Hataraku Maou-sama! - Volume 12 - Chapter Ep

EPILOGUE 
In the end, Maou and Emi still knew nothing. 
What had Laila been scheming for, all this time? After all the strange, inscrutable things Gabriel had gotten up to, why was he on Laila’s side now? What role did the Sephirah children have in saving Ente Isla? How was the Tree of Sephirot holding up, locked away now in heaven? 
But now that Maou and Laila had at least agreed to talk things over, one thing had palpably changed. 
“I can’t breathe!!” 
“Silence, Urushihara. We are trying to eat here,” Ashiya replied. 
“It’s too hot!!” 
“Surely you jest, Lucifer. It is November. Almost time for me to change into my winter kimono sets,” Bell added. 
“Dude, Ashiya, Bell, you know what I’m trying to say! Quit ignoring me!” 
““What could you possibly mean?”” the two asked simultaneously. 
“Don’t give me that crap!! Why the hell are there that many dudes in here?!!” Urushihara yelled, having finally lost his patience. “Acieth! Emeralda Etuva! Laila! Gabriel! Nord Justina! Get out of here, guys! Why do you all gotta eat dinner in our home, too?! This joint’s tiny! You know that!!” 
“Urushihara! You almost kicked over the table! This miso soup’s gonna spill all over the place!” 
“Chiho Sasaki! Don’t you have any thoughts about this at all?!” 
“Of course I do!!” 
“Whoa!” 
He reared back at the unexpectedly caustic reaction. 
“But…but what do you want me to do about it?! I-I’m just so jealous! I wish I could substitute in for her! Never in my dreams did I think Yusa would…Yusa would wind up…like this…!!” 
“Ch-Chiho, um, I’m sorry, but it’s really nothing like that.” 
“Like this” seemed a rather rude way of putting it in Emi’s mind. After all that yelling at Laila and Maou, she was now seated next to the devil himself, bowl in hand, not quite sure how she wound up here. 
“I know!” Chiho replied, returning to her seat with a sort of half laugh, half sob. “I’ve always wanted you and Maou to be happy together! That’s totally the truth!!” 
She wolfed down some rice in a very impolite, non-Chiho-like manner that resulted in a few grains sticking to her cheeks, then glared menacingly at the woman next to her. 
“Laila! If there’s anybody I should resent, it’s you, Laila!” 
“Um, I don’t know why, but sorry…” 
The archangel controlling the fates of both Ente Isla and demon-realm history behind the scenes bore the brunt of the teenager’s abject rage admirably well as she reached out for some pickled vegetables. 
“Now, now, c’mon, guys, it’s fun to eat in a big group like this, mm-kay? Quit worrying about your little squabbles ’n’ stuff. And I’ve even brought along a little treat to add to the meal. Ta-da! Mikitty’s handmade meatballs in sweet vinegar paste!” 
Unlike the somber Laila who came empty-handed, the ever-gregarious Gabriel had taken a large plastic container out from a tote bag. It was filled, as promised, to the brim with large meatballs, filling the table with the soft scent of bean paste and paprika. He was by far the largest man in the group, and sitting cross-legged at the low table made him the target of repeated, merciless kicking from Urushihara. 
“Dude, you’re so huge, you’re in my way! And this table’s already too full of miso soup and rice bowls for your crap! And I don’t need handmade anything from that landlord! She already makes my hair bleach out; does she wanna do that with my soul next?!” 
“Ooh, that’s pretty rude there. Mikitty brought these out for everybody to share, too. She said it’s high-grade Japanese Black beef from Kagoshima!” 
“Apologize to Gabriel, Urushihara.” 
The mention of the fancy Wagyu breed made Ashiya immediately snatch up the container, put some meatballs on a plate, and toss them headlong into the microwave. 
“Whoa! Maou! Ashiya’s sold his soul as a Great Demon General for some stupid meatballs! We oughtta court-martial him!!” 
“Ooh, no worries, Lucifer!” Acieth interjected. “If there are the extra, me and Eme take them!” 
Urushihara cupped his head in his hands at the extremely unhelpful offer. “I’m not worried about that! And you guys eat too much, you know!” 
“Maou! Please, would you exercise your rights as master of this domain and do something with these impudent fools?! And you as well, Emilia! This place is a battlefield every evening because you never show any resolve around here!” 
“……Got me there,” Maou muttered as he prodded his food. 
Emi, shoehorned next to him, winced as she tried to put a response together. “……I’m sorry, it’s just…” 
“It’s fine, Emilia,” came the calm, reassuring voice of Nord. “Nobody is forcing you. You must choose yourself. I will respect your and Laila’s choices as much as I can.” 
“Father…” 
“How ’bout you start respecting the choices of the people who actually live here, dude?!” 
Next to the still-screeching Urushihara, another figure approached, making its way through the mass of bodies around the table. 

“Lushiferr, sit down when you eat! That’s mean!” 
“Daaahhhhhhh!” the fallen angel groaned, incapable of chewing out a toddler. 
It had been nearly five days since Erone was ferried into Room 101, and in that time, Emi had returned to her apartment in Eifukucho exactly once. Beyond that, she had been staying—intruding, really—in Suzuno’s room. Laila had reportedly joined her on that single trip back home, but as Emeralda put it, things were so awkward between them that they could barely keep up a decent conversation. 
