“…So, in short, Kazuha-san isn’t the age she appears to be.”

“That’s right.”

Zaza-san shifted from a face used to soothing a child’s bravado to a more nuanced expression, then nodded in understanding.

“I suppose there may or may not have been similar cases in the past… It feels improper to ask a woman, but, um…”

“I’m forty-five.”

“That must have been… disorienting.”

Zaza-san really is kind.

The fact that he didn’t rush to say something like, “At least you got younger,” made him all the more gentlemanly.

We were both sitting with our knees hugged to our chests, gazing up at the stars, surrounded by an awkward atmosphere.

“Should I keep this hidden?”

“Ah, it’s not that I was hiding it, it just felt awkward to say.
If you think the king should be informed, I’ll leave that to you.”

“Thank you.
I think that way, more considerate arrangements can be made.
There are surely things I wouldn’t think of myself.”

—I’ve only been inside the royal castle so far, but are people in this world all this kind?

“Is your desire to work in the kitchen related to your job in your previous world?”

“I wouldn’t say I love cooking, but I worked in an elementary school lunchroom.
The atmosphere there is similar to this kitchen.
It’s mostly women around my age.”

“School lunches?”

“Oh, is that not a thing here?
Children attend school from six to twelve, and the school provides lunch.”

“Here, they bring boxed lunches.”

“Originally, it started when the country was poor, so that children could at least get proper nutrition.”

“I see…”

“The country as a whole isn’t poor anymore, but every household has its circumstances.
Some children live in environments where preparing a lunch every day is difficult.
My region especially placed importance on children’s meals.”

“Children are treasures, after all.
I see.
It’s a fine system.”

“I’m sure it has its share of issues too.”

“I’ll report it to the king.”

“Huh?”

I-Is that really something so remarkable?

“It’s said that the cultures of summoned heroes enrich our world.
Every country has actively incorporated them.
Up until now as well.”

That’s surprising.
This world already seems far more conscious of human rights.
Or maybe the reason they treat us so well even if we don’t fight is partly because of that.
Oh no.
All I know is very ordinary, commoner culture.

As I started to feel a bit flustered internally, Zaza-san thought for a moment, then looked up.

“…May I ask about your family?”

“Oh, I have a son and a daughter.
And technically, a husband.”

Zaza-san let out a deep sigh and slumped his shoulders.

“We are truly guilty.
I don’t know how to put it.”

He’s so sincere that it actually makes me feel guilty.
Is it really okay to be honest?
Am I too much of an outsider for this world?
Well, I am from another world, so that’s obvious, but still.

“My children are both adults now, so my hands are free.
As for my husband, well… you know.
Not every couple stays lovey-dovey forever, right?”

Or are all couples in this world devoted lovebirds?
What if they are?

“Well, I’ve heard various things.”

Ah, good.
So it’s the same here too.
That tracks with the conversations I remember from the ladies in the kitchen.

I don’t think we were a particularly hostile couple.
Probably.
I think we were just like most couples, each carrying some dissatisfaction.
That’s normal, I believe.
Sure, they might be troubled.
They might worry.
But still.

Sometimes I thought of myself as the pickled garnish in a curry.
If it’s there, the curry is enhanced and tastes wonderful.
I have that much confidence.
But even without it, the curry is still delicious.
Even without it, curry works just fine.

And when the curry pot is empty, the pickles are left over.
That’s how it goes.
They don’t really go well with other dishes.
There aren’t many recipes where you can repurpose them as an ingredient either.

Our family wasn’t broken.
I think we built a fairly average household, in our own way.
Because it was built reasonably well, I think it won’t collapse horribly even if I’m gone.
—Either way, parents die before their children.

“By the way, is your current appearance how you looked as a child?”

“Yes.
About fourteen, I think.”

“…What?”

“…I developed late.
Around fifteen, I suddenly grew fifteen centimeters and caught up to average.”

That’s how I knew this was my middle school self.
Girls usually enter their second growth phase around ten to twelve, but I was late.
Even though I danced every week, the change in my center of gravity was so sudden I couldn’t keep up.

And then there was my chest size.
I finally reached an average size back then, only to return to something extremely unreliable now.
Just barely, barely not flat.
Yes, this was definitely me at around fourteen.

“Ah, uh, s-so that’s why.
I mean, I was just surprised you could pinpoint the age so precisely.”

“How old did I look to you?”

“…About ten, maybe… I’m sorry.”

“It’s been a long time since being told I look young didn’t make me happy.
It’s kind of refreshing.”

“I did think you were very composed…
Well, of course you are.
Wow, I’m embarrassed.
I said all that stuff so self-importantly.”

Seeing the tips of Zaza-san’s ears turn red as he looked away with a hand over his mouth made me laugh despite myself.

He’s a wonderful person.
Such a wonderful person, and yet, with my current appearance…
I’m completely outside his range.
If I were inside it, he’d probably recoil.
I’m the embarrassed one here.
What do you mean, ‘maybe there’s a chance’?

“Please don’t laugh so much…
Oh, right.
You were dancing, weren’t you!?
Could you show me—”

“Stop!
Don’t bring that up again!”

