Read Novel Full Chapter 100, In the Forest
Chapter 100, In the Forest
Translator: Barnnn
Ize changed out of the sundress she’d worn during the day and into the familiar adventuring gear she had grown used to in Jasted. Finally, she strapped on her chest plate and brushed her fingers lightly over the amulet that gleamed atop it.
She’d heard that Magicite responded better when imbued with the user’s own magical power. Ever since, she’d made a habit of touching it each time she wore it — almost like a charm, or an invocation before battle.
“Hey, Ize, your hair still holding up? Need me to redo it?” asked Hal from across the room.
“I think it’s fine. What do you think?” she replied, glancing in a mirror.
“Yeah, looks good. What about your neck? Nights still get cold this time of year, even in early summer.”
“I’m all right.”
“Well, if you get chilly, just say so.”
“I will.”
[Always the worrywart,] she thought with a chuckle as she followed Fieda and Hal into the inn’s dining hall.
Dinner wasn’t usually served this early, but once they explained the nature of their quest, the staff seemed to understand. It wasn’t uncommon for adventurers to eat at odd hours, and the inn was more than happy to provide a light meal.
“So, it’s our third day here,” Fieda said once they were seated. “What’s the plan? Take on a new quest tomorrow or move on?”
“Have you checked with the Guild yet?” Hal asked.
“I was thinking I’d stop by tonight or first thing in the morning.”
“They say the tea-picking season is still going strong, so it’s hard to find a natural stopping point.”
“One of the shopkeepers — the one who sold the tea sets — mentioned someone might be coming in tomorrow from that pottery village nearby,” Ize said.
“They told you that?”
“Well, not directly,” she admitted with a playful grin. “I overheard some old men chatting in the back.”
Fieda and Hal exchanged glances and chuckled.
“So they might come,” Hal nodded. “If we do meet someone from that village, should we ask them to guide us there?”
“Sounds good. If it’s a small village, it’s better to have someone introduce us than to show up out of the blue,” said Fieda.
“Then let’s play it by ear — see if we meet them, and go from there?”
“Agreed.”
Ize nodded happily and popped a mouthful of steeped tea leaves into her mouth, cheeks full and content.
◆
“Good evening, ma’am! Let’s do our best today!” Ize called out brightly.
“My, my, don’t you look dashing!” the older woman beamed. “You were sweet as sugar in that sundress earlier, but now you’re looking all sharp and proper.”
“Thanks for the light last night,” added an old man nearby. “These old eyes of mine can’t see worth a damn anymore.”
“It’s no trouble,” Ize said. “Just be careful where you step, all right? I’ll make sure not to disturb the tea plants.”
“No worries! Don’t fuss over it.”
As she neared the fields, the villagers — gathered for the day’s work — swarmed around her with cheerful familiarity. Ize, who had grown up distant from her own grandparents in Japan, felt a bashful warmth at being treated like a beloved grandchild.
She’d helped out with tea-picking during the night shifts, learned how to brew a proper cup, and even how to use discarded leaves in creative ways. Time passed faster than she expected.
“How’s your back today, mister?” she asked one of the elders.
“Loads better thanks to you, Ize!”
“Brought you some more tea to say thanks!” another called, holding out a pouch.
“Really? Thank you! I love it!”
From afar, the tea bushes had looked like low shrubs, but walking among them, Ize found they came up to her chest. Even so, they were short by the standards of this world’s people. Many of the villagers often paused to rub their backs and shoulders.
They already knew Ize was a light-elemental mage, so she openly used spells to soothe their aches. Word spread quickly, and soon she was receiving thank-you gifts — mostly bags of last year’s dried leaves. A win-win, she thought.
Tonight was their last patrol shift. Everything so far had gone smoothly. Between Fieda’s Overview skill and Ize’s Perception, they could detect wild beasts well before the workers noticed anything.
In combat, Hal took point, while the other two provided positioning support. Their client had asked them to avoid killing unless absolutely necessary — when the beasts were too large or came too close — in order to preserve the forest’s ecosystem.
They’d only had to fight once; most beasts fled at the sight of Hal’s intimidating magic.
“…Wow. It’s beautiful,” Hal murmured, casting his gaze around.
Twilight had settled, and as the sunlight faded, small glowing orbs floated above the workers, illuminating their paths and tools. They glowed brighter than fireflies, yet lacked the searing heat of flame.
Warm and gentle, the drifting lights bore Ize’s kindness.
As Hal stared at them, entranced, Fieda approached at a brisk pace.
“Hal. The far end of trellis fifty-four looks suspicious. Let’s check it out.”
“Got it.”
The two of them turned back, giving Ize a quick hand signal to indicate their heading before slipping off into the dark.
“Two of them. You see them?” Fieda whispered.
“Yeah. They’re… bigger than I expected.”
“Might be a mated pair. Let’s just scare them off.”
“Understood.”
They split to flank the animals, closing in cautiously. But before they got far, Hal raised a hand.
“Wait. Fieda — hold on.”
“What’s wrong?”
“Something’s off. Boars… no, wild pigs. But this one…” Hal frowned. “We might need Ize.”
