Here's my second chapter! And, as the drill goes, I don't own Harvest Moon or anything within it—it all belongs to Marvelous Inc. And the American names for the characters belong to Natsume or something. Does it matter? They're not mine! The only thing that currently belongs to me in this story is the planned storyline!
Oh, and, also, in all my past stories, I've always answered reviews and such. However, with the new rules, I'm no longer allowed to, so I would suggest that, if you have a question, give me an e-mail, which can be found in my profile. Thanks to all those who reviewed my Prologue, though! Anyway, on with the chapter!
Chapter One: My Father's House
Cliff Andrews watched the other man with interest and couldn't help but to feel sorry for him. The man sat on the dingy lawn chair, his foot tapping the ferry's deck anxiously. His head was bowed, and his eyes were tightly closed. His lips were drawn back in a grimace, but the moved on occasion, as if he was muttering something under his breath.
A peal of thunder sounded in the distance and the grey clouds miles away flashed momentarily. The ferry's captain had assured Cliff that he'd arrive at his destination long before the storm hit, but apparently this other man had not been so fortunate to hear this good news. He jerked and looked up at the storm.
He was a young man, probably barely an adult, as Cliff was himself. He had messy brown hair that hung down past his equally brown eyes. He had a clean complexion that was marked by a few noticeable scars—probably from a bout of acne when he was younger. He was also quite pale, which led Cliff to figure that he was from the city. The man wore a white t-shirt, jeans, and a pair of new brown boots.
Cliff, however, was tall and lean with long brown hair that was tied into a ponytail—a ponytail that consisted of naturally blonde hair. He was wearing raggedy clothes, a tan shirt on which the sleeves had been ripped off, black pants covered with mud and grass stains, and boots so worn that they looked as if they would surely fall apart. However, that suited Cliff just fine—they were good, broken-in boots that fit his feet comfortably.
The loudspeaker above the deck emitted a loud, piercing noise that forced Cliff, who was sitting directly below it, to cover his ears. The noise stopped and was followed by a crackling voice. "We should be arriving in Mineral Town within five minutes; get all of your stuff together."
The man looked up and, with a shaky sigh, stood to his feet and pulled his suitcase closer. He checked through his brown rucksack for possibly the tenth time on this trip—possibly just to give himself something to do—and then slipped it onto his back. Cliff however did not move from his spot. He had no belongings to gather.
In the distance, an island could be seen. The side of the island the ferry was moving toward had a small town built on it. Even from the distance, Cliff could see people milling about on the beach, catching the last rays of sunlight they'd have before the storm hit.
A girl with bright red hair was riding a jet ski, bouncing off the waves caused by the distant storm, and floating through the air with practiced grace. After one such high jump, some of the onlookers clapped. An old man fished at the end of the dock and two children excitedly flew a pair of kites. One of the children, a young girl with black hair, was successful in her kite flying—the boy with black hair, however, was having a lot of trouble. A tall man dressed a bit too nicely for a day out on the beach moved forward and tried again to help the boy get his kite into the air.
Cliff watched all of this with suppressed excitement. It was a beautiful, peaceful town that he was going to. The cherry blossoms were in bloom, spring had just begun, and, like the flora, the village had come alive with the passing of winter. This was the kind of place that he had always dreamt of settling down in—maybe this time he'd finally be able to.
The other man, however, saw little of this. His destination was not Mineral Town, but a small village on the other side of the mountain that rose up in the middle of the island. He was on this trip, not to find a new home, but to fulfill a father's dream. He closed his eyes and sighed, trying to block out the rocking boat, the lapping waves, and the rolling thunder.
He stood before a black box, about six and a half feet long and three feet wide. It was sitting on a raises platform and had flowers of all kinds of colors sitting on and around it. Beside the box was a picture of a smiling man with brown hair speckled with gray, a well-trimmed mustache, and twinkling eyes. Leaning against the picture was a small nameplate that read, "Terry Alexander Todd."
