THE HERO AND THE DEVIL WONDER WHAT THE HELL THEY’RE DOING WITH THEIR LIVES
“Helloooooo! Welcome!!”
Chiho’s booming voice echoed across the restaurant.
Several customers looked up to see what her deal was. The couple just walking through the door stopped for a moment. Maou and the rest of the crew, meanwhile, froze on the spot and cautiously turned her way.
Kisaki, the only person not thrown by the display, patted Chiho’s shoulder from her position next to her. “Right. Good. I don’t know where you learned that, but the more energy, the better. Make sure you know how to maintain a certain distance, though. You don’t have to scream that loud for customers to hear you.”
“Oh. Um, sorry…”
Chiho, her face reddened at her unintended prank on the entire store, quickly focused on helping the next customer at the register. As she did, Maou watched her with nervous eyes.
A week had passed since Chiho unlocked the secret to activating holy force from Emi and Suzuno. As a part-time student employee, today was her first day at the newly renovated MgRonald in front of Hatagaya rail station. She arrived, for reasons only she knew, as a girl possessed. If she wasn’t shouting in abject glee at customers, she was sticking out from the rest of the crew in other not-so-positive ways.
Chiho was sensible enough to pick up on this, of course, but something about the earlier screaming contest must have put her decibel limiter out of whack, all but cowing her paying customers into submission on several occasions.
“I really appreciate her eagerness,” a disappointed-looking Kisaki said, “but I’m not sure I can let Chi up into the café space quite yet if she’s acting like that. We’re short-staffed up there, so I’d really love to, but…”
Maou stewed in agony, unable to say anything in her defense. That shouting was thanks to her holy-force training, of course. The problem, though, was that there aren’t too many places in modern urban Japan where you can keep shouting at people all the time and not have them be a tad leery about sharing personal space with you.
Her parents couldn’ t have been appreciating that much, either, to say nothing of the local neighborhood. The sound of a girl Chiho’s age screaming in a public park would be enough to summon several patrol cars all by itself. To say nothing of shrieking in a public bath. Everybody was already on edge enough in those.
She couldn’t just test out her pipes every single day at the karaoke joint, though. So now, apparently, she was trying to get in a little practice wherever she could, at odd parts of the day. At this rate, though, it couldn’t last. Stories would get around.
Maou accepted her efforts well enough, however, once Emi and Suzuno sat him down and talked it over. They had a good point. Whether they wiped her memories or not, at this point, Chiho was a collective Achilles’ heel to them—especially since Olba Meiyer, lurking behind the scenes in both Ente Isla and the demon realms, was liable to stab at them without warning. If and when that happened, having a way for Chiho to send out an SOS to Maou and crew while making sure her own memories stayed intact would be extremely beneficial to all of them.
Still, Chiho also had her own social life. School, part-time job, the works. She couldn’t let her training mess that up.
Once the stream of customers died down, Maou beckoned to her.
“Hey, Chi, you got a moment?”
“…I’m sorry. It’s about my voice, isn’t it?” Chiho turned her eyes downward.
“Uhh…”
This was awkward already. Maou didn’t need her to be this self-conscious about it. This was all part of an effort to keep her from becoming excess baggage for him and Emi, besides.
“Well, I’m glad you know, at least. But just make sure you stay focused on your day-to-day life, okay? These are important times for you.”
Chiho smiled, a few fatigue lines under her eyes. “Sure.”
“’Cause, I mean, if that keeps up, Ms. Kisaki’s not gonna let you go upstairs, you know?”
“Yeah… I guess, just make sure I have an on-off switch in my mind, huh?”
“That’d be perfect.” Maou nodded broadly, spotting Kisaki signaling her approval out of the corner of his eye. “Go with that.”
“But…ooh, I dunno. Even if I do, I’m not sure I’m gonna get up there anyway.”
It was unusual, seeing Chiho have so little confidence in herself. Maou rolled his eyeballs down and to the right.
“Welllll…yeah. I get where you’re comin’ from.”
He scratched a cheek as he reluctantly agreed.
“Up there,” in the context of this chat, meant the café space on the second floor. It was one week after the grand reopening, and if you accommodated for the fact that the local office-worker clientele was keeping tight reins on their spending after the August Obon holidays, the location was faring decently enough. Given their normal customer base, coupled with the fact that their prices were just that little bit lower than competing coffee chains, they were seeing noticeably more families and single women than usual.
The location didn’t make a big deal of separating the regular MgRonald space from the MagCafé upstairs, so some customers would order downstairs and bring their food up to eat. As a result, the café’s customer turnover rate was one issue they’d have to tackle going forward. Still, between being the first day after a lengthy closure and the sheer confidence oozing from every pore of Kisaki’s body, the regulars were quickly coming back. More than a few were closeted (or not-so-closeted) fans of Kisaki. You could tell because they were the ones snapping cell phone pics of Kisaki’s portrait in the corporate “Store Manager” display hung by the café counter upstairs.
So while the MagCafé launch was hardly any disaster, most of the crew—including Maou and Chiho—doubted they had the confidence to dare a shift up there yet.
Why?
“Boy, what do you have to do to make coffee that good, huh…?”
Chiho could be excused for muttering it to herself from afar. Something about the coffee Kisaki herself poured up there made it seem to absolutely sparkle.
The Platinum Roast coffee on the regular menu was one thing, but no matter what the crew was asked to prepare from the MagCafé menu, there was a world of difference between Kisaki’s work and anyone else’s.
MagCafé made a point of giving customers actual coffee mugs for their java purchases, not the paper cups and plastic tops you were rewarded with downstairs. Otherwise, while still technically a café, it operated under fast-food principles—keep things fast and consistent while at a certain level of quality.
To aid in that, MagCafé had its own dedicated coffee server, separate from the one serving up Platinum Roast. This wasn’t the kind where a fry jockey brews up a batch and dumps it once its shelf life expires, nor the sort you see in hotel breakfast buffets capable of grinding up a ton of beans in one go. The grinding might’ve been done with a machine instead of a hand-operated artisan thing, but since employees ground the beans for each individual order, there was room for differences in technical skill from one crewmember to the next.
