I love cooking. From a young age, watching my mother cook from behind and growing up with delicious food, I naturally became interested in cooking. In third grade of elementary school, I was finally allowed to help with small tasks. In middle school, I got to handle knives, and in high school, I was trusted with pots. Living like that, by the time I was in high school, I had improved enough to make my own lunch boxes. Sharing the contents of my lunch with classmates was an everyday occurrence.
So, when I graduated high school, got a job, and started living alone, my hobby became even more intense. Because I had more time and money to spare. I bought and studied cookbooks on Japanese, Western, and Chinese cuisine, learned about history, and recreated old dishes. I was so absorbed that the construction site supervisor said,
“Your cooking is delicious, but you chose the wrong career.”
Indeed, why am I working as a plumber? I just chose a safe job to avoid worrying my parents. I have no regrets. Around two years in, I started cooking for our work parties. According to the company president,
“Your cooking is better and cheaper than any fancy restaurant.”
Cooking was fun, so it wasn’t a burden. And then, on my way back from shopping.
For some reason, I find myself surrounded by men with spears and swords, my hands tied behind my back.
“Who are you? Why are you here?”
That’s what I’d like to know. On my way back from shopping, I got caught up in some mysterious light and ended up here. It seems I dropped my belongings when I got caught up, so I have no wallet or groceries, nothing. Jeans and a white T-shirt, that’s all I own now. HAHAHAHAHA.
“What are you laughing at?!”
Oh my, it seems I’ve angered him. The person in front of me is glaring at me with sharp eyes. I want to run away barefoot. No, my shoes are assets too, so I shouldn’t discard them.
“Um, my name is Shuri. Where is this place?” “I’m the one asking questions. Don’t say unnecessary things.”
Fair enough. Looking around, I see dirty tents like those in old war movies. I want to ask what era this is, seeing a pot of soup boiling over a fire. Some people are sharpening swords, spears, bows, and arrows. And in the middle of all this, I’m caught like a criminal.
“You said your name is Shuri. Where are you from? Which village?” “The countryside of Japan.” “Japan… Never heard of it.” “Look, I just stumbled here by mistake, I don’t even know where ‘here’ is.” “Shut up.”
It seems I have no human rights. Give me a break.
“By the way, I’m hungry.” “Shut up, so are we.”
Oh, it looks like the leader-like figure in front of me is hungry too. Looking around, about four people are surrounding me, and they all seem hungry. It looks like I arrived at mealtime. Talk about bad timing.
“Captain, what should we do?” “Doesn’t look like he has anything worth taking.” “I reckon it’s pointless to keep him like this.” “But we can’t just let him go. We should kill him quickly and prepare for battle.”
How dangerous. It seems this is a pre-war meal. And it looks like I’m about to be stripped of everything.
“Um, may I say something?” “What is it?” “I’m hungry, so could you let me cook?” “…Were you a cook?”
The big man who seems to be the leader, let’s call him Leader for convenience, looks skeptical. He’s a handsome man with short blonde hair and sharp eyes. And he’s incredibly muscular. As an average-looking guy, I’m envious. This handsome Leader is wearing full armor. I’ve only seen such armor in movies.
“I can cook pretty much anything. If you’re going to kill me, at least let me cook and eat first.”
Of course, I don’t want to die. I don’t want to die. I won’t die!
“Interesting.”
Leader smirks. It’s a nihilistic smile. So even here, handsome guys are handsome.
“Alright then, make us a delicious meal. Depending on how it tastes, we might let you live.” “Captain?! Are you serious?!” “It’s before battle. It’s not a bad idea to boost morale like this. If it’s bad, we can always kill him.”
How dangerous. This has turned into a scene from a certain historical cooking manga.
They untie me and lend me a pot, cutting board, and knife.
“These are the ingredients.”
Where he points, there’s milk, butter, flour, carrots, green onions, fish, salt, and potatoes.
“Is there anything else?” “No. This is already luxurious. Usually, it’s just salt and potato soup.”
That’s… just imagining it makes me feel down.
“Well then, how about seafood cream stew? It would be perfect if we had shrimp. Since we don’t, we’ll substitute with fish scraps.”
