3 - At the End of Autumn
The harassment from the village chief continues as always. But protected by my parents and the Daltowa couple, I've been managing without incident so far. I turned eight this summer, and the things I can do on my own have increased a little. My recent enjoyment is helping with cooking. Emotionally, it feels like I've been living in a foreign country for eight years, so I'm starting to miss Japanese food. That said, since there's no miso or soy sauce, making Japanese food itself is impossible. Still, I'm happy that the opportunity to cook for myself has come around. If I can cook for myself, I can make things that are at least a little closer to Japanese food.
...Come to think of it, Oban-san and Aunt Ulary are a bit strange, aren't they. Like, they're different from the other villagers.
While peeling potatoes, I picture the Daltowa couple in my mind. The Daltowa couple are very clean and tidy. The villagers, with stuff stuck between their nails or reeking just from standing upwind of them, are all filthy people without exception. The Daltowa couple don't have that. They're always clean and tidy, never smell, and their nails are cleanly trimmed. My parents are clean thanks to me relentlessly drilling hygiene concepts into them, but I can't exactly force hygiene concepts onto other families. The Daltowa couple are clean from the start.
A little girl is simply adorable just by being a little girl. If she's a little girl with cute features, she'd be even cuter, surely. If she's a clean, tidy little girl with adorable features, I can understand wanting to hug her.
Well, if anyone outside the family attempted such an outrage, it would be a criminal matter.
My parents were still ostracized in the village, but the villagers wanted to fuss over their cute (...apparently cute. We don't have a mirror at home so I've never confirmed it myself) little girl (me). That said, I don't want to be touched by filthy hands, so I would flee every time a hand reached for me. Adults are fine. When I gently evade them, they have the self-awareness that they're ostracizing my parents, so they understand they're disliked and lower their hands. But when it comes to children who lack that self-awareness and thought, it's the worst.
...They stink. They're filthy. Don't stand upwind of me.
With my path blocked by Marcel, the village chief's grandson, I let the emotion of displeasure show plainly on my face. Normal adults would back off if you give them a face this obvious, but children don't have the skill of reading the atmosphere. Marcel in particular, spoiled as the village chief's grandson and seemingly never properly disciplined, can't pull off something as deft as reading the subtleties of others' emotions.
And he's currently in the throes of a hopeless first love with me.
Ever since he became aware of things, he's been treated coldly without pause, and I can't understand how he can still like me. He comes to invite me at every opportunity, and each time I curtly refuse him, but Marcel's invitations never stop.
"I found a place in the back mountain where peaches are growing! I'll show you!"
"Tiring, so no."
Even I think it's a pretty awful response, but it's the correct way of handling him that I've learned in my short life so far. Incidentally, what Marcel's words actually meant was "I found a place in the back mountain where peaches are growing! I'll show you! (However, I'll be the only one eating the peaches, and I'm not saying I'll share any with you.)" When I was younger, I was tricked and followed him several times, but each time Marcel would climb the tree by himself and eat the fruit, then look down at the little girl below and act all high and mighty, saying things like "Jealous, aren't you? If you want me to pick some for you, say 'Please pick some for me, Marcel-sama.'" I think my treatment of him is pretty awful too, but it's all the result of learning from Marcel's past behavior.
...It's not my fault. It's Marcel's own doing.
When I glare at him without hiding my inner disgust, Marcel, who still doesn't understand why he's hated, pouts his lips with an expression that says he's the one who's hurt.
"Can't be helped. I'll take you there."
Apparently Marcel has switched to the thought of wanting to show off his strength to me. He's the biggest among kids his age, so he wants to boast about his physical power. With a smug, self-satisfied look, Marcel's hand reaches toward me. A hand that I have no idea when it was last washed. I reflexively threw all the firewood I was holding at that grimy hand of Marcel's, reeking of filth.
"DON'T TOUCH ME, GROSS. DO YOU EVEN WASH YOUR HANDS? THERE'S STUFF STUCK BETWEEN YOUR NAILS, CAN'T YOU SEE IT? WHAT IS THAT, DISGUSTING. IT'S NOT BOOGERS OR SOMETHING, RIGHT? SERIOUSLY STOP TRYING TO TOUCH PEOPLE WITH HANDS LIKE THAT. YOU'VE GOTTA BE JOKING. AND LIKE, STOP INVITING ME EVERY SINGLE TIME. YOU'RE HATED, GET IT THROUGH YOUR HEAD ALREADY. AFTER ALL THE HITTING AND PUNCHING AND IGNORING, WHY WOULD YOU THINK I'D LIKE YOU? JUST STOP TALKING TO ME ALREADY!!"