Kisaki was instructing each shift in how to use the server as they punched in, but somehow or another, no matter what MagCafé menu item Kisaki whipped up, it was either just as good as a traditional café’s offerings or better.
“I mean, she’s grinding the coffee the same way we are, the hot water comes out at the same temperature, and we’re using the same milk for everything, aren’t we? What’s making it so different…?”
Neither Maou nor Chiho were avid coffee drinkers, but even they could tell the difference in quality between the stuff they tried to make and Kisaki’s.
Everyone on staff who tried it agreed: If they wanted their coffee to match Kisaki’s, that required a little extra something that wasn’t mentioned in the training manuals.
“Yeah…well, we’re gonna have to work up there sometime, or we ain’t gonna be too useful.”
Kisaki was on staff nearly the whole day today to make sure the grand opening didn’t see any huge disasters. But, being a salaried employee, MgRonald couldn’t keep her in the store forever. And it wasn’t like they could shut down MagCafé when her magic touch wasn’t on hand.
“I guess my question is, what kind of taste is corporate aiming for—Kisaki’s, or ours?”
“Corporate?” Chiho said, not catching the aim of Maou’s observation.
“Y’know, MgRonald is a chain and everything, so it’s got a vested interest in making sure the drink experience is the same no matter which location you visit. You think you can get Ms. Kisaki’s coffee anywhere else in Tokyo?”
“Well, that’s not a bad thing, is it? It would be if it tasted bad, but hers tastes a lot better than normal coffee, even.”
Maou’s eyes turned to a stack of fliers next to a nearby cash register. The back of them had a rundown of the MagCafé menu, clearly showing the 250-yen price point for the café au lait and caffe latte.
“Maybe, but if you put it another way, if customers can’t have Kisaki’s coffee, we’d be asking them to pay the same price for an inferior product.”
“…Oh.” Chiho got the gist after a moment.
“When you’re a chain the size of MgRonald, there’s kind of a quality bottom line every location needs to abide by. If they don’t, that goes against the concept of offering the same quality menu nationwide. If it was just a matter of making the best coffee you can at the same price, then some employee could just bring in some gourmet Red Valley beans or whatever to make their location the best coffee place in town. If every location went their own way like that, it wouldn’t really be a MgRonald menu they’re offering any longer.”
There were many restaurant chains that used their regionalism as a weapon to appeal to customers. MgRonald was not one of them. A fact that Kisaki seemed to be freely ignoring.
“Right, but Ms. Kisaki’s using the same machine, the same beans, the same milk, and the same mugs, isn’t she?”
Maou scratched his head. “Yeah, that’s the thing. That’s what I don’t get.”
On the surface, it meant that Maou’s coffee wasn’t making the grade yet. But if doing it like the manual said wasn’t enough, what was?
“It’s not really my field of training,” Chiho mused, “but maybe you have to put more feeling into it, huh? Like, ‘Come on, coffee, get more flavorful ,’ that kind of thing?”
“I don’t think saying that out loud in the kitchen’s gonna help much. It’s not like we’re farming the beans ourselves.”
“Or, like, maybe Kisaki deliberately makes coffee only when Mozart’s playing on the PA system?”
“Nah. Also, that whole ‘play Mozart to make plants grow more’ thing isn’t scientifically proven.”
They could debate this until the cows came home, but no ready conclusion sprang to mind. What made Kisaki’s coffee so good ?
The stream of customers remained fairly steady until the postdinner hour. Soon the clock struck ten, Chiho’s mandatory clock-out time as a minor. She passed by Maou as she left the staff room in her street clothes.
“Well, careful walking home.”
“Sure thing. Thanks.”
She gave a grateful nod to the remaining staff on hand.
“If anything comes up, give me one of those well-trained screams of yours, ’kay?”
“Huh? …Oh. Um, sure. Dunno how to answer that , really, but…”
It took Chiho a few moments to realize Maou was poking fun at her. She turned red in the face, clutching at her cell phone.
“Ahh, no worries. Just watch yourself. Also…”
“Yes?” Chiho pouted.
“I didn’t mention it yet, but thanks for working so hard at it.”
Maou’s voice was just low enough so that only Chiho could hear. She turned red again, this time for reasons that had nothing to do with anger.
“It-it’s not just for you , though!”
She walked briskly out of the store, still a bit put off by Maou’s picking on her. On one shoulder was a large bag, a rarity to see Chiho carrying. It seemed doubtful that she was headed anywhere else tonight, since it was late; maybe she’d had practice for a school activity earlier. Maou shrugged, sighed, and decided to start on the store’s closing procedures for the day. But before he could get very far, he was interrupted by Kisaki, who was heading down from the second floor.
“Oh… Did Chi leave already?”
This confused Maou. She almost certainly would’ve checked with her before changing and clocking out.
“How’d it go with her…shouting, then?”
“Hey, um, are you feeling all right?”
No one could blame Maou for asking his question first. Kisaki, for a change of pace, sounded spent, almost bereft of energy. Which was unusual, because the Devil King had never met a living creature with such seemingly boundless stores of endurance as she had. The nature of Kisaki’s job meant she might either get the whole day off or have to stay on-site from open ’til close, but—as if under a spell of some sort—her tempo never wavered for a moment around the crew.
Seeing a woman like that with small rings under her eyes, a finger to her left temple, and a voice one could charitably describe as “zombified” would make anyone worry about her health.
“Yeah, I am… Sorry.”
The question made Kisaki come to attention. She quickly scanned the dining area, demonstrating a sense of panic that was also rare for her, and breathed a sigh of relief for reasons Maou didn’t follow.
The regular MgRonald space was mostly empty, save for two pairs of what looked to be college students chatting with each other.
“I guess I put in a little more effort than I should’ve. But, man, at this rate, this is gonna be seriously rough.”
A further shock for Maou to hear. These sorts of complaints, Kisaki never gave out.
She raised her head and looked at a brand-new LCD monitor on one corner of the register counter. It was set up so employees on the first floor could keep track of the free seating upstairs, but as far as Maou could see, things were empty up there.
“What was the…um…deal?”
