed I had at least succeeded in dispelling the unpleasant atmosphere for the moment. We talked about some basic flavorings for a few minutes, until the carriage arrived at the school.

  After we delivered our character bentou to Shinichi-sama and Minori-sama, Elvia-san and I stayed at the school rather than going back home. We both wanted to study.

  Presumptuous as it was, I sometimes played the part of a Ja-panese language teacher, so in order not to embarrass myself in front of the students, I took any chance I could get to read Ja-panese books. For her part, as Shinichi-sama’s resident artist, Elvia-san wanted to study Ja-panese-style “moe art,” and would look at art books and illustration collections every time we came to the school.

  Of course, Shinichi-sama had the same or similar things on the bookshelves at home, but because these were for student use, many of them came with pamphlets containing Eldant translations, and sometimes even brief appreciations. Looking through these could give me an idea of alternate translations or ways of thinking about a book. There were so many things to learn from them, and I could also use them to judge the students’ level of comprehension.

  But setting all that aside...

  “Myusel.”

  School was over, and Elvia-san and I were riding home with Minori-sama and Shinichi-sama in the bird-drawn carriage, which we had asked to wait for us. Shinichi-sama sat next to me, while across from us sat Minori-sama and Elvia-san.

  “Thanks for the lunch,” Shinichi-sama said. “It was delicious—I mean, I know it always is, but still.”

  “Thank you very much...” I felt my heart pounding at his characteristically kind words. Thinking back on how pathetic my own kyara-ben had looked next to Elvia-san’s, though, I felt more apologetic than happy.

  “But I’m very sorry... I couldn’t make it as beautiful as Elvia-san’s...”

  “So what? Even where we come from, making kyara-ben takes a lot of skill.” Shinichi-sama pulled out the “sumart fone” he always had with him. These devices were capable of instantly making extremely detailed pictures—apparently called “fotografs”—and now it was displaying an all too clear one of our lunches. I felt all the shame of it rushing back.

  “Please, Shinichi-sama, it—it’s so embarrassing...!” I fussed.

  Shinichi, though, shook his head and said, “There’s nothing embarrassing about it. I know how hard you must have worked on it. This picture will remind me how you gave me such a wonderful gift.”

  “Oh... er, but... Thank you very much...”

  That made me very happy, but... at the same time, I could tell he was choosing words that wouldn’t hurt me. Shinichi-sama was so very, very kind. He was so thoughtful, even toward someone like me.

  “Say, Elvia.” The sudden turn of the conversation toward Elvia-san came from Minori-sama.

  “Yeah?” She cocked her head.

  “What was the story with that bentou?”

  She was referring, of course, to Elvia-san’s kyara-ben. I might have expected Minori-sama to be thrilled with that lunch, but she was frowning as if she had eaten something bitter. Elvia-san didn’t seem to notice, though; in fact, she looked rather pleased with herself.

  “Oh, that. Man, I worked hard to re-create that picture!”

  “It was something, that’s for sure. I never expected to see the couple from Innocent Romance in my lunch! Especially not with that soft glow in their cheeks, like they’re really alive—wait, that’s not what I’m talking about!” She smacked her own knee audibly. “The meat was tasteless, practically raw; the veggies were chopped but nothing more; and I guess the stewed stuff was okay, but most of the sides hardly tasted like anything! So it looked great, sure, but actually eating it was a huge ordeal!”

  It sounded like Minori-sama was saying that things with no flavor at all had gotten mixed up alongside things that tasted more or less normal.

  “Huh? B-But I... When I tasted it, it seemed fine...”

  Elvia-san shot little worried glances at me. She probably hadn’t expected this reaction. She probably wanted me to testify that she really had made the lunch in good faith.

  “Uh... Um,” I said, raising my hand. “Minori-sama. May I?”

  “Yes?”

  “I suspect that the normal-tasting things you mentioned are the things I cooked, and which Elvia-san put into those shapes, whereas the things with no flavor are ingredients Elvia-san simply included wholesale.”

  “Wholesale? Heck, even for a salad, you usually...”

  “I apologize. I should have talked to Elvia-san about it.” I looked over at the beast girl as I spoke. “I hear werewolf taste buds are very discriminating.”

  “Discriminating?”

  “They can pick up the flavors of discrete ingredients, if you will. When I cook for Brooke-san, for instance, I often serve things that have barely even been heated, right?”

