Chapter 31 — Past Memories & A Strange Woman

Machigai's eyes flicker open, slowly adjusting to the bright morning sunlight that streams in through the window. He sits up in bed, running a hand through his messy black hair.  

"Hey Grandma," he calls out, voice still rough from sleep.  

Asuka turns from the kitchen where she's preparing breakfast. "Good morning, Machigai. You slept in late again," she remarks with a warm smile, though there's a hint of scolding in her tone.  

"Yeah, yeah... I know," he replies with a grin, swinging his legs out of bed and stretching.

He pads barefoot across the cool wooden floor, joining Asuka in the kitchen. The smell of coffee and frying eggs wafts through the air, making his stomach growl eagerly.  

Asuka glances at him sideways, one eyebrow raised. "You planning on helping me with breakfast, or are you just going to stand there and watch?"  

Machigai laughs, already reaching for an apron. "You know me too well, Grandma. I'll have the table set in no time."  

The two work in comfortable companionship, setting the table, preparing breakfast, and trading easy banter back and forth.

As they sit down to eat, Asuka takes a moment to study her grandson, her eyes softening with affection.  

"You've grown so much, Machigai," she says quietly, "I remember when you were small enough to ride on my shoulders. It feels like just yesterday."  

Machigai laughs, a mix of embarrassment and nostalgia in his expression. "Hey, don't get all sentimental on me now, Grandma. You'll make me emotional or something."

"Oh, shut up and eat your breakfast, brat," Asuka chuckles, gently swatting his arm with a napkin.

Machigai takes a slow bite of his breakfast, eyes thoughtful.  

"Hey, Grandma... can I ask you something?"  

Asuka looks over at him, curiosity flickering across her face. "Sure, what is it?"  

Machigai stabs a piece of pancake with his fork, avoiding her gaze as he considers his words. "I was thinking... I could stay another week. If that's okay with you?"  

Surprise flickers across Asuka's face, quickly replaced by a small, knowing smile. "Of course you can stay longer, kiddo. You know you're always welcome here."

"Thanks," Machigai mutters, trying to act nonchalant about it but can't quite hide the relief in his voice.  

He goes back to his breakfast, but Asuka can see the slight tension in his shoulders that wasn't there before. She doesn't press him—knows he'll talk when he's ready.  

They eat in silence for a few minutes, the only sound the soft clink of silverware against dish and the occasional bird call drifting in through the window. It's oddly peaceful considering the weight of whatever's troubling her grandson.

Despite the warm summer morning, an unexpected shiver runs down Machigai's spine, goosebumps prickling his arms despite the gentle sunlight streaming in through the window.  

He rubs his arms, puzzled by the sudden chill. "Why is it suddenly so cold in here?"  

Asuka glances over at him, her brow furrowed in confusion. "Cold? It feels perfectly warm to me. Are you alright, Machigai?"

Yasu stirs awake with a groan, his eyelids fluttering open slowly. He blinks at the soft candlelight dancing across the wooden ceiling, the low flickering glow throwing elongated shadows in the small room.  

As he rubs the sleep from his eyes, Yasu's mind drifts back to his dream, a flood of memories washing over him.  

His grandmother's wrinkled face flashes across his mind's eye, her warm smile and gentle hands like a soothing balm to his frayed nerves. He can almost hear her voice in his ear, the soft lilt of her words comforting him even now.  

He swallows thickly, the ache in his chest growing stronger. "Grandma..." he murmurs, the words barely a whisper in the silent room.

He gingerly lifts his head, taking in his surroundings. He's lying shirtless on a rough wooden bed, the mattress stuffed with straw, the sheets stiff from age and use. His ribs are swathed in cold, wet strips of fabric, the cold seeping through the bandages and making him shiver slightly.

Yasu's gaze darts around the room as he hears the sound of footsteps approaching from outside the door. He grits his teeth against the sharp pain in his hip as he struggles to push himself up, his fingers grasping for the familiar handle of his sheathed sword lying on the desk nearby.  

His hand curls around the hilt, fingers wrapping tightly as he heaves himself up, biting back a gasp of pain, his injured hip protesting the sudden movement. With the sword held in a defensive grip, he waits, breath bated, for the intruder to enter the room.

The woman stepped into the room, her brown eyes widening slightly as they landed on Yasu, perched defensively on the edge of the bed, his sword held ready in a white-knuckled grip.  

