TACO Run

Chapter 40

Kaname turned away from Detective Tsukauchi, clapping her hands once to get the attention of mister Olberic and his friends. "Okay!" she said with deliberate cheer as he ducked back into the department. "Now that that's all settled, we can get going—it is a bit of a walk, after all, and I'm sure you'd all like to sleep in actual beds tonight."

"Indeed I would!" came the bright exclamation from Professor Albright, along with a smile that probably had his female students flushing and fanning themselves if he ever used it on them. Like mister Olberic, he already had a phone, and it looked like Detective Tsukauchi had made a point to install the translation program on it at the earliest opportunity. "Once again, I must thank you profusely for being so generous as to open your home to strangers such as us."

"That's right," tall, dirty-blond Alfyn agreed earnestly, as they all fell into step behind her. "It's real nice of you, ma'am."

"You're welcome," Kaname said, smiling back at him over her shoulder. "We've got a pretty long walk, so why don't I go over some house rules on the way?"

Mister Olberic nodded steadily, moderating his stride so he didn't pass her by accident. Which she appreciated. Mister Therion had given him his phone back, and he'd tucked it into the front of his outer layer.

"Alright, first of all, no shoes in the house or on the engawa—do you know what that is?" When they shook their heads, she explained, the professor helpfully translating her explanation for the two of them who didn't have phones yet. "The engawa is the raised and covered wooden platform that wraps around the house. You can wear socks or slippers on it, or go barefoot, but no shoes. There should be plenty of room in the entryway for them, or if you really want to, you can keep them in your rooms, but in that case, you'd better clean up any mess they make."

Nods of understanding, and Kaname saw that mister Therion seemed a little relieved. Or at least, his shoulders and eyebrows seemed a little bit less tense. So she'd been right, then, and he had issues with letting his belongings out of his sight.

She wasn't surprised.

"Secondly! The basic rules of privacy and consideration apply—don't go in anyone else's room without their permission, and make sure you have their consent before you touch them or their belongings." That, too, earned a round of nods, which she was grateful for. She hadn't been sure what standards of personal space were common where they were from, because while mister Olberic seemed polite and cautious of other people's boundaries, she had no idea if that was normal or if it was particular to him. "Thirdly, while the dojo is connected to the house, please don't enter it without my permission. I hold classes in there four days of the week, and I'd rather they weren't interrupted."

"Classes?" The professor perked up, thoughtful energy coming to a sharp focus. "My dear lady, are you a teacher?"

Kaname couldn't help but beam at him over her shoulder. "That's right! The Kamiya school of swordsmanship. My mom was the previous master of the family style, but after her passing I succeeded her." And that led into a discussion on what exactly sword-schools were and how they worked, because apparently the idea simply didn't exist in their world. The closest thing they had in concept was what mister Olberic called a 'training-master'—basically a military drill sergeant whose job was to whip low-level soldiers or local militia into good enough shape to survive pitched battle. Or maybe a master-at-arms, which was his own job, training the town watch to defend their home from monsters or bandit attacks. Masters taught apprentices, but it was almost always on a one-to-one basis, a personal choice rather than a professional one. Teachers were almost exclusively the academic professorial kind.

Kaname was honestly interested in what kind of classes the professor taught, what with them being from a world with actual magic ohmigosh, but practicality said she'd have to wait to ask him about that until after they got back to her house. Or at least until she finished her list of house rules, because they were important. "So, back to the original topic," she said, clapping her hands once to refocus everyone's attention, "I'll be doing most of the cooking, since my nieces aren't old enough yet and Uncle's gone most of the day. If you want something to eat, please ask me first. It makes it easier to do the household shopping if I can keep a running tally of what all I've already got in the house."

Not to mention, since Kazue was lactose intolerant, there were certain things in the pantry and fridge that were meant for only her. "That reminds me, do any of you have any allergies I should be worried about?"

"Thankfully, no," the professor said with a contemplative expression, gripping his chin between thumb and forefinger. "Being from the Flatlands, haying season would be intolerable if I did—Therion? Have you any allergies we're not aware of?"

A mute shake of the head, and then a near-silent grumble as Alfyn threw one arm around the thief's shoulders.

"I figure miss Kaname was asking more about food intolerances, Professor," the blond chuckled. "Isn't that right, ma'am?"

"Yup!" she smiled up at him, as he steered himself—and mister Therion, who seemed to be tolerating the hold—up to walk on her right-hand side. She probably ought to be bothered that he was already calling her by her given name, but… well, somehow, she couldn't be offended by the familiarity. "What about you, mister Greengrass? Any allergies or intolerances I should know about?"