The man who stood before the box was Jack Todd, the son of the man in the picture and the man in the casket. A cool breeze blew through the cemetery and Jack shivered, wishing that his blazer could do more than look nice. Spring would arrive in less than a month, but winter was unrelenting in its purpose of bring cold weather until the very last day. Such was one of many downfalls of living in Flowerbud City.
The funeral had already ended, and the workers there were ready to lower the casket into the earth. They were merely waiting for Jack to be finished paying his final respects to his father. Jack reached out and laid a hand on the polished wood and closed his eyes, forcing back emotions that so desired to spill over the precipice of his heart. For a long time, he stayed like that, but he relented finally and pulled back. Looking around, he found that nearly everyone else had already left. His mother and a few close friends of his father had stayed, but the vast majority of folding chairs on the lawn were now empty.
Jack's eyes stopped on a man that was strangely out of place in this setting. He was not dressed in nice clothes, but in a white t-shirt and somewhat ragged jeans. To Jack, the man looked more ape-like than human with a full head of messy black hair, huge bushy eyebrows that overshadows his dark eyes, and a hunched way of standing. The man was not crying, nor did his face betray any sort of emotion. In fact, he was not even looking at the casket, but right at Jack.
Jack held his gaze and, within that brief exchange, Jack silently agreed with what the man silently requested—to talk to Jack after all was said and done. The casket was lowered into the earth, Jack shoveled the first bit of dirt onto it, and the remaining people began to clear out. Jack led his mother to the car, telling her that he would be home a bit later on, and watched silently as she drove off.
Turning, he found the man still standing to the side, watching Jack. Jack was a little unnerved by his gaze, but steeled himself and walked towards him, determined to find out who this man was and what was so important to him as to meet with Jack right after the funeral.
The ferry's foghorn sounded and Jack's eyes snapped open. Instead of hearing waves lap up against the side of the boat, he now heard waves breaking upon the surf, excited children and adults alike running about, and the buzz of an annoyingly loud jet ski. The captain walked quickly across the deck and tied the ferry to the dock, greeted the old fisherman, and lowered the footbridge onto the dock.
Jack rose quickly, made sure that he had everything, and departed from the ferry—and the dock—as quickly as he could. Once his feet were finally back on solid ground, he breathed a heavy sigh of relief and his lips broke into a triumphant smile. He was tempted to relax a bit on the beach before continuing on with his task, but the oncoming storm silenced that temptation and, after asking directions from a bit of a nerdy looking man with red hair, he walked up the stairs that led off the beach and onto a large town square.
He heard footsteps behind him and looked back to see the other man that had been a passenger on the boat following his lead. The man acknowledged Jack with a nod and continued past him, walking towards another one of the exits to the square that, as far as Jack could tell, led to a two-story building. Jack watched him for a few moments curiously before taking a deep breath and walking in the opposite direction, out of the square.
Jack found himself on a red brick road that led past a small ranch with a sign that read, "Yodel Ranch" hanging from an archway above it. A small, brown dog barked excitedly and pulled on a chain, trying to get to Jack. He smiled at the dog and looked around, spotting a mother cow standing in the field, grazing, while a young calf eagerly suckled on her udders. A horse and its foal trotted about, whinnying and playing together.
Jack watched for a few more moments, smiling, before moving on. He came to a branch in the road—one of which continued on straight while the other turned left and went towards the mountain. Turning left, he continued to walk along the path, but stopped at a wooden bridge. A small stream babbled and flowed under the bridge.
It's okay—it's shallow, Jack thought, but he didn't move from his spot. And it has a handrail! There's nothing to worry about. But Jack's feet remained glued to the ground, unwilling to follow his commands. Slowly, he reached out and grabbed the wooden rail that spanned the small bridge, closing his eyes. Just take a step, he told himself and forced his foot onto the wooden bridge. It made a soft thud, as did his other foot when he forced that one to move forward as well. It wasn't until the wooden thuds transformed into muffled crunches that Jack opened his eyes once more. He was off the bridge and now on a yellow, dirt path that moved forward before branching off to the left and right.
