Chapter 2: The Sengoku Sluggard

The veranda gently received the light of midday, the warmth of the dry wooden boards slowly seeping into his back.

A breeze carrying the scent of the sea passed through the garden, faintly ringing the shells hung under the eaves in place of wind chimes.

Nearby, the flow of the Ukedo River echoed softly, and beyond that, as always, the waves of the Pacific endlessly rolled in and out.

On top of it all, Takemaru lay on his back as usual, doing nothing in particular, gazing up at the sky.

The blue stretched high, and thin clouds drifted along.

From within that unremarkable scenery, knowledge that had sunk deep within him suddenly surfaced.

This era was a cold period—the Little Ice Age.

In other words, insisting on rice in this Tohoku region was simply inefficient.

It was cold, the growing season was short, and the weather was unstable.

No matter how one looked at it, the risk was far too high.

But at the same time, this land was not merely a poor, cold village.

It faced the sea, near the point where the Oyashio and Kuroshio currents met.

Fish gathered here, making it a highly favorable fishing ground.

Flounder, flatfish, greenling, sea bass, sea bream, crab.

On the shore, surf clams could be found, sea urchins could be harvested, and in season, even whitebait could be caught.

Once every few years, even the shadow of a sperm whale could be seen offshore.

And perhaps due to the coastal influence, snow did not pile up much even in winter.

At most, it would accumulate to ankle height once or twice, only to melt quickly.

“…Then there’s no reason to cling to rice.”

He muttered quietly.

But his thoughts did not stop there.

The problem was summer.

The Yamase winds would blow.

Cold, damp winds from the northeast would roll in, temperatures would not rise, fog would form, and sunlight would be insufficient.

As a result, crops struggled to grow.

In other words, rice was a complete gamble.

Even so, they had to pay taxes to the Soma lord.

As retainers, there was no escaping it.

But it did not necessarily have to be rice.

If it could be converted into money, then paying with that should suffice.

In reality, rice was not something eaten daily.

Unless it was a celebration, it rarely reached one’s mouth.

Most of it was handed over above or sold to merchants.

What remained was mixed with grains to make porridge.

That was the reality.

Even his own family, being that of the local lord, lived like that, so for the farmers it was even harsher.

Even if they grew rice themselves, they could not eat their fill.

In fact, reality was even more severe.

Every year, there were people who starved to death.

Some children, though born, could not be raised and were cast into the river or sea.

Was it truly worth going that far just to grow rice?

In extreme terms, were they not simply being forced to grow rice for appearances?

Takemaru came to that conclusion.

Then they should stop from the beginning.

“Fill the stomach with millet and foxtail millet, secure calories with wheat, and rotate with buckwheat… that should be enough. And if I want to make soy sauce, crop rotation with soybeans is essential.”

He turned over and tapped the wooden boards lightly with his fingertips.

His thoughts no longer stopped.

Millet and foxtail millet were resistant to cold and could grow even in poor soil.

Buckwheat grew quickly and could be harvested in a short time.

Wheat stored well, could be made into flour, and could be sown in autumn and harvested in spring.

This land had good airflow, wide plains, and areas with good drainage.

The conditions were not bad.

Then all that remained was to combine them.

Sow wheat in autumn.

Harvest in early summer.

After that, plant buckwheat and harvest it in autumn.

Then rotate millet into the empty fields.

Wheat, buckwheat, millet—in that order.

Protect the land through rotation while increasing yield with double cropping.

Compared to relying on rice, it might even be more stable.

“…This could work.”

He let out a small breath and looked up at the sky.

The clouds had drifted slightly since before.

“There’s really no need to be bound by rice.”

He murmured again quietly, narrowing his eyes.

The plan had already taken shape.

All that remained was to act.

And yet, that first step had not been taken anywhere.

The sea-scented breeze passed through the veranda, gently stirring Takemaru’s hair as he lay stretched out on the wooden floor.

The sun had already begun to tilt, and the shadow of the eaves slowly lengthened.

In the garden, drying seaweed creaked faintly, and the smell of sea and earth mingled into a somewhat warm, heavy air.

Takemaru remained on his back, using one arm as a pillow, squinting his eyes.

At the edge of his vision, sacks of salt were piled up, and beyond them, the Ukedo River flowed toward the sea.

In this domain, salt could be produced.

The river connected to a port, and in season, salmon swam upstream.

Seaweed, once dried, could be preserved and shipped elsewhere.

If one went into the mountains, there were wild plants and nuts, offering countless ways to stave off hunger.

If his memory was correct, deeper into the mountains there should also be pottery stone or clay.

Since ceramics would later be produced here, there had to be materials.

On top of that, there were mines.

He did not know the scale, but there should be land where something could be extracted.

He had heard that this region had long been rich in mineral resources.

In other words—this land was.

“…Actually, it’s a winning hand.”

He muttered in modern phrasing, narrowing his eyes.

Far from being doomed from the start, the cards were already in place.

But at the same time, another reality crossed his mind.

In this Tohoku region, money was scarce.

Circulation was weak.

Thus, rice was treated as a substitute for currency.

Taxes, transactions, and standards of value all ultimately tied back to rice.

It was a rice-based system.

He understood that.

Logically, it made sense.

But still, Takemaru thought.

“Even so, do we really need to go out of our way to produce something so unstable?”

He muttered quietly, tapping the board with his fingers.

Rice in this land was inherently unstable.

Cold damage, Yamase winds, short growing seasons—every factor made it a gamble.

And yet, because it was treated as “currency,” they continued to force its cultivation.

In other words, rice was a luxury good.

“Seafood, salt, dried goods, even minerals if it comes to that… there are plenty of things that can be turned into money.”

His thoughts connected smoothly.

If actual currency was lacking, then goods could be circulated instead.

Send valuable items outward and draw money inward.

Or even pay directly with goods.

There was no real reason to be bound by rice.

“If we just abandon rice, our options increase all at once.”

The corner of his mouth twisted slightly.

There was also a convenient asset.

His younger brother, Atsumaru.

For reasons unclear, he was unusually obedient and would do most things if asked.

In addition, there were quite a few people of working age within the family.

In that case—

He could remain still and simply give orders.

If he built the system, it would run on its own.

“…Not a Sengoku warlord, but a ‘Sengoku sluggard’… this might actually work.”

He chuckled quietly in his throat.

This was an era where orders from above were followed.

If the framework was established first, people would move.

He would only need to receive the results.

That was the easiest way.

“Eat, sleep, play… and sleep again. That should settle everything nicely.”

But his thoughts abruptly trailed off.

“That said—”

He had no desire to get up and instead sank deeper into the wooden boards.

The warmth of the wood spread slowly through his back.

“Getting started now just feels… like a hassle…”

The wind slipped through.

The sound of the river echoed faintly in the distance, and the drying seaweed swayed gently.

From inside the residence came the soft, dry clatter of utensils.

The plan was complete.

He could see what needed to be done.

All that remained was to act.

Thinking that far, Takemaru slowly closed his eyes.

“…Tomorrow is fine too, I guess.”

In the end, nothing changed that day either.

He took the rice balls brought by a maid and ate them on the spot with one hand.

The salty taste of mixed grains spread in his mouth, but he neither savored it nor thought about it, simply chewing and swallowing.

Aside from getting up once to use the toilet, he spent the entire day from morning to evening lying on the veranda.

The sun set, the shadows disappeared, and the color of the sky slowly shifted.

Yet Takemaru did not move.

The first step of the man aiming to become a Sengoku sluggard advanced splendidly within his mind once again today, while in reality, not a single step was taken as the day quietly came to an end.