Published: September 2, 2025
※ Changed the subtitle on 5/5.
※ Corrected typos on 2018/6/11.
When I went to the orphanage on my employer’s errand, what I saw were little children playing with cards. Those cards were identical to the learning cards I had made. But the illustrations were a little different.
“Hey kids, where did you get those cards?”
“Brother Tsui made them.”
“No, Uni-nee got them from her boyfriend.”
“Brother Etai drew the pictures.”
“Brother Tsui carved the wood, you know?”
“Uni-nee taught us how to play.”
The children answered my questions all at once. It was hard to catch everything they said when they spoke so quickly. Eventually, they started arguing among themselves, so I hurried to mediate.
After several questions, I finally understood: “The cards were given to a girl named Uni by her boyfriend,” “A boy named Tsui procured the materials like wood pieces, ink, and brushes,” and “A boy named Etai drew the pictures.”
Since I sold both sets of prototype learning cards to that merchant boy, Uni’s boyfriend must be him. Probably, the clever-looking girl who was with him at the time is Uni.
The children at this orphanage were the ones I said I would teach to read.
Come to think of it, one of the children said something that caught my attention.
“How do you play it?”
My learning cards didn’t have any game instructions. You just read the characters on one side and check the illustration on the back for correctness.
“This is how!”
“Arrange them like this.”
“In order.”
“When you guess the character right—”
“You get to keep the card.”
The children spoke rapidly, words spilling out as if they were eager to explain. I patiently listened and sorted it all out in my head.
You place 100 cards with the characters facing up. You read aloud the character on the “field,” and if the illustration on the back matches, you can claim that card as yours. Cards that don’t match are stacked face down in the “graveyard.” When there are no cards left on the field, you shuffle the graveyard cards back onto the field and continue playing. When all cards from the field and graveyard are gone, the game ends, and the person with the most cards becomes the “Scholar”—the winner.
“Wow, it’s amazing to come up with such a game.”
“Yeah, Uni-nee is amazing!”
“Wasn’t Aisa supposed to be the great one?”
“No, it’s Talisa.”
“Wasn’t it Maysa?”
I want to meet this Uni. I asked if I could meet Uni or the other two.
“Uni-nee is working.”
“Brother Tsui is training, right?”
“What about Brother Etai?”
“In his room?”
“No, the oldest kids are working in the field today.”
“The gabo field?”
“No, they said komatsuna.”
“Then it’s the red-roofed place.”
“Uncle, I’ll show you!”
Uncle? I’m only twenty years old.
Feeling a little hurt by their words, I still let the children lead me along.
â—‡
At the place the children took me, about twenty boys around ten years old were working in the fields.
The eldest, a muscular boy, cast me a suspicious glance.
“Hey, nice to meet you. I’m Naisen, a merchant.”
“What does a merchant want? The crops belong to the lord; you can’t just sell them!”
When he added “-sama” to “merchant,” it had a sarcastic tone, but I ignored it. I wasn’t here to fight children.
“No, I want to meet Etai, and these kids are showing me the way.”
“That’s Etai over there under the tree looking dizzy. He’s useless, so if you need him, you can take him. You kids come here.”
I thanked the boy and headed toward Etai.
The little kids were grabbed by the boy and forced to help pull weeds. I waved at them faintly and spoke to Etai.
“Etai, can we talk a bit?”
“...Who are you?”
“Nice to meet you. I’m Naisen, a merchant.”
“A merchant, huh? What do you want...?”
Etai didn’t seem good at conversation.
“Actually, about those learning cards you drew pictures for—”
“They’re fun, aren’t they!”
“Yeah, the kid who came up with the game is amazing.”