The Abandoned Saint's Happy Feeding Life - Chapter 10

Zen’ichi checked the fridge and sighed.

(Remaining ingredients… eggs, milk, tofu, leftover frozen tsukune, frozen udon. Veggies—only onions left. Rice low… bread’s there, but not for a weak kid… two apples left…)

Normally slapdash diet—no sick-toddler recipes came to mind.

Online searches are useless—couldn’t shop.

The only way to get food in this village: drive to town, but my brother took the car.

The main house under the biological father would share, but Mogami, who stirred the earlier mess, was there.

(Might disappoint, but porridge again… no veggies—too pitiful…)

Sparkling eyes, wide-open mouth waiting for food—like a baby bird; feeding her brought indescribable joy.

School rabbits were cute, eating—he’d hunted supermarkets for cabbage.

This feeling—stronger.

Wanted to stuff her with delicious food, fatten her up.

Yet no decent ingredients.

Zen’ichi drooped.

(Should’ve begged Yasu for help.)

Reliable twin brother was mad at Zen’ichi for picking trouble—but a sincere plea would’ve worked.

Felt bad involving him—now regretted.

(Ask him to come back now…? House is 1½ hours away. Left this morning—too much burden…)

He’d come if asked—but burden worried him.

Serve a pitiful meal, get ingredients from the main house, or call brother for rescue.

Pondering—resumed untangling Asha’s hair.

If tangles are fixed, the next bath could clean the scalp fully.

Avoid waking—minimize scissors, handle fragile, cotton-like, easily-snapped hair gently.

Focused—answer emerged.

(Today—no choice. Tomorrow, request supplies.)

Daytime thugs made the main house risky.

Waltz in—lose Asha—game over.

Wanted to leave ASAP—but unknown if the wasted body could handle over-hour travel.

Better: brother buys supplies, waits for Asha’s recovery.

Decision set—hair now combable.

Relieved—left room to contact brother.

“Zen’ichi-san, excuse me.”

Ton ton ton—knock, as if waiting.

No roughness or malice—visitor.

But Zen’ichi frowned deeply.

“Sorry, Zen’ichi-san? Excuse me.”

Timid voice again—reluctantly responded.

“What is it?”

Own voice—quite gruff.

“Um… earlier, my family acted rashly… came to apologize for the trouble.”

Voice very apologetic.

“Apology unnecessary. If sincere, tell Mogami to stop toying with people. Her job: accurately report what she sees to the head. ‘Remember your careless words could rob an innocent child’s future.’”

Cold, no opening.

Shadow in the glass shrank.

No ill will toward her—but discomfort lingered.

The clan’s strongest seer, called Mogami, assisted the head.

Role: accurate reports—but the current Mogami was the head’s wife’s mother—too much influence.

“About that… mother and I want to apologize… could you come to the main house…?”

She who called Mogami “mother”—Zen’ichi’s father’s wife.

“Born-not-raised” relation.

Father’s mistake—no relation or shame to him—but awkward with her.

“Why must the wronged party visit? If Mogami wants to apologize, tell her to come herself.”

Normally, couldn’t refuse timid pleas, would visit.

But now—someone to protect.

Unexpected refusal—shadow fidgeted.

“Um, Father also wants to talk…”

Name of house-bound man—Zen’ichi is more annoyed.

“Dragging the head in—desperate to separate me from the child. Adults ganging up on a kid—learn shame.”

Courtesy due to stepmother role—and slight guilt—usually polite.

Thus unexpected sting.

Gasped behind the door.

“S-Sorry, no intent to separate… Mother says legs hurt in cold… um, bring the baby too…”

Exactly what Zen’ichi didn’t want.

Why drag an emaciated child to the enemy base?

“Then another day. Thanks to childish adults—she’s bedridden.”

Position guilt—and fragile aura—why he disliked her.

Felt like bullying—ended the talk.

“Haah.”

Zen’ichi exhaled the bitter lump in his chest.

Unknowingly intimidating—timid people, kids, even small animals flinched.

Treated coldly—no attachment—but for talking, thick-skinned hag Mogami was better.

(Check on Asha.)

Lost will to contact brother—returned to the room.

Frayed heart sought healing.

Asha still slept, mummy-face.

Patted yoshi yoshi—she grinned limply, mumbled munya munya.

(This kid never fears me.)

Wasted face overlapped with a pet rabbit.

School rabbit—first avoided him; most cabbage went to others.

But the tiniest one always came first.

Dopey—ate mossa mossa happily.

Maybe lost feeding battles due to size—but to young Zen’ichi, it trusted him unconditionally.

Came even without food—stroke stroke—super friendly.

Thanks to it, other rabbits approached.