“If only I were ten years younger.”

“You think ten years would be enough for you?”

“Hey, you’d need twenty at least.”

“Why did you casually double it!?
We’re the same age!”

The kitchen is lively again today with laughter that’s just one step shy of crude.
They’re appraising the young merchant who comes and goes.
In about five minutes, they’ll probably cross that line.

—So relaxing.

I quietly keep peeling potatoes for dinner prep.
At first, when I started sneaking into the kitchen, people kept their distance, intimidated by the title of Hero-sama, but madams adapt quickly.
I get it.

I’m allowed to come and go from the kitchen whenever I feel like it now.
They just ask me to inform the head chef before and after, and even offered to pay me wages for the work I do.
When I said it felt wrong since all my living expenses are already covered, they said, “That’s that, this is this.
Labor deserves compensation.”

—Honestly, I think this world’s cultural level is higher than ours.

“There you are!
Kazuha-chan!
Kazuha-chan!”

Rei Nagatani poked his head out from the return counter.
You don’t have to stick your head into such a cramped place, you know.
There’s a door right next to it.

“Hyaaa!
A-a Hero!?”

Startled by the madams’ shrieks, Rei flinched and smacked his head against the ceiling of the return counter.
That was a loud sound.
Just now.

“…Is the ceiling okay?”

“That’s cruel!”

“Our bodies are pretty sturdy, aren’t they?”

“That’s true.”

Rei twisted his upper body to rub the ceiling, earnestly checking.
“Seems fine.”
But he kept his head stuck through the counter, crouched awkwardly as he looked back at me.

“K-Kazuha-sama, this area is fine now.”

Amid the shrill voices that sounded twenty years younger, the head chef thoughtfully stepped in.

“Did I interrupt your work…?”

Rei hunched his tall frame slightly at a dining table.
The puppy vibe intensifies.
He hit his head again pulling out of the counter.
Does he not know his own width?
But he didn’t seem like that during training, so maybe he’s just clumsy.

“Hero privileges.
They let me do as I please.”

I pour tea from the self-serve pot into ceramic mugs.
One for me, one for Rei.
This pot has amazing heat retention.
It just looks like ordinary pottery, but apparently there’s some magic or magic stone involved.
So eco-friendly.
I’m increasingly unsure what use our culture even has here.

“Earlier, at lunch, you weren’t with us.
During afternoon training, one of the knights said Kazuha-chan was making food here.”

“I started helping before lunch, so I ate the staff meal with the kitchen crew.”

“You like cooking?
That’s amazing.
You can cook… even though you’re so little.”

Y-Yeah…
Zaza-san didn’t tell the hero group, huh…
What should I do.
It’s fine, really, but adding my age into the mix would only amplify my already strong sense of being out of place.

“Well, you know, I’m not training, so I have free time…”

“The knights said it was delicious.”

“That’s the hero bonus!
All I did was chop ingredients!”

The hero halo is powerful, even here.

“R-right… um.”

Mid-twenties, maybe thirty at most.
Probably well raised.
The way he fidgets makes him look even younger.
When he’s quiet, he looks sharp, and when he talks to others, he seems more composed, but—

“Can you cook anything?”

“Well, I can make most home-style dishes.
I can’t guarantee the taste though.
I’m just used to cooking in large quantities.”

“The food in this world is good, but it’s so fancy every day.”

Ah, right.
The heroes’ meals are made in a different kitchen.
They’re not full-course meals, but they’re not home cooking either.

The buildings and clothing are like that too, but the food culture leans Western.
The last heroes were summoned a hundred and fifty years ago, and what they brought left a strong influence.
They were probably Westerners.

Summoning happens every fifty years, rotating among the three great nations.
It’s not guaranteed just by performing the ritual.
The previous two attempts failed, and by coincidence, this country, the Kazalna Kingdom, succeeded twice in a row.
That’s what Zaza-san told me last night.

Still, even before that, someone from the East must have been summoned, because there are seasonings that resemble soy sauce and miso.
At first, I thought it was Western-looking food with mixed flavors.
It’s very tasty.

But it’s not home cooking.
We eat with the king, after all.
For a common Japanese person, this dining hall feels more comfortable.
The menu and the atmosphere.

“…Are you missing Japanese food?”

“…I want omurice.”

Oh, that direction, huh.
There’s tomato-like sauce, but no ketchup.
Well, I could make it by simmering it down.

“It’ll take a little time.
Is that okay?”

“It is!?
You can make it!?”

“The ingredients and seasonings are a bit different, so it might not be exactly what you expect.
Do you want the runny egg kind, or the thin omelet-wrapped kind?”

“Um, um, I’ll tell Zaza-san I don’t need dinner tonight!
Ah!
The omelet-wrapped one!”

With a loud clatter as he stood up, Rei dashed off without noticing the attention he drew.

Of course, Zaza-san isn’t the one making dinner, but the message will reach the other kitchen.
More importantly, is that what being well brought up looks like?
Wow…
My son has never once told me whether he’s eating dinner or not.
No matter how many times I told him.
No matter how many times!

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