Don’t underestimate fish scraps. They make great broth and flavor.
I fillet the fish, lightly sear it, cook everything, and then add it to the simmering pot to finish. If we didn’t have milk, butter, and flour, I would have made a fish broth soup, but that probably wouldn’t be familiar to these people, so I decided against it. Besides, with cooking over firewood, it’s impossible to do dishes that require fine heat control. This time, only a stew-like soup that can handle high heat is possible. Above all, cooking with firewood is unfamiliar to a modern person like me. I managed to make it work by constantly being aware of the strong heat.
“Here you go.”
I serve it on a plate and hand it to Leader. By the way, I’ve already taken care of the fish bones and innards. I made a soup with the scraps, but I figured it would be troublesome if the bones were left in.
“This… the soup is white.” “It’s cream stew.” “If it tastes bad, I’ll kill you.”
How rude. Despite the limited ingredients, I’m sure it turned out well. Leader cautiously takes a bite. He pauses for a moment.
“Um?” “Captain, what’s wrong?” “…It’s delicious.”
Leader starts devouring the stew.
“Hey, give me more.” “Sure, sure. I made plenty, so please eat as much as you like.” “Plenty? With just those few ingredients?” “If you use water, fish scraps, and milk creatively, you can make a large quantity even with few ingredients. You’re all about to work, right? Eating about 80% full of something delicious should give you energy.”
Leader looks surprised. By the way, I’ve done this countless times, adjusting flavors while increasing volume for party dishes.
“…I see, you’ve calculated all this.”
Huh? I just thought it would be good if they could eat a lot.
“Do you have anywhere to go?” “No, I don’t even know how to get back home.”
This place is clearly a foreign country. How can I get back to Japan? After finishing the cream stew, Leader looks me in the eye and says:
“If you have nowhere to go, join our unit.” “Huh?” “As a cook. Your job will be to make delicious meals. Cook here until you can return to your homeland.” “Is that okay?” “I’m saying it’s okay.” “Well then, I’d be grateful.”
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Chapter 1
I love cooking.
From a young age, watching my mother cook from behind and growing up with delicious food, I naturally became interested in cooking.
In third grade of elementary school, I was finally allowed to help with small tasks. In middle school, I got to handle knives, and in high school, I was trusted with pots.
Living like that, by the time I was in high school, I had improved enough to make my own lunch boxes. Sharing the contents of my lunch with classmates was an everyday occurrence.
So, when I graduated high school, got a job, and started living alone, my hobby became even more intense.
Because I had more time and money to spare.
I bought and studied cookbooks on Japanese, Western, and Chinese cuisine, learned about history, and recreated old dishes.
I was so absorbed that the construction site supervisor said,
“Your cooking is delicious, but you chose the wrong career.”
Indeed, why am I working as a plumber?
I just chose a safe job to avoid worrying my parents. I have no regrets.
Around two years in, I started cooking for our work parties. According to the company president,
“Your cooking is better and cheaper than any fancy restaurant.”
Cooking was fun, so it wasn’t a burden.
And then, on my way back from shopping.
For some reason, I find myself surrounded by men with spears and swords, my hands tied behind my back.
“Who are you? Why are you here?”
That’s what I’d like to know.
On my way back from shopping, I got caught up in some mysterious light and ended up here.
It seems I dropped my belongings when I got caught up, so I have no wallet or groceries, nothing.
Jeans and a white T-shirt, that’s all I own now.
HAHAHAHAHA.
“What are you laughing at?!”
Oh my, it seems I’ve angered him.
The person in front of me is glaring at me with sharp eyes.
I want to run away barefoot. No, my shoes are assets too, so I shouldn’t discard them.
“Um, my name is Shuri. Where is this place?”
“I’m the one asking questions. Don’t say unnecessary things.”
Fair enough.
Looking around, I see dirty tents like those in old war movies.
I want to ask what era this is, seeing a pot of soup boiling over a fire.
Some people are sharpening swords, spears, bows, and arrows.
And in the middle of all this, I’m caught like a criminal.
“You said your name is Shuri. Where are you from? Which village?”
“The countryside of Japan.”
“Japan… Never heard of it.”
“Look, I just stumbled here by mistake, I don’t even know where ‘here’ is.”
