So You Want to Live the Slow Life? A Guide to Life in the Beastly Wilds

2022·16.9 MB·English

by  Fuurou

Table of Contents
Copyright
Character Page
The Meeting
Life in the Beastly Wilds
The Hot Pot Party
Food Preservation 101
The Raid
An Evening for Two
Side Story: Kon the Gamer
Afterword
Other Series Pt. 1
Other Series Pt. 2
So You Want to Live the Slow Life? A Guide to Life in the Beastly Wilds, Volume 1
Fuurou

Translation by Andrew Attwell

Illustration by Yuki Nekozuki
Title Design by Arbash Mughal
Editing by Tom Speelman
Proofreading by Charis Messier & A.M. Perrone

This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events and
incidents are either the products of the author’s imagination or used in a
fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, or persons, living
or dead, is purely coincidental.

So You Want to Live the Slow Life? A Guide to Life in the Beastly Wilds
©2021 Fuurou
English translation rights reserved by
Cross Infinite World.

English translation ©2021 Cross Infinite World

All rights reserved. In accordance with U.S. Copyright Act of 1976, no part of this
publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any
means, including photocopying, recording, or other electronic or mechanical
methods, without the prior written permission of the publisher, except in the
case of brief quotations embodied in critical reviews and certain other
noncommercial uses permitted by copyright law. For permission requests, email
the publisher, addressed “Attention: Permissions Coordinator,” at the email
below.

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First Digital Edition: February 2022
ISBN-13: 978-1-945341-72-4