“She hurt?”
“No. I think she’s pregnant, actually. Looks like she’s about to give birth.”
“What!? Seriously? Wait — hold on, I’ll get her!”
Fieda spun around and bolted, shouting over his shoulder, more flustered than Hal had ever seen him.
“Now then… what to do with you two…” Hal sighed, considering the situation.
A few moments later, Ize arrived, slightly out of breath.
“Fieda said he’d asked the next patrol block to cover his shift. Is the baby coming soon?”
“Yeah. I checked with Appraisal — there are babies in her belly, but her stamina stat is reading ‘Critical.’ Not a good sign.”
“And the male’s agitated. We can’t approach yet,” Ize noted. “What do we do?”
“I’ll try giving them some of Sato’s water,” Hal said, accessing his Magic Bag.
He summoned a large bucket and began pouring water into it — though it appeared to be water magic, it was actually leftover bathwater from their companion, Sato.
By the time Fieda returned, having finished arranging the night patrol, the makeshift trough was full.
“How’re you planning to get her to drink it?” Ize asked.
“That’s the tricky part…” Hal grumbled.
“Can’t you use water magic to help?” Fieda suggested.
“Maybe. I’ll try turning it into mist and send it toward them.”
Combining wind and water magic, Hal coaxed the water into a fine mist and slowly wafted it toward the wild pigs.
Minutes passed. Nothing changed.
“…Is it not working?” Hal murmured.
The mist lingered, soaking into the ground and dripping from leaves. Then, finally, the male pig began to move — slowly, warily — toward them.
“Back off from the bucket,” Fieda instructed quietly.
All three stepped back, slow and steady.
The pig froze for a heartbeat, watching.
But when he saw they weren’t a threat, he relaxed and ambled toward the bucket, snout lowered.
Then he gave the bucket of water a quick lick.
“…All right,” Hal murmured.
But the one that truly needed to drink was the female pig.
Hal and the others watched in silence. After quenching his thirst, the male pig returned to the female’s side and began to lick around her mouth, over and over again.
“Is he… trying to give her water that way?” Ize asked quietly.
“At this rate, it’s not going to work,” Hal said with a frustrated sigh. “What about your light magic?”
“At this distance?” Ize shook her head. “It won’t reach.”
The female’s breathing was growing visibly ragged. Even from afar, they could tell that labor was close.
“Let’s see if I can get any closer,” Fieda said, rising to his feet.
He moved slowly, carefully, returning to the bucket. The male pig turned his head to watch, wary, but didn’t leave the female’s side.
Fieda gently grasped the bucket and inched forward — one step, two steps at a time.
Minutes passed. He’d halved the fifty-meter distance when the male suddenly scraped at the ground with a foreleg, signaling a sharp spike in tension.
“I’ll set it down here,” Fieda muttered, placing the bucket down and taking a step back.
Hal and Ize, who had been observing from the original spot, moved up to join him.
“They know the water’s not dangerous,” Hal said, eyes still on the pigs.
“Yeah… You have something in mind?”
“What if we have Sato carry it over?”
“Sato?” Fieda frowned. “Won’t the pig be just as wary of it?”
“It won’t get eaten, will it?” Ize asked, half-joking, half-concerned.
“…That might actually happen,” Hal admitted. “Still…”
“Let’s ask it, then,” Ize said.
She accessed her Magic Bag and coaxed Sato out. The little creature blinked sleepily and looked around at the dark forest, rustling its leaves in curiosity.
“Sato,” Hal whispered. “Can I talk to you for a second?”
“Kyo,” came the soft reply.
“That girl over there,” Hal gestured toward the laboring sow. “She’s weak. We want to get her some nutrients. Think you could take it to her?”
Sato glanced between Hal and the pigs, then let out a quiet squeak and nodded.
Fieda nearly snorted at the pitiful squeak, but held it in. He accepted a tiny sake cup from Ize, dipped it into the bucket, and carefully transferred the contents.
“Let’s set it on a leaf,” he said.
“Kekyo,” Sato chirped.
Sato balanced the sake cup atop its usual large leaf, supporting it with two smaller ones beneath. Then, slow and steady, it started walking.
The male pig tensed for a moment at the sight of the approaching creature, but quickly determined Sato wasn’t a threat.
“Ke… ke… kyo… ke… fuu… ke…”
Soft murmurs trickled from Sato’s mouth, barely audible in the still forest air.
Ize had to cover her mouth to keep from giggling — the tension of the moment made it dangerously funny.
When Sato was just a meter away, the male pig finally stepped forward.
“Ke!”
Sato froze like a statue.
The three humans held their breath.
Then, the pig leaned down… and gave Sato’s white body a long, slow lick.
“Gyoupp-puyo!”
Thwump!
With a shriek that echoed through the trees, Sato dove into the dirt, burying itself almost completely.
The cry was so bizarre, so startling, that all three nearly burst out laughing despite the gravity of the moment.
“Gegyogyo…” came a muffled whimper from the ground.
Then its leaves started inching forward. Even buried, Sato was determined to press on.