"None, Dohter's charity be thanked," he grinned down at her, once the professor translated the question. "Onions give me gas, though, so I'm sorry about that in advance, if it happens."

Kaname burst out laughing at that. "I'll keep that in mind, mister Greengrass," she said.

"Shucks, ma'am, call me Alfyn," he said, scratching at the back of his neck with a funny little smile on his face. "Feels weird, otherwise."

"Alright, Alfyn," Kaname smiled up at him, as mister Therion decided he'd had enough of being manhandled and ducked out from under Alfyn's casual arm. "Mister Olberic?" She twisted around to look up at him—he'd been walking on her left this whole time. "What about you?"

A slight smile, as he shook his head. "I do not require special meals."

"Good to know!" Kaname smiled back. It was good to see him happy. She'd been really, really worried when they'd first met. "So, continuing on, and I probably should've brought this up before we left… don't sneak up on me from behind. Especially don't get in touching range without me knowing; I might hurt you on sheer reflex, and I really don't want to do that." She was pleased when, once again, that was met with understanding nods. Not surprised, really, since mister Olberic was a retired soldier who probably still had combat-lethal reflexes twinge at him a lot, and mister Therion was a level of wary that bordered on skittish despite the fact that he was really, really good at pretending to not give a single shit. Even if Alfyn and the professor didn't have those reflexes themselves, they were obviously used to dealing with people who did.

"So, back to talking about the house—I've got enough rooms for all of you, thankfully, so you won't have to share unless you want to. Those are downstairs, along with the kitchen, toilet, and bathing room. The upstairs is where me, my nieces, and my uncle sleep." And here was the delicate part. "I give this speech to everyone who enters my house, regardless of who they are, so keep that in mind," she said solemnly, "but if you hurt or frighten my nieces, uncle, or students, I will break you. Understood?" She looked at each of them solemnly in turn.

It was a test, honestly. She was a good judge of character, and the entire discussion so far had been geared towards getting a better feel for them, and leading them into the proper mindset to accept this warning. But it was still, technically, a threat, both in the physical sense and in the sense of theoretically calling their character into question.

A lot of people, especially men, became very defensive when their character was called into question. She'd had more than one officer visiting her home get offended at the implication that they might do anything to hurt her family, and she'd had to give several of her younger students' guardians very stern talking-tos regarding how their personal affront was immaterial when compared to the safety and mental and emotional well-being of others.

And that wasn't even getting into the number of people who'd literally laughed her 'threat' off, or even tried to put a hand on her in a 'what can you do about it?' way, simply because she small, a woman, Quirkless.

She didn't think any of mister Olberic's friends would do that. But while she was a good judge of character, she'd been wrong before.

Thankfully, this didn't seem to be one of those times. Mister Olberic just nodded solemnly. Alfyn frowned at her, but it was an earnest, worried frown of understanding, and he nodded too. The professor gave an approving nod, as if he were delighted that she was being so forthright with her warning. And mister Therion…

Well, mister Therion gave her a very shrewd look, visible green eye flicking over her bokken, her hands, her arms.

Kaname was wearing short sleeves and no jacket, since it was a warm night. She did not and would never have an excess of musculature, but what she did have was very, very toned.

Mister Therion saw all that, and then deliberately met her eyes, and gave a tiny nod.

Oh. Kaname smiled. That wasn't 'I understand your reasoning and I'm not offended', though that was there too. It was 'yes, I completely understand, and acknowledge that you could probably do it, too'. And sure, none of the other guys had expressed even a little bit of doubt that she could make anyone who threatened her family regret it, but…

In that tiny assessment and nod, mister Therion had as much as said 'You're strong. I wouldn't want to cross you.'

Maybe she was weird, but the acknowledgement felt… nice.

"Good!" she clapped her hands again. "So, continuing from there…"

Therion kept his silence as they walked. Two hours was a long way after the fight they'd had, but they'd had time to rest and they'd eaten some food, and there was no way he was getting in one of those horseless deathtraps, even if it wasn't one owned by the city guard.

The tiny swordswoman Olberic had somehow managed to make friends with despite the language barrier and… everything… was bizarrely accommodating, but not so much that he felt it was a ruse. And she was tiny, enough to make Therion feel almost tall, which was a weird feeling in itself. Watching her walk between Olberic and Alfyn, with Cyrus trailing close behind—to Alfyn's right in deference to her warning not to sneak up behind her—it was almost like watching a little kid walking with her two dads and her weird uncle. She even bounced a little, like she had leaf-springs in her ankles.