I let out all the frustration I'd been holding in since we first met. I wanted to convey just how unpleasant I found Marcel, but I still lacked confidence in my pronunciation, and my vocabulary in this world's language was still limited. As a result, all the insults that flew out of my mouth were in Japanese, but just getting them out of my mouth made me feel a little better. Come to think of it, since there's no way Marcel would understand Japanese, there'd be no problem in my relationships even if I kept insulting him in everyday use. There was never any need to endure and bottle it up.
Having been subjected to a machine gun barrage of insults from the person he had feelings for, who until now had only ever responded with broken, fragmentary replies, Marcel stood frozen with his mouth hanging open. In that opening, I gathered up the firewood I'd thrown, and quickly headed home.
...I messed up. I completely messed up.
That day when I had my awakening. Since Japanese won't be understood anyway, I can say whatever I want, right? I felt good, having finally shut Marcel down with my machine gun talk, so refreshing... that feeling lasted only until that night. The next day, Marcel, having learned that I could actually talk quite a bit, tried to draw more words out of me. In other words, the bullying got worse.
Since Marcel is trying to get a reaction out of me, then not reacting should be my payback. Thinking that, I ignore Marcel. I don't respond when he talks to me. When our eyes meet, I turn my face away and go in a different direction. More thoroughly than ever before, I drove Marcel out of my field of vision. However, when it comes to that, the other party is a child who can't do things like "take a hint." Perhaps stubbornly thinking he'll get some kind of reaction, the bullying only continues to worsen. As a result, Marcel is hated by me, and I ignore him even more thoroughly. And then the bullying from Marcel worsens further. I was completely stuck in a negative spiral.
...Both Marcel and the village chief are seriously annoying. They should just die.
Not that I can do anything concrete, since I don't intend to become a murderer. Weary of the existence of these two, who are nothing but obstacles to living brightly and righteously in this life, I pick nuts. They're nuts similar to acorns that can be gathered in the mountains at the end of autumn. They're less than half the size of acorns, but they're delicious when roasted. They become a precious snack during the winter.
...What's that? There's a rare crowd gathered.
When I return from the mountain with my hand basket full of nuts, a crowd has formed in the village's small square. Several adults and children are swarming. When I get closer, I can see a freight wagon at the center of the crowd.
...A traveling merchant? That's unusual.
In a village where nearly everything is supplemented by barter, it's rare for a traveling merchant to stop by. Once a year, to sell things needed beyond the village's crops. Twice at most, whether they stop by or not. When a traveling merchant comes, children drag their parents over to beg for rare sweets and toys, and adults, being adults, acquire various things unavailable in the village. However, this time the traveling merchant's wares seem a bit different. There are some adults who've been dragged over by children, but the crowd is mostly children. The goods packed in the freight wagon catch children's interest, but must hold no appeal for adults. The merchant, rather than trying to sell his wares to the children swarming the wagon and trying to peek inside, was giving water to the horse pulling the wagon.
...Rather than coming to do business, did he just stop to rest his horse?
Seeing the merchant occasionally even shoo away the children, I judge it so and watch from a distance. As I'm watching, vaguely curious about the wares, Marcel comes to the square, pulling the village chief by the arm.
"Hey, Gramps. Buy it for me. Nobody around here has a pet, right!?"
Marcel's shrill, childlike voice echoes through the area, and I finally understand what's inside the freight wagon. Once I understand, my interest rapidly fades.
In terms of keeping animals, every household keeps some livestock to some extent. Our house also keeps, though the name is different in this other world, chickens. But when it comes to pets, no household keeps them. In a poor farming village, every family is barely managing just to feed themselves, and they can't afford to do things like increase the number of useless mouths to feed.
...Does he want to go "Look at me, I'm so awesome, I have a pet!"? What a pain.
Now that I know what the goods are, I turn my back to the square. I have no plans to keep a pet, and there's nothing good about staying long. If Marcel and the village chief spot me, they'll just pester me again and it'll be troublesome. If I'm going to use the same amount of time, it's more meaningful to drop off the contents of my hand basket at home and go back to the mountain to pick more nuts. With Marcel's wheedling voice and the village chief's voice beginning negotiations with the merchant behind me, I left the square.
Marcel fell in love with Tina at first sight as soon as he became aware of things, but Tina has distrusted the village chief since before she could remember, and Marcel is a violent boy whose excessive displays of affection can only be interpreted as bullying, so she fatally hates him. There's no way for them to understand each other.