Apparently sensing its intent, the male pig didn’t interfere. Instead, he quietly paced alongside the crawling leaves.
“Sato’s so brave!” Ize whispered, eyes shining.
“It’s got guts, that’s for sure,” Hal said.
“I’ll give it so many treats after this!” Ize added.
“Gyo!” Sato chirped in response, somehow energized by the praise.
Finally, it reached the female. With deft motions, its two leaves tilted the sake cup toward her mouth.
Gulp.
In complete silence, the sow drank.
“…Good,” Hal whispered.
At his words, Sato’s leaves rustled with excitement.
“Gyo!”
Thwump!
Sato burst from the earth like a spring, tipping the last of the water into the female’s mouth. Then, without missing a beat, it tore off back toward the group and leaped straight into Ize’s arms.
“Keekyonkyofukyonkeffukeffukyooon!” it babbled, trembling like a tree in a storm.
“You did so well. You were amazing. Thank you, Sato,” Ize cooed, stroking its little body as it clung to her with all its might.
But the moment of tenderness was cut short by Hal’s apologetic voice.
“Ah — Sato, sorry. Her stamina’s not back yet. Do you think you could go a few more rounds?”
“KYOOOOOO–!!”
With a burst of fury, Sato launched from Ize’s arms like a bullet and rammed straight into Hal’s stomach.
“OOF–!!” Hal doubled over, clutching his belly and gasping for air.
Satisfied with the damage dealt, Sato gave a sharp “Kyon!” and turned to Fieda, holding out the sake cup.
“Oh? You’ll do it?” Fieda asked, surprised.
“Kyon!”
Sato puffed out its chest proudly.
Fieda gave its head a gentle pat and filled the cup again with nutrient-rich water.
With the three humans and the male pig watching, Sato made five proud and purposeful trips between the bucket and the sow, never once wavering.
◆
After that, the female pig, her strength returned, slowly rose to her feet and stepped up beside the male. They rubbed their faces together in a gesture of affection, then turned and disappeared into the depths of the forest, side by side.
“They’re gone,” Ize murmured softly.
“Kyon,” Sato chirped in agreement.
“They probably went back to a safe den,” Fieda said, watching the underbrush settle in their wake.
“I wish we could’ve seen the piglets,” Ize added wistfully.
“Yeah, me too,” Fieda replied.
“They must’ve been so cute,” Hal said, nodding.
“Kekyo!”
Hal knelt by the wooden bucket they had used and checked its contents. The water level had dropped to less than half of what they had started with.
“We’ll need to get more from Sato,” he said.
“A little bit a day,” Ize reminded.
“Kekyokyo!”
They’d confirmed it worked — Sato’s water could restore vitality. It would be wise to continue storing more, just in case something like this happened again.
“Well then, back to night watch,” Fieda said.
“”Yes, sir,”” Ize and Hal answered in unison.
After the long tension, it felt like hours must have passed, but there was still a full hour left on their shift.
“Let’s stay sharp till the end,” Fieda added with a grin.
“”Right!”” the other two echoed.
“Kekyo!” Sato chirped cheerfully.
“You’re off duty now, Sato,” Hal added with a chuckle.
“Kyon!”
“There’ll be a reward waiting once we get back to the inn,” Ize promised warmly.
“Kekyo!”
◆
Two days later, the three of them left the town of Gurun, riding behind a mule cart driven by a young man from the local pottery village.
“I’m glad we managed to stock up on tea,” Hal said.
“Yes! As thanks, they gave us a bunch of last year’s leaves too. We’re set for over a year, easily,” Ize beamed.
“And with our Magic Bags, it won’t degrade any further.”
“Exactly. I do like tea, but I’m not that particular about it, so this is more than enough.”
Ize looked thoroughly satisfied, her expression glowing with the joy of a successful haul. Both green tea and hōjicha filled her stash.
Then Fieda called back from the driver’s seat.
“Hey, look over there.”
“Hmm?”
“Where?”
“On that hill, just off to the right.”
“The hill? Oh — wait! Are those–!?”
“Piglets!” Ize cried.
They all turned to look. Two adult pigs stood at the crest of the hill, and clustered around their legs were three small piglets, no bigger than bundles of fur.
Ize immediately reached for Sato, lifting it onto her lap.
“Kyo?” it squeaked, blinking in the sunlight.
“Sato, look — it’s the piglets! They’re so cute… And they really do have stripes on their backs, just like I’ve heard!”
“You think it’s the same ones from before?” Hal asked, squinting at the distant hill.
“No way to tell,” Fieda replied, though his voice lacked certainty.
Still, the four of them — Ize, Hal, Fieda, and Sato — shared the belief that these were the same pigs from that night. As if they had come to show that all was well, that the birth had gone safely.
“I’m so glad,” Ize said gently.
“Kekyo! Kekyo!” Sato cried, waving its leaves with enthusiasm.
Though the pigs couldn’t possibly hear them from that distance, it felt as if the message had somehow reached them. The little family stood for a moment longer, then turned and vanished into the forest’s green veil.