Chapter 36, Tradition

Translator: Barnnn

 

The next morning, Ize stood before the towering vats, her heart thrumming with excitement… but then she realized the rim was far above her line of sight.

 

[…Right, I forgot I was too short to climb in.]

 

Hal, standing beside her, took one look at her predicament and burst into laughter. Ize shot him a sharp glare, and with a huff, reached into her Magic Bag. She pulled a sturdy wooden crate — one of the many she had obtained from the polpetta delivery.

With a solid thud, she set it down and climbed onto it, the added height allowing her to peer over the edge of the vat. She glanced at Hal with a triumphant smirk, daring him to say anything.

Hal shrugged, still chuckling, and rose onto his toes to look inside.

 

“Looks good to me,” he said after a moment of inspection.

“How much water did you put in, again?”

“About half full. Like you said, filling it too deep would be a pain for bathing.”

“All right… Then it should work.” Ize frowned slightly. “Now, what should we do with this water?”

Hal scratched the back of his head. “I was thinking we could store it in our Magic Bags for now and dump it at a water source later.”

“Do you think that will work as a way to handle bathwater going forward?”

“Probably. By the way, I’ve been experimenting with using magic to make a shower. Watch this.”

 

Raising a hand, Hal cast wind magic, lifting a portion of the vat’s contents into the air. Then the water sprayed outward, catching the morning sunlight in a cascade of shimmering droplets.

 

“It’s pretty tricky to pull off, actually, but if I can refine the control, combining water and wind magic could give us a proper shower setup.”

“That’s not a bad idea,” Ize nodded. “But for now, let’s focus on modifying these vats. We’ll work out the details tonight.”

 

After confirming that the second vat was in equally good condition, Hal siphoned the water into his Magic Bag while Ize stored the vats.

As they resumed their journey down the road, Hal couldn’t resist playing with his newly stored water, practicing by shooting tiny jets into the air.

 

“Toh! Hah! Tah!” he chanted dramatically, flicking his wrists as if performing an ancient ritual.

 

Ize glanced at him, barely suppressing a laugh.

 

[This feels like some kind of traditional performance art…]

 

◆

 

By late morning, after being overtaken by several horsebuses along the highway, they reached their destination.

The size of the town, Haradory, reminded Ize of Rinzuda, though it buzzed with an energy unique to festival season.

At the town gate, they inquired about the festival. The guards, friendly and enthusiastic, explained the details.

Haradory’s autumn festival kicked off tonight with a pre-festival celebration. There would be food and dancing, and participants were expected to wear traditional festival attire.

Then, the next day, the festivities would conclude with a ritual — burying the festival props in fields or house gardens to pray for next year’s bountiful harvest.

 

“The fun part seems to be tonight,” Ize observed after thanking the guards.

“Perfect — let’s skip getting a room and head straight to the square they mentioned. Sounds like most people stay up all night for the festivities.”

“Sounds good.”

 

Ize and Hal picked up skewered vegetables from a cheerful vendor, enjoying a light lunch as they made their way to the town square.

By early afternoon, they found a suitable spot amidst the growing crowd. They set down their things and took a nap.

Then, when the sun dipped below the horizon, a deafening crack signaled the start of the festival. Fireworks burst overhead, scattering light across the gathering.

 

“Hal, look at this — this is…!” Ize’s voice faltered as she pointed toward the main square.

“No way,” Hal said, blinking rapidly.

“But it totally looks like–!”

“It can’t be, though!”

 

The source of their astonishment was the attire of the townsfolk.

Billowy white shirts hung loosely over their bodies, but what truly drew attention were the stuffed midsections — plump, round forms bulging beneath the fabric. Each “belly” was painted with a wide, beaming face, the designs varying wildly yet all radiating cheerfulness.

 

“This is… this is straight out of a belly dance gag! Like something from the Showa era!” Ize exclaimed, her voice filled with disbelief.

 

Indeed, though the original Japanese gag involved drawing faces directly onto bare bellies, the resemblance was uncanny. The townsfolk of Haradory, clad in loose, billowy shirts with stuffed midsections painted into grinning caricatures, looked like they had wandered out of a retro izakaya after one too many rounds of sake.

And the absurdity didn’t end there.

On the main stage stood the mayor — he, too, sported a rotund belly-face. Raising his arms dramatically, he called for silence and began his opening speech.

 

“This town was saved over five hundred years ago by a great Hero, who vanquished a fearsome Mystic Beast and protected our people! To honor the Hero’s deeds, the townsfolk gathered the bounty of autumn and celebrated with a festival. During that first celebration, the Hero himself performed a dance, and that tradition has been carried on, uninterrupted, for five centuries! That dance, called Haradory or Haradora, is the origin of our town’s name, Haradory. Let us give thanks to the Hero — and to the blessings of the harvest! Now, I officially open Haradory’s Autumn Festival!”

 

As the mayor stepped back, music erupted from the stage — an energetic melody of flutes and drums that seemed tailor-made for bouncing movements. The crowd immediately joined in, clapping and jiggling their painted bellies in synchronized motions.

 

[Haradory… Hara-odori! It’s literally belly dancing!]

 

Ize stood frozen, wide-eyed as the absurd scene unfolded before her.

Hal, meanwhile, tugged at her arm.

 

“Ize,” he murmured, “can we… uh… step aside for a moment?”

“Y-yes, of course,” she stammered, snapping out of her daze.

 

Dodging the sea of gyrating bellies, Ize followed Hal to the edge of the square. There, Hal sank to the ground, his head in his hands.

 

“Hal, are you all right?” she asked, crouching beside him.