Jack walked down the path and saw, to his right, was an old-fashioned log cabin. A large bear of a man with a bushy beard and unkempt hair was hacking away at a log and Jack opted not to disturb him. Instead, he continued to walk down the path until he reached the fork. There, he stopped and consulted a sign planted in the ground. After reading it, he turned left again and walked quickly now down the path, finding himself walking alongside a very steep hill covered with brush.
He walked along this hill in silence. No one else was around except for the birds overhead. The bushes to his right rustled and a brown squirrel bounded out, stopping in the middle of the path and staring at him. After a few moments of silence, it turned and bounded up a tree to Jack's left. Jack smiled and continued walking, soon coming to another—and his last—fork in the road. The right led further up the mountain while the path that continued going forward led towards a narrow canyon.
Jack continued on forward and entered the canyon. The animal noises seemed to stop then as he left the meadows and forests into a rocky canyon. Rocks slipped and fell down the steep walls, their strikes echoing up and down the canyon. A breeze blew through the canyon and the echoing effect made it seem louder than it actually was.
Lightning split the sky overhead and Jack's head snapped upwards. The sky had become dark with dark grey clouds, and he felt a drop of rain hit his cheek. "Why in the world does this have to happen to me today?" he cried. His voice echoed off the walls, creating an eerie effect. Jack sped up his pace to a jog, but as another bolt of lightning brightened the sky and as thunder rumbled so loudly that more stones fell from the walls. All semblance of composure forgotten, Jack began sprinting. His suitcase, one with, thankfully, wheels, rolled along beside him, but kept lurching and nearly toppling over with every bump it hit.
Thunder cracked once more and the few drops of rain became a downpour. Jack was soaked within seconds and puddles began to form. The suitcase grew heavier as it and the ground grew wet and, finally, as luck would have it, the plastic wheels of the suitcase slipped down into a small crack in the ground as Jack ran. The suitcase stopped, but Jack didn't, and it was because of this that his momentum tore the extendable handle off the suitcase completely.
Lightning flashed and Jack roared in frustration. He attempted to stop, but his feet slipped and he fell backwards, slamming his shoulder hard into the ground, sending waves of pain up and down his right side. He quickly got up, rubbing his aching shoulder, and threw the handle as far as he could back up the canyon. Grabbing his suitcase, he hefted it up into his arms, ignoring the pain in his shoulder, and began moving forward through the rain.
He ran as fast as he could through the canyon and, within five minutes, found himself out of it and onto a dirt road that had since turned to mud. The rain continued to pour around him, making it difficult to see where he was going, so he continued to run along the path. The mud beneath his feet became wood for only a second, but, in his haste, he didn't pay any attention to it. In the distance, he saw a large building—possibly an inn—and dashed towards it.
As he got closer, he began to be able to make out details. It was a two-story wooden building set on an incline. It had a balcony on the second floor that hung over the front of the building, creating an awning under which the front door had been placed. Jack ran under it, nearly colliding with a wooden pillar supporting the balcony. Finally, under the shade of the balcony, he stopped, set his suitcase down, and breathed heavily. Water dripped off of him, creating a muddy puddle beneath his feet.
He looked at the door. Small, yellow plates of glass covered the upper half of the door, but did not allow Jack to see what was inside. He took a deep breath and, deciding that inside anywhere was better than huddling under a balcony in the middle of a thunderstorm, pushed the door open. A bell rang as the door swung open, and Jack grabbed his suitcase, hauling it inside. The bell rang again as the door closed behind him.
The inside of the building was odd and oriental. It smelled lightly of incense, as well as the rain outside. The walls were made of wooden boards while bamboo bordered the ceiling. All around the room were strange artifacts and items that didn't seem to fit the air of the place. Small foreign looking trees were places at two corners in the room while strange tribal statues were places at the others. A colorful rug with a design of a dragon on it was in the middle of the floor, and the far wall was covered in pictures of a family, presumably the family that owned the Inner Inn, which Jack realized was this building's name, according to a bamboo sign above the counter on the back wall.
