Several days after the day I'd stood guard at the Gate, Mother finally finished the Festive Clothing she'd been working so hard on for Turi.
It was a simple, natural-colored one-piece dress with a loose silhouette. There was decorative embroidery along the neckline, sleeves, and hem — nothing too elaborate — with a wide sash in blue that added a refreshing splash of color.
"How is it, Mine? Isn't it cute?"
If she'd really wanted to, she could have added more frills or extra decorations to make it even cuter…
That's what I thought to myself, but Mother looked so full of confidence and Turi was so happy that this must have been more than good enough.
Unlike self-indulgent photo shoots, this was something she'd be wearing to the
But there was one area where I could speak up.
Her hair.
It had grown shinier from regular care, but Turi's hairstyle was always just a single braid in the back. If she was going to change her hairstyle for the
However, without knowing the local standards, I couldn't very well take action. Young Mine's memories held absolutely nothing about the Baptism Ceremony.
"Turi, it's really cute! …But what are you going to do with your hair? Are there rules about how to wear it for the Baptism Ceremony?"
"I was planning to keep it like this?"
…Turi, that won't do at all. This is a special occasion — let's put a bit more effort into looking fashionable.
I couldn't help but slump my shoulders, but I pulled myself together and continued asking questions. Even if the hairstyle stayed the same, maybe she had some preferences about ornaments.
"So, what about hair accessories? Are you going to wear anything?"
"Yeah. It's summer, so maybe I could pick some flowers somewhere?"
"That won't work! You'll have such a beautiful outfit on!"
With that tone of voice, she was definitely just going to grab whatever was lying around!
She doesn't know the words "total coordination"!? …Ah, right, of course she doesn't.
Around here, putting a child's hair up in a formal style was apparently off-limits, but braiding bits in should be fine, and as for hair accessories — if she didn't have one, I could make one.
If it was lace-making, I could do it. There was still plenty of time before summer.
"I'll do it! Let me, Turi. I promise I'll make you look adorable."
Right after making that declaration, I realized I didn't have a crochet hook for lace-making. Mother had one for knitting with yarn, but it was too thick for lace.
Wh-what am I going to do!?
The only one in the family who could plausibly make something tool-like was Father. He was actually the one who had smoothed down the hairpin Turi had made for me so it would be easy to use, sanding it down and treating it with oil.
I snuck a glance sideways at Father's mood.
It had only been a few days since
Honestly, Father could be pretty childish, but this time I'd be the mature one. If I played into his pride and asked him sweetly, his mood would improve, and I'd get my crochet hook. A perfect two-for-one deal.
"Father, Father."
"What is it?"
"You're actually pretty handy, aren't you? You made the doll for Turi, right?"
"W-well, yes. Ahem! So, what — does Mine want a doll too?"
He put on a stern scowl, as if to insist he was still angry, yet his eyes betrayed a hint of expectation as he glanced my way.
"No. I want a crochet hook."
"A crochet hook? The kind Mother uses for knitting? Can't you just borrow hers?"
The moment I answered, Father's face fell into the most woefully disappointed expression. It was almost embarrassing how his composure crumbled — I almost wanted him to at least try to save face a little.
He waved his hand as if to shoo me away, which was hardly appropriate parental behavior. At least hear me out to the end.
"I want a much thinner one than hers. Not for yarn — for thread. …Father, I know making a really thin crochet hook is really hard, but can you do it?"
I clasped my hands in front of my chest, gazed up at him with slightly watery eyes, and struck the cutest pleading pose I could manage.
I had no idea whether Japanese 2D cuteness would work in this world, but a daughter's adorable charm for a doting parent was universal… at least, I hoped so.
Whether it was my cuteness that got through to him or not, Father stroked his stubble and sank into thought.
"…Wood would work, right?"
"Mhm! Can you make it?"
"I'll give it a go."
My words seemed to have stoked Father's pride, because he immediately rummaged through the shed and came back with several knives and a piece of wood, then set to work whittling.
Father was very practiced with a knife. He shaved down thin branches with swift strokes, and in no time at all the bark was gone, leaving only the hard inner wood.
After that, he studied the yarn crochet hook as a model and carefully carved the piece of wood in his hand.
"For yarn this thick, then for thread it'd be about this much?"
"Hmm, can you make it a little thinner?"
"About like this?"
"That's it!"
Once the thickness was decided, he switched to a different knife and shaped the hook at the tip, smoothing and refining it. It might not have qualified as master craftsmanship, but since I couldn't do it myself, I gave Father my honest praise.
"That's wonderful, Father! The shape is already done. And if you could sand it down until thread won't catch on it, then treat it with oil to make it really smooth, that would help me so much."
"Leave it to me."
