Spring Log II Read online

  Copyright

  SPICE AND WOLF, Volume 19

  ISUNA HASEKURA

  Translation by Jeremiah Bourque

  Cover art by Jyuu Ayakura

  This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, or persons, living or dead, is coincidental.

  OOKAMI TO KOSHINRYO Vol. 19

  ©ISUNA HASEKURA 2017

  Edited by ASCII MEDIA WORKS

  First published in Japan in 2017 by KADOKAWA CORPORATION, Tokyo.

  English translation rights arranged with KADOKAWA CORPORATION, Tokyo, through Tuttle-Mori Agency, Inc., Tokyo.

  English translation © 2018 by Yen Press, LLC

  Yen Press, LLC supports the right to free expression and the value of copyright. The purpose of copyright is to encourage writers and artists to produce the creative works that enrich our culture.

  The scanning, uploading, and distribution of this book without permission is a theft of the author’s intellectual property. If you would like permission to use material from the book (other than for review purposes), please contact the publisher. Thank you for your support of the author’s rights.

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  Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data

  Names: Hasekura, Isuna, 1982–author. | Ayakura, Jyuu, 1981–illustrator. | Bourque, Jeremiah, translator.

  Title: Spice and wolf. Volume 19, Spring log II/Isuna Hasekura, Jyuu Ayakura ; translation by Jeremiah Bourque.

  Other titles: Spice and Wolf | Spring log II

  Description: First Yen On edition. | New York, NY : Yen On, 2018.

  Identifiers: LCCN 2017007288 | ISBN 9781975300128 (paperback)

  Subjects: | CYAC: Fantasy. | Goddesses—Fiction. | Wolves— Fiction. | BISAC: FICTION / Fantasy / Historical.

  Classification: LCC PZ7.H2687 Sqo2017 | DOC [Fic]— dc23 LC record available at https://lccn.loc.gov/2017007288

  ISBNs: 978-1-9753-0012-8 (paperback)

  978-1-9753-2710-1 (ebook)

  E3-20180221-JV-PC

  A PETAL’S FRAGRANCE AND WOLF

  No matter how much he cleaned, dust gathered in the corners of rooms, so of course the neglected shed grew messier throughout the years. He’d come searching for the hand mill he suddenly needed for a village event, but it was impossible to find.

  “That’s strange…I don’t think I threw it away, and since Hanna doesn’t use it, it should be here…”

  Lawrence stood up, scratching his head, and exited the dusty shed for the moment.

  “Can you not find it?”

  Holo sat on a tree stump in front of the small structure, a knitted, woolen shawl draped over her shoulders. Had she sat quietly, she would have been the very image of a young, new bride, what with her loosely braided flaxen hair, the long skirt she wore, and that hint of childishness still in her face.

  However, Holo was not as young as she appeared, and a wolf’s tail, the same color as her hair, peeked out from under her clothes. It was not fur she carried to keep her warm but her actual tail, and its owner was the avatar of a wolf who had lived for several hundred years.

  Over ten years earlier, she had met Lawrence, a traveling merchant at the time, and at the end of their journey, they had arrived at the northern hot springs of Nyohhira as husband and wife.

  “I can’t ask you to sniff out the smell of stone, huh?”

  As the incarnation of a wolf, Holo had big, triangular animal ears on her head, and her sense of smell rivaled that of any hound. She could even sniff out something lost in the mountains, but a small millstone would likely be quite a feat.

  “Had you slept with it in your arms every night, I may have.”

  “I’d probably suffer horribly if I cheated on you.”

  He could easily imagine Holo glaring at his pained self over a drink.

  “Fool. I would tear you to shreds for such adultery.”

  She leaned forward and rested her chin on her palm, showing her fangs in a toothy grin.

  Despite what she said, Lawrence thought that if anything like that did happen, she would be more sad than angry—and about how bringing tears to her eyes would be much more agonizing than being ripped apart.

  “I’ll be sure to keep that in mind.”

  “As long as you make sure it stays in your puny mind.”

  Holo stood and hopped to the entrance of the shed, peeking inside.

  “’Tis full of things.”

  “It’s been ten years since we started the bathhouse. It’s quite a collection now.”

  “Mm. ’Tis true, seeing this and that brings back memories.”

  The shed held things they typically used such as axes, saws, and hammers, as well as things that guests had forgotten or left in their care, all on top of spare parts for fixing broken chairs and the like. They all gave meaning to these past ten years.

  “This netting as well…Had we not used this as a cradle for Myuri?”

  Holo brushed a dust-covered netting that hung from the ceiling with her finger as she smiled with her eyes.

  It had not exactly been intended as a replacement for a cradle but something they put their daughter in when it was impossible to divert any attention from their work, mostly because they never knew what sort of trouble the overly energetic Myuri would get into if they left her alone.

  Their daughter had inherited Holo’s magnificent blood, sprouting her own wolf ears and tail. At the time, her fluffy tail had been as big as she was, so when they put her in the net, Myuri looked exactly like a trapped wolf pup.

