Chapter 232: Life, Death, Clothing, Food, Shelter, and Travel
At the large tree in the center of the village, all the villagers did not disperse even after dealing with the corpse. Having completed their revenge, they seemed to still be in a state of excited exhilaration.
Even the old woman who had fallen to the ground showed no intention of leaving at this time.
Yukino walked up and held the old woman's shoulder, saying, "Grandma, let me help you up."
"Yukino, good child, just let me stay here. I have avenged my son, and now I can breathe my last," the old woman said softly.
A nearby villager said, "Grandma, don't talk like that. After we defeat the bandits, we will have enough food. As long as we have food, we won't let you starve to death."
Others chimed in, "That's right! Staying alive is the most important thing."
But the old woman was no longer concerned about these things. Instead, she used her swollen, red-rimmed eyes, with their faded, gray, empty pupils, to scan back and forth, searching for a figure.
"Monk... Monk," the old woman, slumped on the ground, called out as loudly as she could with her toothless mouth, her voice sounding hoarse.
Hōzōin Inshun walked over, squatted down, and asked, "The young monk is here, old one. Is something the matter?"
The old woman spoke intermittently with her dry, peeling lips: "Ah, Monk, it seems I won't be able to go to the Pure Land of Bliss. I took a life, so I'm destined for hell... But I don't know why, I feel relieved instead. I was the only one in my family who survived, and I've always felt so guilty, like I had no face to meet them, unable to tell them 'I'm sorry.'"
Hōzōin Inshun promised with his hands clasped: "Please rest assured. I will chant scriptures to ease his soul and tell the Buddha that the villagers are not evil people, so that you and all suffering people can find liberation after death."
"Is that so... Is that so... That's wonderful..." The old woman showed a relieved smile, and then closed her eyes.
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The sun shone upon a small mound. Looking from the village, one could see the front of the sun. The mound was black, surrounded by a golden yellow field, with only a few black figures swinging hoes, digging something...
This was the collective burial ground in the center of the village. Every time someone died, soil was dug from outside and buried here, which, over time, had piled up into a small mound. The mountain village was less particular, and there was no time to make coffins; the bodies were just wrapped in an old cotton quilt and buried.
The gravediggers, the mourners, the peasants, and the samurai all mourned in silence.
No sound was heard in people's ears; all things seemed to lose their voice for a moment.
Gugu gu~!
At this moment, a long, drawn-out growling stomach noise sounded.
"Hahaha! Mikichi, has your wife been feeding you well every day? That's good." A villager laughed at the man next to him.
"Shut up! I just exerted too much strength fighting! My wife is cooking right now!" the man whose stomach growled said with embarrassment.
"Yeah, I feel so refreshed, and I'm hungry now. I could eat three bowls of barnyard millet rice today!" another man nearby joined in.
"Niu (Cow)-Er, are you seriously trying to become a cow? Your family doesn't have that much grain to feed you!" Mikichi shouted.
"It'd be great if I were a cow! I'd eat grass every day, and I could never finish it! Plus, I'd be strong and could help plow the fields, doing the work of three of you," Niu-Er said.
"Hahaha." Everyone burst into laughter, and the previously suppressed emotions were swept away.
"Then let's prepare a meal over here too," Shirou said to his samurai companions, composing himself.
"Eh? Are we going to make something delicious?" Souji asked, her eyes shining.
"Mhm... Since we have time, it's necessary to treat everyone to a good meal before the battle. Eating something good now is nice, but I don't know if the village has suitable ingredients," Shirou said, holding his chin.
"Can you make delicious food in this rural place?" the black-haired, red-eyed girl frowned, crossing her arms, looking unconvinced. Although she hadn't tasted Shirou's cooking, even if it was as excellent as Okita claimed, a clever cook can't make a meal without ingredients.
"Oh, well, why don't we ask and find out?" Tawara Touta waved his hand and shouted to the most familiar villager: "Hey, Hajime."
"Yes, Samurai-dono, is something the matter? Is it time to eat? I'll cook for you right away," Hajime ran over, smiling and asking. He felt like a whole new person; his attitude toward the
samurai seemed to have lost some of its reverence and gained a closeness reserved for guests.
In fact, compared to the previous mode of interaction—standing aside, answering when asked, and quietly following when not—it was much more comfortable to be able to talk and laugh like this.
Although there are classes in later generations, they are not so rigid. Officials and businessmen mix, and celebrities and merchants can also mingle. One side has fame but lacks money, and the other has money and hopes to promote their goods, complementing each other.