Seeing Kisaki grumble to herself and rub her sore shoulders right in front of him was a sight Maou had never seen in all his time at MgRonald. It made his voice a little shaky. Kisaki, looking at him quizzically, didn’t answer.
“So, what about Chi?”
“Oh, erm… Well, after we had that talk, she was back to normal. A few danger spots before then, though, huh?”
“…Huh.” Kisaki nodded solemnly, a hand kneading one of her shoulders. “You think she’s found a new goal for herself, too?”
“Wha?”
Maou focused his gaze more closely on her. Chiho had, of course, and she was vigorously pushing herself toward it. That shouting was part of it.
It was just an offhand remark from Kisaki as she brought up the first-floor daily totals on a register screen, but Maou wondered what made her notice it.
After that moment of concern, something else struck Maou’s mind.
“What do you mean by ‘too’?”
“…?”
Maou noticed Kisaki gasping a little. The next moment, she shook her head, as if regretting the whole thing.
“Ah, I’m just tired,” she said in a low voice. “Don’t worry about it.”
That reaction was enough to make Maou’s curiosity do an about-face. Maybe Kisaki was facing more delicate issues than he thought. He wasn’t close enough to her to wade in further.
“All right. Could I ask you about something else, though?”
“Hmm?”
“Me and Chi were wondering… Like, we’re using the same server and all, but how come your coffee tastes so much, uhhh—”
“Ahhh?”
“—different from ours…and stuff…”
A wave of terror overcame Maou for a moment. Kisaki seemed to prey upon the exact thing that unnerved him the most today. He asked the question in hopes of improving himself, but now there was something more sinister to her voice than ever before. She glared at him with a gaze so powerful that even the Devil King cowered under it. The entire exchange lasted no longer than a second, but to Maou, it may as well have been forever.
Then, the next moment, Kisaki’s eyes immediately widened and looked off into the distance.
Maou began to wonder if any day in his future would be as full of surprises as this one proved to be. Having Kisaki glare at him, then stare into space for a second or two, then lock right back onto his face left him in awe. He wondered if, for an instant, he had seen Kisaki at her most unguarded and vulnerable just then.
“…I’m sorry. Gimme one sec.”
Then she closed the results screen and marched into the staff room. She must’ve noticed that I noticed , Maou thought. But Kisaki was never one to dodge confrontation like that. It spooked Maou, seeing so much unfamiliar behavior from his manager in the span of five minutes.
He found himself staring at the staff-room door as he heard the whine of an old printer. Kisaki came right out once it stopped, a sheet of paper in her hand. Their eyes met as she did, and she looked a bit awkwardly at him when he noticed yet another odd reaction.
“Wanna take a look at this?”
Kisaki handed the sheet to Maou, the look of awkward concern still on her face. Maou ran his eyes across it. The title immediately gave him pause.
“MgRonald Barista?”
Barista wasn’t a term he was familiar with. Ballistas , he knew all about. Large, arrow-launching installations placed on top of forts and bulwarks. He oversaw many a ballista post in his time. The image of one of them propelling hamburgers at high speed, splattering them against a castle parapet, made him snicker.
“Do you know what a barista is?”
“Um…nothing to do with arrows?”
“What?”
“N-no…um, I guess I don’t.” Maou just barely squeaked out the reply.
“Yeah, the term hasn’t gone around in Japan much yet. Just think of it as someone with a lot of expert knowledge about coffee.”
“Expert knowledge?” Maou parroted back as he stared at the sheet.
The printout turned out to be a clipping from MgRonald’s internal newsletter. For Japanese franchisees, the main office was holding a special workshop to help employees handle MagCafé products and provide them more experience and knowledge to serve customers with. This was chiefly reserved for managers and other full-timers, but the MgRonald Barista program was also open to the hourly crew, assuming they had chalked up enough hours on duty and were willing to pay a class fee.
The workshop was mainly about MagCafé’s new coffee items. The daylong program went over handling the machinery, working with coffee beans, and the other fine particulars of everyone’s favorite deliverance of caffeine.
“Internal company rules state that there has to be at least one person with MgRonald Barista credentials in each MagCafé location.”
“Oh,” Maou replied. But he remained dubious. What was with this workshop that made it so different from the training manual he and the crew had at hand? He doubted a single day of instruction could make such a dramatic difference in taste—but even without the proven traffic record of Kisaki’s coffee, Maou could never turn down a potential chance at career advancement.
“The thing about being a barista, though, is that it’s not just coffee you have to focus on.”
“Huh?” Maou said, looking up from the course description.
“The word barista comes from Italian. What the Italians call ‘bars’ are really more like lunch cafés, and while bartenders specialize in alcoholic beverages, baristas at these places mostly deal in coffee and other nonalcoholic drinks. They’re kind of treated as masters of their craft, the same way chefs or sommeliers might be, although that way of thinking hasn’t really permeated Japan yet.”
The unexpected lecture piqued Maou’s interest.
“But not everyone who works behind a bar in Italy call themselves baristas. That’s because some are expected to run pretty much the whole place—drinks, food, restaurant equipment, customer service, the whole bit. Those people get called barman in Italy—they borrowed the English word for it. The idea’s that they’re totally versed in everything the bar offers, they’re totally focused on what they’re doing, and they can provide the best service possible to customers for any situation.”
“Uh-huh…”
Something about this speech seemed to impassion Kisaki. The previous fatigue was long gone. Maou couldn’t do much beyond nod at these freewheeling mood swings, but it was her rousing conclusion that made him gasp.
“That’s what I want to be someday. A true barman.”
“!!”
As far as Maou could recall, these were the first words he ever heard from Mayumi Kisaki as a person—not Ms. Kisaki, manager of the MgRonald in front of Hatagaya station. These were emotions from the heart that beat a rhythm behind her name tag. The fact that this shout from the heart was still about work reassured Maou that she hadn’t changed that much.
“Well, once you move up the ladder at the Mag, I bet you’re gonna accomplish a lot, Ms. Kisaki.”
She would, too. Her daily figures were consistently up from the same time last year. Maou understood, or thought he understood, how astounding a stat that was. There was no way Kisaki’s career would dead-end at this single location.