“Shut up.”
It seems I have no human rights. Give me a break.
“By the way, I’m hungry.”
“Shut up, so are we.”
Oh, it looks like the leader-like figure in front of me is hungry too.
Looking around, about four people are surrounding me, and they all seem hungry.
It looks like I arrived at mealtime. Talk about bad timing.
“Captain, what should we do?”
“Doesn’t look like he has anything worth taking.”
“I reckon it’s pointless to keep him like this.”
“But we can’t just let him go. We should kill him quickly and prepare for battle.”
How dangerous. It seems this is a pre-war meal.
And it looks like I’m about to be stripped of everything.
“Um, may I say something?”
“What is it?”
“I’m hungry, so could you let me cook?”
“…Were you a cook?”
The big man who seems to be the leader, let’s call him Leader for convenience, looks skeptical.
He’s a handsome man with short blonde hair and sharp eyes. And he’s incredibly muscular. As an average-looking guy, I’m envious.
This handsome Leader is wearing full armor. I’ve only seen such armor in movies.
“I can cook pretty much anything. If you’re going to kill me, at least let me cook and eat first.”
Of course, I don’t want to die. I don’t want to die. I won’t die!
“Interesting.”
Leader smirks. It’s a nihilistic smile. So even here, handsome guys are handsome.
“Alright then, make us a delicious meal. Depending on how it tastes, we might let you live.”
“Captain?! Are you serious?!”
“It’s before battle. It’s not a bad idea to boost morale like this.
If it’s bad, we can always kill him.”
How dangerous. This has turned into a scene from a certain historical cooking manga.
They untie me and lend me a pot, cutting board, and knife.
“These are the ingredients.”
Where he points, there’s milk, butter, flour, carrots, green onions, fish, salt, and potatoes.
“Is there anything else?”
“No. This is already luxurious. Usually, it’s just salt and potato soup.”
That’s… just imagining it makes me feel down.
“Well then, how about seafood cream stew? It would be perfect if we had shrimp. Since we don’t, we’ll substitute with fish scraps.”
Don’t underestimate fish scraps. They make great broth and flavor.
I fillet the fish, lightly sear it, cook everything, and then add it to the simmering pot to finish. If we didn’t have milk, butter, and flour, I would have made a fish broth soup, but that probably wouldn’t be familiar to these people, so I decided against it.
Besides, with cooking over firewood, it’s impossible to do dishes that require fine heat control. This time, only a stew-like soup that can handle high heat is possible.
Above all, cooking with firewood is unfamiliar to a modern person like me. I managed to make it work by constantly being aware of the strong heat.
“Here you go.”
I serve it on a plate and hand it to Leader. By the way, I’ve already taken care of the fish bones and innards.
I made a soup with the scraps, but I figured it would be troublesome if the bones were left in.
“This… the soup is white.”
“It’s cream stew.”
“If it tastes bad, I’ll kill you.”
How rude. Despite the limited ingredients, I’m sure it turned out well.
Leader cautiously takes a bite.
He pauses for a moment.
“Um?”
“Captain, what’s wrong?”
“…It’s delicious.”
Leader starts devouring the stew.
“Hey, give me more.”
“Sure, sure. I made plenty, so please eat as much as you like.”
“Plenty? With just those few ingredients?”
“If you use water, fish scraps, and milk creatively, you can make a large quantity even with few ingredients.
You’re all about to work, right? Eating about 80% full of something delicious should give you energy.”
Leader looks surprised.
By the way, I’ve done this countless times, adjusting flavors while increasing volume for party dishes.
“…I see, you’ve calculated all this.”
Huh? I just thought it would be good if they could eat a lot.
“Do you have anywhere to go?”
“No, I don’t even know how to get back home.”
This place is clearly a foreign country. How can I get back to Japan?
After finishing the cream stew, Leader looks me in the eye and says:
“If you have nowhere to go, join our unit.”
“Huh?”
“As a cook. Your job will be to make delicious meals. Cook here until you can return to your homeland.”
“Is that okay?”
“I’m saying it’s okay.”
“Well then, I’d be grateful.”
And so, I ended up joining Leader’s unit.
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