Behind the counter was a tall, chubby man with a mess of black hair and beady black eyes. He had a red and yellow fez on the top of his head and a red vest over a white t-shirt. The man's eyes widened when Jack entered and he quickly left the counter, revealing orange shorts and sandals.
"Hello, hello!" he said quickly and hurried over to Jack, taking Jack's hand in both of his and shaking it enthusiastically. "Welcome to the Inner Inn! Can I prepare you a room, possibly a meal? How long will you be staying with us?"
"No, no, I'm just—" Jack stammered.
"Oh, I'm so impolite!" the man exclaimed, silencing Jack. "I am Tim and am the owner of this inn. Let me introduce my wife and son!"
"No, you don't—"
"Ruby! Rock!"
A curtain on the right wall was pushed aside, and another equally chubby woman stepped out, smiling. She too had black hair and beady eyes and wore a colorful kimono. She smiled at Jack and bowed. A bit surprised, Jack stammered, but was, again, prevented from speaking by a loud racket from the stairs leading up at the right corner of the room. A boy that looked about Jack's age ran down the stairs, looking annoyed. The racket wasn't from him, though, but from a stereo that must have been in his room, which continued to play loudly. The boy, Jack noted, looked absolutely nothing like either of his parents. Instead of black, his hair was bleached blond, and his eyes were wide and blue. When he saw Jack, he grinned.
"Yo!" he said. "You new here?"
When it seemed to him there would be no new distractions, Jack finally found his voice once more. "Uhm, yes, I'm here to take over that empty farm…"
"Oh, then you should know that we own the only real restaurant in the Valley," Tim said, grinning at the prospect of a new customer. "My family has been all over the world and my wife has picked up recipes from every place we've been to. She is the best cook on the entire island!"
"Tim…" Ruby said softly, blushing. She looked at Jack. "I'm Ruby and this is my son, Rock."
Jack smiled at her and nodded to Rock. "I'm Jack Todd," he said, and, once again, Ruby bowed. This time, however, Jack bowed a bit awkwardly in return.
"Where did you come from?" Rock asked.
"Well, I lived in the city before and—"
"If you've come from the city, you must be famished!" Tim said, which, Jack had to admit, was true. "Ruby, why don't you go prepare him another place at the table?" Ruby nodded, smiled at Jack, and hurried back past the curtain, into the kitchen. Tim looked at Jack and said, "It's on the house today."
"No, you don't need to—"
"Nonsense!" Tim exclaimed, grinning even wider. "We were about to sit down for dinner anyway, and Ruby always makes too much!"
"That's right, she does," Rock said, smirking at his father. "I mean, look at this guy!" To express his point, he poked Tim's belly playfully. Tim glared at Rock.
"Go turn off that music and wash up for dinner," he said in a stern fashion.
"Yeah, yeah, I'm going." He looked at Jack and grinned briefly before hurrying back upstairs. Jack looked back at Tim and spoke quickly before the other man could start talking again.
"If you don't mind, could you tell me where the farm is? I didn't really have much of a chance to look around, and it would save me a lot of trouble," he said.
"Are you blind?" said a voice different from any of the others in the inn. Jack frowned deeply and looked around for the source of the voice. His eyes finally settled on the open window on the left side of the room. At first his eyes has passed over it without thinking, but he now saw that the window was not all that was there. A woman was sitting on the windowsill, her feet planted firmly on the sill, legs crossed and bent, with her arms behind her head. A backpack was used as a pillow for her back. Her eyes were closed, but her lips were curled into a sardonic smile.
Her eyes opened and she looked back at Jack. She had light blue eyes and a face that could have been pretty had it not been twisted into a malicious smirk. Her hair was dark red and was cut short so it did stopped just above her chin and looked unkempt. The woman was wearing a yellow t-shirt with a plaid button-up shirt over it and khaki shorts that reached her knees, finally ending in a pair of white tennis shoes.
