Chapter 12:
The Promise of the Herb Garden and the Footsteps of Summer
Since the day Yume was treated by Sylvia, the solitary elf who lived deep in the forest had begun appearing more often near the area where Akio and his companions lived.
That said, she didn’t go out of her way to talk to anyone. She merely watched—quietly, from the shade of the trees—as Akio worked diligently in the fields and the children played innocently nearby. Yet even that was enough for the children to cheer, “It’s the forest lady!” and wave to her in delight whenever they spotted her.
Sylvia still wore her usual troubled expression, but she no longer vanished as quickly as she once did.
One sunny day, while Akio was weeding the fields, he noticed Sylvia leaning against a nearby tree trunk, observing the crops. In the past, she would have disappeared the moment she sensed someone approaching.
“Hello, Miss Sylvia,” Akio called out.
Sylvia slowly turned to face him.
“…Humans really do love to dig in the dirt, don’t they? As if cutting down the forest weren’t enough—you even turn over the very earth itself.”
Her tone was still laced with irony, but to Akio’s ears, there was also a faint trace of teasing in her voice.
“Haha, well, it’s something we have to do to live. And besides, there’s a special kind of joy in eating the food you’ve grown with your own hands,” he replied with a smile. “Actually, Sylvia, I wanted to ask your advice about something.”
“What is it?”
“I’m thinking of creating a small herb garden near the cabin. After what happened with Yume, I’d like to start growing some useful herbs—just a few of the ones we might need for medicine. If you don’t mind, could you give me some advice? On which herbs to plant, or what kind of soil they need? Don’t worry—I won’t damage your forest. It’ll be a tiny plot, nothing more.”
Sylvia stared at him silently for a while, then looked away.
“…I dislike the soil humans have defiled. Medicinal herbs draw their strength from the pure energy of the forest.”
Akio was about to give up when Miko and Yume, who were playing nearby, called out innocently,
“Is Sylvia big sister gonna plant flowers with us too?”
“Yume wants to help!”
Sylvia’s shoulders twitched slightly at their words. She glanced at the children, sighed softly, and turned back to Akio.
“…Well, I suppose I could at least inspect the soil. It would be troublesome if you fools accidentally grew poisonous plants that harmed the forest’s beasts.”
It was, in her own way, a great concession.
A few days later, Akio and the children began preparing a small patch of land behind the cabin—the spot Sylvia had chosen, saying it had “a good balance of sunlight and drainage.” She stood a little ways off with her arms crossed, watching them work, but when Akio asked about the soil, she offered precise advice.
When they began planting the herb seedlings she had brought, she even demonstrated the proper way to handle them herself. Her movements were graceful, and her touch revealed a deep affection for plants.
“The roots are delicate. Cover them gently, like this.”
“This one prefers dry soil—don’t overwater it.”
Her words were simple, but her depth of knowledge left Akio and the children in awe.
During their work, Kenta suddenly asked, “Hey, Miss Sylvia, since you’re an elf, you live for hundreds of years, right? Have you ever seen a dinosaur?”
Sylvia froze for a moment, clearly at a loss, then answered seriously, “…Elves live longer than humans, but we are not omnipotent. And I know nothing of these ‘dinosaurs’ you speak of.”
The exchange made Akio chuckle quietly.
Day by day, the sun grew stronger, and the scent of summer filled the air. Akio and the others began bathing in the nearby stream (to the great delight of the children) and experimented with new ways to preserve food for the hot months ahead—smoking, salting, and drying.
Sylvia, too, began showing more open curiosity. When she came to check on the herb garden, she sometimes took interest in the wooden bowls Akio crafted, or in the nut bread Ayane had learned to bake to perfection.
“That vessel has a sound design—light and easy to hold.”
“This dark bread… its aroma is not unpleasant.”
She no longer left immediately after speaking. More and more, she lingered quietly, observing their work and their way of life.
Then, one afternoon, after tending to the herb garden, Sylvia noticed Ayane preparing lunch—fresh vegetables stewed with dried meat, served with fragrant baked bread.
After a brief hesitation, Ayane turned toward her and said, a bit nervously,
“Um, Miss Sylvia… if you’d like, would you join us for lunch? It’s nothing fancy, but…”
Sylvia’s eyes widened. She froze, clearly flustered, and her pale cheeks flushed faintly red. For an elf who had long guarded her solitude deep in the forest, a human’s invitation to share a meal was something she had never expected.
Around the little cabin drifted the smell of good food, the cheerful voices of the children, and an air filled with both tension and hope—between the ones who invited, and the one who was invited.