But her voice wasn't young, and her eyes weren't young, and the lean, hard muscle of her arms and shoulders was definitely a match to his own. She wasn't some stupid little girl, or even a wide-eyed, over-charitable bumpkin like Alfyn. She knew exactly what to do with that sword at her hip, wooden or not, and he had no doubt in his mind that she'd dealt with people every bit as dangerous as they were before.

And she was still opening her home to them.

Olberic, he could see. She'd known him for a few days, and while he was a big guy, it was pretty hard not to realize he was a good one, after a while. Alfyn had the supernatural ability to make friends with pretty much anyone he wanted, so that wasn't too huge of a surprise, either. Cyrus was a bit of a stretch, but if you didn't know he could roast monsters with casual ease, he didn't seem at all dangerous.

And he was pretty. Girls liked the pretty.

Therion was not pretty.

Oh, he was decent enough. In the right clothes, with the right role to play, he could turn all the heads he wanted—and he was good at picking out which heads to turn. But he was wearing his beat-up old clothes right now, and while he'd been in dancer's garb when they met, he hadn't been putting on any kind of performance at the time. And she knew he was a thief, but had seemed kind of… annoyed or exasperated that the guard captain thought she would care.

It was weird. Not weird enough that he felt compelled to actually ask her, not yet, and he wasn't going to turn away a warm bed and warm meals out of sheer paranoia, but he didn't understand it.

Thankfully, considering who else was with him, he didn't actually have to worry about asking questions himself.

"If I might be so bold, miss, why are you opening your home to us, I wonder?" Cyrus asked curiously. "Not that I don't appreciate your generosity, but I have had ample proof that I, at least, am considered very odd by your people's standards—don't laugh, Therion, I'm speaking seriously."

"Who's laughing?" Therion said, blinking at him blandly and tugging his scarf a little higher to hide his smirk.

Alfyn was grinning openly, though, and even Olberic had a faint smile on his face. Because Cyrus was weird even by their own world's standards, let alone this one's. For Aeber's sake, while Kamiya had been telling the Truthseeker goodnight he'd taken a second to quietly, privately apologize to Therion for all of them being poofed here, as if it was entirely his fault, instead of a stupid accident.

The little swordswoman giggled. Whatever reply she made to Cyrus, though, it had a reassuring tone, and had the scholar's eyebrows bouncing up a little.

"Pardon?" He blinked at her. "What, exactly, do you mean when you say that Olberic is your student?"

That got another giggle, and she waved a hand for Olberic to explain.

Which he did, sort of, by telling them that the little swordswoman was the training-master for the few swordsmen among the city guard, and that on the day they'd met, she'd generously allowed him to join her class.

She piped up with something else at that point that made Olberic frown and Cyrus give a startled little laugh.

"I would not say I was 'moping'," Olberic demurred uncomfortably.

She giggled again, and said something sing-song that Therion mentally interpreted as 'oh yes you were~'

But as Olberic sighed and dropped the not-argument, she sobered slightly and looked over at Cyrus again, saying something that had his dark brows bouncing up to his hairline.

"Pardon?" he asked, gripping his chin curiously. "What exactly do you mean by 'sanctuary', I wonder?"

Therion frowned minutely himself. He knew that Aelfric's churches had sanctuaries in them—rooms blessed by their clerics, where pilgrims or the injured could rest and receive healing for a short while. But Kamiya was a warrior, not a cleric, so it wasn't like she lived in a church or shrine.

Her explanation, though, once Cyrus bothered to translate it for the rest of them, clarified a few things.

The Kamiya household weren't just a family of warriors. For the past three generations, they'd been closely allied with both the guard and government, providing a place of rest for people who needed it. Not just guardsmen or officials who might have broken down due to overwork, but also a lot of people who just… needed a place to go, for a while. Witnesses to crimes who were worried about retaliation after they spoke up, victims of violence or abuse who needed to get away, retired military who were having trouble readjusting to civilian life, even—and Therion felt his own eyebrows bounce up at this—people who did things which were technically illegal, but secretly sanctioned by their government in order to keep the peace internationally. Up to and including assassination.

"Not that they can actually talk about it," she clarified via Cyrus, "and not that we're supposed to ask or even acknowledge it. But Uncle's patched up more than a few people I'm pretty sure weren't legally supposed to exist."

"Like us?" Therion prodded skeptically, only to get a bright smile in return, as well as what he was pretty sure was the local equivalent of 'now you're catching on!'.

"Though, of course," Cyrus added with a chuckle, "I imagine that such individuals were hardly from another world, as we are."