"Mute too?" she asked, her smirk growing.
"Don't be so harsh, Nami," Tim said laughing softly. "You've seen the weather out there—it's brutal." Jack frowned deeply and looked back at Tim, unsure of what to say. "This is Nami—she's the inn's only customer."
"Goddess, you could just say that I live here," Nami added, but her eyes knitted into a scowl.
"Nami, this is—"
Nami shrugged and started walking towards the steps. "I heard," she said coldly before walking calmly up the stairs. In her wake, she left a blushing Tim and a flabbergasted Jack.
"I… am sorry about that," Tim said softly to Jack. "She's not very nice to strangers."
"I could tell," Jack said as his confusion gave way to insult.
"She's actually pretty nice once you get to know her—she just doesn't have very good people skills."
Jack opened his mouth to say something particularly harsh towards Nami, but Ruby's voice from the kitchen silenced him. "Dinner's ready! Tim, call Rock and—"
"No need!" Rock said, pounding down the stairs, and hurrying through the curtain. Tim looked at Jack, smiled, and walked into the kitchen, motioning for Jack to follow. Once Jack reached the kitchen, he found himself in a room full of wonderful smells that he had been too distracted earlier to smell. Meat sizzled softly on skillets, the smell of freshly baked breads wafted through the air, and a stew was simmering on a stovetop. At once, Jack's stomach growled and he looked around, seeing Rock and Tim already sitting on their knees on pillows around a short, but long table off to the side of the kitchen. Around the table were ten pillows to sit on, but Jack couldn't imagine all of the pillows being filled with such a small inn.
"Sit down, dear," Ruby said, smiling. Not needing to be told twice, Jack sat on a pillow and grinned as Ruby set a plate full of delicious looking food before him. "Is Nami not joining us tonight, Tim?"
"Of course not," Tim said, grinning. "We have a guest!"
"I'll make sure to save a plate for her, then."
As soon as she sat down, the three occupants of the inn bowed their heads and Jack politely did the same. Tim said a soft prayer of thanks, and, as soon as he had finished, started eating ravenously. Rock followed suit while Ruby ate calmly and tenderly. Jack, suppressing the urge to imitate Rock and Tim, forced himself to retain his manners and eat thoughtfully. Even after a single bite, he understood exactly why Tim had said Ruby was the best cook on the island.
With a full stomach and a smile on his face, Jack left the Inner Inn, feeling more content than he had since the funeral. He had just arrived in the village and had already met three—no, four—of its occupants. Jack couldn't forget about the cold Nami. Absently, he looked back at the Inn's second floor, wondering which of the two balcony doors belonged to Nami. Each of the doors had opaque panes of glass, making it impossible to see through.
Jack sighed and shook his head before looking around at the village for the first time since entering it. The sight of it threatened to take his breath away. The storm had cleared away, leaving a brilliant blue sky above with spotted puffy clouds and a blinding sun that beat down on the village, already drying some spots on the ground. Jack looked around in awe—if the city were black, this was white in its purest form. Gone were skyscrapers and cars, giving way to small, wooden and brick buildings and dirt footpaths between them. Gone was level ground, giving way to a gentle incline that the entire village was set upon.
In front of him and slightly to the right was a small, but steep hill leading up onto a small plateau, where Jack's destination was. However, Jack's attention was fully divided at the moment. To his left, across the dirt path against the plateau's grassy surface were two houses, one single story and the other double. On the Inn's side of the path and to Jack's left was a small, square building. A hanging sign in the front of it said "Blue Bar". Beyond the bar, further down the hill, was a small hut, raised a story off the ground by three wooden poles, giving Jack the impression of a tree house.
