Part 4

Morning sunlight streamed through Myco's window, casting golden beams across the wooden floor and filling the small room with a gentle warmth. The scent of morning dew and wildflowers drifted in through the open shutters, carried by a soft breeze that rustled the linen curtains. Birds chirped lively in the distance, harmonizing with the faint murmur of villagers starting their day—merchants setting up their stalls, blacksmiths hammering steel, and the rhythmic creak of wooden carts rolling down the dirt roads.

Myco stretched with a satisfied sigh, feeling lighter than he had in days. Today felt different—brighter, full of promise. Maybe it was because he knew Ookami wasn't leaving. She was nearby, settling into her new home in Keimonomimi Village, and somehow, that fact alone lifted a weight from his heart.

A small smile tugged at his lips as he swung his legs over the bed and got dressed, fastening the belt of his tunic with practiced ease. As he stepped outside, the crisp morning air greeted him, along with the sight of villagers bustling about, offering waves and greetings. With an eager step, he made his way toward Ookami's house, eager to see how she was settling in.

Upon arriving, Myco stepped up to the familiar wooden door and gave it a few gentle knocks. "Ookami? You awake?"

A moment passed before the door creaked open. Standing in the soft glow of morning was Ookami, her dark brunette hair tousled in sleep, a few errant strands falling across her cheek. She rubbed one eye and gave him a bright, if slightly sleepy, smile.

"Good morning, Myco!" Ookami greeted with cheerful warmth, her golden eyes bright despite the sleep-tousled strands of hair framing her face.

Myco returned her smile, his tone light with curiosity. "How are you feeling? Did you sleep well in the village?"

"I did," she said with a content nod. "It's quieter than Drakenburg… and the stars are nicer out here. Thank you for everything." Then, with a slight shift in her tone and an almost shy glance to the side, she added, "But… I need help with something."

She stepped aside, then padded over to the kitchen counter. With both hands, she brought back a small glass jar of pickled vegetables and held it up as though she were presenting a delicate artifact. Her golden eyes glanced up at him, almost sheepishly. "It's… a little embarrassing... I was trying to make some breakfast, but… I'm having trouble with jars. Could you open this for me?"

Myco blinked, eyeing the jar like it was some kind of trap. "Uh, sure?"

He took the jar from her, confident at first, but the moment he twisted the lid, he felt the resistance. He frowned and tried again, shifting his stance like a knight preparing for battle. He braced the jar against his chest, gritting his teeth as he gave it one final, determined twist. Pop! The lid snapped off with a victorious crack, and Myco held the jar aloft like a warrior raising his trophy.

Ookami gasped, clapping her hands with delight. "Wow! You did it! I knew you could!"

Myco exhaled, still a little winded from the struggle. "I'm honestly more surprised than you. I've seen you lift two-ton hammers—how are jars your mortal enemy?"

"Actually…" she said, stepping aside and gesturing toward the kitchen. Myco followed her gaze and immediately froze. There, lining the counter like victims of a tragic war, were the shattered remains of at least a dozen other glass jars—cracked, splintered, and leaking their colorful pickled contents like battlefield casualties.

She gave a sheepish smile. "It's not that I can't open the jars… I tried to be gentle, but even the smallest amount of force was too much. Every time, the glass just… crumbled. There is a reason why Oni don't use jars after all."

Myco stared at the wreckage of shattered glass and pickled vegetables strewn across the counter like the aftermath of a condiment war. For a moment, he was speechless—then, he doubled over with laughter. "So, the problem isn't opening jars," he managed between breaths, "it's keeping them in one piece!"

Ookami crossed her arms and pouted, her cheeks puffed slightly in frustration. "It's not funny! I love pickled cabbage, but at this rate, I'll never get to eat any without assistance!"

Still chuckling, Myco reached out and gave her a reassuring pat on the shoulder. "Hey, don't worry. We'll figure something out. Maybe I can enchant the jars with a shatterproof spell. Or… I could hire you a jar-opening assistant who doesn't explode glass on contact?"

Ookami's expression softened as she tapped her chin thoughtfully. "Or… I could just assign you the job. From now on, you're my official jar opener."

Myco raised an eyebrow with mock indignation. "Official, huh? Is there a badge for that?"

She grinned, mischievous now. "No badge, but I do pay in home cooked food."

