The Vanished Taisho

One night, I even tried walking alongside Taisho while helping pull the yatai because I desperately wanted to visit his world.

But when I suddenly came to my senses, I had been left all alone in a pitch-black alley.

…Unbelievable.

I knew for certain that my hand had been gripping part of the yatai tightly and had never let go!

Until that very moment, I had been walking beside Taisho, chatting and laughing with him!

The feeling I had then… Oh! Even with ears sharpened and eyes opened wide, one must take a life to see a bug’s entrails! (An elven expression meaning, “The world is full of mysteries.”)

At a complete loss, I trudged home, and the following night, when I waited at the spot where Taisho had vanished, before I knew it, there he was in front of me, pulling his yatai.

We exchanged awkward smiles and ultimately came to the conclusion that, “This really does seem to involve some divine power beyond mortal understanding, so it would probably be best not to investigate too deeply.”

After all, if we did something foolish and Taisho became unable to come to this world, we might never be able to eat ramen again!

I became an especially devoted patron of Taisho’s stall.

Whenever I discussed gourmet food with my fellow connoisseurs, I made sure to mention Taisho’s name.

Even when the Elf Queen once asked me, “Rinsir. Of all the things you have ever eaten, what was the most delicious?” I immediately replied, “Your Majesty, it was Taisho’s ramen!”

No matter how many times I ate Taisho’s ramen, I never grew tired of it.

Of course, the overwhelming impact of my very first bowl gradually faded… but strangely enough, ramen possessed a simple, comforting “appeal” that made me feel as though I could eat it every single day.

Perhaps ramen was less a “feast for special occasions” and more a dish perfectly suited to everyday life.

Taisho also had the kind of gentle personality that made it difficult for him to refuse anyone’s request.

If a man said, “That garnish is an unusual plant, so I’d like to try growing some in my field,” Taisho would bring him garnish seeds the very next day. If another woman asked, “What is naruto made from?” he would answer, “It’s made from minced fish,” and even carefully explain how to make it.

He was always cheerful and refreshing, warmhearted and personable, and simply a wonderfully pleasant man to be around.

Ouri and I both adored Taisho for that.

When I once secretly brought the Elf Queen to his stall, Her Majesty was so moved by the flavor of his ramen that she bestowed upon Taisho an enormous emerald necklace.

Taisho said,

“I can’t accept somethin’ this magnificent!”

and firmly refused it, but I looked at him seriously and said,

“Taisho, please accept it. This is a reward Her Majesty herself wishes to bestow upon you. If you refuse, you will cause the Queen to lose face.”

After making a troubled expression, Taisho finally said,

“Well then, I’ll gratefully accept it. This’ll become a family heirloom!”

and accepted the necklace. It was a very Taisho-like episode: although he had little greed of his own, he placed great importance on preserving the dignity of others.

And so, several years passed as our friendship deepened, until one particular day.

That was when Taisho stopped coming to our world….