To Jack's right was, to his alarm, a river a very simple wooden bridge lacking handrails crossing it. The thought occurred to him that he had crossed that bridge earlier and a chill ran down his spine. Forcing that thought from his mind, he focused on a path that led up the hill on his side of the river, beside the plateau. Instead of dirt, it was a wooden path that disappeared behind the plateau. Jack could see that, on the other side of the river, there was another path similar to this, except for the fact that it was also dirt and it ran alongside a very large, rocky, and steep hill. From Jack's position, though, he could not see where that path led either. However, he could see with a tad bit of anxiety another farm on the other side of the river. A row of greenhouses had been positioned at the back and many rows of unripe plants were growing in the farm's fields. Two houses had been placed at the front, and a wooden fence enclosed the entire farm in.
Already, he could see a large, overweight woman with an enormous smile on his lips out surveying her crops, followed closely by a smaller, much more petite girl. Jack frowned; was he to compete with this farm? He greatly hoped that his farm wouldn't need to compete with such a great farm as that.
Hearing a door open, Jack looked to his left and found that a man in running clothes was exiting the two-story house, followed by a young boy that looked to be no older than six. Jack figured that a newcomer would be noticed immediately in such a small village and, not really desiring to have the entire village gathered around, asking questions, he hurried to the hill leading up the plateau and to his new home.
If he was worried about the larger farm before, the sight of his farm forced him into a panic. His heart sunk to the soles of his feet—if there was to be competition with the other farm, his farming career was over before it had even started.
The farm was composed within a large rectangle of enclosed space, fenced in by two sides of trees and the other two, the one behind Jack and the one to his right, by the edges of the plateau. It consisted of seven buildings and four fields, one of which was covered in long, green grass that swayed in the light breeze. Against the back side of the plateau, and directly to Jack's left was a small log cabin complete with a very dirty welcome mat placed out in front of it and muddy work boots by the door.
Beyond that was a silo of sorts and even further than that was another, slightly smaller log cabin. This cabin was against the far left edge of the farm and it, instead of the first cabin, looked quite uninhabited. Jack had a sinking feeling that he had just seen where he would be living. Beside this cabin, there was a very small plot of land for farming and, beside the field, was another small, white building with a blue roof. There was another field to the right of this and it was followed by even yet another building, although this one was very small and looked run down.
Against the far side of the farm was yet another field, this one larger than the other two fields combined. The right side of the farm had nothing of important on it with the exception of a second exit. However, the middle of the farm was where the grass field had been placed. The field was fenced in on three and one half sides by a wooden fence while, on the side closest to Jack, a barn completed the field's perimeter. Attached to the right side of this barn was another silo while on the left was a small shed that Jack supposed was a tool shed from the looks of it.
Jack sighed softly and placed his bag on the ground. He closed his eyes and took a deep breath of the clean air that permeated this place. As stressed as he was, he felt invigorated by it and opened his eyes. First things first—he needed to get situated and find the man, Takakura, that he talked to at his father's funeral.
The door to the nearest cabin opened with a creak, and Jack started. A tall man with brown, leathery skin and protruding eyebrows stepped out of the house in his socks. He put on the boots, stood up to his full height, and looked around. His eyes fell on Jack and he seemed to think about Jack's presence for a moment before walking over.
"Hey…" he said in a slow, almost tired way. "Glad to see you made it."
"I ended up getting shelter in the inn before coming over here," Jack said, smiling a bit. He pushed his hand forward and Takakura took it in his own firm grip. "So this is the farm?" Jack said after Takakura released his hand.
"Yeah… it's not much yet, but we can work with it."
"Right."
"Would you like a tour?"
Jack looked around the farm once more before nodding absently. Without another word, Takakura headed towards the silo next to his house and went inside. Jack quickly followed and found the inside to be quite cool compared to outside. It had a table in the middle of the room with charts and prices for various tools and equipment on top, as well as what looks like a cookie jar off to one side that was labeled "earnings". Behind this was a large freezer that Jack supposed his crops were to be kept after ripening.
"This is the Food Storage room," Takakura said. "Just put your food and stuff in that freezer…" He knitted his eyebrows together and nodded to himself, as if checking off some invisible list of things to tell Jack. "Also, if you ever need anything from town, just mark it down in the ledger on the table," He pointed to the table and a notebook beside the charts. "And I'll pick it up the next day for you. Just mark whatever you're selling there too—I'll take it all up to Mineral Town."
