I Wanted to Use Magic, So I Trained My Magical Power. I Wanted to Eat Meat, So I Went Hunting. And Then, Before I Knew It, I Had Become the Strongest... - Episode 11: Edamame Is Best Served Piled High in a Basket

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Episode 11: Edamame Is Best Served Piled High in a Basket

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Summer has come. Compared to Japan, the summer in this village isn’t that hot. But still, the temperature rises to nearly thirty degrees. Of course, there’s no thermometer. So it’s just a bodily sense.

The soybeans grown in the field are harvested while they’re still green.

Boil them in their pods and sprinkle with salt. Yep, delicious.

“What are you eating?”

“Edamame. Kern-niisan, do you want some too?”

“Yeah, I’ll have some…..… this is good!”

Seems like my brother likes it too.

If only I could drink beer with this, that’d be perfect. But I’m still six years old.

“Oh, what’s that?”

“This is tasty. Dad, you should try it too.”

“Alright……… it’s delicious! Makes me want to drink.”

Dad started his evening drink.

“Hey, what are you drinking at this hour!?”

Ah, Mom found him.

“Geh, Norsh!?”

“‘Geh’ is pretty rude, you know?”

“Ugh…”

“Well, Mom, you try some too.”

“This is… soybean, huh?”

As expected from the mother who manages the fields.

Even young, she instantly recognized it as soybeans.

“Yeah. Young soybeans. They’re called edamame.”

“Let me see… oh, this is delicious.”

Since we boiled freshly picked edamame, it’s extremely tasty.

“Right? When you eat something this good, you want to drink.”

“I don’t disagree with that feeling. But don’t overdo it, okay?”

“Okay.”

Mom gave in.

Then Grandpa and Grandma also showed up. And a little feast began.

Kern-niisan and I munched on edamame without alcohol. Delicious.

“Nii-ni, me too.”

“Okay, Maruda, want some?”

I feed him with an “ahhh~” motion.

“Tasty.”

Yeah, yeah, what a cute little guy.

In the end, the whole family at home gathered and ate edamame.

Like Niigata people, we boiled a lot. And the basket that was piled high was completely empty.

—

One day, while I was practicing sword swings with a wooden sword, the *Kimoiri*-san came.

A “Kimoiri” is someone who helps run the village under the village chief.

There are four Kimoiri in this village. Three are farmers, and one is from another profession.

The farming Kimoiri positions are inherited. And the other one rotates.

My grandpa also used to be a Kimoiri. But now the carpenter Roger-san holds the position.

“Hey, Nois. You’re working hard.”

“Hello, Roger-san. Another drinking party?”

“Stop saying it’s a drinking party just because I came.”

“But you’re always drinking.”

“Ugh… it’s frustrating that I can’t argue with that.”

“Mom was mad because you keep inviting Dad to drink.”

“For real… Norsh is scary, you know.”

It seems my dear mother is feared by the men in the village. As expected.

“Hey, go call Doga for me secretly, will you?”

“Okay, but………. behind you.”

I pointed behind Roger-san.

“Hm? …Geh!?”

“Roger, you came to invite my husband to drink again, didn’t you?”

“N-no! That’s not it, Norsh!”

Dad, Roger-san, and Mom are apparently childhood friends.

I heard from Dad before that Mom used to lead the two of them around when they were kids.

He was telling me that story, not realizing Mom was behind him… You can guess the rest.

After many excuses, Roger-san managed to convince her it was official business.

Whether that was true or not, Dad went to the meeting that night and came back totally drunk.

Needless to say, Mom was furious.

—

Lately, villagers have been coming to see me.

This ties into the reason Roger-san took Dad.

Apparently, that meeting wasn’t just about drinking—there was also talk about teaching the villagers how to use crossbows.

It’s common knowledge that bows are hard to handle.

Yet a child like me is using one.

The adults thought maybe the crossbow I’m using is just that easy.

When they tried using the crossbow I use, they found it was very easy to shoot arrows.

You can’t shoot repeatedly like a bow. But once you get used to it, loading arrows doesn’t take long.

So now, every day, people from age ten to forty practice shooting arrows with my crossbow.

Also, since the village chief said to mass-produce crossbows, Dad and carpenter Roger-san are making parts for them.

To teach the villagers, I tested the crossbow’s performance.

With an arched shot, it can reach 100 meters.

To pierce armor, the effective distance is 30 meters.

Against beasts, stone arrowheads are enough.

But to pierce armor, stone won’t do—so they’re also making iron arrowheads.

Grandpa is pouring his spirit into making those arrowheads.

Mordan-niisan and Kern-niisan are also helping. They’re trying to increase the number.

And the village chief ordered thirty crossbows and a thousand arrows to be made.

I made 300 arrows myself over the winter. 

But arrows made by woodworkers and carpenters—even if they’re apprentices—are high quality. Impressive.

However, some of the arrowheads are poorly made.

Apparently, they’re Mordan’s.

Kern’s arrowheads aren’t as good as Grandpa’s. But they are still well made—seriously, what a hopeless eldest brother.