He always thought that she deserved a bigger playing field to shine in. But he had no idea that Kisaki—his primary role model, as he strove to attain the seemingly faraway goal of a full-time gig—was aiming for such incredibly lofty heights. It impressed him, despite the fact that his dreams of world domination were quite a bit loftier than that. But Kisaki was surprised at his reaction.
“What’re you talking about? I can’t accomplish that at MgRo—”
“…Huh?”
“Uh…”
Something told Maou he shouldn’t have heard that. His boss undoubtedly noticed, too. She really wasn’t acting herself today.
“…I’m not setting a good example as a manager, am I?” she intervened. “Chatting on and on about myself like this.” Then she fell awkwardly silent, eyes turned toward the paper Maou carried. “But, hey, if you want to get as good as I am, why don’t you start by taking that workshop? They’ll probably let you in for free, what with your shift-supervisor experience. Lemme know if you’re interested.”
“Um, certainly…”
“Anyway, I gotta get back upstairs. Hold the fort down here for me, all right?”
Kisaki may have looked no different from before as she whirled around and climbed the stairs, but Maou had the distinct impression she was speaking at a faster pace than usual. And more than that—more than anything—he didn’t miss the subtle nuances she dropped into that conversation. He could only pray that he was mistaken about them.
“Huh?”
Back at his apartment building, Maou was puzzled to find a light on in Suzuno’s upstairs room. As the ever-humble Church cleric she was, Suzuno always retired early at night. Her being awake after Maou worked the closing shift was unheard of. He decided to bring it up with Ashiya at the front door.
“Hey, what’s Suzuno up to?”
“Welcome back, Your Demonic Highness,” Ashiya replied with his usual flair. “Ms. Sasaki joined her a few moments ago, so whatever it is, it involves the two of them. More spell training, I presume.”
“Chi? I thought she went home after her shift ended. It’s past midnight! Why isn’t Suzuno letting her leave?”
The Devil King felt obliged to have a word with Suzuno about this. Letting a teenage girl walk around by herself in the midnight hours? Come on. Before Ashiya could stop him, Maou tied his shoes back on and knocked on the door to Room 202.
“Helloooo? You in there, Chi? It’s already tomorrow, you know. You need to head back hoooome…”
“Silence, Devil King!”
Suzuno stuck her petulant face out the doorway. The design on her kimono was far simpler than her normal wardrobe—leisure wear, or possibly the clothing she wore to bed.
Chiho, seated inside in pajamas, looked toward him, a conflicted look on her face.
“You fancy yourself her guardian, then? I have received permission from Chiho’s mother. She is staying overnight in my room.”
“…Oh. Is that all?”
“Yes.” Chiho bowed politely at him. “Sorry.”
That explained the large bag she’d been lugging around earlier. She must have planned this sleepover well in advance.
“Oh, not at all. I mean…you know, don’t overdo it, okay? Like, for real.”
“Of course…”
“I am wholly capable of providing for her safety, thank you. We have completed training and are currently engaged in what I understand is called ‘girl talk.’ You are not welcome.”
Suzuno shut the door, not bothering to wait for a reply.
“…Girl talk?” Maou parroted, pouting to himself as he plodded back to his castle.
“Umm,” Ashiya sheepishly replied, apparently listening in on their doorside chat. “Ms. Sasaki gave her greetings earlier, actually. She mentioned her mother as well.”
Maou brushed him off, focusing his attention on his MgRonald Barista info sheet as Ashiya reluctantly set off to prepare dinner.
“…It’s easy to fall into the trap of daily life, isn’t it?”
“Dude, what’s that about?” Urushihara asked, picking up on Maou’s passing utterance first.
“Hmm? Well, like, I just think it’s funny how everyone changes all the time, whether you notice it or not. It might seem like your life never changes, but it does—time’s zooming by, faster than you can perceive it.”
“Huh?” Urushihara snorted at the un–Devil King–like observation. “What’s with you, man? You gettin’ screwy in the head, too? That’s the whole reason why life’s fun. It’d be weird if stuff never changed.”
“…Like I need you telling me that.”
Having an ankle-biting live-in bum sum up his sentiments for him did not make Maou a happy camper. Urushihara stayed on the offensive, chuckling at him.
“I don’t think anyone in here knows that any better than I do, man.”
“Well,” Ashiya said, appearing with a plum, a bonito, and a basil rice ball and a bowl of miso soup. “If you care to know more about how life changes, why not prove it by helping out with chores a little? Hmm? ”
And thus, Maou’s sentiments were lost amid his appetite and the usual nighttime squabbling over the division of household duties.
“I am impressed, though. Such stable activation in a mere week’s time. It may already be time to begin with the basics of the Idea Link.”
“You think so?!”
Suzuno and Chiho sat windowside, each with a glass of barley tea in one hand and a fan in the other. A small mosquito coil burned away in one corner of the room, its incenselike scent adding a touch of atmosphere to this rather unorthodox session of girl talk.
“One of my coaches reminded me of that, actually. She said that, like, if you’re lifting weights or stretching and you’re really focusing on whatever part of the body you’re working, that makes a huge difference in the results. So whenever I was shouting, I always tried to focus on whether any changes were taking place within me.”
“Perhaps, but this is not something any man on the street can become proficient in. Once one reaches a certain point, after all, one’s mental capacities begin to play a larger and larger role. If you were born in Ente Isla, Chiho, I do believe you might have been a gifted spellcaster. Ah…” Suzuno, perhaps sensing this was too much praise, made an effort to harden her face. “But remember, I will teach you the Idea Link and only the Idea Link. Do you understand?”
“I do, I do. But thanks for the compliment.”
Chiho took a sip of tea and sighed as she looked out at the starry summer sky.
“I’m not trying to hurry things along or anything, but I’d really like to gain that Idea Link ability as soon as I can…I mean, before you and Yusa get too busy.”
Suzuno chuckled. “I may not appear as such, but my days grant me quite a bit of free time, let me tell you.”
On Ente Isla, she was a feared and renowned Church high official; in Japan, to an impartial observer, she was an unemployed young woman with eccentric fashion sense and a mysteriously large bank account. This situation was further exacerbated by the fact that, now that Maou was back at the MgRonald in Hatagaya for most of the day, the archangel Sariel, who worked down the street from him, was serving as a secondary deterrent once more.