  The months and days since then had flown by in a flash.

  “She fit so well in such a small thing.”

  “Yeah, she’s grown up fast.” Lawrence sighed as he spoke, because once her height had doubled, her energy seemingly quadrupled. “Hmm, oh, right.”

  “Mm?”

  “Myuri used to mess around in here sometimes. She might’ve just taken it to use in one of her pranks.”

  Holo looked at him in puzzlement at first, then chuckled.

  “’Tis quite possible. I recall she was interested in making ointments at one time.”

  Their daughter had delighted in collecting grasses and mushrooms for her pet project, grinding the ingredients with rocks and rolling the paste into balls. For some reason, all the village children had been obsessed.

  “She may have considered it too much work to put it away and buried it someplace on the mountain.”

  “…I’ll ask her.”

  Lawrence’s sigh was clear this time as he placed a hand on the door.

  “Hey, I’m closing up now.”

  Holo had been staring curiously around the shed and turned toward him when he spoke.

  Then, as she was about to exit as requested, her gaze suddenly fixed on a corner of the room.

  “What’s wrong?”

  “Mmm…I feel as though I may recall something…”

  Holo reached toward an assortment of small objects sitting on a wooden shelf. Coated as the items were in grime and mold, it was hard to distinguish them by shape alone. She took one from the shelf, brushed off some dust, and rubbed it against the hem
of her clothes, revealing a small glass vial.

  “Ahh, aye.”

  As she looked at the vial, the hint of a smile appeared on her face.

  “This…It may be next to impossible to find the mill.”

  “Huh?”

  Just as he was about to ask what she meant, Lawrence finally realized.

  The corners of his mouth drew upward on their own. It was, of course, a wry smile.

  “That’s right, I remember now.”

  “You obtained this vial on our journey so long ago, yes? Did Myuri not find it here and press questions upon us with her usual curiosity?”

  Holo placed her hand on the cork of the vial as she spoke.

  And then she removed the lid on Lawrence’s memories.

  He had come across that vial during his second spring with Holo.

  Traveling merchants were much like migratory birds. From the snowy, northern countries to the warm climes and blue seas of the south, their year was spent traveling in all directions. Unlike town-based traders, they were not tied to land or people, so it was rather easy to move freely. The one difficulty was the inability to make close friends, the unchanging fact that no matter where they went, they would forever be an outsider. Even after death, they simply rotted away in the village they happened to be passing through or by the roadside, unbeknownst to anyone. Though their destinations welcomed merchants, along with the cargo and business they brought, this did not mean friendship.

  It was hard to tell comfort and loneliness apart.

  That was why logic dictated he should find someone to sit beside him in the driver’s perch to bury the nighttime loneliness. He would simply have to endure losing part of his comfort.

  “Why do we head east?”

  He heard a voice from behind. She had happily sat beside him in the driver’s perch up until three days before, when her mood took a turn for the worse.

  He knew the reason.

  “Didn’t I tell you?”

  Lawrence spoke, still gripping the reins, not bothering to look back.

  It was spring, and though the wind was still chilly, the sun grew stronger and stronger with each day. The two were passing through endless fields of tall grass. Lawrence sensed that Holo was sulking in the wagon. Her tail was likely puffed out wide in anger. He sighed, but not because he had grown irritated with her selfishness.

  “I wish we could go west, too. We’ve been living on the road for three weeks now. I want to splurge on a room with a wool-stuffed bed and drink wine to my heart’s content. I want to wake up late, eat lunch with the windows open, and lazily gaze out on lively town streets.”

  And yet, at the fork in the road, Lawrence had turned the cart to the east.

  That was because Lawrence was a traveling merchant, and he had a client to meet.

  “And you have tossed such important things aside all for a chance to make money!”

  “That’s right. I love gold. Oh, beautiful lumione!”

  Lawrence’s voice was loud and exaggerated, and he could hear Holo’s groan behind him.

  Holo also understood that there was nothing to be done about the situation, but it had probably been unwise for her to assume they would stop for a break in a town.

  “But the abbot at a monastery who I have known for many years through peddling has asked me a favor, so I have no choice but to go. And he’s asked me to check on an unlucky lamb who was suddenly called home to serve as a lord, even though it was his family who decided to place him in the monastery at a young age. Not only will we be able to get close to this new young lord, who’s probably facing great hardship from his ignorance about earthly matters and totally unable to tell his left from his right, but we might even have a chance to help him! Any merchant would go, and those who wouldn’t…are definitely not merchants.”

  After a number of adventures, he had promised Holo he would no longer accept big jobs that would put them in danger, but not only did he believe this did not fall into that category, it was also novel work with promising profits.

  The only thing they needed to offer in compensation was to slightly delay their rest, but in return, they would make the acquaintance of a feudal lord, and that was profit enough.

  Holo was reluctant, and though she should have understood by now, still she argued.