Not all wealthy people are bad, and there are scumbags among the poor. Most people, however, are ordinary humans with emotions, kindness, and moments when they make mistakes out of impulse.
A princess, a rich young lady, might want to run away from her castle and meet a poor young man. Although in reality, a princess would only look for a prince, people will inevitably yearn for such a story, and it has been so for millennia.
A farmer raising an enlightened old ox received guidance, stole the celestial maiden's feathered robe when she descended to earth, married her, and became the Cowherd and the Weaver Girl.
Cinderella, upon meeting a fairy godmother, could wear glass slippers, attend the ball, and be found by the prince.
These are stories created by people, stories of human dreams and aspirations, which have been passed down through generations and have received universal recognition for thousands of years.
What these people often lack is just an opportunity.
Speaking of friendship, there is the saying about the four iron bonds of life, and the pure friendships of childhood—which one is not stronger than relationships formed through self-interest or flattery?
As long as people get along when they are together, they can become good friends. In childhood, without the influence of adults, there are not many complexities. Even if they fight and argue today, they can still get along well tomorrow.
Class did not exist at the very beginning; it is a relationship established by humans in society. Rules were set for stability, but people are also bound by these rules.
With too many shackles, people's minds are subtly bruised and battered by the social hierarchy and unwritten rules, and they can only integrate into the rules, becoming one of its members.
When newcomers arrive, they laugh at the jokes the newcomers make, just as they were laughed at before, mocking them for being young and inexperienced, until the newcomers figure out the rules, join their ranks, and together mock the next newcomers.
This cycle repeats, and everything becomes a matter of course, leading to all sorts of problems.
The camaraderie between comrades is built on sweating, bleeding, and achieving merits together, not on whether one's parents have comparable wealth and power.
The bond between prison mates comes from the shared humiliation and suffering, the vigilance against various ill-intentioned approaches, invasions, and contagions from other prisoners, and facing the difficulties imposed by the cell boss—true feelings can be found in shared adversity.
By the same token, samurai and peasants are not incapable of friendship.
The samurai killed the bandits, which was terrifying, even though they knew they were fighting for the people of the village.
But now the farmers have killed a bandit, so the samurai who kill are no longer terrifying, because they are the same—they are all fighting to kill the enemies who threaten their lives.
This was a ritual that formally made the peasants and samurai a single group, although the process was not entirely satisfactory...
But now, Shirou and the others also felt that from this moment on, they could communicate with the people of this village as equals, no longer beings who were feared and guarded against, making proper communication impossible.
"Eh? Cooking? Does that mean Shirou-dono, you're cooking yourself? Wild vegetables? Samurai-dono, why don't you just eat white rice? That's what important people eat, right? Or should I bring you a jar of pickled plums and some radishes?" Hajime asked, looking stunned.
"This is an extra meal before the battle. Even normally, eating only white rice with pickled plums and salt is too monotonous and lacks nutrition. Less rice is fine, but please gather some more wild onions, mushrooms, and radishes," Shirou instructed.
"No, no, how can we let the Lords eat those low-class things," Hajime said, waving his hands.
"Just do as we say. If there's meat, that would be even better," Tawara Touta said with a smile.
"I understand. There's a spot behind the village with lots of wild onions. Mushrooms are everywhere, and we have radishes. I'll get some vegetables from the fields," Hajime said, running off.
"Oh, thank you," Shirou replied.
The black-haired, red-eyed girl said, "Speaking of which, Takeda Shingen's men back then ate meat and wheat flour dishes every day, which is why his soldiers were tall, strong, and powerful, enabling them to directly confront the Buddhist military god Uesugi Kenshin."
Souji pouted and said, "But now, those high-ranking samurai in the city have started to emulate the nobles and only eat white rice. In the place where I was before, those monstrously strong women even said that wheat was only fit for livestock."
The black-haired, red-eyed girl smirked and said, "What? Souji? Were you bullied? You should have just stayed behind me from the start. Come on, tell me; let me hear about it."
Souji was so angry she wanted to smash a bowl: "Damn it, Nobu! You already knew! Why are you asking now! Are you looking for trouble?"
"Mhm, well... Because it's interesting, so I asked," the black-haired, red-eyed girl quickly changed her tune.
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At this time, Japan still used rice as its main staple, along with some mixed grains and beans, and konjac was also cultivated in some areas.