He sighed dramatically, shaking his head as if the burden was too much to bear. "Fine. I'll accept your delicious bribes. But this makes me part of your household now, doesn't it?"

Ookami laughed, her voice light and clear. "Exactly. No takebacks."

As Myco looked at her—standing in the middle of her messy, newly claimed kitchen, framed by sunlight and broken jars—he couldn't help but think that this strange, wonderful life in Keimonomimi Village was about to get a lot more chaotic… and a whole lot more fun.

After helping Ookami clean up the tragic battlefield of shattered jars and pickled casualties, Myco led her through the lively dirt roads of Keimonomimi Village toward the inn. The scent of freshly baked bread and sizzling meat filled the air as they approached, evidence of the bustling kitchen inside.

Stepping through the doors, they were greeted by the cheerful chaos of the morning rush. Behind the counter, Fifi, the head cook, was calling out orders to a small group of Muridae workers, their tiny hands skillfully chopping, stirring, and kneading as they prepared for the flood of customers eager for breakfast before heading to work. Upon seeing Myco, Fifi's sharp ears perked up, but when she spotted Ookami standing beside him, her eyes practically sparkled.

"Oh! So this is the new girl?" Fifi asked, drying her hands on her apron. "You brought me extra help? Myco, I could kiss you."

"Please don't," Myco deadpanned, while Ookami chuckled.

Fifi wasted no time, her excitement barely contained as she sized up the small Oni before her. Clapping her hands together, she grabbed a menu from the counter and thrust it toward Ookami. "Alright, let's see what you've got," she said, her tail twitching with anticipation.

Ookami took the menu with a graceful nod, her golden eyes scanning the list of dishes with practiced ease. Her expression remained calm and unreadable, but every so often, her lips curled into a faint smile, as if she were mentally breaking down the recipes and assembling them in her mind. Fifi, arms crossed, watched closely, noting how her eyes lingered on the more complex dishes—ones that even the most seasoned cooks sometimes struggled with.

Finally, Ookami lowered the menu and met Fifi's gaze with unwavering confidence. "I can make anything here," she said simply, her voice carrying the quiet certainty of someone who had spent years perfecting their craft.

Fifi grinned, pleased with the answer, and gestured toward the kitchen. "Alright then, let's see you in action."

Without a moment's hesitation, Ookami turned and made her way toward the icebox, her long strides purposeful, her every movement fluid and sure, like someone entirely at home in any kitchen, no matter how new. She crouched low and opened the chilled compartment with ease, a gust of cold air billowing out in a misty breath. The inside was neatly arranged—bundles of herbs tied with twine, rows of root vegetables, jars of preserved sauces, and carefully packed parcels of meat… or what was supposed to be meat.

She shifted a few containers aside, her golden eyes narrowing slightly as she examined the contents. Her fingers paused over an empty crate near the back of the box, a space where fresh cuts should have been resting on blocks of ice. The cool mist curled around her hand as she straightened up, closed the door with a quiet thump, and turned back to Fifi with a neutral, yet pointed expression.

"You're running low on meat," she said plainly, like one might comment on the weather.

Fifi let out a groan and threw a hand onto her hip. "Don't remind me. We've got adventurers scheduled to head into the dungeon tomorrow to bring in a fresh haul, but I swear they come back with more excuses than game. It's been a nightmare trying to keep the pantry stocked."

Ookami tilted her head slightly, considering this new information like a puzzle piece that didn't quite fit. Then she gave a light shrug, as if solving the problem were as simple as flipping a switch. "Then I'll just go get some now."

Fifi blinked. "Wait—you mean right now?" Ookami was already rolling up her sleeves. Fifi's voice rose an octave. "You do know that the dungeon is full of monsters, right? Not rats or bats either—I'm talking fanged, armored, teeth-that-could-eat-a-cart beasts."

Standing off to the side, Myco leaned against the doorway, arms crossed, a smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth. "She knows. Trust me—she'll be fine."

Fifi glanced back and forth between them, clearly unconvinced. "But... she's wearing nothing but a kimono and an apron!"

Ookami gave her a confident smile and tied the strings of said apron a little tighter. "It's stain-resistant."

And with that, she strode toward the dungeon like someone going to the market to pick up a loaf of bread. Fifi gawked after her, mouth half-open, her arms flailing slightly. "This is insane! I'm about to lose help before her first shift!"

