Volume 8, Chapter 7: Kudzu Powder (1/2)

The heavy thuds of something being hit resounded from the side of the dilapidated shack. Drawn in by the sound, a brat brimming with curiosity approached.

“What are you doing, Freckles? You’re finally home!”

It was Chou’u. His cheeks were smeared with paint. She heard he had been learning to paint from an artist; it seems he is still continuing.

Maomao was beating plant roots with a mallet, which were actually washed arrowroot. Sazen was also beating arrowroots with a mallet beside her. She thought Kokuyou was going to help her, but he left to watch the shop as there was a customer who came in at the perfect time to buy medicine. The madam would get noisy if they left the place sitting empty for too long.

(I didn’t leave any valuables there. This will probably make the madam’s eyes shine.)

Right now, teaching Sazen how to make the kudzu powder took precedence.

“Are you frustrated? You’re venting your anger on a tree root thing,” Chou’u asked.

“No. We’re making medicine,” Maomao answered.

“Hmmm, it looks mucky.”

“Help out if you’re going to watch. Go draw water from the well.”

“Ehhh—” Chou’u was completely unmotivated. Cheeky kids won’t move unless there’s some bribery involved.

“If you help, I’ll make you a confectionery you’ve never eaten before.”

“I’ll do it!” Chou’u headed towards the well, eyes shining.

“It’s nice when the brat is energetic.” Sazen who was forced to swing a mallet after digging holes was exhausted. There was no life in his eyes. “What’d we do after pulverising this?”

She held up the arrowroot that had been crushed by a mallet. “We’ll wash it and strain it through a sieve. Then repeat.”

Maomao prepared a pail and sieve.

“I brought the water—” Chou’u tottered back.

“Okay.” Maomao washed the arrowroot carefully in the bucket of water. After that, she strained it through the sieve. She bore with the bitingly cold water as she repeated the steps.

“It really is mucky,” Chou’u said.

Muddy brown water dripped from the sieve, while the plant root remained on the sieve.

“Come on already, we still don’t have enough water. Go draw more water,” Maomao said.

“Freckles—drawing water is hard,” Chou’u said.

“When I was your age, I had to do around fifty round trips in a day.”

“…–” As if some part of him hated to lose, the brat went to draw water again.

“Ain’t fifty round trips intense for a child?” Sazen said as he crushed the next arrowroot.

“But I was forced into it,” Maomao said.

“What did you do?”

“….”

(It was punishment for pickling snake in all the wine at the Rokushoukan.)

The madam had given her a look of outrage and took away her meals until she was done. By the way, the madam made spectacular sales out of the pickled wine later by telling customers it had energising properties.

Sazen smashed the arrowroot. Chou’u carried water over. Maomao carefully washed and strained.

Chou’u hated losing, but he’s also a spoiled brat. Before she realised, he had roped a free manservant into helping him.

(This bast*rd.)

Now that there was a manservant helping out, she had no idea what the madam was going to say. Now she had to prepare something to make up for wages.

“Oiiiii, Maomao. Take your… kind, off me.” Sazen sounded aggrieved, as maomao the cat had latched onto his back unnoticed.

“Whose kind?” Maomao placed both hands by maomao’s sides and lifted it up. It meowed as its torso was stretched excessively long. “Hey hey, don’t get in the way.”

The residents of Rokushouken had also spoiled maomao rotten, so it tended to treat humans with contempt. Especially towards underlings like Sazen.

With some moodiness, maomao pawed at Maomao.

“If you get in the way, I’ll turn you into a brush,” she said.

Just when she thought maomao would give a start, it gave the back of its head a scratch with its hindlegs before running off elsewhere.

“You can bully the cat, but I’m done crushing everything–.” Sazen rolled his shoulders. “How are we turning this into powder?” He held up a piece of pulverised arrowroot, one that has already been strained.

“We’re not using that,” Maomao said.

“Eh?”

Maomao pointed to the dirty water. “This is what we’re using.”

“This? Isn’t this dirty water? We weren’t chucking that out?”

“Wha—idiot! Don’t chuck it out!” She found herself yelling.

The most important part of making kudzu powder is the water from the straining.

“As for why we crushed the arrowroot, there are nutrients in the root,” she said.

“Hmhm.”

“Its nutrients dissolve in water. So, the crushed roots are used up after they have been strained.” Maomao intended to explain as thoroughly as possible, but it seems Sazen still has yet to catch on. “Anyways, we’ll let this strained water sit in the house overnight. Try not to move it around so much.”

“No, I still don’t get you.”

“You’ll know by tomorrow.”

“Hmmm.”

Her reply was vague, but he will probably understand once he sees the actual thing tomorrow.

Maomao sighed deeply as she strained the last of the arrowroot.

.

.

.

There was no rest for Maomao after that. She borrowed the kitchen of the Rokushoukan. As expected, the madam requested pay from her for the manservant.

“Heyy, what is this unusual confectionery?” Chou’u whined.

“Ahh, so annoying. I’ll make it now, so shut up.” Maomao took out the leftover kudzu powder and emptied them into a large pot. After it had dissolved, she added syrup.

(It makes the colouring worse, so sugar or honey would be better.)

They’re expensive so it’s wasteful. Even syrup is extravagant.

“The colour’s kinda dirty,” Chou’u said.

“Shut up.” Maomao set the pot on the stove, stirring it briskly with a wooden spoon.

“It turned kinda gloopy,”

“It’s the same as kudzu tea.”