Nostalgic.

Small yet plump rabbit—nothing like bone-visible Asha.

But actions are similar.

Unconditional trust.

Food obsession.

No fleeing from hands.

Cheerful airhead vibe.

Nuzzling when stroked.

Being liked makes you want to spoil more, human or animal.

(Yeah… want to feed her delicious stuff…)

Renewed thought.

Then recalled the remaining food—worried.

“…Zen-wanya…”

Heavy lids pried open—green eyes fixed on him.

“Sorry, woke you?”

Hastily pulled stroking hand—lonely eyes followed.

“…”

Gently returned—slow strokes—she narrowed her eyes, nuzzled.

(Really overlapping…)

Near-atheist Zen’ichi wondered if she was that rabbit reborn.

Dry, dying-grass hair texture—heart ached.

(I’ll feed proper protein—restore fluffy fur.)

Didn’t notice he’d fully mixed her with the rabbit.

“Zen-wanya?”

Dry skin, jagged, thin nails—all protein deficiency.

(Available protein… eggs, tofu, tsukune…)

Must feed protein—worried.

(Tofu in porridge feels wrong. Simmered udon better… but two udon meals—gets old.)

“Zen-wanya.”

Zen’ichi un un pondering—missed the call.

Asha Moso Moso rolled in a blanket.

“Zen.”

“Hm?”

Finally surfaced.

Asha looked up, worried.

“Worried for me? Thanks.”

Stroked head—thin hand stroked his knee.

Cheering him up.

He smiled—she seemed satisfied, rolled korokoro back to the pillow.

Awake—but not enough energy to sit.

(Can’t move—needs entertainment.)

Most parents would reach for picture books, stories, or toys—but Zen’ichi had no such ideas.

(Show her videos.)

Casually grabbed the parents’ lethal weapon for noisy kids.

Rummaged his bag, pulled the tablet, and set it on the plastic step-stool Yaomote lent.

Propped Asha up with cushions behind her back.

“For now… educational channel or something…?”

Unsure what kids liked—opened TV app.

Unfortunately, not a kids’ show, cooking program.

(Not 24/7 kids’ programming.)

The instant he thought that—

“Fuhooooo!?”

Asha rolled toward the tablet at blinding speed.

“Hoa, ho, hohee!?”

Somehow wildly excited about cooking.

Speed belied “can’t stand”—spun around the tablet, circling, peeking from sides.

“You like cooking, huh?”

Felt slightly off—but she looked thrilled.

Front, back, side—busy.

Thought the energy endless—but when the kimono-clad teacher started kneading hamburger, she locked in.

(Her appetite is insane.)

Sparkling eyes—Zen’ichi’s wry smile.

Thin neck strained to hold heavy head—shaking, near limit.

He rolled her back to an easy-view spot.

“Hoaaooo.”

“Fuhooo!”

“Wiini mimyunai nya!!”

Asha is fully absorbed in a cooking show.

Sighs, interjections—eyes glued to ground meat.

(Definitely loves meat.)

When the hamburger hit the pan, drool cascaded.

Not a trickle—waterfall.

(Hamburger…)

Catching drool with tissue—Zen’ichi pondered.

(Crumble tsukune, mix with tofu… tofu is easy to digest.)

Quick phone search: tofu hamburger recipe.

Had bulked patties with tofu before—never tofu-main.

(Seems doable.)

No exact ingredients—but worth trying.

Asha—synced with host tasting, opened mouth aaan, ate air.

“Pfft.”

Zen’ichi stifled a laugh, covered his mouth.

Too absorbed—perfect sync.

Innocent, overly childlike.

Air tasteless—yet happily mogu mogu.

Cute—but with a starved look, pitiful.

(Real one—absolutely make when she’s stronger.)

Zen’ichi resolved, watching toddler unya unya yell at the tablet.

The show ended—she still buzzed, excitedly chattered at him.

Hamburger passion or begging—unknown—but he nodded confidently.

“Not sure I can make it—but I’ll try, hamburger.”

Words wouldn’t reach—yet she smiled, relieved.

Starved near death—still super friendly.

Usually scared kids—yet fearless, trusting gaze.

Zen’ichi is just a normal student—nothing special.

But wanted to meet those eyes.

(Unlike rabbits, she can feed herself a variety.)

Not just hamburger.

Steak, tonkatsu, karaage, beef stew, tonteki, teriyaki chicken.

Plain yakiniku would thrill.

Hurry, recover—many foods to feed.

Eager for joyful eating days.

Plump rabbit flashed in mind.

(Get her back to original form fast.)

For now, make something tasty with leftovers.

Zen’ichi rolled sleeves, headed to the kitchen.