“Yeah…” Hal muttered, waving a hand vaguely. “Can you cast Stealth?”

“Sure. Here.”

 

Without hesitation, Ize raised the barrier around them. The moment it was in effect, Hal erupted like a volcano.

 

“HEROOOOOOOOO! Why the hell were you doing belly dances!? What kind of bizarre culture did you leave behind in another world!?”

 

[Oh no. He’s bonkers.]

 

For several minutes, Hal ranted with abandon, his tirade against the long-departed Hero safely muted to the outside world.

 

◆

 

“Sorry about that,” Hal said at last. “I got a little carried away.”

“It’s fine,” Ize replied.

“I mean, I know, logically, that once a tradition takes root, it doesn’t matter where or how it started.”

“Yes.”

“But seeing this — it just felt like it crossed some kind of line for me.”

“Yes.”

“C’mon, you could at least try to argue…” Hal protested, sitting up straight. “Look, I’m sorry, okay?”

“Don’t worry about it. Watching you lose your cool helped me stay calm.”

“That’s mean, Ize!”

 

With Hal’s composure restored, the two wandered toward the festival’s bustling stalls.

The music continued, and the dancers moved with infectious joy, their real faces as radiant as the smiles painted on their bellies. Many had painted caricatures of themselves, but a few had opted for elaborate artistic designs that bordered on impressive.

 

“As shocking as it was at first,” Hal admitted, “the more I look at it… the more I think it’s not that big of a deal after all.”

“I agree,” Ize nodded. “Festivals are meant to be fun, after all. Let’s just enjoy it for what it is.”

“Right. Hey, Ize, look over there — ‘Haradory Sets’! Let’s check them out!”

 

Deciding to completely embrace the absurdity of it all, the pair approached a vendor selling festival attire. The “Haradory Set” included an oversized T-shirt, stuffing for the belly, and an option to have a caricature painted onto the fabric.

Hal insisted on getting one — and Ize, swept up in his enthusiasm, reluctantly followed suit. Moments later, both were donning their loose T-shirts and carefully stuffing the bellies to just the right degree of roundness.

 

“This stuffing smells good,” Ize remarked, lifting a handful to her nose and inhaling deeply.

“That’s because it’s filled with herbs!” the vendor said with a cheerful grin.

“Herbs?”

“Yep! They say the Mystic Beast the Hero defeated hated the scent of these herbs. The town grows them in abundance now. Before they wither, we harvest them for the festival. Afterward, we bury them in the ground. It’s our way of praying for another year free from attacks — and for a bountiful harvest, so our bellies stay full!”

“How thoughtful. It’s a lovely fragrance. But what about people who don’t live here? What are they supposed to do with it?”

“There are collection points set up. You’ll find them near the gates or the horsebus stops. Just drop the stuffing off there when you leave.”

“I see. Thank you!”

“Don’t mention it! Now go on — enjoy the festival! Things are just getting started!”

 

With their shirts now adorned by slightly wonky yet undeniably charming caricatures of their own faces, Ize and Hal dove into the festivities.

They soon stumbled upon a lively group of young festivalgoers engaged in a spirited contest of dramatic belly shakes, much like a dance-off.

Occasionally, someone’s stuffing would shift and slide to their back, creating the illusion of a hunchback. This mishap never failed to send the onlookers into fits of laughter.

 

“So this is what the Hero protected, huh?” Hal mused.

“And what the people passed down,” Ize added.

“Though… the content feels a bit… questionable.”

“That’s history for you.”

“If you were responsible for something like this, would it be a dark spot in your legacy?”

“Pitch black.”

 

Their shared laughter dissolved the absurdity into pure joy, and before they knew it, they had joined the throng of dancers.

While neither had the skills — or the courage — for true belly dancing, they threw themselves into the festivities, spinning, jumping, and swaying to the lively beat, their stuffed bellies wobbling comically.

Between dances, they wandered among the food stalls, sharing bites and exchanging smiles and laughter as they watched the exuberance of the crowd.

As the night wore on, the constant motion began to take its toll on the herbal stuffing. The once-plump bellies began to shrink as the crushed herbs crumbled away, leaving the painted faces on the shirts with drooping, almost melancholic expressions.

By the time the music slowed to a softer, more intimate tempo, couples of lovers began swaying together in pairs. Their diminished bellies pressed close, the drooping caricatures now oddly endearing in their weary smiles.

A gentle melody filled the air, and the crowd began to sing. The words came naturally, as though the song were etched into the hearts of the townsfolk.

 

The mountain woman said,

“Won’t someone defeat that beast?”

 

And the Hero replied,

“I shall be the one to vanquish it.”

 

The river man said,

“Won’t someone defeat that serpent?”

 

And the Hero replied,

“I shall be the one to vanquish it.”

 

Before the sea beast, the Hero said,

“Who will stand with me?”

 

The mountain woman replied,

“I shall stand at your right.”

 

The river man replied,

“And I shall stand at your left.”

 

The Goddess saw this and said,

“Then I shall grant your wish.”

 

Together, they felled the beast.

And so the Hero and the woman and the man said,

“Praise be to the Goddess, now and forever.”

 

“I’m glad the Hero wasn’t alone.”

“The people of this world fought beside him. They didn’t just dump everything on the otherworlder.”

“Maybe that’s why the Hero chose to save this town.”

“Yeah, probably.”

 

The festival air shimmered with the scent of herbs, the warmth of laughter, and the lingering hum of song.

In their first festival in this foreign world, Ize and Hal experienced astonishment, laughter, and a touch of poignancy, and they savored every moment of it.

 

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