Bare Necessities

The tram rattled and lurched forward as Hoshino stumbled aboard, nearly tripping over the step. It hadn’t stopped for long—barely enough time for her to sprint and fling herself on.

Breathless, she straightened and did what came naturally: she bowed deeply to the driver—or conductor? Who knew? Didn’t matter.

He stared at her, his expression frozen somewhere between confused and unimpressed.

She froze too. The bow lingered a beat too long before her mind caught up. No one bows here.

Quickly, she straightened and waved instead.

Big mistake. The man’s brows furrowed. Was it something she did? No, can't be. Was it something offensive? Oh no…

Her mouth opened, halfway from blurting out the world’s most butchered “sorry” before he cut her off.

“Move along, please? You’re blocking the way.”

Hoshino nodded rapidly, her cheeks burning, and stumbled further inside. Behind her, the doors shut with a sharp hiss, sealing her in.

The tram jolted forward, and Hoshino teetered. Her legs wobbled, her grip slipping on the pole. For a moment, she flailed, caught between staying upright and crashing to the floor.

Her fingers found the pole again, gripping it hard. Balance restored—barely. 

Then it hit her—nothing came free here. Not anymore, not like home.

She moved quickly to open her coin pouch, when—

“They don’t check,” someone said behind her, motioning her forward with a casual wave.

She blinked, then nodded, clutching her bag and moving further inside. Must have noticed how doe-eyed she looked.

The vehicle moved with a jolt, sending her heart racing. She gripped the nearest pole, her body swaying with the tram’s movements. It moves without wings, she thought, marveling. It wasn’t as graceful as the Tsubasa—winged creatures of her homeland, with silken bodies gliding effortlessly through the skies. But this tram—it was more practical than they ever were.

There was actually a plan to instate a four Tsubasa-pulled carriage that could carry as many as fifteen people through the sky, but there was a reason why it was never tested. By the time the hearing ended, they were halfway to condemning him to seppuku for insulting the dignity of the shogunate before one of them burst out laughing.

There had to be at least eighty people crammed in this thing. Some sat, others stood pressed together. Back home, such a crowd would require a procession of carriages. And more greeters than she could remember the names of to boot.

As the tram slowed and the doors hissed open, Hoshino stepped off, her thoughts already shifting.

Shopping, she reminded herself, clutching her pouch tightly. She’d need food. Blankets, maybe. Actually, most definitely. The winters here were said to be among the harshest in the world. Not now, but eventually.

Finally, culminating in a place to crash for the night. Start slow. Deep breaths. Deep… breaths.

\\

Hoshino had a creeping suspicion this must have been how the British felt when Japan repelled them from their borders.

She rehearsed it constantly in her head: “I don’t speak English.” Clear as day. Perfectly enunciated. At least, she thinks.

The problem was the edges of Japanese and those lilting undertones of Portuguese—they kept screwing her over. If she could, she’d hand someone five gold coins to crack open her skull and rip the damn Japanese and Portuguese right out of her!

Her stomach was full for the first time in days, but the food felt wrong. Odd. Too salty. Too soft. And all of it came from cans, sealed tight like treasures in tin. Tasted like… metal. Rust. Was this what people ate here? She couldn’t tell if they were advanced or just mad. All she could do was mutter to herself that it was better than nothing.

It was the usual drudgery—wandering into shops, scanning shelves, and ticking off essentials she needed, just as outlined in The Noble’s Guide to Survival.

She could feel the tension simmering with every step, every glance from the shopkeepers. One of them looked like they were about to blow a powder keg before she finally offered her coin. Then, they tended to shut up for some reason.

People took their coin seriously here… was that Portuguese?

She paused mid-step. She turned back, staring as if her eyes had tricked her. But no, it was real—a sign, clear as day. 

A corner store, tucked away, its narrow entrance leading down a quiet street. Spring Street, just like the priest said. Walking further, she found more signs, more words she could actually read.

Needless to say… she bolted.

Her chest tightened, relief and desperation warring within her. She wanted to cry here and there. Finally, something made sense! The immigrant community the priest talked about.

\\

See, all she needed now was water. Felt too chicken to ask the earlier shopkeepers who were already pissed at her.