Myco just chuckled and clapped a reassuring hand on her shoulder. "Relax. You'll have more meat than you know what to do with."

For a moment, there was silence. Then, the ground trembled. A series of monstrous roars echoed from deep within, followed by the unmistakable sounds of fierce combat—crashing, thudding, and what might have been the distant wail of a very unfortunate beast.

Fifi's fur bristled in panic. "Oh no. Oh no, no, no—what if she's in trouble?!"

Myco leaned casually against the counter, completely unfazed. "Trust me," he repeated, smirking. "She's got this."

Minutes passed, and then—THUD! The dungeon doors burst open, and out stepped Ookami, her kimono barely ruffled, her expression calm. Draped over her shoulders were the carcasses of several massive, meaty monsters, each one easily the size of a full-grown man. She dropped them onto the floor with a loud thunk and dusted off her hands.

"Will this be enough?" she asked, tilting her head innocently.

Fifi gawked at the pile of fresh monster meat, her jaw slack. "Holy cow! That's… that's enough to last us a month!" She turned to Myco, eyes wide. "Where did you find her?!"

Myco grinned. "Told you she'd be fine."

Fifi stood frozen for a long moment, her wide eyes locked on the small Oni and then drifting slowly to the mountain of monstrous meat piled behind her. A half-dozen massive carcasses, each one large enough for several days worth of meat, lay stacked like firewood, their fanged maws still slack from whatever battle had just ended. A stunned silence hung in the air.

Then, slowly—almost cautiously—Fifi's mouth began to twitch. Her eyes narrowed in disbelief, then widened with delight. Finally, a full, gleeful grin broke across her face. "Ookami… you're amazing!" she exclaimed, throwing her arms into the air. "Do you have any idea how much money we're going to save now that we don't have to hire adventurers to go monster hunting every week?"

Ookami, still brushing a speck of monster ichor from her kimono, beamed under the praise. "Oh, good! I'll be happy to get more whenever you need it," she said cheerfully, as if she'd just come back from the market with some onions instead of slaying beasts in a dungeon.

Fifi clapped her hands together with a sound of pure glee. "I think I just found my new favorite employee!" she declared. Then, with renewed purpose, she spun on her heel and marched toward the back. "Come on, we've got work to do! This meat isn't going to clean and store itself."

Ookami followed, smiling brightly, wiping her hands on a rag. "It would be my pleasure."

And with that, the two disappeared into the inn's bustling kitchen—one bubbling with energy, the other quietly radiant—ready to carve, clean, and conquer. Myco chuckled as he watched the scene unfold. Ookami was fitting into Keimonomimi Village faster than he could have ever imagined. And, judging by the sheer awe on Fifi's face, it was safe to say that her strength was no longer something to be feared—it was an asset.

Over the course of the next week, Ookami became something of a hero in Keimonomimi Village. It seemed that no matter where trouble arose, she was there—her sheer strength turning what should have been difficult tasks into effortless feats.

One morning, a child came running through the village square in tears, wailing that his ball had rolled beneath a cart stacked high with hay bales. Several villagers gathered, scratching their heads, debating how to move the overloaded cart without sending the entire pile toppling over. Before anyone could even form a proper plan, Ookami casually walked up, crouched down, and—with one hand—lifted the cart as if it weighed no more than a basket of apples. The villagers barely had time to react before the child happily retrieved his ball, and Ookami gently set the cart back down, dusting off her hands as if nothing had happened. The stunned silence was quickly followed by scattered applause, though she didn't seem to notice as she walked off, humming to herself.

A few days later, a commotion erupted near the eastern road. A boulder, far too large for any normal person to move, had rolled into the pathway, completely blocking travel in and out of the village. Several strong men were already working together, pushing with all their might, their faces red with exertion. Just as they were about to give up and call for tools to break it apart, Ookami strolled by, tilting her head at the sight. Without a word, she stepped forward, grasped the boulder with both hands, and hoisted it into the air like a sack of grain. Then, with an almost careless toss over her shoulder, she sent it rolling down the hillside, where it eventually settled harmlessly in an empty field. The gathered villagers gawked at the spectacle before breaking into cheers.

By the end of the week, she had unintentionally become the village's favorite problem-solver. When merchants struggled to drag heavy carts of supplies, Ookami simply grabbed the rope with one hand and strolled ahead, leaving the stunned crowd struggling to keep up. When a farmer complained about needing extra hands to till the fields, she picked up an entire plow—oxen and all—and carried it to where it needed to be.

