The quiet place Yamoto had chosen was an old ryokan with hot spring facilities near a train station. There was a business hotel close by, but she seemed to prefer old-fashioned places.
Once we checked in and entered the privacy of our room, Yamoto turned to me.
"Were you surprised?" she asked, a soft expression on her face. "There are many such lodging facilities in this world. I considered inviting you to my house at first, but if I'd brought an otherworldly goddess like you home, my family would have freaked out. Explaining the situation to them would have been a pain. This felt like the easiest option."
While she'd been a millennial turtle in Fiori, Yamoto was now a twenty-year-old young woman. I wasn't surprised to hear that she still lived with her parents, and I could see how bringing over someone who obviously wasn't Japanese could lead to a bunch of nosy questions.
Still, it felt weird thinking that she now had a family. She'd obviously have one, being reincarnated as a human and all, but it felt strange...in a good way, though. When she'd mentioned them, a faint smile had curled her lips upward, and I was relieved to see she seemed to have a good relationship with them.
"This ryokan is a bit old-fashioned, but it's pretty cheap. There's even a hot spring—you should have a soak later."
A hot spring, huh? This meant I could go to...the women's bath. I hadn't enjoyed being a peeping tom in a while.
The whole gender-bender thing had done nothing to kill the Neo Armstrong Cyclone Jet Armstrong Cannon inside my heart. Speaking of my cannon, it sadly had no interest in my own naked form. It was probably natural, but standing in front of a mirror did nothing for me.
Anyway, I started telling Yamoto about what had happened after the battle against the "witch." I explained that I'd given my spot as the saint to Alfrea immediately after, caught her up on what everyone was doing, brought up Emperor Saitonaruta, and mentioned how I'd kicked his ass in a split second.
Yamoto also shared with me how it had been for her on Earth. She cackled as she recalled how confused she'd been at the start.
"At first I thought this was some sort of joke," she said. "Can you imagine me, a thousand-year-old turtle going to school surrounded by little humans? Moreover, academics is so much more advanced here that I actually had to sit and listen to the teachings of youngsters who hadn't even lived a tenth of my life. And you know what? It wasn't so bad. I figured you might kill Saitonaruta's ghost eventually. It made the most sense."
"As I thought, you knew about him, Profeta."
"I did, but I didn't think there was much point in warning you about him. As long as he was under the sea, he wasn't a threat to anyone. I might have told you after everything was over, but sadly, I ran out of time before that."
Just as I'd suspected, she had known about the Saitonaruta Empire and simply hadn't mentioned it for the reasons I'd guessed. For all the trouble he may have caused years ago, the guy was practically harmless at this point. This brought his priority order way down on the list—especially considering that, at the time, we'd had Alexia to worry about.
I'd died immediately after we'd taken out Alexia, and by the time I'd come back to life, the fight against the "witch" was already underway. Then, Profeta had passed. There hadn't really been a good time for her to bring him up.
There was something rather peculiar about our situation.
I'd died in Japan before being reincarnated in Fiori. Profeta had died in Fiori before being reincarnated in Japan. In other words, we were both dead people. And yet, here we were, having a conversation—it was quite something, right?
Speaking of which, both of us had died, but neither had seen the world beyond...had we?
"Profeta, there's something I'd like to ask you. Do you think that this world is the afterlife for the people of Fiori?"
I used to believe that Fiori was the afterlife. I'd assumed Kuon no Sanka had somehow been modeled after it...but I realized it was completely and utterly impossible after I'd learned that Yamoto had written the game's scenario based on what she knew and her imagination—not because she was some sort of omniscient god.
This had cast doubt on my strong belief that a world after death had to exist. For all I knew, I'd mistakenly rushed toward death hoping to find solace in an afterlife that had never even existed.
"No," she replied. "I think I ended up here by chance. There is a place where the souls of the deceased go in Fiori. I felt it when I became the prophet, and I know the saints have too. The world's will—if I can call it that—taught us that truth. I'm sure you'll feel it too someday."
The prophet was also one of the world's proxies. Considering the existence of both the prophets and the saints, there was no doubt the world had a will of its own. And apparently, that will had somehow told Profeta and the others that the afterlife was a thing.
This meant there had to be an afterlife in Fiori... Then again, maybe it didn't. The will of the world had historically been a bit unreliable. Besides, even if it did exist, there was no telling it'd actually be the lazy person's paradise I'd always dreamed of.