Being within Sariel’s sphere of influence meant less worrying about rogue demons trying to approach Maou, which in turn meant, for Suzuno, less surveillance of the Devil King and more hours bumping around her apartment instead. There was still Ashiya and Urushihara to surveil / guard / take to task, but that hardly filled enough hours that she couldn’t help Chiho with her training.
“Oh, I didn’t mean thaaaat . It’s just, like…”
Chiho stared at the stars for a moment, searching for words.
“It feels like things are…different now. After the whole Tokyo Tower thing.”
“Different…?”
Suzuno paused for some tea, eyebrows arched high.
“I mean, we’ve had tons of trouble with, like, Sariel and Gabriel and the demons at Choshi and stuff, but…Maou and Yusa still haven’t fought each other yet, right? Like, mano a mano?”
A dirty look was enough to make them break into fisticuffs. But Chiho was talking about a more…final, potentially lethal, confrontation.
“But don’t you think Yusa’s been acting kinda…weird since then?”
“……”
Chiho explained the differing sets of memories she discussed with Maou and Emi during their hospital visits.
“Ever since then, it’s like Yusa’s…well, Maou, too, but…it’s like they’ve both been thinking about a whole bunch of stuff all the time. And…don’t get angry, all right, Suzuno?”
Suzuno shrugged, her face serene, as she motioned her to continue.
“Do you remember when all of us ate together in this room after they put that big hole in Maou’s wall?”
“Yes. It feels like quite a long time ago, given everything that’s transpired…but it hardly was, it’s true.”
The two of them looked around the room.
“I know this is selfish of me, but I thought back then about how great it’d be if, like, everyone could just forget about all the complicated stuff happening on Ente Isla and just let these days go on forever—Urushihara screwing around, Ashiya yelling at him, you frantically trying to take control of the situation… Then Maou does something to spoil Alas Ramus, and Yusa winds up starting an argument about it… I really don’t think you build that kind of chemistry unless you, like, really enjoy each other’s company. I know I’m not being realistic, but…”
Chiho shrugged, remembering an argument of her own she’d had with Suzuno once. Suzuno recalled it as well, but she had no intention of chiding her for it now. In fact, Chiho’s side of the debate deeply resonated with her now.
“Ah, how the mighty have fallen.”
“Hmm?”
“Nothing. You were saying?”
The bladeless fan stationed near the kitchen area circulated the air around the room, lazily sending the smoke from the mosquito coil outside.
“Well…I know Maou and Ashiya and Urushihara are demons who tormented people on Ente Isla, and you and Yusa have a mission to slay all of them…and all it’d take is some kind of trigger to destroy everything we’ve built up over all these days. It’d be really sad to see it happen, and it’d make all of you leave me…and that anxiety still hasn’t gone away.”
“……”
“And since Tokyo Tower, I feel like something’s really troubling Yusa. I think it’s got a lot to do with what I told her about when I was in the hospital. And, like, even when I look at Maou, he’d instantly react to me before, but now it’s like he’s thinking over whatever he says to me before he says it.”
Suzuno silently marveled at Chiho’s powers of observation. Judging by her words, neither Maou nor Emi explained to Chiho herself what the memories implanted into her mind truly meant. But given how much she cared about the two of them, she could obviously tell that the memories had triggered… something …that had changed their behavior.
“The war on Ente Isla, and the demon realms splitting into two parts… Yusa and Maou didn’t have anything directly to do with that, right? And yet, there’s this person who gave me that power; these memories I found in my head; Gabriel; that other angel that I hit… It’s like there’s something out there, gradually pushing Maou and Yusa and everyone back into the really rough place they started out from.”
Now Chiho’s face was tilted downward as she started at the tatami-mat floor. She must, Suzuno figured, still be working out all these feelings and thoughts in her mind, asking herself questions out loud and fumbling around for the answers.
“I feel, Chiho, that my sense of faith has greatly weakened since my arrival in Japan.”
“Oh?” Chiho raised an eyebrow at this unexpected confession.
“If our god is truly all-powerful and created everything that lives and thrives on our world, why is the land not teeming with people as kind and gentle-hearted as you, Chiho?”
“Oh, I’m really nothing that special…”
The sudden out-of-hand compliment almost embarrassed Chiho into spilling her tea.
“There is a story within Church mythology about a relic known as the Scroll of Holocrisus. It is a scroll the gods entrusted to a man named Holocrisus, but so unable was he to contain his curiosity that he eventually opened the scroll. Within the paper was imbued all the negative emotions of the world gathered together, and when he opened it, the emotions turned into words and wriggled their way into the hearts of the people. But, right at the end of the scroll, there was a single word written that could contain those emotions. And that word was hope .”
“We have something similar here on Earth. About Pandora’s Box.”
“That story was the very first thing that made me doubt the omnipotence of our god. Why would a truly omnipotent higher being allow the creation of negative emotions in the first place? And why, in a world before negative emotions, would this man Holocrisus’s soul be infused with impulses negative enough to make him defy the command of his lord? And the fact that this god is entrusting a mere mortal with the custody of such a vital relic… It honestly disturbs me.”
Chiho looked on, eyes filled with kindness, as Suzuno ranted in very non-cleric-like fashion.
“Yeah… I wonder. But when you look at the world… There are a lot of people out there who need a god, or God, in their lives. Religion is an indispensable part of their daily lives, and I certainly can’t deny that to them.”
“Hmm. Retaining your own sense of self while tolerating others. A rare feat to pull off indeed. Perhaps I should be worshiping you instead, Chiho.”
“Wh-what are you…?”
“I simply mean that when the weak lose what they believe in, they need some sort of sign, some sort of path, to lead them forward.”
Suzuno finished her barley tea and looked out the window.
“I think, right now, Emilia has lost her way.”
“Huh?”
“Tell me what you think of this analogy. You are fervently studying, forgoing food and rest, even, in order to be admitted into your first choice of universities. When the fateful test day arrives, you arrive at the site in triumphant spirits, but at the last moment, they decide to change the test to a flower-arranging competition. What would you think of that?”
