Trying to Persuade

"Great Matriarch." Shuma first answered respectfully, then continued, "They're my friends, not ingredients. We can't eat them."

"Friends?" The old woman's eyes sized up Buggy and Mohji, then suddenly lit up. "But they look quite delicious."

These cannibals were all cut from the same cloth. In their narrow worldview, eating was the only thing that mattered, and they had no boundaries whatsoever.

Of course, Buggy had no intention of offending them. He wanted to see what Shuma would do. Based on their interactions so far, the man seemed so simple that he didn't even have a concept of good and evil. Whether he was putting on an act or not would become clear from what he did next.

"That's right, they're certainly delicious..." Shuma echoed the Great Matriarch, then stiffened. He glanced at Buggy, whose expression had turned sour, and hurriedly added, "No, no, we can't eat our friends."

The old woman frowned at Buggy and Mohji, her tone turning cold and stern. "The last thing you should trust in this world is so-called friends and companions. I've heard enough of those stupid jokes. Shuma, the only ones who can protect you and support you are your own people. Only we will never betray you. Outsiders like these can become our friends in the belly only after they've been boiled in a pot."

"No, no." Shuma shook his head like a rattle, his tone surprisingly firm. "They said they'd take me to the outside world. We can't eat them."

At Shuma's words, the feather-woven ring atop the old woman's head sprang upright. Veins of red spread from the whites of her eyes toward the centers of her pupils, and her voice grew shrill. "Go to the outside world? I absolutely won't allow it! The ingredients out there are all trash. They only persecute and betray people. They deserve to be our food!"

Seeing the Great Matriarch's reaction, the other tribe members hurried to join in.

One scolded him. "Shuma, stop talking. Don't make the Great Matriarch angry."

Another tried to soothe her. "Great Matriarch, please calm down. Shuma's just an ignorant boy. Don't hold it against him."

A third chimed in. "The Great Matriarch is right. Those people from the outside all deserve to die. Those scum do nothing but play with other people's feelings. They're utterly despicable!"

As soon as he finished speaking, someone clapped a hand over his mouth and hissed, "Don't say that in front of the Great Matriarch."

Shuma lowered his head and scratched it in frustration. "Actually, I wanted to ask your permission to go to Lord Bear Spirit and have him judge the dish for my coming-of-age ceremony."

The feather ring on the old woman's head slowly settled. Her tone became less hurried, though somewhat hoarse. "I've already prepared the cooking utensils and seasonings for you. As for the ingredients, use these two here."

Shuma didn't answer directly. Instead, he looked around. The old woman closed her eyes and waited silently for his answer, seeming quite patient.

Mohji had been staring at the cape on Buggy's back to distract himself. His ears twitched, and at last he couldn't keep up his pretense of calm. He stammered softly, "C-Captain Buggy, what, what does she mean?"

Mohji had wanted to make a good impression on Buggy while Cabaji was sick, but he'd suddenly realized that things weren't so simple.

"She means exactly what she said," Buggy replied impassively.

"So she only means what she said. Then, then there's really... nothing to be afraid of!" Mohji said, his teeth chattering and his legs trembling.

Noticing Mohji's reaction, Shuma patted him on the shoulder. "Moses ingredient, do your best!"

"Hey, what do you mean, 'do your best'?" Mohji whispered angrily. "And my name is Mohji. Also, don't call me an ingredient."

At the Great Matriarch's signal, several tribe members brought over a set of packed cooking utensils and set them on the ground. The old woman said without joy or sorrow, "Take these to the back mountain. I've already told you the steps. I hope you'll become the youngest adult in the tribe."

Buggy stopped Shuma, who was about to say something more, and stepped forward. "Great Matriarch, I'd like to know whether you have a map of the nearby islands."

With her eyes still closed, the old woman slowly replied, "Upright ingredient, you have no right to speak to me."

Buggy was slightly displeased by the proud, stubborn old woman. But out of consideration for Shuma, and because of his own good manners, he didn't let it show. He quickly weighed his words, then said, "If you can give us a map of the nearby islands, we'll willingly become your ingredients."

As he spoke, he felt Mohji clutching his sleeve and trembling. When he looked back, Mohji had indeed bitten down hard on his lower lip, tears streaming down his face.

The old woman finally opened her eyes. "I won't hand over any map of the islands, and I won't trust outsiders like you. You're all honey-tongued liars. You people have polluted this pure world."

Since she'd said she wouldn't hand it over, that meant they did have such a thing. Buggy had successfully picked up on that detail. Next, he tried to persuade her using the thing he was best at: bluffing, or, as it was commonly called, sweet-talking.

He quickly looked around, then reached out and plucked at the air beside a tree. When he opened his palm, a ladybug that had been brown had gradually turned nearly the same color as his white glove.

He looked solemnly at the people before him and said, "This color-changing ladybug's body changes color to match its surroundings. To survive, it camouflages itself and deceives its predators. For such a weak creature, if it didn't do that, it wouldn't live out a single day."

Then Buggy released the ladybug and pointed to a black-feathered eagle perched on a branch. "This Long-beaked Eagle can catch fish in the sea with its sharp beak and hunt small animals on land. It has almost no natural enemies, and lives free and unrestrained."

"The strong have their own way of surviving, but the weak have the right to survive too. Compared to the strong, the weak have a much harder time of it. Deception and disguise are products of this world's evolution and rules, ways of making up for what the weak lack. Being deceived by the weak may make you angry, but doesn't that just prove you have the makings of the strong?"

Buggy delivered his final words with force, and, without blushing or batting an eye, slipped in a bit of flattery.

"The makings of the strong..." the old woman murmured. For some reason, the tribe members around her watched the Great Matriarch nervously, seeming to mutter something under their breath.

A smile gradually appeared on the old woman's dry, wrinkled face, like a rainbow after the rain that gave one reason to hope. She bared two yellow teeth and pulled out a slightly warm map she'd been carrying against her body. "As long as you're willing to become ingredients, this map of the islands is yours."