Endless plains stretch beneath a vast blue sky.
Few nations exist here; most people live as nomads, moving in tribes across the land. Among these tribes lives one of werewolves.
They belong to a gentle branch—mocked by other werewolves as "dogs who've forgotten the hunt"—yet they live carefree, content lives. After all, when wolves themselves are the shepherds, few beasts dare attack.
"Hmm... that should do it."
Within this werewolf tribe lives a single human girl.
Her name is Mizudome Azusa. Her sharp eyes and tall frame make her seem mature, but she's only fifteen—just started high school.
Her classmates once called her "Boss Lady," much to her dismay. Then one day, she got summoned—yes, literally summoned—to marry one of the few kings on this continent.
If there's a silver lining, it's that the king was handsome. But after their brief introductions, he suddenly leaned in and kissed her. Azusa—an outwardly calm, inwardly flustered teenager—snapped, landed an uppercut, followed by an air combo, and left the poor king sprawled on the floor.
Realizing "Oh no, I've really done it," Azusa fled.
She wandered for days until this werewolf tribe found and sheltered her.
"Wish I had more vegetables. But the stores are low... Still, everyone seems happy, so that's fine."
Out of gratitude, Azusa began helping however she could. These days, cooking for the tribe has become her daily duty.
Her current dilemma: too much meat.
To someone raised on Japan's modest agrarian diet, a meal without vegetables feels like a death sentence—at least, to her waistline.
Her obsession with vegetables isn't just about nutrition; it's also about getting rid of the meat's smell. Normally, you'd use spices, but leeks or shiitake mushrooms can do the job too.
And yes—it's true. Shiitake mushrooms really remove meat odor.
(Author's note: The writer is from Mikan Kingdom, not a paid promoter for the Shii Prefecture.)
Ehime's mandarins! Only one is enough! (A subtle mikan plug.)
"Azuuusa! Dinner ready yet?"
"Yeah, yeah. Stop running; it's done."
Hearing the pot boil, a dog-eared girl comes charging in. Azusa calmly catches her forehead mid-sprint and dishes out a small sample.
"Here. Try it. Today's stew's lamb shank, simmered till tender."
"Whoa, the meat's so soft! I could chew the bone!"
"Good for you. I'm not stopping you, but I'll pass."
Azusa smiles wryly as the girl wags her tail in joy.
The werewolves' tribe is full of straightforward types like this. Their honesty makes it easy for Azusa to relax—something she hasn't done in a long time.
"You're really good at cooking, Azusa. I'd marry you if I could!"
"Yeah, no thanks. Not into that."
She waves her hand dismissively, but when the same words come from the tribe's young men, she finds herself at a loss.
To escape the awkwardness, she once joked, "I was hurt by a bad man... so romance scares me now."
The men immediately turned pale. "We were so insensitive!" The whole dinner turned solemn, while the women glared daggers at them.
A rare—no, tragic—incident indeed.
Today too, the otherworld is peaceful.
* * *
Meanwhile, up in Takamagahara, a certain god's whim started a sudden yakiniku festival.
Amaterasu had asked her brother Tsukuyomi, "Go buy a grill and some charcoal." And, as usual, he gave in.
Gods and Japanese alike love a good feast. Even vengeful gods, once enshrined, are given festivals—it's just how things work.
"Can't believe we live in an age where beef's this easy to get. ...I wonder if mutton's good."
"You've had it before. It's tasty but strong-smelling. ...Susanoo, stop eating it half raw. No one's stealing your meat."
"Not me, bro—it's Sis who's hogging everything."
Around the grill sit the Three Noble Children—Amaterasu, Tsukuyomi, and Susanoo.
Amaterasu and Susanoo keep devouring the meat, while Tsukuyomi calmly tends the fire yet somehow saves his own share. Their personalities couldn't be clearer.
"...So why am I here again?"
Three divine heads turn. Across the grill sits a young man—Kagutsuchi, god of fire, eldest of the four.
He was born from Izanagi and Izanami, but his flames fatally burned his mother. Enraged, Izanagi cut him down. A tragic god, really.
Incidentally, from Kagutsuchi's blood, new gods like Takemikazuchi were born. Die, revive, repeat—Japan's gods stay busy.
"The charcoal fire was weak, so I called you," Amaterasu says flatly.
"...You summoned me just for that!?"
Kagutsuchi glares. Amaterasu doesn't blink.
(For the record, you don't light charcoal directly. You start a smaller flame inside it. Summoning a flamethrower god is not recommended.)
"Anyway, eat up, Kagutsuchi."
"This part's just right for you."
"Don't overthink it, bro. Dig in."
"...You three are unbelievable."
Kagutsuchi sighs. His siblings grin.
And once again, Takamagahara is at peace.