“What kind of analogy is that ?!” Chiho nearly dropped her glass again. The story had turned out to be, literally, too much to swallow.
“Merely an example. But think about it. Everything you have passionately studied in your life, made countless sacrifices for, all for the sake of this ‘test’ you picture for yourself. And right at the end, you are faced with a seemingly impossible task, one wholly outside of your expertise. What would you do?”
“Me…?”
It was hard for Chiho to connect her situation with Suzuno’s whacked-out analogy. She still attempted to give it serious thought, however.
“I-I don’t know a thing about flower arranging…and what kind of school would use that for their admission guidelines? I don’t think I’d want to join that school too much anymore, maybe.”
“But you understand the concept, at least—that one can use flowers to express some sort of emotion or visual sequence. Let’s say the test officer presents you your choice of colorful flowers. Would you still attempt it?”
“Well, even if he does, that’s still kind of—”
“The university would still offer you a challenging, enriching program in the academic field of your choice. The only difference is, instead of history or English or mathematics, the admission test involves flower arrangement.”
“Um, this is still an analogy, right? So, basically, you’re saying that you aimed for this thing your whole life, but now you got thrown for this crazy loop and it’s making you rethink everything?”
“Indeed. Very observant, Chiho. That is why I was being rather flippant with the topic. It might feel too depressing to discuss otherwise.”
Suzuno chuckled to herself and looked at the wall separating her from Devil’s Castle.
“I think the Devil King is no longer the target for revenge Emilia originally wanted to slay.”
“…Huh?”
Chiho was unable to grasp the portent of the short sentence.
“In fact, the father she thought she lost at the hands of the Devil King’s Army is apparently alive and well. That, despite the fact she chased down the Devil King in order to exact revenge for that man.”
Emi, the savior of Ente Isla, had fought for most of her short life to defeat the Devil King. That much Chiho knew already.
“Once she killed him, her work would be done, her journey at a final and triumphant end. Yet her father is revealed to be alive. Emilia’s path was snatched away from her.”
“Wh-what? But all that means is there’s no need to kill Maou here in Japan. She can just go search for her father instead!”
“All right. So why are you refusing that flower-arrangement test, Chiho?”
“…………………Oh.”
Now Chiho understood the crux of Suzuno’s argument.
“Everything she had done up to this point, believed up to this point…was all a waste? None of it had any purpose?”
“I imagine that is exactly what she thinks,” Suzuno said. “Other people may say there is no such thing as a wasted life, that one’s experience will always help out later, and other such banal adages. But that cannot change a person’s feelings. The moment you are presented with a table full of flowers, you would be filled with a profound emptiness as you wondered to yourself why you bothered with all of that study. And who could fault you for it?”
“……”
Suzuno’s face scrunched up, as if she had drunk something tart.
“And worst of all, Emilia has already been betrayed by Ente Isla once.”
Chiho remembered what Emi’s friends had told her—right inside Devil’s Castle next door, in fact.
“Um, you mean how the Church lied and said Yusa was dead?”
Suzuno nodded. “Precisely. If Ente Isla had offered valid praise for Emilia’s efforts as the Hero—if they had showered her with the admiration she so rightly deserves—that would have driven Emilia to carry on. To retain her desire to slay the Devil King and make him pay for his transgressions. But now…” Her face darkened. “We face the exact opposite situation. The Church has announced Emilia’s death for their own sinister reasons, and the people believe them. We, the people of Ente Isla—including the very Church that Emilia saved!—have cast away the Hero as obsolete, unnecessary, now that the Devil King’s Army is gone. We betrayed her.”
But not everyone was duped. Olba, and the denizens of heaven, were after Emi’s holy sword, sending assassins to strip her of it, fearful of the power she’d retained after the Devil King’s defeat.
“But,” Chiho said, fired up, “but Emeralda and Albert are trying to restore Yusa’s good name, aren’t they? They’re both pretty well-known people in Ente Isla, right?”
“Not to great effect, sadly,” Suzuno replied, her expression unchanged. “That is how vast and unquestioned the Church’s power and belief base is. And it seems to me that Emeralda is so busy dealing with the backlash in her own nation that she lacks the power to directly confront the Church itself. Even before I came here, there were many of the opinion that Emeralda should be branded a heretic for so often taking positions that go against the teachings of the Church.”
“Oh, no… But she’s not lying or anything…”
“No. We are,” Suzuno shot back in self-depreciation. “The Church, that is. But it would be unthinkable for the Church to withdraw a statement. That would be admitting they are fallible. If the Church says white is black, or up is down, the people will say it is so. That is the land of Ente Isla…the Western Island portion of it, at least.”
She stood up to refill her glass of barley tea. It was clear the Church’s stance on this made her physically ill. Closing the refrigerator door, she returned to the window and took a breath, attempting to give the chat a fresh start.
“Emilia was able to fight as the Hero for as long as she did because she had the goal of killing the Devil King, and thereby avenging her father, waiting for her at the very end. But the Devil King was not her father’s killer at all. Her indignation at the tyranny of the Devil King’s Army was trampled upon by the very people she saved. And yet—”
“—she found out that all the anger and hatred she had bottled up inside was meaningless…but she couldn’t just drop it.”
“Indeed. But Emilia must, or else it will create a new sadness and hatred within her. Her memory of the tormented people she saw will rekindle her spirit, and then she might strike at the Devil King anew.”
It was just a wild guess, but the idea made something twist in Chiho’s mind. She imagined what kind of faces Emi and Maou would make at each other, as they squared off.
“With the Devil King dead, Alciel and Lucifer would certainly not stand by idly. But right now, at this moment, none of them could defeat Emilia. Three demons would be dead, gone from the world forever. Could you forgive her, Chiho?”
“I…!”
I couldn’t. But being unforgiving is itself unforgivable. But I really, really couldn’t forgive…forgive who…?
“Yusa is… She’s just as important to me, too…”
“Indeed. Something Emilia is fully aware of. That is why she is at such an impasse right now. Her father remaining alive should be her primary focus, but nothing about it fills her with abject delight…a fact that, in itself, demoralizes her.”
“And…Emeralda and Albert could never help, could they?”
