The wood in the fire crackled softly. Flames licked the pot suspended beneath a roof beam, and the miso soup bubbling inside gave off an enticing aroma.
Hirota Tulio and the black man sat on the tatami around the fire, warming themselves in their half-dried clothes.
On the other side, a delicate-faced, black-haired girl with bandages wrapped around her face and body stirred the miso soup with a ladle.
"Arigato, Miss Isaribi."
Feeling overwhelmed by her kindness, Hirota Tulio accepted the bowl and chopsticks she handed him, unable to resist stealing a glance at Miss Isaribi, who had rescued them from the sea.
Isaribi looked about fifteen or sixteen. Her black hair had a purplish tinge, and she wore coarse hemp clothes. Most noticeable were the layers of bandages wrapped around her left cheek, forehead, arms, and ankles.
Was she injured? It looked pretty serious.
Hirota Tulio pondered this as he brought the miso soup to his mouth.
"Oishii!"
Though it was only miso soup made with wild greens, radishes, sea fish, and a little miso, Hirota Tulio ate with relish. Even without any side dishes, he wolfed down two large bowls of brown rice with the soup, with unidentified beans and tubers making up more than half the rice.
Though he was Brazilian, Hirota Tulio still had a Japanese stomach and a particular fondness for miso soup.
By contrast, Antonio, the black man beside him, sniffed the miso soup and looked troubled after a sip. He forced down half, and Hirota Tulio unceremoniously took the rest and drained it.
After polishing off all the food Isaribi had prepared, he smacked his lips, still wanting more.
With hot food in his stomach, warmth and vigor returned to every limb. Only then did Hirota Tulio truly feel alive again.
"Miss Isaribi,