The next morning...
When Elliot woke and opened his door, he found that only four of the five stolen items had been returned. Alongside them lay a note.
"I'm sorry, Lord Sasayuri. I shouldn't have stolen from you, but my children were simply too hungry. I truly apologize. I will do my best to repay you. I hope you won't be angry."
Elliot stared at the note for a moment, then turned to count the supplies he had left outside yesterday for anyone to take freely.
Not a single item was missing.
It seemed his words the day before had done their job. Even with free food available, no one dared to take it.
He brought the note to his nose, caught the faint scent on it, and selected two of the more nutritious ingredients before heading toward the village.
Following the trace from the note, he soon found the household it came from.
He set the two items by the door, slipped the note back inside, knocked a few times, and walked away.
"Wait... I'm coming—"
A woman's voice called from inside. She opened the door slowly, only to find no one there—just two bundles on the ground.
Opening them, she was startled to see both bags filled with meat—and a very familiar note.
Her pupils contracted slightly as she picked it up.
"Sasayuri... Lord...?"
It was the exact note she had slipped under Elliot's door in the early hours of the night before.
She flipped it over. On the back, six words had been scrawled:
"Feed the child well."
Her eyes reddened instantly.
"Mom, Mom, who is it?"
A frail little girl's voice drifted from inside. The woman wiped away her tears and carried the meat into the house.
"Mom, why are you crying?"
"Enough talking. Go wash your hands. We're having something good today. After you eat, you're coming with me."
"Something good? What is it?"
"You'll see soon."
...
After delivering the food, Elliot stood atop a mountain, gazing over the village.
He saw no crops—nothing. Nearly all their food came from fishing.
But fishing was unpredictable, dependent on sheer luck. A few bad days could mean going hungry for just as long.
And it was dangerous—one storm could easily cost lives.
"I miscalculated. I didn't expect this place to lack even the basic means to survive..."
He had never imagined Watatsumi Island's resources were this poor.
But thinking it over, it made sense. After reading Before Sun and Moon, Orobashi had been sentenced to death by the Heavenly Principles.
All he'd managed in the end was to bring the people of Byakuyakoku back to the surface. He had no time to prepare the island for sustainable living.
It was a stroke of luck that he'd brought a large number of people to Yashiori Island to die—otherwise, half of Watatsumi Island's population might have starved, perhaps even succumbing to plague.
No wonder, in the original story, Orobashi's lingering hatred became the vengeful god.
He simply hadn't had the time to leave his people a livable home.
Originally, Orobashi had planned to invade the east to expand Watatsumi's territory—but was cut down by Zebul in a single strike.
Once a powerful god, he had been beaten by Zhongli, then by Zebul. Losing the Archon War was one thing, but ending up trapped in Enkanomiya, and then being executed just for reading a forbidden book...
"I'll have to come back and at least set up the basics for survival here."
Resolving himself, Elliot wrote a short message, stuck it to his door, and left Watatsumi Island.
Not long after, a woman arrived at his wooden house, holding a child by each hand.
She spotted the paper on the door and her eyes widened.
"Urgent matters call me away for a time. If you need food, please take what you need from the door. —Sasayuri"
"Could it be... because we went too far..." she murmured to herself.
She glanced at the large pile of supplies by the door—most of it untouched.
"He... hasn't actually done anything wrong."
"It was our god who first invaded Inazuma. From his perspective, defending his homeland is only natural..."
"We're the invaders..."
From the moment Elliot had arrived, they had greeted him with nothing but hostility and malice.
He had done nothing harmful to them—while they, in turn, had done plenty of harm to him.
And still, he had given generously, holding no grudges.
The woman's chest tightened. Only now did she realize just how foolish they had been—judging him with almost no understanding and pouring their malice onto him without cause.
"No... I can't let him keep being misunderstood like this."
She turned to her children. "Come on, help me carry these things."
She loaded her arms with supplies from his door and handed bundles to each of them until they were full.
"Mom, these smell so good! Are they all for us?" the little girl asked, nose twitching.
"The meat you just had was a gift from this gentleman," the woman told them.
"Really!? Mom, he's so nice!" The boy's eyes widened as he remembered the taste—something better than anything he'd ever eaten.
"But right now, we're killing him with invisible knives."
"Huh? What's an invisible knife?"
The children were too young to understand.
"It's nothing. Just take the food and come with me."
With that, she hefted the load in her arms, took her son and daughter by the hands, and walked back into the village.