“No. She is unable to confide in them. Even if they understood where her heart lay and were willing to accept it, do you think Emilia could simply go up to them and say, ‘My father is alive, so count me out of this Devil King business’?”
Emi’s duty-bound mind would never allow that. Not in a million years.
“Right now, Emilia cannot even figure out which color of flower to pick first. She is stewing, unable to even start on her next project.”
That, in a nutshell, summed up Emi’s bizarre behavior around Maou as of late. Her internal agitation was making it difficult for her to retain her usual hostile distance from him. That opened her up to moments of inattention, which itself distressed her greatly. She could no longer tell where her heart lay. The paths were all twisty and dark, and there was no guide to lead her.
Suddenly, Suzuno’s eyes turned toward Chiho’s forehead.
“Perhaps…that is why she decided to help you with this effort, Chiho.”
“What do you mean?”
Suzuno used the hand holding her glass to point at Chiho’s head. “The memories you tried to relate to Emilia,” she said, her face pained. “It only makes sense that the man standing in the wheat field is her father. And this Acieth Alla you spoke of, too. In the Centurient language of Ente Isla, the term means ‘blade wing.’”
“‘Blade wing’?”
“Yes. It means little by itself, I am afraid…but there is one thing near us with a wing motif.”
Chiho gasped, the image clear in her mind as well.
“Alas Ramus… Her name means ‘wing branch’ or something, right?”
“That is correct.” Suzuno nodded solemnly. “I think it safe to assume that this Acieth Alla is a term related to either Alas Ramus or another of the Yesod fragments. Camio did mention there were two holy swords, after all.”
Chiho nodded her reply.
“Perhaps this Acieth Alla is the name of the second blade…or, perhaps, the presence imbued within it. And think of this from Emilia’s standpoint. The fact that her father is alive; having Alas Ramus in the Devil’s Castle; the Better Half that she herself wields; and the ring on your finger—to her, it must feel as if someone is deliberately arranging all of these pieces around her. And that person’s identity…”
Suzuno didn’t bother continuing. Chiho, with her front-row seat to every major battle held in Japan so far, knew the answer well enough.
“Yusa’s…mother, isn’t it?”
Emi had come close to saying it outright at the hospital: “Why…? If she’s watching me, why won’t she come to me…?”
Chiho could only guess at the swirling emotions behind those choked words.
“Whether it be Sariel, Gabriel, Raguel; Camio or Ciriatto; Barbariccia and even Olba, too—one could say that they are all puppets being played for a show by Emilia’s mother. Or, indeed, all of Ente Isla at this point. There is, after all, a cross-nation war about to break out over Emilia’s sword. What do you think, Chiho?”
“About what?”
“If your mother went into hiding when you were a young child, never returning home once, then started spreading the seeds of conflict around not just your friends and family, but everyone , worldwide—and if she then left you to handle all of the fallout…”
Chiho tried to imagine.
What if her mother were actually a spy for some foreign country who suddenly left her sham marriage and fled from Japan? A woman involved in conflicts across the globe that made her personally responsible for countless lives lost, who then one day texted Chiho along the lines of “The fate of the world is up to you”?
Well then, that would toss Chiho into a struggle against terrorists over some missing nuclear weapons, so that Chiho had to undergo special-forces training to turn her into a cold, emotionless war machine and join the US Navy SEALs; but then she would find out that it was really her dad pulling the strings the whole time, and so after a years-long struggle laced with bloody tragedy, Chiho would track down her mom just in time to see her confront her dad in a spectacular, special effects–laden final duel—only to be taken out by an assassin’s bullet, at which time she would ask Chiho to carry on her noble mission before dying in her arms. So then—
“Then I’d be the only one left to stop my father…and then they’d both wind up dying!”
“I… Pardon me? Why is your father involved?”
Chiho blinked, then hurriedly walked away from the Hollywood summer blockbuster in her mind. Suzuno, overwhelmed by her friend’s flights of imagination, coughed before continuing.
“…Regardless, though. In a situation like that, Emilia’s life could no longer be the same. And along those lines, if you can learn how to defend yourself, Chiho, not only would that make you more secure—I think it would help Emi collect herself a little. That is why I did not put up a great deal of resistance to the idea. She might not want to hear it,” Suzuno added with a chuckle, “but Emilia was driven purely by revenge and a sense of duty up to now. She never had the time to think, or question, what she was living for. That ultimately led her to Japan, and I think it blessed her with a chance to reconsider her motives.”
Suzuno stood up, brought her and Chiho’s empty glasses to the sink, and began rinsing them off.
“It would be best for Emilia if she took her eyes off the Devil King for a bit. And fortunately, now that MgRonald is open once more, we no longer have to keep him on such a short leash.”
“Huh? What do you mean?”
“Remember the demons who attacked us at Choshi? The force led by Barbariccia that parted ways with Camio were duped into doing Olba’s bidding, and apparently are preparing to invade Ente Isla once again.”
“What?! That… Is that okay, or…?”
It was turning into a messy state of affairs—demons going away from the Devil King’s command and forming their own armies, Olba sowing the seeds of discontent in the background…the works.
“It is cause for concern, it is true. But what worries myself and Emilia is less the current invasion and more the possibility of them kidnapping the Devil King and Alciel and propping them up as the figureheads of the New Devil King’s Army. The Devil King does not seem to approve of Barbariccia’s behavior, but we must remain vigilant nonetheless.”
“Y-yeah…”
Hearing such an ominous tale, Chiho had trouble figuring out how that was related to the MgRonald opening back up.
“Lord Sariel works at the Sentucky across the street, yes? The angels are pulling some very suspicious moves of their own, but they are not at all connected to Barbariccia and his ilk. If they were to attack the Devil King at work, Ms. Kisaki would naturally be caught up in it, and Sariel would hardly allow that to happen. I do feel poorly for making Ms. Kisaki into our personal defensive buffer, but so be it.”
“Ah…”
“And while Lord Sariel would never come to the Devil King’s aid, the amount of holy power within him is more than enough to keep any sensible demon at bay. There is no merit to Olba or the demons taking the risk of stoking an archangel’s ire. Barbariccia may very well find the wrath of heaven pointed upon him if he does.”