I mean, the world's will is a bit of a klutz...an irresponsible klutz.
If it had been a little more on top of things, it wouldn't have let that tragedy go on for over a thousand years, right?
Eve's descent into madness could be attributed to Emperor Saitonaruta, and creating a saint to stop her made sense too. But why hadn't it ever done anything to fix the glaring problem that was the saints' weakness to negative emotions? All the saints (except Alfrea, who was an exception) had joined the dark side one after the other because of it. Rather than trying out something new, the world had tirelessly created a succession of saints with the exact same recipe. No wonder Fiori became such a mess—the world never learned from its mistakes!
Not to mention that this ridiculous cycle had given birth to the "witch," an abomination no one could defeat! In the end, another bug in the system—me—had ended up bringing an end to the whole mess.
What nonsense.
In the game I knew of, the world after death was a wonderful place where you could rest without a care in the world. However, that was nothing more than a figment of Profeta's imagination.
Besides, the one who'd written the game I knew of wasn't even this Profeta. It was the one from the original Fiori—the one in which everything had ended very badly. Now that I thought about it, she might've just written what she hoped the afterlife was to ease her pain. After all they'd gone through, she would've wanted the people she used to know to be happy, at least in death.
I know it took me a while to realize, but I was kind of amazed at myself. I'd done all that because of the baseless assumption that I'd get to take it easy in NEET paradise after I died. This brings my stupidity into a new light!
Had the split of my soul affected my intellect that badly? I could see myself far more clearly now that my soul was complete again. Looking back on it, Fudou Niito (me) had always thought that Ellize (me) was a bit of a dumbass who failed to notice even the most obvious problems.
At least seventy percent of my intellect had remained in Niito.
The issue was that even now that I was whole, I still couldn't exactly claim that I was the wisest guy around.
"What's wrong? Is something on your mind?" Yamoto asked.
"I was just wondering what the afterlife could be like."
"Well...I don't think we'll find out until it's time for us to go. Leaving that aside, dinner won't be served for a while. What do you say about trying out the hot spring?"
At the end of the day, she was right. There was no way to know what the afterlife would be like before our death. I wasn't in a hurry to find out either. I'd stopped thinking of death as an easy escape. How could I after seeing Layla break down like that?
All right, that's enough thinking for today! Forget about theology, now's the time to enjoy a nice soak!
I didn't need to die to get a glimpse of heaven, if you catch my drift. Heh heh heh.
◇
Long story short, heaven didn't exist.
There were only old ladies around—any young women around had most likely elected to stay in the stylish hotel next door.
Yamoto was right there with me, and while she technically was a young woman...she was a thousand-year-old turtle on the inside. I couldn't shake off her old appearance from my mind no matter how much I tried, so my interest in her was close to zero.
I ended up soaking in the hot water for a while before getting up and calling it a day. While it had been kind of underwhelming, I had to admit that bathing in a hot spring always felt great. This experience had motivated me to look for a natural hot spring and start digging once I went back to Fiori.
I'll invite Alfrea and Eterna.
"Just as I thought, your yukata suits you. Well, I suppose everything does," Yamoto commented.
"It suits you too, Profeta," I answered.
"I appreciate the flattery. All right, it's almost time for dinner, so let's go back to our room."
After our bath, Yamoto and I had both changed into yukata. Modern dresses stood out a bit too much at traditional ryokan, so I'd probably keep it on until it was time to leave.
On our way back to our room, we passed a few people. Each time we did, they stared at me, mouth agape. Yup, no surprise here.
Dinner was served. It consisted of sashimi, tempura, roasted pork, and chawanmushi—exactly what you'd expect at a ryokan.
"Not too surprised, Ellize?" Yamoto asked. "In this world, people often eat raw fish. Don't worry, though, I guarantee you won't get sick. This is wasabi. Try it, then add the amount you like to the fish."
She sounded elated and she looked at me intently, anticipating my reaction. She was probably waiting for me to have a typical otherworlder reaction—you know, the usual "No way! I can't believe raw fish tasted so good!" after taking a bite.
I totally got her. I also loved this trope—it was exactly why I baked cakes for Layla and Alfrea on the other side.
