The old man continued watching from a short distance, quietly intrigued by Shin's unassuming efficiency. Over the course of an hour, the boy reeled in six healthy-sized trout and even landed two larger ones—each with calm, deliberate movements. Whenever a small fish was caught, he released it gently, murmuring something under his breath. A thank you, maybe. Or an apology.
The old man narrowed his eyes thoughtfully.
Clean movements. No wasted effort. And he releases the small ones, too. Hmph... this boy's no ordinary kid.
As the sun climbed higher, Shin glanced up, gauging the time by the light. It was nearly lunch.
He reeled in his line and began packing up, tucking away his book and neatly coiling the fishing line. Sensing the shift, the old man finally spoke.
"Heading off already?"
"It's almost lunchtime," Shin replied softly. "I have to get back to the orphanage."
He turned toward the riverbank and called out,"Let's go. Help me carry the buckets."
The four boys playing upstream ran over—only to stop in their tracks when they spotted the stranger beside Shin.
"Shin! Who's that?!" one of them blurted. "You didn't talk to some weird old guy, did you?"
Shin blinked."…I forgot to ask his name."
Their expressions shifted from curious to panicked.
"You forgot?! You don't just talk to random mountain grandpas!"
"He's not bad," Shin said plainly.
"That's not an answer!"
"I can tell," he added after a pause, tilting his head slightly. "Maybe… instinct?"
The old man let out a booming laugh that echoed across the riverbank.
"Haha! I suppose I am a strange old man by your standards," he said, scratching the back of his head."Name's Shuuzō Yaegashi. But feel free to call me Shuu-jii or just Old Man Shuu—makes it easier."
Shin bowed politely."Takagi Shin. These four are Takagi Kaito, Takagi Souta, Takagi Ryo, and Takagi Itsuki."
The four boys, still suspicious but now a little embarrassed, bowed after Shin introduced them.
"All Takagis, huh?" Shuu-jii raised a brow. "But you don't look related—especially you, with that white hair."
"We're from Takagi Orphanage!" Kaito said proudly, puffing out his chest. The others nodded in proud agreement.
"Takagi Orphanage…" the old man muttered, stroking his beard."Wait… isn't that the place run by Yamagaeshi Sakuya? That girl who used to hang around with my son and daughter-in-law?"
The boys lit up.
"Ohh! Shuu-jii knows Sakuya-obasan!"
"Seriously?!"
Shuu-jii gave a nostalgic smile."That Yamagaeshi girl's like family. Used to tag along with my son and his wife back in the day."
The four gasped in unison like they'd just discovered a hidden plot twist.
"No way!"
"That's awesome!"
As the excitement simmered down, Shuu-jii glanced at the heavy buckets of trout.
"Need a hand carrying those?"
"They're a bit heavy," Shin admitted.
"No problem. I'm old—not brittle," the old man said with a grin as he lifted one with ease.
Together, the group made their way back down the path to the orphanage. The boys whispered excitedly behind Shin, while Old Man Shuu walked beside him, casting quiet, curious glances at the boy who caught fish, read foraging books, and spoke with the calm weight of someone far older than he looked.
_______________________________________
Shin, the old man and the four boys returned to the orphanage, their steps light despite the heavy buckets. But unlike most days when Akiha would be the one to greet them at the gate, today they were welcomed by someone else.
Standing at the entrance with a watering can in hand was Sakuya, the orphanage manager.
"Welcome back, Shin-kun… oh?" Her eyes blinked in surprise as they fell on the familiar figure beside Shin. "Shuu-jiisan…?"
The old man grinned and raised a hand in greeting."Yo, Sakuya-girl. Still running this place with an iron spoon?"
"You haven't changed at all!" Sakuya stepped forward, giving him a light tap on the arm. "What brings you here?"
"I was wandering the mountain when I stumbled on these little fishers," he chuckled, jerking a thumb at Shin."Ended up tagging along. The white-haired one here reeled in a feast."
Sakuya laughed, then turned to Shin. "I see. Dragging in old men now, Shin?"
Shin blinked, expression neutral. "He carried the bucket."
"That he did," Shuu-jii said proudly. "The boy's got a practical streak."
As the old man turned to leave, Sakuya called out, "Wait, Shuu-san! Why don't you join us for lunch? It's been too long since we had a proper chat."
Shuu-jii hesitated. "Wouldn't want to impose—"
Shin quietly added, "It's fine. We're using the fish I caught for lunch." He gave a small nod.
"Well then," the old man shrugged, "I guess I'd be rude to refuse."
They all entered together. Shin handed the buckets to Akiha, who looked inside—and her eyes widened.
"Eh?! You actually caught this much?! And two of them are huge!"
"You can let the others clean the small ones," Shin said, already tying on an apron. "I'll handle the large ones."
The boys eagerly rolled up their sleeves, eager to show off their fish-cleaning skills—under Shin's quiet but watchful guidance.
Shin quickly decided the day's lunch: a simple yet traditional fish meal. Grilled salt trout, pickled vegetables, and miso soup.
_______________
In the dining area, Sakuya poured freshly steeped tea into two cups and placed one in front of Shuu-jii as they sat across from each other at the low table.
