ch 011 (2/2)

I raised my head.

I looked all about. Where was…whatever could pique the interest of a stubborn old dwarf b.a.s.t.a.r.d?

“Those.”

“Pardon?”

“For the love of— Those, in your hand.”

“Pardon?”

The only thing I had in my had was the convenience store bag. And…the empty cans inside?

“Looks to me as if you’re about to throw those away.”

“That’s right, but, uh…? Oh! I won’t toss them just anywhere,” I rushed to say. I could dispose of garbage properly, at least.

“They’re not for sale?”

“Right. If it’s canned food you want, we have plenty there.”

I pointed to the canned food corner.

There were large piles of cans.

Besides what we used for our meals, I had a large a.s.sortment set out to sell. Fruit ones were sweet, so they were treated like candy. For some reason the cans of fish were treated like rare, gourmet meat.

And the particularly salty ones like anchovies were bought as ‘seasoning’.

Of those, ‘Spam’ was the most popular. Spam was a brand name for a very salty kind of canned meat resembling pork sausage. Rather than the reduced-salt type made for distribution in j.a.pan, I went out of my way to bring over the imported version.

“Don’t want what’s in ’em. Too salty anyhow.”

“We have sweet ones, too. Canned oranges. Canned peaches. Plenty of oth—”

“Augh! I’m asking whether you’re selling those ’em-tee cans’ or whatever! Spit it out! Had my eye on those since I came in.”

Huh? Hadn’t he been looking at the scissors and stapler?

I snapped out of my bewilderment.

Catching on at last, I turned a smile on the dwarf.

“Uh, so I should a.s.sume you’re interested in buying these empty cans?

“That’s right. Been saying since the start.”

No, he hadn’t. He really hadn’t.

This stubborn old tsundere b.a.s.t.a.r.d had only ever ‘said’ that through his tsundere-ish body language.

“Hmmm.”

I thought it over.

“You won’t sell ’em?”

“Hmmm,” I vacillated, arms stiffly crossed. Then, “Well, uh, in this case, I guess there’s…no other option.”

The dwarf’s shoulders drooped, and he started trudging toward the door.

“Master, is the blacksmith leaving?”

Eh? Wha!?

So quick! He had thrown in the towel so quickly! Thrown it at mach speed!?

“Eh?  Aaah, wait! Hold on, hold on! You’ve got it all— I’m not saying I won’t sell them!”

I moved to head the dwarf off.

“You…mean that?”

The corners of the dwarf’s mouth contorted into a smile. It was more of a ‘smirk’ than a ‘smile,’ though.

Ah-hah. But…

Wasn’t my goal achieved?

Hadn’t that been a smile on the old dwarf’s face?

“There’s just the matter of price. These are garba— That is, these are a byproduct of the proper use of canned food. L—Look, blacksmiths get ash from heating their forges, right? Would you know what to do if someone said he wanted that ash?”

“Farmers come for my ash. I give ’em all of it.”

“For free?”

“Of course.”

“All right. Then I’ll give you these for free, too.”

“Can’t have that.”

The dwarf shook his head.

There was his stubborn old b.a.s.t.a.r.d side again.

Aren’t you the one who just said you give all your ashes away for free?

“I’m not sure what you’d use these empty cans for. However, I have no use for them. In fact, I’m so desperate for a way to dispose of them that if you took them off my hands, I’d pay you.”

That was true.

In modern j.a.pan, it was gradually becoming the norm to pay to have your garbage taken away.

“Nope. That’d put me in your debt. I don’t do debts.”

The dwarf crossed his arms and puffed out his chest.

There was his stubborn old b.a.s.t.a.r.d logic.

“Just name your price. If I think they’re worth it, I’ll buy ’em. If not, I’ll forgo ’em.”

“If you want me to name my price, that price is ‘free’. I couldn’t take a copper more. That’s right. I’m not about to offer more than that.”

I, too, crossed my arms and puffed out my chest in defiance.

“Master? Master Blacksmith? What is all this? Do either of you see what you’re saying? Are you OK?”

“Shut up, Idiot Elf. This is between men.”

“That’s right. It’s beyond a female’s ken.”

“OK, I’m female so I don’t get it, I guess? But I do know there’s another thing you can try. Being female and all,” the elf girl began. “Let’s see, how’s this? We start by gathering all of our own empty cans and the cans of other customers together at the shop.”

“Huh? Oh, I see. We could be the ones to collect the customers’ garb—er, empty cans?”

Come to think of it, garbage collection was one responsibility of a shop.

“As for you, Master Blacksmith, what if you took—not bought, just took—the empty cans for the time being?”

“Harumph.”

“And then sold this shop some of the wares you crafted from that iron at wholesale prices?”

“Harumph. Wouldn’t mind that at all.”

“Eh? What? You’d use the empty cans to…make things with?” I asked. This was news to me.

“That’s right.” Arms still crossed, the dwarf nodded imperiously.

“There, see? I knew you hadn’t figured it out,” the idiot elf chimed in as well.

“These are iron. Fairly high quality, even.”

The dwarf thrust his hand into the convenience store bag and took one empty can.

Oh, no!

The sweet and salty sauce from the mackerel pike can slimed his fingers.

But the dwarf, without seeming to mind—or even to notice—stared at the can with the intense focus of an artisan who has come across a quality material.

“This iron’s purity is extremely high. In my estimation, so high a percent as you could likely put no few nines after the ninety-nine. It’s always an effort to refine the carbon out of my iron, but I need only add carbon to make the finest steel of this! Surely that’s so! Surely…!”

The dwarf crushed the can in his fist. “It shall be so!!”

“Eep! What in the…!?”

As the dwarf crushed the can, his eyes flew wide open, and he let out a huge bellow…

…and I leaped to dodge a shower of his spit.

“I—I see. S—So the empty cans will be…a smithing resource? Hm. Um-hmm. Hmmm. Hm-hmm.”

“Master, were you being stubborn for no reason?”

“Uh, well, you know. There was… It’s just that…”

“You should accept however many pieces of ironware you would consider the equivalent of the cans we gave, Master, and put them up for sale. The blacksmith’s blades and tools are popular in town, so I’m sure they’ll be very popular here as well.”

“I see.”

I had seen the blacksmith’s scissors. Could I sell those here? Not a bad idea. I even wanted a pair for myself.

“All right. Then it’s a deal.”

I clasped the extended hand of the dwarven blacksmith.

His hand was about as rugged as a leather glove.

And he was so strong, it felt like his grip was practically one ton.

Ow-ow-ow-ow-ow!

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