Having been praised by his daughter, Father's confidence as a parent seemed to recover, and he happily went to work polishing the thin crochet hook with painstaking care.
Hmph, right on schedule.
Unlike me with my dark little smirk, Turi beamed with an angel's innocent smile.
"Mine, Father's mood seems to have gotten better. That's great!"
"Mhm, yeah, great."
I wasn't about to tell her that the bad mood was my fault.
Or that I'd deliberately left it alone because reading the mood was too much hassle.
I was a little girl, after all — I had no idea why he'd been in a bad mood, or so I would have everyone believe.
While Father worked hard on polishing, I went hunting through the thread to have it ready the moment the hook was finished.
There was still some thread left over from the generous supply prepared for Turi's Festive Clothing. The white — or rather natural-colored — thread used for weaving the fabric could probably find other uses.
But the colorful thread used for the trim and sash was only left in scraps, too short for weaving. I didn't think there'd be much use for it.
"Mother, give me the thread with colors on it."
"What for?"
Mother hadn't expected me to want thread, so her eyes went wide before she furrowed her brow with suspicion.
"I want to try lace-making."
"Huh?"
"I'm making a hair ornament for Turi."
Of all the "mom art" projects I'd tried many times over, lace-making was actually one where the finished product was relatively useful. With the right tools, I was confident I could make a hair ornament with lace. Reina's life had ended once, but you never knew what might come in handy.
However, Mother — who had no reason to know life as Reina — was reluctant to hand over the thread. She probably thought I'd waste most of it, as usual.
"Hair ornaments are only worn for the Baptism Ceremony, right? It seems wasteful to use that much thread on a little accessory. A flower is perfectly fine for a hair ornament. You don't need to make Turi any cuter — she's already adorable."
"If she can be even cuter, why not? Cute is justice!"
I clenched my fist to drive the point home, but Mother simply sighed and turned her back, as if to say the discussion was over.
I hurriedly grabbed Mother's skirt and pleaded.
"Come on, Mother. Just the leftover thread is fine. Father's making the hook, so I really want to use it. I'm almost done. Please?"
I looked to Father for help, as if to say the hook would go to waste otherwise.
Father seemed to read the meaning behind my gaze — whether because he didn't want his hook to go to waste, or because he feared the respect I'd shown him would vanish — and he backed me up.
"Mine rarely shows any interest in sewing. Why not give her the leftover thread?"
"…Fine."
After thinking it over for a while, Mother reluctantly handed over a few pieces of thread in lengths too short to be of practical use.
"Hooray! Thank you, Mother! Father, I love you!"
When I threw my arms up in exaggerated joy, Father started grinning. The hand polishing the crochet hook was tense with effort, his breathing heavy, and he kept smirking. Honestly, it was a little creepy.
His mood seemed to be fixed, though it was getting unsettling — I'd just leave him to it from now on, right?
Father handed me the crochet hook that had been polished with an almost stifling amount of paternal love, and I got started on the lace-making right away. I was going to make lots of little flowers.
Snip snip snip snip snip…
Lace-making, much like the failed Papyrus-like Paper from before, was tedious, painstaking work that required patience. That said, the flowers I was making were small, so with fifteen minutes I could finish one.
I rolled a yellow flower off the table with a little flick and moved on to the next one. Turi watched the finished lace flower with admiration for a moment, then tilted her head.
"Aren't they a little too small?"
"I'm making a decoration from lots of little flowers gathered together."
"Oh, okay."
If I made big flowers, I'd get bored and fed up before finishing, and then I'd be stuck.
I kept that thought to myself.
Since I'd made such big promises about Turi's hair ornament, I had to see it through to completion. So I'd decided on a design of clustered small flowers — that way, even if I got bored halfway through, I could simply stop and call it done.
Actually, when I was Reina, I'd gotten tired of a big design and abandoned it midway. Better to eliminate that risk.
"I also considered a lace ribbon, but it needs to be a certain length to tie properly, and I might run out of that colored thread halfway through. So I'm making lots of small flowers instead."
"You really thought this through, Mine."
"Of course! It's for Turi, after all."
The plan was to assemble them all into a finished hair ornament at the end, so if I got bored I could stop and call it finished, and if I ran out of thread I could just start making flowers with a different color — no waste. I'd considered all the angles.
Snip snip snip snip snip…
After several small flowers were done, I felt someone watching and looked up. Mother was peering over my shoulder with visible interest.
Mother was known around here as a beautiful and skilled seamstress. Handwork like this must have caught her eye. She rolled a finished small flower across her palm and examined it.
"…It's not that difficult, is it?"
"You're used to working with yarn, Mother, so once you've memorized a few patterns, I think you could actually make them better than me. Want to try?"
I handed Mother the crochet hook, and she started making small flowers with practiced ease, studying each one. A quick glance at the mesh between her fingers to check the stitches, and one was done in no time.