"It's been, what, three years?" she said, tilting her head with a nostalgic smile. "You should've come during Shizuku-chan's graduation. I only saw Koichi-kun and Kirino-chan that day."
The old man let out a grumble, scratching his head.
"I wanted to come," he said with a snort. "But Kirino said I'd get too emotional and embarrass everyone. So the moment I got worked up, she knocked me out cold."
Sakuya chuckled warmly, covering her mouth.
"Still the same old pair, huh? Sounds like her."
She sipped her tea, then glanced sideways. "So... what were you really doing up in the mountains?"
Shuu-jii leaned back and folded his arms, gaze turning thoughtful.
"Stretching old bones, or so I told myself." He smirked. "But then I ran into that boy. Takagi Shin, right? He's no ordinary kid."
Sakuya stirred her tea quietly. "He's quiet. Insightful. And far too calm for his age."
"He's got good instincts," Shuu-jii muttered. "Clean hands. Sharp eyes. Moves without hesitation. And there's something about his presence... it's subtle, but it pulls at you."
He laughed to himself. "Reminds me of... well, me back in the day."
Taking a sip of his tea, his eyes widened slightly. "Oho... this tea's not bad. Almost too refined for this rustic place."
"Shin blends the herbs himself," Sakuya said with a smile. "Straight from the garden."
The old man hummed appreciatively, savoring the taste before setting the cup down.
Then his tone shifted slightly.
"Sakuya girl."
She glanced at him, already sensing the change.
"Let me take the boy to the Yaegashi Dojo. Just a few sessions. Nothing strict. I won't force anything." He paused, then added, "The kid's sharp. But he moves mostly on instinct. That kind of talent needs direction—before it withers from neglect."
Sakuya didn't answer right away. Her fingers traced the rim of her cup.
"He's not someone who responds to being told what to do," she said softly. "If you really want to teach him, you should ask him directly."
Shuu-jii gave a satisfied nod.
"Fair enough."
The two sat in companionable silence for a moment before their conversation drifted into other matters—old memories, the state of the orphanage, and talk of how quickly children grow.
___________________________________
Once the final dishes were prepared, Shin wiped his hands on a towel and called out in his usual soft tone, "Lunch is ready. Help me with the table."
The four boys from earlier quickly gathered around to assist, carrying bowls, side dishes, and utensils to the dining area. At the center was today's lunch: grilled trout, miso soup with mountain vegetables, pickled greens, and freshly cooked rice—simple, seasonal, and prepared with balance and care.
The aroma of charred skin and delicate herbs filled the room as each plate was set with quiet efficiency. One by one, the orphans took their seats, eyes naturally turning to the entrance.
Sakuya entered with Shuu-jii beside her. The old man wore a relaxed expression, clearly enjoying the scent that lingered in the air.
"Everything's ready?" Sakuya asked.
Shin nodded.
At her subtle signal, everyone put their hands together and said in unison, "Itadakimasu."
Silence followed, broken only by the soft clink of chopsticks and the quiet rustle of sleeves. Shuu-jii glanced around, mildly surprised at how calmly—almost reverently—everyone ate. No one rushed, no one shouted. There was no television or idle chatter, only the sound of food being appreciated.
He picked up a piece of the grilled trout and took a bite.
And stopped.
His eyes widened slightly. The crisp skin gave way to juicy, tender meat, subtly seasoned with salt and yuzu zest. Flavor burst on his tongue—clean, balanced, and nostalgic.
"Hoooh..." he let out, barely above a whisper. Then, with newfound energy, he took another bite. Then another.
"Sakuya… are you sure this was made by a child?" he murmured between chews.
"Shin made it. He always does," she replied, sipping her tea.
Though older and with a smaller appetite these days, Shuu-jii found himself finishing his bowl entirely. Then—unashamed—he asked for seconds. When he saw several of the orphans already lining up with empty bowls in hand, he laughed heartily and joined them.
"Don't mind if I do!" he said, holding out his bowl with a grin.
Moments later, the table was cleared—emptied to the last grain of rice. Everyone leaned back, satisfied. Shuu-jii wiped his mouth and exhaled deeply, still amazed.
"To think I could eat this well at my age," he muttered. Then he gave Sakuya a curious look. "It's strange, though. I ate more than usual, but I don't feel heavy. My stomach isn't sluggish at all."
Sakuya smiled faintly. "Shin's meals tend to have that effect."
Shuu-jii watched the children as they laughed, stretched, and contentedly patted their bellies. He narrowed his eyes. There was something else too—something subtle.
All of them looked... unusually healthy. Their eyes were clear. Their skin glowed faintly with vitality. Even the ones who were once frail seemed livelier.
"Their constitution is exceptional," he whispered under his breath.
His eyes shifted back to Shin, who had already rallied some of the older orphans to begin cleaning the dishes. Without being told, they worked in rhythm, almost like a team of trained kitchen staff. Shin moved among them calmly, giving brief directions when needed.
Shuu-jii rubbed his chin thoughtfully.
There's more to that boy than just cooking skills.
And he intended to find out.