Yamoto was a light novel and game writer. Observing a real otherworlder's live reaction would become a priceless experience she could incorporate into her work. As for her, I imagined that she probably hadn't been shocked by the whole eating raw fish thing. After all, she'd been a turtle in her previous life—she must've retained some of her turtle tastes even as a human.
Oh well, I wasn't complaining. I hadn't had sashimi in a while. I decided to go for the staple first—lean tuna. I added some wasabi, dipped it in soy sauce, and ate it.
That was a bit too much wasabi. I wondered if my palate was more childish now compared to my previous life. Still, it was great. I was almost moved by the wonderful taste of the fish.
In passing, I was usually one to dissolve some wasabi in my soy sauce rather than adding it to the fish directly. I knew it was a breach of etiquette, so I avoided doing it in public, but I still thought it tasted best that way. When I didn't use my preferred method, the spiciness of wasabi was too overwhelming, and I felt like I couldn't enjoy the taste of sashimi properly. Dissolving the wasabi in the sauce first curbed the spiciness and allowed me to enjoy both flavors distinctly. It was especially obvious with fish that had a light, delicate flavor. You ended up tasting only the wasabi and the soy sauce.
But, well, to each their own, right?
Incidentally, my favorite sashimi was salmon. The faint sweetness and fatty taste were addictive, especially when mixed with the acidity of soy sauce and the spiciness of wasabi that lingered afterward.
"This is good," I said.
"Your reaction is so normal... I was expecting something more..."
"Well, it's not my first time trying sashimi. I had some in Giappon."
"Oh, right. I forgot that country existed for a minute. It's no wonder you're unfazed, then."
Giappon was the pseudo-Japan of Fiori. The food culture there was fairly similar to that of Japan, and I'd been served sashimi and tempura on one of my visits to hunt monsters. As such, one could eat sashimi even in Fiori.
The more I thought about it, the more convinced I became that a Japanese person had transmigrated to Giappon in the past—probably someone bright, at that, since they'd reinvented soy sauce and miso too.
"Speaking of which, you can speak Japanese, Ellize. Did you learn the language here?"
"Yes. I used to chat with Mister Niito a lot, after all."
It wasn't exactly a lie. I'd learned Japanese in Japan (after I'd been born here in my past life) and I used to talk to Fudou Niito quite a lot.
I didn't want to keep discussing this topic for too long—I was worried I'd slip and say something stupid, so I went back to eating.
My chopsticks' next target was the tempura.
There were two camps when it came to tempura: tsuyu sauce or plain salt.
I personally was a tsuyu sauce kind of guy. Tempura with just plain salt were great too, don't get me wrong, but they were kind of dry. Adding a bit of sauce made them easier to eat.
Obviously, I was talking about store-bought tempura. It wasn't really something that could be fixed, but tempura usually sat in supermarkets for hours before being eaten. The batter inevitably became dry and kind of chewy. Tsuyu sauce helped smooth over these issues.
Freshly deep-fried tempura, on the other hand, were perfectly crispy. Dipping them in sauce would make them lose their crispiness, so I liked to eat those with salt.
While shrimp were a staple, I preferred pumpkin, sweet potato, or eggplant tempura. My fondness for vegetables could probably be explained by my taste for sweetness.
I was glad to see that the tempura we'd been served were crispy. Even if the taste was identical, the texture of the batter could truly make or break tempura.
Next was the pork. It had been roasted on a ceramic plate. While it was a very simple dish with light seasoning, the meat was good—a world of difference from the pork you could find in Fiori. People ate pork there too, but there hadn't been hundreds of years of selective breeding to create the perfect species. They just fed whichever pig they could find and then ate them in winter when nothing else was available. As I chewed on the specially-bred-and-raised pork, I inwardly thanked the animal. It was cruel, for sure, but there was no denying its meat was incredibly good.
Thank you, piggy.
In between bites, I had a bit of rice and felt thankful for that too. There was also rice in Fiori, but as with the pork, the difference in quality was painfully obvious. The blood and tears of the farmers who'd competed for centuries to create the best possible rice were worth something, after all.
I finished my meal with the soft taste of the chawanmushi before setting my chopsticks down.
I used to be more into Western food, but I'd just realized all over again how good Japanese cuisine was. In my previous life, I would've picked steak over sashimi, fried shrimp over shrimp tempura, and custard pudding over chawanmushi any day. How foolish I'd been! I had no clue what was truly good.
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