A giggle, and what Therion mentally interpreted as 'probably not'.

From there, the conversation drifted for a while, and Therion let himself drift too, back and to the swordswoman's left, so that he walked in Olberic's wake without getting too close to her. He understood dangerous reflexes—the first time Alfyn had thrown an arm around his shoulders, Therion'd nearly gutted him. He'd cursed and blurted out an apology before isolating himself for a while, and it'd taken almost a hand of days before Alfyn's own apologies and reassurances that he was fine, Therion hadn't even pinked him, and it was really all his fault for not considering personal boundaries anyway, had finally started to stick.

Eventually, between Primrose's nagging, Tressa's prodding, Ophilia's gentle reassurance, and Olberic's quiet… there-ness, Therion had gotten to the point where he could actually talk to Alfyn about it. It'd been one of the longest conversations Therion could ever remember having. Therion's reflexes existed for a very good reason, and he wouldn't rid himself of them if he could, but he didn't want to hurt people who had no ill intent towards him. And Alfyn thrived on casual conversation and contact, but he knew he should probably be better about people's boundaries. So they'd made a deal. Alfyn could do his casual-contact thing, but he had to make sure that Therion saw it coming first, and if Therion made it obvious that he didn't like it, Alfyn would back off.

It'd taken months before Therion could stop flinching or twitching towards his daggers when he saw a hand coming his way, but by now it didn't even faze him—as long as it was someone he recognized.

"Ah! Oden!" Olberic's little swordswoman friend paused abruptly, bouncing in place with excitement. Following her gaze, Therion saw what looked like a food-cart, with an elderly man tending pots of bubbling soup or some such. She babbled something eagerly, turning to look at each of them rapidly in turn.

As Cyrus answered whatever question she'd been asking, Olberic leaned down to murmur quietly to Therion. "Master Kamiya was wondering if any of us were hungry, as the food-cart serves a dish she enjoys, and she has not yet eaten her evening meal."

Therion shrugged his understanding. He wasn't exactly hungry, since they'd all eaten recently, but that 'pizza' stuff, while it'd been good, had gone to feeding the whole of the local guardhouse. He'd only taken one slice. "Long as she's paying."

Olberic's mouth twitched, but whether it was meant to be a frown at Therion taking advantage of their hostess' generosity, or a smile at the sheer familiarity of the comment, Therion couldn't quite tell.

Apparently, all of them were feeling peckish, because in less than a minute they were ducking beneath the narrow cloth banner edging the food cart's canopy, sliding onto the stools before the counter. There was a brief not-argument over who would sit on them, since there were only three, but Olberic solved the problem by quietly, firmly stating that he and Alfyn would stand. Since it meant having Olberic's bulk between himself and the open street at his back, Therion wasn't objecting, and since the little swordswoman—Kamiya, Olberic had called her—was sandwiched between him and Cyrus, he didn't have to worry about the scholar talking his ear off while he was trying to eat.

And thankfully, Kamiya didn't seem to mind Cyrus talking her ear off, because as soon as she'd greeted the food-cart's proprietor, the scholar started asking her a hundred and one questions about the food on offer.

What was oden?

Was it exclusive to such food carts as this?

Was it a traditional food of her people, or one that had been imported from foreign lands?

Was there a proper etiquette involved?

And on and on and on…

At least Olberic was willing to translate the more relevant answers for him and Alfyn. 'Oden' it turned out, was a traditional dish in this country, usually eaten during late autumn through winter, and sometimes into late spring. It basically consisted of a bunch of different things that had been soaked in hot broth. You were supposed to tell the proprietor which things you wanted, and he'd scoop them out into a bowl for you. Since none of them had any clue what any of the weird stuff soaking in hot broth was—except maybe the boiled eggs—Kamiya asked the cart's owner for one of everything, so she could explain what they each were and let everyone try a bite, if they wanted, before committing to any picks of their own.

The bowl, when she received it, was a heavy ceramic thing with a red-glazed interior and black exterior. It was also filled almost to overflowing with different stuff, and Kamiya went through them one at a time, explaining what they were and offering each of them a bite if they wanted one.

One big, fat disk of vegetable flesh was apparently a slice of giant radish, though it didn't look or taste anything like what Therion thought of as radish. Then there was a weird tube-shaped thing that was apparently made from fish meat that had been fried before they soaked it in the broth—that was actually pretty good, though Therion waited for the others to try it first before he was willing to put any of it in his mouth. Next came a hard-boiled egg that had soaked in the broth long enough to pick up the color and savory, salty flavor of it. Kamiya broke that up into chunks with her weird little eating-sticks—did they not have actual forks?—and shared it out between them all, which meant that none of them got much.