She stepped into the shop, plucking a glass bottle from the shelf, the liquid inside clear and inviting. At the counter, she reached into her pouch, pulling out a gold coin, and slid it across to the cashier.

He stared at it. Then at her. His face twisted in disgust. He plucked it from her fingers as if he was handling dynamite.

Hoshino hesitated. Was it not enough? Her mind raced. People here printed faces on paper for money, didn’t they?

She’d seen it before. The strange paper bills were so intricate, so… advanced. Surely the stories back home were true.

A voice behind her broke through her thoughts. “He thought you were flexing on him.”

She turned, confused. “Flexing?”

“Showing off,” said the woman.

“But I… I wasn’t showing off anything," Hoshino stammered.

The woman shrugged, leaning against the counter. “People don’t do that here. Flashing gold? It’s bad manners. Makes ‘em think you’re tryna prove something.”

Hoshino blinked, looking back at the cashier’s scowl. Her chest tightened with embarrassment as she fumbled for the bottle, gripping it tightly.

“Just don’t do it again,” the woman added, her tone casual but her eyes soft. “Stick to paper money, alright?”

“But… but..." 

Then, like a dam burst: "But I don’t have any paper money! This," she shook her pouch, "is all I have! I don’t know how to ask to exchange for dol… for dol-lars. And I am so thirsty, so I didn’t want to drink the water used by horses! So… so… And the people here; they look at me like I am some kind of donkey, and I don’t know how to explain to them without…”

The woman sighed, turning sharply toward the cashier. “Can you stop being an asshole, Ronaldo? She’s foreign, clearly.”

Ronaldo shrugged. “I didn’t say anything.”

“No shit.” The woman shot him a glare before turning back to Hoshino. “Wait here.”

Without another word, she reached into her pocket, pulled out a paper bill, and slid it across the counter. Ronaldo grumbled something under his breath but took the payment and handed back change with a huff.

The woman grabbed the bottle of water and pressed it into Hoshino’s hands. “Here. Don’t let punks like him ruin your day.”

Then she plucked more from her pocket. Coins. Money. Dollars. 

"And here's the change."

Hoshino gripped the change like it was the most fragile thing in the world.

"Water's that cheap here?"

"What?"

"Everything else here was so expensive. I bought some... tuna to eat and it cost me one ryo. One gold coin."

"Oh, honey... they don't cost that much. You got scammed."

"WHAT?"

\\

The woman's name was Ishwari, as Hoshino would later come to know. And Ishwari, with her sharp gaze and matter-of-fact tone, gave her an unflinching lesson on the value of minerals.

Strings of drying herbs hung from windowsills alongside colorful charms shaped like sardines and swirls of protective sigils. Narrow alleys wound through rows of tiled buildings, their facades adorned with patterns reminiscent of old Lisbon. The sound of Fado music drifted from taverns. She can't believe she hadn't noticed how truly alien she must have looked in a place as different as this.

This was the first time today she truly got to sit down and think. To reevaluate.

“It’s just… I don’t know,” Hoshino murmured, fingers tightening around the water bottle. Her eyes lingered on the children playing in the park as she sat on the steps beside Ishwari. “People here are mean, in general. But mostly… they just look like they can’t be bothered.”

"You'll learn soon enough. If not by word, then by experience." The woman smirked, tilting her head. “By the by, I don’t know anywhere other than China where people look like you. And as far as I know, they don’t speak good Portuguese.”

Hoshino hesitated. “A land, east of here. Japan.”

“Never met anyone from there. Or heard of it.”

“You wouldn’t have. Sakoku. The shogun doesn’t let anyone in or out. Not exactly… spreading our sphere of influence much. And the shogu—the king would like to keep it that way.”

Ishwari et out a low whistle. “Jesus. Must be glad to be all the out way here, huh? Megalomaniacs remain the same human constant anywhere you go.”

The lady took it from her lack of response it wasn’t something she was particularly keen in divulging on.

After a beat, Hoshino’s voice broke the quiet. “Do you… do you fear God?”

The woman raised an eyebrow, amused. “Are you serious? What good, self-respecting chica wouldn’t?”

"I want to pray."

"Well, you can pray right now. Come, I will give you space—"

"No, no—not like that. I have been without a church my whole life. I want to do it the right way."

"…Okay. Well, we do have a Portuguese priest just two blocks down."

"Perfect."