The Weakest Tamer Began a Journey to Pick up Trash - Volume 8 - Chapter 377

Chapter 377:

Not for Young Ears!

AFTER A LOT of back-and-forth with my father, we chose three bags. Since our different heights meant our bags had to be different sizes, we each bought our own bag: one exclusively for me and another exclusively for him. The third bag was between the other two in size, so either of us could use it if one of our bags broke. Our personal bags had fabric designs to our tastes, and the shared bag was chosen with both our preferences in mind. This meant we had to take a little extra time, but it was such a good feeling to buy things that truly satisfied us.

“Think the creatures will like these bags?” I asked.

“I’m sure they will.”

“Is our budget okay, though? All three of them are more expensive than the first.”

“Don’t worry. We’ve got more than enough funds, what with all the hard work Sora, Ciel, Flame, and Sol have been doing. We still have plenty of things to sell, too.”

He’s right, our magic box is still quite full of goodies. Yeah, the bags were a little more expensive than I’d hoped because we factored in things like padding and breathability, but no regrets here! I hope they like the bags. I’m sure they will; they’re all so easygoing.

“Okay, why don’t we take a leisurely stroll down the back alley and keep our ears open for fresh gossip?”

“Aye-aye, sir!”

There were much fewer people in the back alley than on Main Street, but there was still quite a crowd. There were shops there, too, so it was ideal for a slow-paced walk.

“Oh, look. That new shop already went under.”

“Really? Well, their food was terrible.”

Yikes, that’s harsh.

“Look at all that booze.”

I followed my father’s gaze to a liquor store. A peek inside the window revealed many different types of alcohol for sale. As my father stood next to me and peered inside, I heard him mutter, “Ooh, they have that!” 

“Wanna have a look?” I asked.

“Could I?”

“Of course. I’ll make something for dinner that goes well with wine.”

“Thanks.” My father entered the store with a merry grin on his face.

What should I cook for dinner tonight? We still have some marinated baaba left. I could add some spice to it, then mix it with some leafy vegetables that won’t weigh it down. I think I’ll make a soup, too, so we can have the leftovers for breakfast tomorrow. I guess Dad won’t need any soup since he’ll be drinking. Ooh, I know! It’s been a while, so I’ll make some grilled onigiri as well.

“My neighbor got arrested last night.”

“Oh dear, again?”

What a disturbing thing to have happen “again.” I stole a careful glance and saw three women chatting nearby. I assumed from their bags of groceries that they were on their way home from a shopping trip.

“Why does he keep getting arrested?”

“Oh, didn’t you know? He gets awfully violent when he drinks.”

Yikes, that’s terrible.

“Oh dear, does he? I’ve only met him in passing, but he seems so nice.”

“Well, you can’t judge a book by its cover.”

You can say that again. If you judge a book by its cover, that book might hurt you. I found myself nodding eagerly in agreement.

“Is his wife okay?”

That’s right. His wife is probably a victim of his abuse.

“Oh, she’ll be just fine. She’s probably got another man over there as we speak.”

Huh?

“She what now?”

“Oh, I saw them sneaking out when I left the house today. They were hand in hand, all lovey-dovey.”

“Ooooh!”

Yikes, that’s quite a story. Is that why he’s so mad? Because his wife’s cheating on him? Or did she hook up with another guy because her raging husband disgusts her? As I stood there and wondered, I felt a firm yank on my clothes, followed by a hand clamping over my ear.

“Huh?” I was startled at first, but I looked up when I realized it was my father. When our eyes met, he had the most conflicted expression. He held me like that as he stared at the three gossiping ladies and sighed quietly. I couldn’t help but chuckle a little over the sight.

“Sorry,” he muttered. “Let’s go.”

“Okay.”

I tried my best to ignore the gossiping women as we walked through the back alley over to the plaza. I stole a glance at my father to see he still had that conflicted look in his eyes.

“Hey, Dad, their conversation could’ve been a lot worse. Adventurers are much more crass.”

Adventurers’ nighttime conversations were downright obscene most of the time. Adventurer parties made of all men or all women were particularly hardcore. The women probably took the prize for crassness, but it was all talk with them. Male parties, on the other hand, sometimes escalated into foul play. And they were all eager to teach a kid like me the ways of the world. Since I had been masquerading as a boy until just recently, I almost got roped into their shenanigans a number of times. Naturally, I ran for it every time.

