Just as the Winter Preparations were coming to a close, snow began to flurry. The real winter had arrived.
During winter, this area was buried in snow, so unless the weather was exceptionally clear, we would be spending all our time indoors.
For someone like me, who could have happily shut herself away forever as long as I had books, long hours inside the house were no hardship at all.
But I didn't have books.
Could I really endure being cooped up for so long without any books?
When the snowfall started, it often turned into a blizzard, so the wooden shutters had to be sealed tight for warmth. On top of that, we'd hang thicker cloth over them and stuff material into any gaps, doing everything we could to keep the drafts out.
"...Ugh, it's so dark in here."
"Can't be helped when there's a blizzard."
As it turned out, the only light sources inside our fully sealed house were the hearth and candles. A room with no electricity, windows completely shuttered, in the middle of the day — this was a first for me.
Even during the power outages from typhoons back home, I'd had flashlights and phone lights, and the power always came back quickly. Wouldn't spending a long time in the dark make anyone feel gloomy?
"Hey, Mom. Are all houses this dark?"
"Well, the richer families are supposed to have multiple lamps, but we only have the one."
"Then let's use that lamp!"
When I insisted that if we had a lamp we should be using it, my mother sighed and shook her head.
"We're trying to conserve oil, so we don't use it unless we have to. What if winter drags on and we run out of candles?"
Once "conservation" was invoked, there was nothing I could say to that.
Come to think of it, the mother I had back when I was Mine had also been constantly muttering "conservation, conservation" while finding all sorts of workarounds.
For instance, she'd unplug the TV to save on electricity but then fall asleep with it still on. Or she'd be meticulous about turning off the water while brushing her teeth to "conserve water," yet leave the tap running full blast while doing the dishes. She really taught me the importance of self-satisfaction.
Inspired by her example, I wondered if I could make this room a little brighter somehow.
"Mine, what are you doing?"
"Trying to make it a little brighter..."
I figured that if I arranged things like a three-panel mirror or facing mirrors, maybe it would reflect enough light to help. So I polished the metal gauntlets my father said he'd used during his days as a soldier and lined them up near the candles.
"Mine, stop."
"It's making it harder to see what you're doing."
Both of them shut me down immediately.
Unfortunately, the gauntlets weren't made of flat, smooth metal, so the light scattered in weird directions, making my eyes sting and rendering my hands even harder to see than before.
"Ugh, what a failure... Is there anything else I could use as a 'mirror'?"
"Stop doing pointless things."
When Mother flatly rejected me, I gave up on the light-reflection strategy.
Sighing at the prospect of deteriorating eyesight despite not even reading books, I settled myself near the warm hearth.
Right beside me, Mother began assembling a loom.
Weaving cloth wasn't done on the massive looms I'd seen in
I'd wondered how they could make fabric in such a small house, but it turned out there were looms of an appropriate size.
"Turi has her
With that, Mother began teaching Turi weaving, guiding her step by step. Turi picked up the spool of thread with a serious expression.
"Place the thread spool here like this, and first we prepare the warp threads. Thread them through like this..."
Making clothes started with dyeing thread during autumn, then weaving the cloth. After the cloth was woven, you'd sew the garments and embroider them. While you were at it, you'd also spin next year's supply of thread from the raw wool you'd purchased.
All you could buy were raw materials. Ready-made clothing wasn't sold here, and apparently even cloth was beyond a Commoner's budget.
"That's right, just like that. Turi, you're a quick learner! Want to try, Mine? You won't be called a beauty unless you're good at sewing."
"Huh? Beauty?"
"That's right. Making clothes for your family is important for both appearance and practicality. The requirements for being a beauty are sewing and cooking."
Ahh, I'm definitely never going to be a beauty.
...Or wait — I could see the argument for "good wife" criteria, but what does being good at sewing and cooking have to do with being beautiful?
In my world, clothes were things you bought at stores. Walk into a shop, and you'd be flooded with garments in every genre and design imaginable.
I'd never been particularly interested in fashion — my attitude was always "just dress appropriately for the occasion" — but even so, my closet had been packed. I'd never had to rotate two or three hand-me-down pieces that had been patched and repaired.
I'd only done as much sewing as was required in home economics class at school, and even then I'd used an electric sewing machine that stitched at lightning speed. The only time I ever held a needle was to sew on a button.
Honestly, being told that during winter I should spin thread, weave cloth, and make clothes for the whole family — that this was "women's important work" — was something I simply couldn't get behind. It did nothing to motivate me.
Ah, but if I could use the woven cloth as a substitute for Parchment, I'd weave as much as you wanted.
"Mine, aren't you going to try?"
"Mmm, maybe later."
Turi called over to me from the loom, but the last thing I wanted was to do any weaving.
Turi apparently wanted to become an apprentice tailor, so Mother was teaching her needlework. In my case, never mind my height — my hands were too short, too small, and above all, I had zero motivation. Teaching me would just be a waste.