The only one of them willing to try the next thing was Cyrus, because it was… frankly, it was really weird-looking. A triangular chunk of some kind of pale, speckled, wobbly substance that had been cross-hatched to almost look like dragon-hide. According to Cyrus, though, the texture was almost like a very tough jelly, and the flavor wasn't bad—it simply tasted like the broth. Kamiya giggled and ate the rest of it herself, before explaining that it was jelly, kind of. It was made from the root of a local plant instead of fruit, though. The same stuff was also apparently used to make a kind of… boiled dough-string abomination that looked like nothing so much as a kraken's fever dream. That weird-looking thing gave even Cyrus momentary pause, though he did allow Kamiya to break off a dough-string for him to sample, and declared it odd, but pleasantly chewy.

Thankfully, the next two things weren't nearly as terrifying. One was a small, kind of wrinkly oblong of fried—according to Kamiya—bean-curd, which Therion actually liked despite recognizing the texture as that tasteless stuff he'd sampled in the town market his second day here. The other was apparently the same kind of stuff, but mixed with vegetables and shaped into a disk not too different from the radish they'd tried first. Again, not bad. After that came a fried fishcake with bits of shredded carrot in it that Alfyn liked enough to not want to share, a rolled-up cabbage-leaf stuffed with spiced ground pork that Olberic made quiet pleased noises about, and a skewer of what was apparently beef sinew, which Therion flatly refused to allow anywhere near his face. Even Cyrus ended up politely declining, after attempting to work up the nerve to eat something made from the stuff cooks threw to the spit-hounds.

Kamiya giggled again, and admitted that the beef sinew wasn't generally popular with anyone who wasn't a local, so she'd ordered it just to see the looks on their faces. She ate it as the rest of them winced and looked elsewhere, and then moved on to the last thing, which she declared Therion would definitely like.

He gave her a skeptical look.

She just smiled back, innocently, and scooted the bowl in his direction.

The last thing left in the bowl was… a coin pouch? It was made from some kind of dough, or maybe the weird bean-curd stuff, and looked like it was filled with something too. And when Kamiya picked it up with those weird eating-sticks so the other guys could see, they laughed at the joke, which, okay, it was kind of funny. The filling was faintly sweet and floury, and kind of sticky-textured, but Therion had to grudgingly admit that it was tasty.

In the end, each of them got a bowl filled with broth and a few of the things they'd actually liked. Cyrus got the most variety, with one of the fried fish-tube things, a bean-curd oblong, an egg, and a radish-slice. Alfyn got three of the fish-and-vegetable cakes, a boiled egg, and a radish-slice. Olberic just got a couple eggs and a handful of those cabbage-and-pork things. Kamiya got a fish-cake like Alfyn, as well as two radish-slices and an edible coin-pouch.

Therion got two fish-tubes and a coin-pouch, grunting out something vaguely similar to 'thanks' when the shop owner handed him a slender stick somewhere between a skewer and a toothpick in size, so he could spear his food instead of eating with his hands. Kamiya offered—through Cyrus—to teach them all how to use the paired eating-sticks she was using, but while Cyrus seemed interested, and Alfyn said something about having tried it before, they ended up politely declining in favor of not risking their food falling on the ground when they fumbled it like lackwits.

When Alfyn asked, Kamiya said that yes, the food-vendor also had drinks on offer, but it wasn't ale or mead. Apparently you could get ale in most taverns, though they barely had mead at all in these parts, but oden-carts generally had something else available. Some kind of clear liquor made from a local grain, which was served warm in tiny ceramic cups from a small ceramic bottle. Alfyn recognized it somehow, but didn't know what it was called.

Kamiya didn't want any, claiming to have all the tolerance of a bumble-bee, which wasn't surprising considering how tiny she was, but she said she didn't mind buying them a bottle if they wanted to share one between them. Only one, though, because while 'nihonshu'wasn't overly strong, she didn't have a whole ton of money on her at the moment.

The reminder that they were imposing on her hospitality gave the other guys pause, and when they decided to decline the offer, Therion didn't object. The broth in their bowls was good enough for slaking their thirst, and once they'd eaten it was time to start walking again.

After all, the trip to Kamiya's house was a long one.

A/N: 'Nihonshu' is the proper name of what most Westerners think of as saké. Saké is a more generic term for alcoholic beverages, more the equivalent of 'booze' or 'spirits', while nihonshu is specifically the traditionally-brewed clear rice wine/liquor.