The next morning, Noel woke up full of energy and declared he’d work to make up for the trouble he’d caused — he went to harvest the ripened fruit, and then went to wash it in the river, at which point he noticed the Puribloom.
“Ma’am Witch, this flower… I’ve never seen it before.”
(It’s a rare one. Hmm, how do I explain it… oh, right.)
I take Noel’s hand and lead him around to the toilet at the back of the house. Not a toilet like in my old world — more like a shed with a bucket for waste inside, even simpler than a portable toilet.
Whether it doesn’t exist in this world or just not in this village, I don’t know, but walking through the village yesterday I saw no flush toilets. And it seems people carry the waste to a cesspit to use as fertilizer.
Noel was understandably puzzled about why he’d been suddenly taken to the toilet, and showed it.
“Ma’am Witch, I’m already feeling better. No nausea, but… hm?”
I drop one Puribloom plant into the bucket. Flowers bloom from it almost instantly, consuming the bucket’s contents and blooming more and more rapidly — petals falling off in flurries and scattering across the floor as the plant blooms past capacity. The fallen petals are exceptionally fine fertilizer, according to what the Status Display tells me. Sprinkled on the ground, they apparently outperform ordinary compost considerably.
“Wow… the smell is gone. Does this flower purify filth?”
(Yes, that’s the idea.)
“And you grew it in the river because… the river is contaminated? And that’s the cause of the sickness?”
Noel really does catch on fast. I nod and ruffle his head, and his dark-brown tail swings back and forth vigorously.
This child must be very clever. Not being able to speak is inconvenient, but Noel picks up on almost everything I’m trying to say. There are times it doesn’t get through, but even so, for someone who can’t hold a conversation, we communicate remarkably well — and I’m glad he’s here. …Living together still makes me nervous, but still.
“Still, it’s kind of… not very toilet-like, is it. It’s a bit difficult to use…”
Flowers blooming beautifully from the waste bucket, surrounding it in full bloom on all sides. …Not a crane among garbage, but flowers in a dung-bucket. Well, I don’t use this toilet myself, so it doesn’t bother me.
(My body doesn’t produce waste…)
The parts that look like a human body are roots — they have absorption functions, but no digestion or excretion. As a side note: I’ve confirmed that when I touch human food barehanded, I absorb only the nutrients from it. I secretly ate one small apple-like fruit and then put it on Noel’s plate. He put the slightly faded-looking thing in his mouth, tilted his head, and said “this doesn’t really taste like anything…?” — so eating it seems to leave it flavorless. I naturally retrieved it from Noel’s hands and disposed of it in the garden soil.
I can eat the same things as humans, but it’s much less efficient than hunting animals or monsters directly, so I should probably keep going out to find and catch things to eat.
“Ma’am Witch, are you in there…!”
“That’s the village chief’s voice. …If the water is the cause, more people might have fallen ill. I’ll go explain!”
What an extraordinarily capable child. Noel ran out of the toilet and headed toward the house where Daon’s voice had come from. I followed at a walk, weaving a basket from vines as I went and filling it with medicine berries.
Arriving at the front door, I found Daon — looking unwell — receiving Noel’s explanation.
“I see, so water contamination is the cause… as long as the water is tainted, this sickness will keep coming back.”
“Yes. But ma’am Witch can also control the flower that purifies the water. She grew it along the riverside this morning, so the river water should be fine now…”
“I truly don’t know how to thank ma’am Witch enough… ah, ma’am Witch. This child has just told me everything. But several people have already fallen ill, so I came to discuss it — though I suppose there’s no need to ask.”
Daon noticed me approaching and spoke with a troubled expression. But when I held out the basket I was carrying and he saw what was inside, his eyes filled faintly with tears and he bowed his head deeply.
“I cannot thank you enough. Whatever is within my power to do, I will do it.”
(No, no, you don’t need to go that far.)
“Ma’am Witch isn’t the sort of person to seek anything in return, Daon.”
I shook my head and Noel supplemented it — slightly dramatically — and Daon pressed his lips together with a look of something like guilt. Perhaps he felt bad about receiving so much kindness.
(I’m the one who should feel guilty, having the ulterior motive of wanting to help people so they won’t dislike me…)
It’s true that I genuinely want to help the villagers, but whether it’s entirely selfless is a harder question. I’m a Mandrake who is trying to become a witch who is kind to humans in order to live among humans.
“Ma’am Witch, we’re going too, right?”
(Yes. I want to grow Puribloom in the well as a precaution, and growing it in the cesspits will improve sanitation considerably.)
I give a nod, and Noel smiles happily and takes off running ahead. It was a slightly boastful expression, I thought — a childlike one. Daon watched his retreating back and narrowed his eyes as if looking at something bright.
“…That child must be very proud.”
(Hm? Why?)
“In this day and age, for a beastkin to serve a witch such as yourself — there is no greater fortune. Well, I must hurry as well.”
He took the basket of recovery medicine and started toward the village — but stumbled slightly. Come to think of it, his color had been off this whole time. Could he himself be unwell? That would explain why his eyes had looked like they were filling with tears.
I tap him on the shoulder to stop him and produce a fresh medicine berry. He may not even realize he’s unwell. Some people are so physically robust that even when they feel genuinely ill, they judge themselves capable of pushing through — Daon is probably that type.
“Um, ma’am Witch… is something…?”
(Here, drink this. It’s fine — you’ll understand once you do.)
I score the tip of the fresh berry so the medicine drips out, and hand it over with a smile. He looks uncertain for a moment, then knocks it back. That should restore him. He must have finally noticed his own condition, because he’s staring at the empty berry in his hand.
“…Thank you, ma’am Witch. I will repay you someday, without fail.”
He bowed once with a serious expression and ran toward the village. Walking after both of them, I felt a small, quiet guilt about not being a real witch.
Even if I’m not a real witch — I want to be a good neighbor to these people. I’ll do my best to become that, I thought.
(First things first — let’s get the village cleaned up!)