"Then, Mom. Make my Festive Clothing. I'm going to go work on basket-weaving."
"Oh, leave it to Mother. I'll make you something absolutely gorgeous."
Mother, apparently brimming with confidence in her sewing skills, was practically glowing.
For the Baptism Ceremony, all the children turning seven in the same season gathered at the
The warp threads Mother began preparing with a cheerful smile looked much finer than the thread Turi had been practicing with earlier.
"This thread is really fine."
As I noted that weaving cloth from this would probably take a long time, Mother gave a wry smile.
"Turi's Baptism Ceremony is in summer, remember? If the fabric isn't thin, she'll be sweltering."
"But it's summer — and you're making Festive Clothing now, during winter? Turi's going to keep growing, isn't she?"
Children tend to grow more during summer, I thought — with more food available and healthier conditions for running around. At least, that was what the physical measurements on my school report cards showed.
What if they made the Festive Clothing now and it was too small by summer?
"That's true, but there's room for adjustments, so it'll be fine. The biggest headache is probably that you and Turi are so different in height that Turi's clothes can't be handed down. Altering them is a real pain too. What shall we do next year?"
...That's going to be tough. Hang in there, Mom.
Mother set to work weaving cloth with thread that looked a little stiffer than wool-spun thread but still quite fine. As she did, Turi began weaving baskets to sell.
As my eyes gradually adjusted to the dim room, I decided to take the first step toward my own grand ambition: making Papyrus-like Paper.
If I wove grass fibers together, I'd surely end up with something paper-like.
I won't lose to the ancient Egyptians! It's on!
I laid fibers on the table and, recalling the method for weaving the square coaster I'd been forced to make back when I was Mine, decided to start with a postcard-sized attempt.
Using fibers finer than the thread Mom was weaving with, I painstakingly, painstakingly, painstakingly painstakingly painstakingly painstakingly... interlaced them vertically and horizontally.
Without money, without skills, and without age on my side, I had no choice but to compete on sheer patience, patience, and more patience.
Whoa, it's so fine-grained my eyes are flickering.
Oh, I messed up!
Painstakingly painstakingly painstakingly...
Painstakingly painstakingly painstakingly...
The fibers were so fine that fixing mistakes was anything but easy. Everything collapsed on a large scale.
Growling in frustration as I wrestled with the delicate fibers, I noticed that Turi, who had been weaving her basket, had stopped working and was peering over at my hands.
"Hey, Mine, what are you making?"
"Hmm? A 'Papyrus-like Paper.'"
Turi looked back and forth between my face and my hands once more, then tilted her head. Her expression made it crystal clear that she could neither hear my words nor understand what she was seeing.
Yeah, I wouldn't get it either just by looking.
The thing wasn't even a centimeter square yet, and honestly, even I wasn't sure whether what I was making would actually turn into Papyrus-like Paper.
Mother, weaving on her loom while watching me move my fingertips ever so slightly to create the Papyrus-like Paper, furrowed her brow.
Painstakingly painstakingly painstakingly...
Painstakingly painstakingly painstakingly...
"Mine, if you have time to play around, go help Turi with her baskets."
"Okay. I'll do it when I'm free, so don't bother me."
I wasn't playing, and I certainly wasn't free. If anything, since I'd started living here as Mine, I'd been busier and more stressed than ever before.
Ah! I messed up again!
It was because Mom spoke to me.
Ugh!
Painstakingly painstakingly painstakingly...
Painstakingly painstakingly painstakingly...
"Mine, what on earth are you making?"
"I told you — a 'Papyrus-like Paper.'"
Too drained to even answer Turi's question gently, I shut her down in a clipped tone and threw myself back into the painstaking, painstaking, painstaking...
I didn't hate detailed work, and this was something I was doing by choice. I just had to keep going, patiently and patiently.
Painstakingly painstakingly painstakingly...
Painstakingly painstakingly painstakingly...
"Hey, Mine... it doesn't look like it's gotten much bigger?"
"I know!"
Turi's observation hit the bullseye. I hadn't intended to snap at her, but the irritation just slipped straight out of my mouth.
It had taken me an entire day just to reach fingertip size. I needed her to understand my feelings too.
Painstakingly painstakingly painstakingly...
Painstakingly painstakingly painstakingly...
Starting the next day, I told myself over and over that this was about patience, patience, patience — and faced the fibers again. Whatever Turi said, I couldn't let it get to me.
"What's that going to become?"
"..."
Don't react. Don't react.
Argh! It went all lumpy!
Ugh, I'm just going to push through from here! If I try to fix it, my spirit will break!
Painstakingly painstakingly painstakingly...
Painstakingly painstakingly painstakingly...
"Hey, Mine..."
"That's it! I can't do this anymore! 'Ancient Egyptians' — you win!"
Clutching my half-finished Papyrus-like Paper in my fist, I howled in defeat.