The Meeting

I was wearing jeans and a plain, long-sleeved shirt—an
admittedly poor choice of attire for the long hike ahead—as I
boarded the bus, weighed down with bags. The bus took me
most of the way up the mountain and I rode it until the very
last stop, where I disembarked and passed through the
border gate. After that, it was all on foot.
I walked uphill for quite some time before finally coming
across a clearing. This wide area gave the impression it’d
been carefully carved out of the dense forest. In this
clearing stood a single-story building with a thatched roof
and a veranda running along its side. An old-fashioned living
room and a prayer alcove, both visible from the outside,
fully qualified the house as an authentic, traditional
Japanese dwelling.
When I was a child, I’d spent pretty much every
summer here, at my great-grandpa’s house. After he’d
passed away, nobody wanted to live in it, out here in the
middle of nowhere…but it had to be passed down through
the family. Somebody had to take care of it.
As Great-Grandpa had laid dying in the hospital room,
the whole family had crowded around him. It’d felt like they
were drawing straws, each trying to pass the buck to the
other. Their behavior was more than insulting, given the
situation. Finally, I couldn’t stand it anymore. I spoke my
mind and stood my ground. Their reactions were harsh, the
ensuing discussion heated. But in the end, it was settled—
I’d be the one to inherit the house.
“A homeowner at twenty-five…can’t say I saw that
coming,” I muttered to myself as I approached the house. I
sat down on the veranda and finally dropped the various
bags I’d had slung over my shoulders and back. They hit the
floorboards, one thud after the other.
Hauling all those bags had been no picnic. I was so out
of shape. I’d lost some muscle since my university days, and
it seemed my stamina had vanished with it. I wouldn’t last
very long living on this mountain if a few heavy bags were
all it took to wipe me out.
I peered into the living room. Inside, the luggage that
I’d sent ahead lay arranged in large piles. It looked like
everything had arrived safely.
But something wasn’t quite right.
I’d expected to be greeted by a very different scene—
all the storm shutters firmly closed, a thick layer of dust in
the corridors, the tatami mats detached from the floor to
keep them from going moldy. But this house was totally
ready to be lived in.
I wondered if someone had been looking after the
place. After all, who exactly had been here to receive my
luggage? Somebody must’ve been. I pondered this while I
caught my breath, then removed my shoes, stepped up
onto the veranda, and explored the rest of the house.
The kitchen and bathroom faucets turned easily and the
water ran clean. The gas and electricity were both working,
and all the fuses were in the upright position. Strange. When
Great-Grandpa was being admitted to the hospital, they
knew he’d be gone for a long time. When a house is going
to be vacant for a while, isn’t it normal to shut off all the
valves and breakers?
All the appliances were still there—the fridge, the
microwave, the TV—even a Wi-Fi router, as Great-Grandpa
ordered a lot of stuff online. I don’t see a computer
anywhere, though…maybe Gramps upgraded to a
smartphone? Or maybe…maybe a relative had thought it
was worth something and took it to a pawn shop. It seemed
likely. I dashed frantically back to the veranda, slipped on
my shoes, and rushed to the warehouse next door.
The warehouse. This cave of wonders had always been
packed to the brim with Gramps’ various treasures. Now the
shelves were empty. Nothing left. The fridge and the freezer
units were empty, too…but the circuit breakers in here had
all been safely shut off.
It’s not like I’d honestly expected anything to be left
over. But I was still disappointed. The part of me that
remembered that beautiful spectacle was a little
heartbroken. I left the warehouse in a funk, shoulders
slumped, and headed deeper into the mountains behind the
house to check on Great-Grandpa’s orchard.
“Thank goodness. It’s just like I remember.”
My ancestors had cleared this plot of land many
generations back—they’d literally carved it out of the
hillside themselves, if our family stories were to be believed.
Gramps had tended it faithfully right up until he’d fallen ill.
The chestnuts and walnuts harvested from this orchard
had let my great-grandparents raise six healthy children and
put them all through college. The trees stood tall and proud
above the neatly tended soil, as they always had, and their
verdant green branches swayed in the spring breeze.
It was a sight to behold, and seeing it finally put my
heart at ease. I’d given up a very promising career in its
early stages in order to come and live here. If something
had happened to this orchard, I had no idea how I’d pay the
bills and put food on the table.
“Hmm… This should all be growing wild now, though.
It’s far too neat. Somebody’s clearly looking after it,” I
muttered as I strolled into the orchard.
Row after neat row of trees stretched into the distance,
so many that they became too indistinct to count. As far as I
could see, there wasn’t a single dead leaf in sight nor the
slightest sign of debris on the ground. I went right up to a
nearby tree.
No insects or pests of any kind. No holes chewed in the
leaves. No broken branches. No sign of neglect.
Between the state of the house and now the orchard, it
was perfectly clear that this place had some sort of secret
caretaker. Secret, as I’d heard nothing about anybody living
nearby nor seen any signs of human life since I’d arrived. I
looked around once again, now with greater suspicion.
The birds sang and the insects chirped with almost
deafening intensity while the swaying trees provided a
background chorus…but I was sure I was alone. And yet, the
state of the orchard suggested otherwise. It was a
disturbing feeling. Maybe it was because I’d lived in the city
all my life, but the complete lack of other humans made me
restless—I suddenly realized I felt extremely on edge.
I reconsidered my situation. I might be living out the
rest of my life here in this quiet, lonely place. Nobody to talk
to. Nobody to have tea with. Completely alone. My heart
sank. My mind raced. I found myself drowning in a deep,
spiraling anxiety.
If I got sick or took a bad fall, or if there was an
earthquake or a forest fire, there’d be nobody to turn to for
help. That idea—of having nobody near me—seemed to
upset me the most. I couldn’t shake that unease.
And yet, despite all my nerves, I understood that this,
too, was part of my inheritance. It was my duty and there
was nothing to be done. Somebody had to live here and that
was that.
Yes, part of me wanted nothing to do with it. Part of me
felt backed into a corner, forced into this situation by my
selfish relatives. That was all true. But I’d said my part—and
sharply at that—and in the end, I’d made the final decision
for myself. There was no point in looking back.
The moment I’d quit my job, I’d resolved to make the
most of things. Because this was my life now. I tried to
recapture that feeling as I vigorously ruffled my shortly
trimmed black hair. Then I turned around and headed back
toward Great-Grandpa’s house.
…No.
Toward my house.
“So, we’ve got chestnuts and walnuts… I’ve researched
the basics of chestnut cultivation online, and I packed a
bunch of different books…but this orchard is massive. I
don’t think this is a job for one person.”
I continued to ponder the problem under my breath on
my way back to the house. One of the books I’d brought
with me suddenly sprang to mind. But when I headed for my
bags to retrieve them, I spotted a strange figure.
A young woman was sitting on the veranda. In her
hands, she was holding a book on chestnuts—the very
volume I’d been thinking of.
This girl, who’d rifled through my things uninvited and
now looked to be casually reading my book, was wearing
the strangest clothes. Her long-sleeved, indigo blue
overcoat reminded me of some sort of traditional folk dress.
She also had on a pair of soft, billowing trousers, which were
tucked into her long boots. Completing her ensemble was
something like a mailman’s messenger bag, slung over her
shoulder. It seemed a bit too big for her delicate frame.
But what drew my attention even more than her outfit
were the large, brown ears quietly perched atop her tawny,
bobbed hair…and the large, brown, bushy tail behind her
that occasionally twitched.
“A squirrel? No…her ears are slightly different. Maybe
she’s part chipmunk?” I quietly surmised. “They don’t call
them the Beastly Wilds for nothing.”
I continued to stare intently at her while I mumbled to
myself.
Her delicate features didn’t seem to be adorned with
any makeup. Yet, her skin was clear and smooth, and her
deep blue eyes had a sparkle to them. She was a really
beautiful girl…although I guess I should say Beastgirl?
Beastwoman? I wasn’t sure how these people referred to
themselves.