“Yeah…I guess I’m not one to talk. Back in the day, I sure ran my mouth off without thinking of how it made other people feel…”

I grinned at the somber look on my dad’s face. He really didn’t have to worry so hard about it.

“It’s okay. It doesn’t bother me.”

I was embarrassed at first, but I got used to it. If I prickled at every little lewd remark, I wouldn’t be able to handle living in the plaza.

“But if you’re not bothered by it, that has to mean you’ve heard a lot of bad conversations.”

Yeah…I guess it does mean that. I shrugged my shoulders, and my dad sighed heavily.

“Oh well… I can’t change the past.”

“Yeah. Anyway, I was thinking of making grilled onigiri for dinner. Sound good?”

“Oh, nice. It’s been a while.”

“Uh-huh, and I’m in a cooking mood today.”

“Well, I’m excited. Let’s head back to Main Street. There aren’t any shops around here anyway.”

He’s right, there aren’t any shops… Wait, what about that one?

“Dad, isn’t that a shop?”

There was a tiny store up ahead. On its old, beat-up sign was the word “Meat,” along with a drawing of just that.

“A butcher?”

“Can we swing by?”

“Sure, let’s see what they’ve got.”

And so, we found ourselves lured into a butcher’s shop. It was small, and from what we could see through the window by the door, they only sold one type of meat. That red flesh looked familiar… Was it baaba?

“Do they specialize in baaba?”

For a specialty shop, they had a pitiful selection of meat for sale. It did look like good meat, though.

“Hey, Dad, I wanted to stock up on baaba. Is that okay?”

“Sure, I don’t mind. That marinated baaba was really good.”

“Yeah, I was thinking of using that marinade as a base for trying out other flavors.”

“Aha, well, I can’t wait to taste it all. That reminds me, there’s something I’ve been meaning to ask you, Ivy.”

“What’s up?”

“We still have some of that first batch of marinated baaba, don’t we? Could you turn that into snacks to pair with the wine?”

“That was the plan. I’m gonna change up the flavor a little to go with your wine.”

My dad grinned ear to ear when I said that. I just loved little interactions like those.

When we opened the door of the butcher shop, it made a cute ringing noise. I looked up to see it had a little doorbell attached at the top.

“Hullo there.” A young man stepped out from the back to greet us. When he saw who we were, he looked surprised…and confused. I wonder why?

“Is this baaba meat?” I asked.

“That’s right. Umm…” He looked even more surprised by my question. Seriously, what was wrong?

“I’d like twenty kilograms of it, please.”

Maybe that’s too much? Then again, I want to try a bunch of ­different flavors: sweet, herby, with soy sauce… I really do need twenty kilograms, don’t I?

“Twenty…kilograms? Er, have you mistaken my meat for something else? You do know it’s baaba, right?”

Huh? Why would I mistake it for another meat? What is he talking about?

“Yes, sir, we know it’s baaba. That’s what we want. Twenty kilograms of baaba.” My father spoke slowly but firmly to the butcher.

The butcher got a glazed look in his eyes for a few seconds, then quickly shook his head and got to work packing our meat. “Forgive me, it’s just that baaba isn’t all that popular. Are you really sure you want to buy this much?”

“Oh, it’s quite all right. It’s not at all expensive.”

It really was cheap, because so few people wanted to buy it.

“Um, that’s not what I meant. Can you actually use it all up? Twenty whole kilograms?”

“It’s so delicious that we’ll gobble up the twenty kilograms before we even know it,” I assured him.

“It’s…delicious? Um…are your taste buds oka… Er, never mind.”

Now I get it. People in this village think baaba is tough and gamey.

“It’s delicious if you parboil it in herbs and marinate it in a papashi sauce, sir,” I said.

The butcher got a thoughtful look on his face. “Yeah, I did try to tenderize it with papashi a few times…”

That’s right, the first time I used the papashi marinade and nothing else, it was still gamey and not all that great. That’s why I started parboiling it with herbs beforehand.

“I think the secret is parboiling it in herbs first.”

“Um, pardon me, but could I try just a little of your meat? And please, sell me the recipe while you’re at it!”

The butcher bowed with such vigor that I almost heard the gust of wind his head made. The situation was just so surreal that all I could do was stare dumbly at the top of his head.