Her gaze flicked from his weapon to the bloody bandages around his waist, an eyebrow arching curiously, but there was no fear in her expression. Instead, she let out a soft, amused huff.  

"I'm not sure the sword is necessary," she said, her voice tinged with a teasing lilt. "You look like you can barely stand."

Yasu narrows his eyes, his grip on the sword handle not relaxing despite the woman's relaxed demeanor. "Who are you?" he grits out, the pain in his hip making his voice rougher than usual.  

The woman doesn't seem intimidated by his hostility. In fact, her lips curl into a small smile, almost like she's laughing at him. "Not exactly the warm welcome I was hoping for," she quips, setting the bowls carefully down on the nearby table.

The woman tilts her head, unfazed by his guarded tone. "I’m Hilda," she says, gesturing to the holzmollen filled with steaming food—roasted meats, dark bread crusty at the edges but soft inside. "And this," she taps one of the bowls meaningfully before crossing her arms over her apron-clad waist with a dry smirk:  

"—Is dinner you definitely need after getting clawed open like some backwoods boar?"  

Her eyes flick pointedly to his bandages again before adding far too cheerfully: "Unless you’d rather keep swinging that sword around until your stitches pop?"

The rich aroma of roasted meat and warm bread hits Yasu’s senses, his stomach betraying him with a loud growl. His shoulders relax slightly as he takes in Hilda’s unthreatening posture—the way she doesn’t even flinch at his sword, how her hands are open instead of reaching for weapons.

"She could have killed me already if she wanted to", he thinks begrudgingly before exhaling sharply through his nose.  

With great effort and barely stifling another wince from the pain, he finally lowers the blade back into its sheath beside the bed. "...Fine," he mutters gruffly—though there's no real bite left in it now that hunger outweighs suspicion by far already...

Yasu gingerly perches on the edge of the bed, wincing at the stabbing pain in his hip.  

Hilda takes a seat beside him, placing the bowls between them. With a casual smile, she offers him a wooden spoon, watching patiently as he gingerly takes the spoon. "Go on then," she encourages, still with that hint of a smile. 

His stomach rumbles again, loudly this time, and despite his initial wariness he finds himself giving in to the hunger.  

"Damn it," he grumbles under his breath, scooping some meat onto his spoon.

Yasu’s eyes widen the second the rich, juicy meat hits his tongue. His body remembers—the deep, savory flavor flooding his senses like a long-lost friend returning after years of absence.  

His hands tremble around the wooden spoon as he devours another bite faster than before, then another—each mouthful sending waves of warmth and satisfaction through him that feel dangerously close to tears pricking at corners.

"Mother and Father," he thinks between ravenous bites—chewing almost too fast, "I forgot what real food tasted like." 

The realization slams into him full force: vegetables were survival rations for months on end now… but this? This is meat. Actual meat with fat still glistening under firelight when biting down into it! The sheer indulgence makes the throat tighten painfully suddenly while chewing more slowly despite hunger screaming otherwise...

Hilda chuckles softly—almost affectionately—as she watches Yasu inhale the food like a starving man. "You eat like you've not seen a solid meal in weeks," she notes, her voice tinged with a motherly tone despite the amusement in her eyes.  

She leans back slightly, studying him carefully before adding almost jokingly: "You must be a new adventurer." The words are light yet hold an undertone of genuine concern, like she's worried about how long he's wandered without proper sustenance.

Yasu pauses mid-bite, looking up at Hilda with a mix of confusion and curiosity. He swallows the mouthful before answering gruffly:  

"Yeah... I'm new."  

Hilda sighs, her expression softening further as she studies him—taking in his battered state, the exhaustion etched into every line of his face. "We haven’t had adventurers here in years," she admits quietly before adding—her voice dropping even lower now like sharing some heavy secret between them both: "...And this village was on its last legs until you showed up."

Yasu's brows furrow at that, concern and curiosity warring for dominance. He pushes the bowl aside a moment, looking up at Hilda with a frown. "What happened that it got so bad?" he asks gruffly, his voice edged with a mixture of curiosity and concern.  

Hilda hesitates, as if unsure how or if she should answer. "That's… complicated," is all she says, averting her gaze from his. The evasion isn't lost on Yasu, sparking a flicker of suspicion...