  “Sure, now that you mention it,” Minori-sama nodded.

  “Although not quite at the level of lizardmen, beast people have a different sense of taste than we do. A careless combination of flavors can actually be quite overwhelming for them.”

  For example, some kinds of meats and vegetables became less stringent when cooked—but that stringency was also an important part of their flavor profile. Too strong, and it could become distracting, but none at all, and the food seemed lifeless. It was a tricky balance. And what seemed just right to a human or an elf could easily seem overpowering to a beast person.

  “But doesn’t Elvia usually eat the same stuff as the rest of us?” Shinichi-sama asked, puzzled.

  “The ingredients and basic appearance are the same,” I answered, “but I don’t cook Elvia-san’s food as thoroughly, and I use fewer flavorings.”

  Heat could bring out the special qualities of a food, and also added flavor and even nutrients. But different races—especially ones with such distinct palates—could disagree about the perfect flavor, or the perfect combination.

  “So you’re saying you make Elvia’s special, just for her?”

  “It’s just a matter of setting some aside before I get to the cooking and seasoning step,” I said.

  Don’t boil it too much, don’t overcook it, and don’t add too much extra flavor. I could simply set Elvia-san’s portion aside early during those stages. In the army, I had dealt with similar discrepancies in taste, so making those kinds of calls came naturally to me.

  “You’ve been doing that all along? Wow,” Shinichi-sama said, his eyes wide. I didn’t think it was anything deserving of such praise, though, so I felt a little uncomfortable. I could tell my cheeks were turning red, and I shook my head.

  “No, it’s... It’s just my job...”

  “So basically, Elvia made my lunch based on her own taste perceptions,” Minori-sama said with a sigh. “At first I thought it was some kind of prank.”

  “I’m very sorry,” I said, “it completely slipped my mind...”

  I had been so caught up in making my own bentou presentable that it hadn’t even occurred to me to monitor what Elvia-san was doing with her flavors.

  “I’m very, very sorry, Minori-sama,” Elvia-san said, bowing her head.

  “Aw... No, I’m sorry,” Minori-sama replied, not sounding very convinced. “I didn’t realize... But anyway, I appreciate the thought. The effort you put into that kyara-ben definitely came through.”

  “D-Did it?”

  “All I’m asking is that next time you cook it a little more and add a little more seasoning.”

  “Sure thing! I’ll have Myusel teach me!” Elvia-san looked up at Minori-sama, her tail wagging eagerly.

  For better or for worse, Elvia-san’s facial expressions were never difficult to read; and the rest of her body likewi
se tended to make her emotional state clear. She also usually said exactly what she was thinking—honestly, I was a little jealous of that side of her.

  I was gazing vacantly at Elvia-san’s wagging tail, these thoughts running through my mind, when Minori-sama leaned forward and looked out the little window between us and the driver’s bench. “Well, we’re here.”

  The glance out the window was a nonchalant action on Minori-sama’s part, but it was actually something she did as Shinichi-sama’s bodyguard. She wanted to make sure there was no one suspicious near the mansion before we got out of the carriage. Minori-sama also carried a “fone,” and she sometimes used it to check on things, but in the end she wanted to make sure with her own eyes.

  “Huh...?” Minori-sama made a sudden sound of surprise. Then she glanced at me from behind her glasses.

  I looked back in perplexity.

  “Myusel.”

  “Yes?”

  “Do you have any... sisters or anything?”

  “Huh...?” Now it was my turn to blink in surprise. “I—I’m not sure what you mean.”

  Halfway out of the carriage, Minori-sama was pointing. Shinichi-sama, Elvia-san, and I followed her.

  And then we collectively stopped dead.

  A woman was standing in front of the mansion. The first thing I noticed about her was her long flaxen hair. The next thing was her ears, which came to points...

  “Wait. Are there... two Myusels?” Shinichi-sama said, but I couldn’t answer him. At the edges of my vision I could see my three companions glancing back and forth between me and the visitor, comparing us.

  And why shouldn’t they? As Shinichi-sama said, the other woman looked very much like me. I could hardly blame Minori-sama for thinking she might be my sister. But...

  “Myusel...” I saw the woman walking toward me. I had the uncanny sense that I was being approached by my own reflection in a mirror. “It’s been so long. Do you... know who I am?”