"Right," Jack said softly, eyeing the jar warily. If that was where Takakura was planning on putting the money he earned from selling his crops…
"Come on," Takakura said, lumbering out, his shoulders hunched. Jack followed quickly and saw Takakura walk into the barn. Moments later, he heard the distinct sound of a cow mooing and his eyes widened. He hurried into the barn and gasped when he saw a very large cow standing at a feed stall. Takakura standing beside the cow.
"I took the liberty of getting you a cow…" he said, patting the cow's head. "They're a pretty good source of money and should help you out. Barley said that she just gave birth, so she should keep giving milk for the rest of the year."
"Thanks," Jack said, breathlessly. He walked to the cow slowly and reached out tentatively, patting its nose. It mooed again and Jack felt something soft and wet touch his hand. The cow was licking him! Jack grinned and looked up at Takakura. The older man was looking down at him with a faint smile on his lips.
"Give her a name."
Jack frowned deeply and looked at the cow once more. Finally, after a moment of thinking, he nodded. "Schala," he said, grinning.
"Schala?"
Jack nodded and smiled at him. "Childhood friend," he explained. "She helped me through a load of problems when I was younger and, since this cow will be helping me get this farm underway, it only seemed fair."
Takakura nodded. "Then she is now named Schala." He walked over to a large chalk board on one side of the barn. The board was decorated by a floor design of the barn and had specific places for feed stalls marked on it. Takakura wrote "Schala" in front of one of the feed stalls and nodded to him. Turning back to Jack, he pointed at a small, metal door off to one side of the barn.
"That's where you can get hay for the animals," he said before pointing to a large bin off to another side. "And that's where the waste goes. We'll use it as fertilizer for the grass and for crops."
Jack nodded slowly and took a deep breath. He just realized how foul the barn smelled and cringed. Takakura walked through another door on the wall and Jack followed him, finding a small tool shed. Various tools and items were hanging on a wall and on the opposite wall was a large shelf. On this shelf were a few bags of seeds as well as smaller tools like a hammer and nails.
"You should have everything you need for now. Just tell me if you need anything else," he said. Jack nodded slowly.
"Takakura, I'm not really—"
"Call me Tak," Takakura said. "It's easier."
Jack nodded slowly. "Tak… I really don't know a lot about farming at the moment. Will you be teaching me…?"
"Actually, I've been talking to Vesta about this for a while—she's the owner of that big farm out there. She's agreed to send over one of her helpers to get you started—she should be coming by tomorrow, actually."
"Okay…" Jack said, frowning. "About that farm, Tak, we aren't going to have to compete against it, will we?"
"Not at all. Vesta and I came to an agreement. Because she has such a large farm, she's been selling to both Mineral Town and the mainland. However, the city's been trying to buy more from her, which hasn't been possible until now."
"What do you mean?"
"Well, you'll be selling your crops here and to Mineral Town while Vesta sends hers to the mainland. It benefits everyone in the end," Takakura said, smiling. Jack nodded and a weight lifted off his chest—that made life so much easier for him.
"The big farm up in Mineral Town is out of operation right now, so Mineral Town is relying heavily on Vesta, so we're really going to have to step it up quickly to help her out."
And the stress was back.
"The entire town is going to depend on me?"
"Not yet, no. Vesta will continue selling to them for a while—until we start getting good crops."
"Good," Jack said relaxing a bit more.
"And another thing—Vesta's farm has very high quality crops and, if we want top gold for ours, we'll need to try to imitate hers. Her helper should explain everything tomorrow though, so I am not too worried."
"Okay…"
"Well… come on, let's keep going," Takakura said before walking outside again. Jack hurried after him. "That's your house," Takakura said, pointing at the house that Jack had originally suspected to be his own. "And that's where I live." He pointed at the other cabin.