It was the first chance to discuss matters, and not only did they both completely flub it—they hadn’t even found a chance to talk, or fight, or even squabble since. Before they knew it, it was Laila, constantly searching for that instant when Emi was away from Maou’s side, versus everybody else serving as security guards just in case things physically came to blows between the two. This banquet was the indirect result. 
Maou had made his conditions in the first place for two reasons. One, he thought it best to keep himself and Emi separate when deciding whether or not to speak with Laila. Two, he wanted to stop worrying about Emi acting all irresolute about her mother, facing another brain crash, and throwing everything around her into confusion. If Emi and Laila could just face each other and talk, like two grown women, even if it resulted in no broad agreement, it’d at least help banish some of the hard feelings and bring Emi back to her old self. 
That’s what he had hoped for. Instead, he got this. Emi didn’t have it in her to be alone with Laila at all. This was fine in itself, but she was now hiding herself in Maou’s conditions for Laila, almost never leaving his side when she wasn’t working with him. It was starting to make Maou miss the slay–the–Devil King, I-swear-I’ll-kill-you, constant-nuisance, watching-behind-the-apartment-fence Emi of once upon a time. 
Having this ball of mixed emotions next to him every waking hour made it impossible to figure out how to interact with her. He thought about taking a hard-line approach, but wasn’t sure how; he had never done so before. Thus, the Devil’s Castle had been completely full the past few days; the eerily observant Kawata and Akiko had been giving them strange looks at MgRonald; and the combination of Chiho’s blazing eyes, Suzuno’s frigid stares, Ashiya’s despair as he watched all their rice disappear, and Urushihara’s whining weighed all too heavily on his heart. 
“Emi, can you at least take some responsibility for what you said? Were you really this gutless all along? Havin’ a brain crash, or what?” 
“I—I am not! I’m—I’m gonna talk it over. I am! Sometime…” 
Every time Maou brought up the topic, it was always, “I’ll do it sometime, I’ll do it sometime.” 
“B-besides, it’s not like you’re ready to talk to Laila, either! You’re having me come home with you after work so the conditions you set out for her never happen, aren’t you…?” 
“No, I’m not gonna deny that—but only for the distance between MgRonald and this apartment! I just didn’t think the almighty Hero would wanna hang with demons after work and on all her off days, is all! Go home already!!” 
He chose his words carefully to nettle Emi as much as possible. The reaction was even more visceral than he anticipated. 
“I…! Wha…? I-it-it’s not like I’m choosing to be with you! It’s—it’s just… You know, right now, things aren’t…convenient right now…” 
The incredibly inarticulate excuse, the lexical equivalent of falling on your face halfway across the street, ruined the atmosphere. 
“““Not convenient how?””” exclaimed Ashiya, Urushihara, and Suzuno all at once. 
“H-hey! Did you just say something?” 
“““No,””” they exclaimed again, looking coldly off in the distance. 
“I wanted Maou and Yusa to get along,” observed Chiho, “and I guess my wish is half-true now, but…but, I dunno, this still doesn’t feel totally right… I don’t want to sound resentful or anything, but I just can’t see much to be happy about… It’s weird, Laila.” 
It was more her cursing out Laila at length than anything. The archangel was more or less next to her, chopsticks in her mouth, and Chiho spoke only loud enough for her to hear. 
“No rest for the wicked,” the utterly exasperated Maou muttered. 
“Nor for I, Your Demonic Highness.” 
“You’re right, Maou! I can’t relax for a single moment!” 
“I warned you about this, dude! Do something about it!” 
“Indeed, everything has its limit…” 
Maou and Emi’s acquaintances each laid out their grievances in order. But it was Emi who landed the killer blow: 
“I’m really sorry…but please, let me stay like this for a while longer…” 
The whisper from the heart, as she sidled closer to Maou around the crowded table, shot across the room like lightning. 
“Yu-Yu-Yu-Yu-Yu-Yu-Yu-Yusa?! Ummm?! Does, does that mean…?!” 
“Whoa! Emi! Bollllld! Phewwww!” 
“Emiliaaa, that could have been phrased farrr better, I thiiink.” 
Chiho nearly fainted on the spot. Acieth attempted to whistle her praises like a pumped-up football fan, but failed. Emeralda’s face stiffened. And Maou said: 
“Please, please don’t bring any more trouble in here. Please…” 
Maou turned white as a sheet, almost dropping his bowl and chopsticks entirely. 
“Mommy ’n’ Daddy are friends!” 
Only Alas Ramus saw this as welcome news. Sadly, even her adorableness wasn’t enough to lighten the mood. 
And in Room 101: 
“Hope they don’t all fall through the ceiling.” 
Amane, checking up on Erone, glared upward, practically ready to burst with all the many, many sounds of life above. 
“So they’re choosin’ dinner tonight over peace in the faraway future, huh? I should probably get somethin’ to eat myself. He said I could help myself to the fridge, and I ain’t about to say no to that.” 
Rubbing her hands together, she opened the door and began cobbling together an evening meal from the food inside. Erone, behind her, was groaning in his sleep. Was it a nightmare? Or was he just reacting to the noise above? There was no way to know until he woke up.