In town, we grazed our way down the main street, stall by stall.
“Oh? Moralis fruit! Fancy seein’ somethin’ this rare on a stall…”
Arisa darted over to a fruit stand.
She handed over several silver coins, so it’s evidently a pricey fruit. For reference, one silver runs about a thousand yen in feel.
“Here, Tatsuya-bro. These’re my favorite.”
She held one of her two out to me.
“Thanks.”
It’s shaped like a pear stretched even longer and thinner — and eating it, the taste lands somewhere between apple and nashi pear.
Pleasant crisp bite, moderate sweetness. Not bad at all.
But Arisa’s face clouded over.
“What’s wrong?”
“Nah, it’s just… it tastes off, somehow.”
“Off? It’s plenty good, I’d say.”
“No no — it don’t taste as good as I REMEMBER it, is the thing. Yer cherry tomatoes beat this handily, Tatsuya-bro.”
Those are tomatoes, madam. Not fruit.
Though — I did max out the sugar setting, so they were basically candy…
Come to think of it, what happens if I grow muskmelons? Probably something obscene.
Pumpkins and sweet potatoes might come out dessert-grade as-is, too.
And a juice made from ultra-watery watermelon would be a guaranteed hit with the household.
They’re all girls, after all — every one of them has a sweet tooth in the end.
Right. Adding it to the project list.
“Well, farming’s my only redeeming feature anyway.”
“‘Only’? Yer one of the strongest bein’s ALIVE, man.”
“And somehow that made me popular, of all things,” I said with a wry smile.
Real talk: every resident of my house is beautiful at a level that would send Japanese actresses and idols fleeing barefoot.
The me who lived in Japan couldn’t have gotten a second glance from any of them if I’d done handstands.
“Nah… I don’t reckon it’s JUST the strength, honestly.”
“Meaning?”
“Take me, for example. Tatsuya-bro, yer a soft touch, ain’t ya?”
”…Hm?”
“My rip-off case? By rights, that coulda ended with my limbs off an’ my neck in a noose on public display, an’ nobody woulda blinked. The amount I skimmed was THAT bad.”
“Theft does seem to carry maximum penalties around here, yeah.”
“An’ today’s shoppin’ trip — yer thinkin’ less about yer own stuff an’ more about what’d make everyone else happy, yeah? The crops, the renovations — it’s always ‘everyone would like it better this way’ with you.”
“Well — sure, I suppose.”
I HAD planned to hit the women’s clothing shops after the daily supplies, after all.
“I think that’s a lovely thing, me. Specially since yer in a position where ya COULD be selfish about everything, and no one could stop ya.”
Having that said to me so casually… my heart actually skipped a little.
Embarrassing, is what it is.
”…”
“That’s my version, anyway — but I reckon the others are each drawn to their own somethin’ about ya. Yer from another world, after all. There’s a whole lot about ya that’s just… DIFFERENT from folk here. In the good way.”
“Is that how it works?”
“Mm. I reckon that’s how it works.”
Yeah — casually sincere compliments are the hardest kind to take.
“So — what are you all scheming?”
“Eh?”
“Today. You deliberately — half forcibly — hauled me out of the house, didn’t you?”
At that, Arisa’s face crumpled into an “aw hell…”
“So? Out with it.”
“That, I can’t say. Not if ya tore my mouth open.”
“And WHY not?”
“No reason whatsoever.”
Her eyes carried a firm, immovable resolve, of a kind I rarely see from her.
“Even so…”
“Aw, don’t be like that, bro.”
“Hm?”
“We’re stayin’ the night at an inn, yeah?”
“That’s the plan, yeah.”
And Arisa, cheeks coloring, looked up at me through her lashes and said:
“Tonight it’s just us two. I’ll be providin’ my extra-thorough, exclusive personal service.”
“Oi, you won’t distract me from the question THAT easily?”
“Do ya… hate me or somethin’?”
And I answered with my most honest feelings:
“No. I don’t hate this at all.”
At that, Arisa dissolved into giggles.
“It’s ALWAYS that line with you, I swear.”
“Can’t say you’re wrong.”