Gun Girl from Another World

Chapter 41

Stew

The prospect of a long, hot soak sounds like a slice of heaven, and with Ayre looking as eager as I feel, I can only imagine she feels the same.

We may have had a full night’s sleep, we may have had magic and items keeping us clean, and our health and stamina may technically be full, but there are other kinds of aches that set in from those types of encounters. Tight muscles from emotional tension, overplayed joints from high-stress maneuvers, sore arches from two days of walking.

There are simply some things, it would seem, that a healing spell can’t cure, and that a status screen can’t tell you is wrong, but that twice your body mass in steaming water can whisk away like its own kind of magic.

... There’s probably a lesson there, something about how the whole of the human condition can’t be reduced to a single arbitrary number, or that we’re more than the literal numerical sum of our parts and our needs are bigger than just keeping that number full.

Ayre’s annoyed expression slides into my field of view, her ears twitching out her irritation like morse code. “You’re doing it again, aren’t you?”

I rub the back of my neck with a nervous laugh. “Eh? Doing what? I’m just walking!”

”You’re going pointlessly philosophical on something incredibly simple again, I know it!”

”I didn’t say anything!”

The elf’s face slides into a pout as she continues to walk backwards in front of me. “If how people respond to what you do really bothers you, then you need to be more aware of what you’re doing that bothers them! And the first step in that is staying in the present instead of getting lost in your thoughts every time you have a spare moment with them!”

I give a relenting sigh. “You’re right, Ayre. I’ll try to be more aware of myself. But at the same time, I like getting lost in my thoughts.”

She wrinkles her nose. “Spoken like those collegiates you mocked, Remmi.”

”Eheh ... Do they call it navel-gazing here, too?”

I get treated to the sight of her eyes glazing over as half of her expression collapses. “... What?”

”... Did the Essence not translate that?”

”No, it translated it, but ... What?”

I shake my head. “Nevermind, it’s just a figure of speech. It’s not important.”

I do take her advice, though, and turn my attention to our surroundings. I’m used to being recognized, given that I stick out so much, but more of the town than usual calls out greetings to us as we pass.

Fortunately, no more flash mobs form.

Something else occurs to me while I take in their smiling faces as they tend to their work, but I’m not really sure how to ask it without sounding incredibly rude. I wouldn’t mean it to be rude. If anything, it’s complimentary, but still ...

Ayre still gives me another long look, somewhere between confusion and distrust. It seems like she’s not really convinced I’ll stop, still puzzling over the phrase I’d used, or both. Yeah, probably a good, solid, thick mix of the two. Like a new pair of boots and a Saturday Night Special.

I give my friend a bright, cheerful smile to reassure her that I absolutely did not imagine a thought in the voice of an Italian mafia boss, nor was that thought to do with a needlessly theatrical consideration of her expression of doubt.

... For some reason, this makes her expression worse instead of improving it.

Soon enough, she gives up her stare in exchange for a sigh and joins me in focusing on the village around us, and it isn’t long before Dabun Village’s public bath comes into view.

Rabbit’s Stew is a corny name for a bath house, but I’ve never paid the building much mind before today. When I’m staying at my cabin, I have my own bath tub. Before then, I used the river. And now, even if I’m staying in town, I have a spell for that.

Like most of the major construction in town, it’s got a mud brick foundation, but the visible parts of the frame are a yellowish-white softwood connected by painted plaster walls. That plaster probably covers more bricks, I’d imagine.

The windows, like nearly all in the village, lack glass but boast charming bamboo shutters. The same material is used for the roofing, but rather than strips threaded together, it’s whole split logs of the stuff alternating which side is up. I guess that makes for natural gutters, but I still can’t help but think it could use an additional bamboo corridor at the base to run it to the corners instead of coming off right over where people are expected to enter.

The sign is a wooden panel with the lettering vertically along one side. Beside the name is a simple painting of a horned rabbit reclining in a pot of steaming water. It’s cute, I have to admit, especially its little sigh as its forelegs drape over the sides.

”Welcome!” The chestnut-haired woman behind the counter is calling to us the moment the door starts to open. “Please leave your footwear in one of the empty bins provided!”

I glance to the side of the entryway at that and see an entire shelf composed of several dozen small, backless, wooden cubes. Almost all of these are empty, probably on account of the time of day. A simple, backless bench runs the other wall to give us someplace to comply.

The floor directly inside is solid, baked and sealed mud brick, providing a sort of mud room type section to keep messes contained. The floor raises slightly outside of this area with a wooden trim that is then filled entirely with what I have come to recognize as tatami.

The woman recognizes us as we sit down to start tugging our boots off, which I’m hoping will fit in the cubicles alright since most of what’s there are sandals.

”Oh! If it isn’t the heroes of Dabun Village,” she gasps. “I didn’t expect to see you in my humble bath house! I mean, I suppose it makes sense, but you two looked so clean coming in!”

I feel a bit hypocritical over the burning of my cheeks at being called a hero. I guess it hits differently than when it’s just a title. “Ah, well, we cleaned up before coming back,” I explain as Ayre and I slide our footwear into the nooks. “Sacred Yorin wanted us to enjoy a proper bath while she handled some paperwork everything caused, I guess.”

”Oh, she’s a regular here,” the woman confirms as we approach the wooden counter she’s behind. “At least once a week. I guess they haven’t gotten that far in the temple’s construction yet. I’d assume that’ll have its own bath.”

”Actually, I’m curious,” I venture. “There aren’t any volcanoes in this region, so this probably isn’t a hot spring bath, right?”

The woman laughs right into my face at that question, though not maliciously. I just really tickled her funny bone. “Oh, by the Essence, not on your life! Can you even imagine all of the digging that would require?”