Since wheat was introduced during the Sui and Tang dynasties, and there were no grinding tools at first, it could only be used as fodder. Even after grinding mills were imported later, flour and rice were foods reserved for nobles and samurai.
Japan is an island nation, and the land is barren. In the beginning, without farming techniques like soil enrichment, the yield was pitifully low. In the cold northern regions, it couldn't even be grown, so peasants could only afford a meal of brown rice on festivals.
Under normal circumstances, peasants could only subsist on mixed grains like barnyard millet and beans, along with foods like konjac, taro, radishes, and wild vegetables.
This situation was still widespread even in the 19th century.
Because of the scarcity of resources, even nobles did not have the habit of eating side dishes. Basically, their three meals a day consisted of just a large bowl of white rice eaten plain, which led to widespread problems. Even Emperor Hirohito and Admiral Yamamoto, the war criminal who bombed Pearl Harbor, suffered from severe beriberi.
It is even rumored that the number of soldiers who died from beriberi in the war surpassed the number who died in battle.
It wasn't until later that Japanese medical researchers who had studied abroad observed that Europeans who ate bread daily did not get beriberi, while the Japanese upper class, who ate white rice daily, were plagued by it. Furthermore, the Chinese upper class, who ate white rice
daily, rarely got beriberi, and even Japanese peasants, who couldn't afford white rice, conversely did not get beriberi.
Through research, the conclusion was reached that bread contains Vitamin B1, which refined white rice lacks. Chinese people like to eat vegetables, and Japanese peasants would mix beans or other things into their rice to fill up, thus both groups ingested Vitamin B1. Only the Japanese upper class, who ate plain white rice, lacked vitamins, which is why beriberi was so rampant.
This was also because, in ancient Japan, influenced by Buddhism, people believed that killing would lead to hell. In the 7th century, the Emperor issued the 'Meat Eating Ban,' prohibiting the consumption of five types of animals: cattle, horses, dogs, monkeys, and chickens. Aside from pigs, rabbits, fish, and shellfish, there weren't many other options.
Vegetarianism gradually became a traditional etiquette of the upper class.
Later, during the Tokugawa Shogunate, the "Dog Shogun," Tokugawa Tsunayoshi, issued the Shōrui Awaremi no Rei (Edict on Compassion for Living Things), which prohibited killing, and particularly prohibited eating dogs, as the Shogun was born in the year of the dog.
This tradition lasted for 1200 years, until the time of Emperor Meiji, who set an example by leading the noble class to start eating meat. Before that, vegetarianism was considered noble and elegant among the aristocracy.
Modern Japan still inherits a unique love for rice. They eat rice in the morning, rice at noon, and rice in the evening. Even popular foreign dishes often involve rice.
In Chinese cuisine, it's Yangzhou fried rice; in Indian cuisine, it's curry rice; and even in ramen shops, many people mix rice with the soup.
This led to the creation of various rice-based foods, and figures like the "Sushi God" and the "Rice Cooking Sage" emerged.
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Once Hajime brought the ingredients, Shirou put his cooking skills to use. Although the ingredients and seasonings were very limited, the purely natural vegetables and wild herbs had a unique flavor. He worked to preserve the deliciousness of all these ingredients.
He boiled the konjac to remove the toxins, pressed it dry, ground it into a powder, and used the starch precipitate for thickening. He fried the eggplant in bean oil until golden yellow, with the skin a beautiful purple. He stir-fried the mushrooms to bring out their aroma and proceeded to turn the mountain vegetables into delicious dishes.
Finally, he put everything, along with the rice, into a large iron pot, added water, and steamed it. The sweet juices of the various vegetables seeped into the rice grains. When the rice was finished steaming, the grains were plump, round, and glossy. When he lifted the lid, an aroma immediately filled the entire house.
The soft, sticky white rice merged with the vegetable juices to become a beautiful golden yellow, and then he sprinkled wild onions on top. This ancient, simplified version of vegetable and mushroom medley steamed rice was complete.
"I wish Grandma could have eaten this," Yukino said, still a bit sad.
"Yuki, eat well! Savor it for Grandma's sake too," Shirou said, patting the girl's head.
"Yes, Master..." Yukino hugged the plate of rice and ate with her head down, without shedding tears. "It's delicious, so delicious... I truly hope that one day, all the grandfathers and grandmothers in the world can eat food this delicious..."
"Ah, let's work together," Shirou said no more, only stroking the girl's head.
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