"Right," Jack said, frowning slightly; his cabin truly was tiny. It was built entirely out of logs, as if it was pulled directly from a past long ago, and had a pointed, shingled roof. Out of the back of the house extended a black, metal chimney that was probably part of an old wood stove. Jack suppressed the anxiety that was growing in the pit of his stomach.
"Over here is the chicken coop," Takakura said, oblivious to Jack's worries. He had already begun walking to the small, white building. However, this time, he didn't go in, but continued to walk along the path beside the fence encompassing the field of grass. He stopped at the run-down shack. Jack hurried after him.
"Well… I'm actually not sure what this is," he said, looking over at Jack with a slight frown. "It's been locked from the inside and I don't have the key."
Jack looked at the shack with interest. It truly was nothing more than a wooden shack with no windows and a wooden roof. The wood seemed to be rotting in some places and it looked as if a mere breeze would blow it over. However, Jack's curiosity was peaked while looking at it—what could be in it?
"If you'd like, you and I can try to get in it later on. But let's not worry about that now." Jack nodded at Takakura's words and looked to his right, towards the largest field on his farm. He had a feeling that it was that field in which he'd be doing the majority of his farming.
"I know that it's small compared to those big farms on the mainland, but it's good for a small village like this. Your father was very excited about this… and I hope that we can do what he wanted so much to do himself."
Jack looked up at the sky and sighed heavily.
Jack placed the last of his clothes neatly into the small dresser in his house and sighed, looking around. At the very least, the outside of the house had a certain charming appeal to it. However, inside, the house had been covered with a thin layer of dust and cobwebs. It took Jack the whole of two hours to manage to clean up the house and, even then, it didn't look much better.
The house had three windows, one on either of the sides and one on the left side of the front wall. The back wall, however, was bare of windows, but had a very old television pushed against it, as well as an old, rusty wood stove. Next to the stove was a small rack for spices and, on the other side, was an equally small pantry that looked about ready to collapse.
Other than this, all that remained in the house was a small bed in the far left corner and a nightstand next to it. It struck Jack as strange that every bit of furniture had been placed against the back wall, but it didn't take him long to realize that, in doing so, it left open space in the middle of the room. This was fine by him; he would accept any extra space he got in such a small cabin.
Jack sighed and plopped down on his bed, looking up at the ceiling. "What am I getting myself into?" he asked the house. When the ceiling didn't reply, he sighed again, but frowned a moment later. He distinctively heard a scratching noise and, standing up from his bed, he realized that the noise originated from his door. He walked across the room and swung the door open to investigate the noise and found a little dog, barely older than a puppy, in front of his door.
The dog was caked in mud and grime, but it seemed not to notice. Instead, it rushed inside the house, completely ignoring Jack, and hopped onto his bed, soiling the sheets without a second thought.
"No!" Jack cried, rushing to his bed and trying to shoo the dog away. "Get off—you're getting mud everywhere, you stupid dog!" However, the dog simply barked and wagged his tail, sending bits of mud in all directions. Jack grabbed at it, but his fingers slipped on its slippery coat and he fell onto the bed. When he pushed himself up, there was a large mud spot on his shirt. The dog barked excitedly again.
"Out! Get out!" Jack bellowed, but the dog, instead of obeying him, hopped off his bed and onto the oval-shaped rug on the floor, rolling over and leaving a trail of mud in his wake. "Stop it!" Jack made another grab for him and, this time, succeeded in getting his hands around him. He picked him up, holding on tightly and hurried to his door roughly shoving the dog outside. The dog turned around, but Jack shut the door before it could get into his house.
He straightened and groaned loudly, clapping a hand to his forehead. Mud covered his bed, trailed on the floor, and caked the rug, creating a brand new mess for him to clean up. Jack sat down on a unsoiled part of his bed and lied down, resting his arm on his stomach. It only took a moment for him to realize that his shirt was wet, and he raised his head to look at his shirt. Below the mud was a round spot of yellow. Jack groaned once more and let his head hit his mattress once more.
"What in the world have I gotten myself into…?"