  “You…”

  That deep voice was proof of her displeasure. If Lawrence continued in this manner and truly angered Holo, she would most certainly not allow him to have her warm tail under the blanket while he slept that night.

  Though it was spring, it was still cold sleeping outside.

  “I know, I know. Know that I’ll make it up to you.”

  “…”

  There was no response, so he sighed before continuing.

  “Though the place where we’re heading is small, it’s still the house of a lord. Look forward to the hospitality…”

  He spoke only up to that point before tapering off because he suddenly felt a lukewarm breath on the nape of his neck.

  Holo could discern people’s lies with those wolf ears of hers.

  It was child’s play for her to gauge the substance of his words.

  Before she had a chance to nip the back of his neck, he gave up and turned around.

  “I get it. I promise. If we get to the lord’s house and they give this traveling merchant the cold shoulder, then we’ll go to a nearby town. We’ll spend our money there.”

  Even if it was not a wool and silk bed, they could no doubt secure a room with a roof and a bed stuffed with straw in any town around the area. Then dinner would likely consist of fresh pork or chicken or, at the very least, a hodgepodge of seasonal vegetables and mushrooms. They had almost come far enough south to reach lands where grapes were harvested, so wine would also be available in great quantities.

  “I wish to bid farewell to cold porridge and spoiled ale.”

  Holo glared at him with accusatory eyes and kept her gaze trained on him for a while.

  Then, she finally sighed deeply and audibly exhaled through her nose.

  “And you absolutely must bathe.”

  “Huh?”

  Surprised, Lawrence unwittingly sniffed his own clothes. He thought for a moment that he was still perfectly fine, but he suddenly reached a conclusion. Perhaps the reason why Holo wished to stop and rest at a town was for this very reason.

  “If you wish to use my tail for warmth in the cold evenings, then you must clean yourself a tad more. I shall not tolerate any mites or lice!”

  Holo was devoted to caring for her tail. Much like how a mercenary reveled in maintaining a polished blade and steeled muscles, her tail was her pride.

  So despite Holo doing all she could to put up with her traveling companion, who seemed as though bugs wafted from him even at that very moment, it was apparent that she was at her limit.

  “…I don’t smell that bad…”

  Lawrence tentatively fought back. He never minded when he was traveling by himself, but since he started traveling with Holo, he had given some effort to keep clean.

  Holo, however, would be the judge of that.

  “I always smell of sweet, fragrant flowers, but you simply never notice.”

  Her retort was issued while holding her hand to her nose. She certainly did smell faintly sweet all the time, but even Lawrence knew that trick.

  “That’s thanks to the oil you use on your tail. It was expensive, after all.”

  Holo glared hard at him.

  “You fool. I have always smelled this way!”

  “…If you say so.”

  There was no point in arguing, so he faced forward and gripped the reins again. Even if it was simply the oil she used, a soft, sweet scent borne by the breeze that tickled his nose, Lawrence did not mind so much.

  Did her oil smell like this, though?

  As he pondered, Holo sniffed a bit and looked around.

  “Mm. Quite suddenly, I smell something sweet. Perhaps someone is baking?”


  “No, this…”

  He had started speaking when the road in the field took a sharp turn, and when he saw the land ahead, he understood.

  “Aha.”

  Holo sounded surprised as she spoke her next words, and her reaction was wholly appropriate.

  “How marvelous!”

  Suddenly, as though a line had been drawn in the ground, the greenery changed into a purple carpet spreading out endlessly before them.

  “There is, however…too much of a good thing…”

  Though it did not bother Lawrence much, Holo, with her keen sense of smell, found it necessary to hold her nose as they traveled along the road that ran through the field of flowers.

  There were also quite a number of bees, which must have been drawn to the heady scent.

  After cautiously exiting the field of flowers and continuing beyond a creek where a dingy and tattered water mill spun creakily, Lawrence could finally see his destination. According to the information he had received ahead of time, the village they would soon reach was called Hadish.

  He could tell immediately it was a small hamlet by the size of the lines that connected house to house. He was unsure whether it was true or not, but Lawrence had once heard that the paths in a village were made just wide enough to carry a coffin after someone has died. In places where no one would stand along the roadside to send off the deceased, the paths were so small that a wagon bed would stick out on either side.

  What most drew his attention was the distance between houses.

  “Perhaps the villagers here do not get on?”

  Before meeting Lawrence, Holo had spent decades—even centuries—hiding in the wheat fields of a town called Pasloe, so she had a rather keen sense for figuring out the state of things in human settlements.

  The homes in Hadish were so far apart that it would be impossible to see the face of a person standing in the doorway at the nearest house.

  “But the roads are very clean, considering that. The grass is cut, and the dirt is hardened. There are also lots of chickens.”

  If the villagers did not get along, then there was no way chickens would be left to roam about as it would have led to quarrels regarding stealing or finding stolen livestock.

  As he gazed at the village, a sweet scent riding on the breeze, the only word he could think of was peaceful.