”Then how do you heat all of that water? I didn’t see any chimneys for boilers. The answer isn’t just magic, is it?”

”Close,” she chirps with a grin as she holds up a finger. “We use elemental stones to produce the hot water directly on demand! It was an expensive initial set-up, but we really save on upkeep. Especially in the winter! We’ve got pipes underneath the floors we can channel it through that keep them nice and warm even when we’re buried under snow!”

”Stones, huh?” My eyes roll toward the ceiling and I scratch at my cheek as I think about that. “I haven’t seen those used since the capitol. All of the waystation inns just boiled it. I wonder if there’s any books on how they work in town ...”

”Oh, that’s right,” she intuits, “you’ve got that land outside of town! I can see why you’d be interested.” She frowns. “I’m afraid I wasn’t kidding when I said they’re expensive. It wouldn’t be as much for a house as it is for this place, but you’d still have to order them from a big city.”

”I’ve got other projects they might be useful for, too,” I reply, already thinking of stoves and generators, provided they come in other elements, too, and I can somehow regulate their output. “It can’t hurt to check, at least.”

It sets Ayre to giggling as she promptly tells on me. “Remmi always says she hates crafting, so of course she can’t stop thinking about it.”

The woman chuckles, too, and even moreso at the frown I toss the elf’s way. Ayre is, of course, completely unrepentant. “Ah, I’d heard talk you’d gone to the wheelwright and blacksmith with a bunch of wild projects. Little gears, steel trusses and the like. Well, if you ever manage to invent a way to make milk last for longer than a week even when it’s cold, you let me know.”

I blink at that. “Uh, you pasteurize it. Ideally, you’d homogenize it, too, but that requires hardware we can’t really get.”

The poor woman stares back at me, and after a moment, Ayre elbows me in the side.

”You’re doing the word thing again, Remmi.”

Oh! Right. Homogenizing, I can get why that didn’t translate, but somehow, I assumed pasteurizing was obvious. “Oh, uh, it’s just heating it up to a high enough temperature for long enough without scorching or curdling it. You can do it in a double boiler.”

The brunette on the other side of the counter frowns at that. “You’d cook the milk you want to keep cold?”

”Eh, it’s not really cooking,” I assure her. “Unfortunately, I’m not sure how well temperatures translate, so I can’t say how hot you have to get it. But yeah, it helps keep it from spoiling and reduces the odds of getting sick from it.”

She’s still frowning, but it’s more thoughtful than rejecting. “Shame it doesn’t sound very usable, then.” She forces a smile back on her face, though, and claps her hands. “But you two came for a bath! Let’s get that sorted! For two of you, that’ll be twelve tins!”

I pull out the bag Yorin sent with us and count out the coins within. “Hm? She sent us with sixteen. If she comes so often, you’d think she’d have the price memorized.”

”Oh, that must be for the milk!”

I look back to the proprietress. “Milk?”

”Yes, we offer cold milk as a beverage served after a bath. It’s very popular, and the reason why I asked about preservation. Sacred Yorin always orders it, so she must assume that’s the actual price!”

Ayre tilts her head. “Is there something special about the milk?”

”Not specifically,” she replies, “but when combined with the hot bath, it’s thought to help the complexion and smooth the skin!”

”My people have a similar belief back home,” I confirm. “Some girls even say it’s supposed to help increase bust size.”

The brunette promptly pulls out a writing pad. “Oooh, that’s a good one, I’ll have to remember that for my sales pitch!” She puts the charcoal rod back down and beams back at us again. “So can I put you both down for a nice, cold milk after your bath?”

Ayre and I look at each other in bewildered confusion, then back to her as I answer. “Uh, well, I guess. I like a cold glass of milk, and Sacred Yorin seems to have intended it, anyway.”

The elf beside me just gives a nod in agreement.

”Wonderful!” She turns toward the shelves behind her and pulls out a bundle for each of us, consisting of a set of towels, a chunk of simple soap, a bottle of something I suspect is supposed to be shampoo, a simple robe and cheap sandals. “You’ll be able to store your clothes in the changing room, and you’ll be able to get your milk at the seating area after your bath! Enjoy!”

We thank her again and head toward the one big door further in.

”Remmi,” Ayre asks in a lowered voice once we’re a bit away, “is all of that stuff about drinking milk really true?”

”Nah, all myth,” I wave the question off. “A lot of people believe it, anyway, though. And, besides, what it is good for is rehydrating you and restoring the minerals the bath costs you in sweat.”

I’m honestly kind of dragging Ayre along by the arm without really thinking about it, so I’m surprised when we reach a divider just past the doorway and I suddenly come up short.

I trace the tug back to the linkage of our arms and look to Ayre in confusion. “Something wrong?”

She looks uncomfortable. “We’re at the changing rooms.”

”Yeah?” I sort of ask-state.

”I have to go the other direction.”

”To the guy’s room?”

Ayre looks back at me in a mirror of my own confusion. “Yeah. I’m a guy.”

I won’t lie, my brain just dies on me. I’m not even sure how long I’m standing there. It could have been a couple seconds, it could have been a minute. My perception totally shuts down.

When awareness returns to me, I’m still staring at Ayre’s face and we’re still linked at the elbow. “Wait ... Really?!”

Ayre just nods back at me with an embarrassed smile, and I clearly haven’t rebooted all of my faculties, because my friend has to pull free of my arm.

I force myself to say something, anything, so while the first thing to come to mind is completely honest, in retrospect, I’m probably going to groan over how corny it is.

”Ayre?” And the archer turns back to look at me. “I gotta say, you are the prettiest guy I’ve ever seen.”

And, bless his heart, that’s the brightest smile I’ve ever seen, too. “Thank you!”