Wow, the seamstress beauty really deserved her reputation. She could read the stitch pattern just by looking. Compared to me, who had been reluctantly taught step by step, it was no contest.
"That's amazing, Mother."
"And it's amazing that you knew how to do this, Mine. I've knitted scarves and sweaters before, but I never would have thought to make ornaments like this."
In a world where just getting by day to day was a struggle, nobody had the leisure to think about decorative items — and since nobody made them, most people had probably never even seen lace-making before.
I'd grown up in a world where clothes always came adorned, so I knew about it, but even this kind of tiny ornament was something foreign in this world.
"So, Mine — how are you going to attach these flowers to her head?"
Mother couldn't seem to picture the finished product from the flowers scattered across the table, so I explained as clearly as I could.
"Well, you take a scrap of fabric and cut out a small circle, then sew each flower on individually. It'll end up looking like a bouquet. Then you wind it around a 'pin'… a 'pin'!?"
As I explained, the blood drained from my face all at once. I let out something close to a shriek, and Mother flinched.
"Mine! What's wrong all of a sudden!?"
"…What am I going to do? There aren't any pins, are there?"
This is a disaster! This world doesn't have pins. At least, I'd never seen any in this house. And there were no hair elastics either. In a world where people tied their hair with string, what was I supposed to do with this ornament I'd made!?
"F-F-Father!"
I abandoned the strategy of leaving Father alone and went straight back to begging mode. It was hard to explain with words alone, so I pulled out the Slate, drew pictures, and pleaded.
"I want something like a shorter version of my hairpin — one end sharpened to a point, and the other end flattened a bit like this, with a small hole drilled through it. Can you make it!?"
"Hmm, this one's easier than the crochet hook, at least."
"Really!? Father, you're amazing! You've never been more impressive than this right now!"
Overcome with gratitude, I gave Father a big hug, and he muttered under his breath, "Heh heh heh, I win." Apparently he was still competing with Otto.
Father cheerfully made me a shorter hairpin, and I sewed the lace mini-bouquet onto it, much like sewing on a button — threading it through the hole.
"All done! Turi, put on your Festive Clothing and sit here."
Turi sat down in the chair nearest the hearth in her summer Festive Clothing. I dragged my own chair behind hers, kicked off my shoes, and stood on the seat.
I undid Turi's braid, combed her hair, and started braiding in strands from both sides. Turi's hair had a fluffy, temperamental texture, so when I styled it into a braided half-up, the effect was dazzlingly elegant.
I tied off the end of the braid with a crude piece of string, and then carefully pinned the hairpin in place so it wouldn't fall. The yellow, blue, and white small flowers looked beautiful against Turi's blue-green hair.
"Yep, that's cute!"
"Oh, it really is! Turi, you look absolutely adorable."
"Mine, you're pretty skilled with your hands. You may not have much stamina, but you might be able to find work that uses fine motor skills."
Turi smiled bashfully at her family's words, turning her head this way and that, touching her hair and the ornament. After a while, though, she puffed out her cheeks with a pout.
"Mine, if you put the decoration on the back, I can't see it at all from my side!"
"Well, that's true… but there's nothing I can do about it."
"But I want to know what it looks like."
This house had no mirror, so there was no way to show her.
I pondered for a moment, but Turi looked so thoroughly displeased that I pulled the mini-bouquet hairpin out and placed it next to my own hairpin.
"It'll look something like this. How's that?"
When Turi saw the ornament in my hair, she let out a cry of delight.
"Wow, so pretty! That's amazing! Hey, Mother — does mine look like this too?"
"Mine did a beautiful job with your hair, and the thread colors were chosen to match you, Turi, so it looks even better on you."
"Oh… I see. Hehehe…"
Turi's cheeks flushed bright red and she broke into the most radiant smile as she gently removed the ornament from my hair.
"Thank you, everyone. I'm so happy."
With spring just around the corner, Turi's Festive Clothing and its total coordination were complete. There was no doubt that Turi would turn the most heads at the summer Baptism Ceremony.
And it seemed Mother had gotten hooked on lace-making, because by the time I noticed, the crochet hook Father had made had already found its way into her sewing box.
…Well, whatever.
The hair ornament was successfully completed.
In this world, lace-making and delicate embroidery were traditionally the work of noble ladies and wives. It was a luxury that required generous amounts of high-quality thread.
A poor commoner would rarely encounter it. Before lace, there were far more pressing things to make, and even leftover thread was normally saved for mending clothes and patching holes.
Mine, thinking "well, if it's extra, why not," was clearly far from having her mind properly attuned to the commoner lifestyle.
Next time, it'll finally be spring. The story of Mine striving to be taken to the forest.