My Papyrus-like Paper had barely reached message-card size before I hit my limit.
If I tried to weave fibers with the density needed to make actual paper, who knew how many days it would take to produce something the size of a postcard.
In this state, I couldn't imagine being able to produce Papyrus-like Paper in any quantity that could become books.
The message-card-sized Papyrus-like Paper showed just how frustrated I'd become from the middle onward — you could feel it the moment you touched it. The center was tightly woven, but toward the edges it became wobbly and uneven. As a whole, it wasn't even close to looking like paper you could write on.
It was a bit lumpy, but maybe it could work as a coaster? That was the level we were at. Not even good enough for scratch paper.
"Uuuuuuuugh... I failed. My Papyrus Plan..."
The material sourcing, the difficulty of production, the time required — every factor made mass production impossible. Even if I somehow perfected the Papyrus-like Paper, I wouldn't be able to make books.
"Enough already, Mine! If you're going to play with grass, weave a basket!"
"Baskets can't become books..."
"I don't really know what you're going on about, but you failed, right? Give it up and weave a basket!"
Mother was so furious that I gave in and decided to weave a basket. Making a basket was far easier than the painstaking Papyrus-like Paper project with its hair-thin fibers.
"Turi, Mom's being like that, so I'm going to weave a basket too. Can I have some materials?"
"I'll show you how!"
Turi dragged materials over with a clatter and offered with a smile, but I picked up the materials and flatly refused.
"No thanks, I already know how."
"Huh?"
As Turi blinked at me in confusion, I looked away and started weaving.
I carefully arranged the straight, bamboo-like wooden fibers, interlocking them tightly so there were no gaps. I'd been wanting a little going-out bag anyway. I'd channel all my frustration from the failed Papyrus-like Paper project into this.
After carefully completing the bottom, I wove the sides with a calculated pattern and attached a handle designed so it wouldn't hurt to carry. Done!
Unlike the Papyrus-like Paper that had taken five days just to reach message-card size, the tote bag was finished in a single day.
For the work of a child who wasn't particularly dexterous, I thought the result was quite good.
"Incredible, Mine! I had no idea you had this sort of talent. You should become an apprentice artisan when you grow up!"
"Hmm? I'll pass on that..."
Mother was beaming with delight at Mine's unexpected talent, but I had no intention of ending up in that line of work.
I'd already decided that my career path would be either a bookstore or a library. The fact that neither occupation existed in this world because there were no books and therefore no bookstores or libraries was a small problem, but still.
"Ugh, why are you so much better at this than me?!"
I saw Turi deflated, comparing the basket I'd made with the one she'd made herself.
"Turi, don't worry about it. Once you learn to weave tighter and get the hang of putting in patterns, you'll be fine."
Because the difference between us was really just experience.
"Ugh, I can't believe Mine's better than me..."
Oh no.
I'd completely trampled her big-sister pride. It would have been so much easier if she saw me as someone to protect rather than a rival, but I'd messed up.
"Oh, um... that's right! Grandma
I had almost no experience coaxing a child's mood, so I was practically in a state of panic. I was desperately trying to explain, hoping she'd feel better, but honestly, I had no idea what I was even saying.
"...I see."
I wasn't sure where exactly she'd found reassurance, but knowing there was a reason I was better seemed to put her at ease.
"Then I'll weave lots during winter and get better than you, Mine!"
"Yeah. Do your best, Turi."
I breathed a sigh of relief when Turi's mood lifted.
Life here was impossible without Turi's support. If she decided to leave me to "do it yourself," I'd be in serious trouble. Thank goodness she was feeling better.
"Oh, Turi. If you pull tight here and line up the edges, it'll look really nice."
Even if I got good at making baskets, it would only leave me empty inside. What I wanted were books.
As I watched Turi weave her basket, offering tips now and then, I stared at my failed Papyrus-like Paper.
If the Papyrus-like Paper wasn't going to work, what should I try next?
Through the rest of winter, I continued weaving baskets beside Turi while ruminating on the next plan.
Egypt was a bust.
The difficulty was far too high for a child.
If Egypt wouldn't work, what next?
Mesopotamia, obviously!
Alright then — cuneiform!
Come at me — clay tablets!
Long live Mesopotamian civilization!
There were clay tablets that had been fired accidentally during wars and fires, surviving as a result. If I made clay tablets, carved characters into them, and fired them in the hearth, I just might be able to pull it off.
Plus, kneading clay into tablets was basically just a grown-up version of children's clay play. I could probably fool the adults into thinking it was just that.
Decision! This is the way forward.
Once the snow melted and spring came, clay tablets!
In the battle of Ancient Egyptians versus Mine, Mine has lost!
Too bad.
Since what I wanted wasn't paper but books, the road ahead was still long. Hang in there, Mine.
Next time will be a side story from
It's about how, just because Mine never goes outside, she has no idea that genuinely fantasy-like things do exist around here.