Despite her relatively small frame, her strength defied logic. To her, it was just another day's work. To the villagers, she was quickly becoming a local legend.

One quiet afternoon, a sudden knock at Myco's door stirred him from his thoughts. He hadn't been expecting anyone. With a furrowed brow, he set aside the scroll he'd been reading and made his way to the door. As he opened it, the world seemed to pause.

Standing on the threshold was Ookami—but not as he had ever seen her before. Today, she was not wearing her usual elegant kimono and the familiar, earthy scent of Touno spices that often clung to her. Instead, she wore a western-style ensemble that caught him completely off guard.

A beige blouse, soft and form-fitting, hugged her upper frame and accentuated her poised shoulders. It was tucked into a flowing blue skirt that billowed gently with the breeze, the hem swaying just above the ground. A bold slit in the back offered a glimpse of her long, toned leg with every graceful step forward. On her feet, instead of her usual wooden geta, she wore polished leather heels—sturdy, refined, and surprisingly elegant.

Her dark brunette hair, typically held in place by a simple pin or left to fall freely around her shoulders, was styled into a sophisticated bun. A few loose strands curled around her cheeks, softening her features and drawing attention to her radiant golden eyes. For a long moment, Myco could only stare. His breath caught in his throat, his heart thudded against his ribs with unexpected force.

"Good afternoon," she said with a warm, slightly bashful smile. Her voice, though gentle, carried the same quiet confidence he'd always known. "I hope I'm not interrupting anything."

Myco blinked, trying to find his words. "N–no, not at all," he stammered. "You look… incredible."

A faint flush dusted Ookami's cheeks as she adjusted the large wicker basket nestled against her hip—its contents brimming with blueberries the size of basketballs, so round and glossy they looked enchanted. Slung over her shoulder, with all the casualness of someone carrying a sack of flour, was a single strawberry so massive it could easily have passed for a festival balloon or an oversized stuffed toy.

"I was thinking of making dessert," she said with a sparkle in her golden eyes. "Strawberry daifuku, blueberry muffins, strawberry milk, maybe even some blueberry cookies. May I come in?"

Myco blinked, mouth parted, still trying to reconcile the image before him. A stunning woman in heels, with a strawberry the size of a sack of potatoes. Reality felt dreamlike.

"Y-yeah… of course. Come in."

He stepped aside, the door creaking slightly as he closed it behind her. His thoughts were still spinning as she gracefully entered the home. The soft click of her heels against the wooden floor and the faint perfume of fresh fruit made his humble space feel suddenly transformed. He rubbed the back of his neck, trying not to stare, trying not to dwell too much on how radiant she looked.

Ookami made her way to the kitchen like she'd done it a hundred times before, setting the basket down with a gentle thud. Then, without missing a beat, she rolled up her sleeves, put on an apron, and got to work.

Myco lingered nearby, unsure whether to offer help or simply sit down, hypnotized by the sight of her at ease in his kitchen. She moved like a dancer—fluid, focused, and serene. She kneaded dough with strong, confident hands, then carved through the comically large fruit with a blade so sharp and precise, it hummed through the air. Even her smallest movements, like measuring flour or whisking cream, carried the same quiet intensity she always wore in battle or business.

The room gradually filled with the delicious scent of fresh berries and sugar, warm vanilla and butter. The kind of scent that clung to the soul and made memories sweeter. It wrapped around Myco like a soft blanket, tugging at his heart in a way that made his chest ache.

For a moment, he let himself believe this could be a glimpse into a different life. One where she wasn't bound by duty or debt, one where she stayed—where she was his.

Trying to shake himself from his trance, Myco finally spoke. "So… how are you adjusting to life in Keimonomimi Village?"

Ookami glanced over her shoulder, her golden eyes soft with warmth. "I'm adjusting very well," she said, her voice sincere. "Everyone here is so kind, and they don't treat me like some terrifying monster. I feel… at home." She paused, then added with a smile, "And it's all thanks to you, Myco. If you hadn't brought me here, I never would have had the chance to start over."

Hearing those words sent a strange flutter through Myco's chest. He looked at her, the warmth of the kitchen reflecting the warmth in her eyes, and he knew—he would do anything to keep that smile on her face.