Chiho tried to imagine the position Suzuno painted for Sariel in this. In so many words, the archangel’s lack of a direct connection with Olba and Barbariccia made him an effective deterrent—one triggered, in a deep, lizard-brain level, by Kisaki. It sounded convincing for a moment, but then Chiho recalled something.
“Um,” she said, “I…I think that might not wind up working out.”
“Why not?” Suzuno, in the kitchen, turned around. “How do you mean?”
“Well, the day before we went to Choshi…”
Chiho explained what she had seen in front of MgRonald on that tragic day—Sariel giving her (to say the least) the hard sell, Kisaki banning him from the location until further notice, and the way it all made the archangel melt into mush.
“I spotted Sariel on the street a few times since then, but it’s like he’s…hollow. Like, his whole face is. I didn’t know people could do that kind of thing and be alive still. He walks around in those flashy Sentucky uniforms, but he projects so little of a presence. One time, I saw a dog mistake him for a telephone pole and pee on his leg.”
Suzuno’s eyes opened wide at the sordid tale. Then, an uneasy memory flashed across her mind—a holy-force reaction, notable mainly due to how weak it was, picked up by the sonar bolt she unleashed from the Dokodemo Tower in Yoyogi.
“Ha-ha-ha! Oh, don’t… Enough of that silliness. He is an archangel, remember! How could he ever let a—”
Chiho pensively shook her head at Suzuno’s nervousness.
“It was a Chihuahua.”
It was simultaneously the most damning evidence possible and the least important part of the story.
“Welcome! We’ve got a large-print menu right here for you, sir!”
The next evening, the crew at Sentucky Fried Chicken in Hatagaya was enjoying a slight lull before the dinner rush; the dining area was about half full. Things were still bright and cheery inside, though, the woman at the register throwing all the sprightliness she could into her voice as she greeted Chiho and her group.
The sight of the freshly cooked chicken tumbling down the hoppers behind the counter could whet any carnivore’s appetite, but the trio of women who approached the register had other things in mind. Chiho, Emi, and Suzuno, freshly ordered iced coffees in hand, set up shop around a table near the registers, taking a quick scan of the dining area as they did.
“I don’t see him. Maybe he’s in the backyard…or maybe the kitchen or upstairs?”
“Hopefully this doesn’t mean he has the day off…”
Chiho’s latest bombshell was enough to make Emi hurry right over upon wrapping up work. Given how much she was counting on Sariel to play defense between the Devil King and the forces of Ente Isla, the news that he was now a shell of his former self was something she couldn’t ignore.
“No,” said Suzuno. “I can feel his presence, albeit only slightly. He may be hiding under the furniture or in the shadows.”
This made Sariel sound like a termite, but Emi paid a closer look to her surroundings nonetheless.
“You’re right… But if we’re this close to him and this is all he’s letting off, he must be doing pretty bad.”
Chiho, meanwhile, had no idea how they picked up on his presence. “Is that another holy-force spell?” she asked.
Her friends gave each other a bemused look. “Not…exactly.”
“It is something we can sense, is the only way to put it. …Well, do you remember how you had difficulty breathing when the Devil King transformed atop the Tokyo Metropolitan Government Building?”
“S-sure.”
During that battle against Sariel himself, Chiho felt her breath literally being taken away by the dark force the newly revived Devil King exuded in all directions. She recalled how Suzuno had to erect a magical barrier to keep her from suffocating.
“You might not have felt it, but the dark power had clearly detectable effects on your body, yes? With training and experience, one can hone that sense into something as powerful as smell or sight.”
Suddenly, Emi pointed a finger right between Chiho’s eyebrows.
“What about that, though? That’s odd.”
Chiho crossed her eyes to follow Emi’s fingertip. Then, a moment later, something right there—her skin, her skull bone, some nerve or another—some unknown part of her body began to exert pressure upon her head, as if blood was rushing toward that single spot.
“I-I do feel it. It’s like something’s…being set off right here. Ow.” She began rubbing the ridge between her eyebrows, unable to stave off the discomfort.
“Holy force is harmless to the human body, but it does form a kind of presence that makes itself known. We can only gain a vague sense of where it is, but…”
Chiho was about to nod distractedly at Emi’s explanation before Suzuno’s warning made her lift her head up.
“Sssh! He’s here!”
She was looking right at the small build of Sariel, clad in a suit.
But:
“His skin’s gray…”
“Talk about the walking dead.”
The shocking transformation in Sariel’s countenance made both Chiho and Emi involuntarily tense up. His gaunt face and emaciated, ghostlike form were a far cry from the wannabe playboy of the past. It was hard to picture him having any success with the ladies looking like that . Given how he was well on the way to obesity with his thrice-a-day MgRonald habit not long ago, seeing this crash diet of his was honestly disquieting.
“Have a good one, sir!”
Whether he heard another staffer wish him well or not, Sariel barely so much as lifted a hand as he trudged out of the restaurant.
“What do you think?”
“It should be obvious. We must pursue him.”
The three girls flew out of their seats and followed behind. The pursuit wasn’t exactly a challenge. Sariel’s pace was so plodding, so meandering, there was no possible chance he would elude them.
“Okay, but… then what?”
“We have to revive his spirits, somehow. Before anything unwelcome happens.”
“This is unwelcome enough already, but…we’ll see, I guess.”
“I would like to accost him someplace without any prying eyes upon us. We will follow him home, then force our way inside.”
“Fair enough. Even if it winds up in a fight, Alas Ramus can make short order of that scythe of his.”
The conversation between the Hero and Church cleric reminded Chiho of little more than a pair of burglars plotting their heist. She glanced at the time on her phone.
“Ah…it’s already six…”
Emi doubled back and took a look at the MgRonald behind them.
“Oh, you have work tonight, Chiho?”
“Yeah. Sorry…I probably wouldn’t be back in time for my shift if I joined you.”
“I totally understand. I have the worst time getting free of work myself, sometimes…”
“Oh, don’t worry about it, Yusa! I’m just glad you made it here.”
“Yeah. Well, we’ll go ahead first, then. Just focus on work for tonight, Chiho.”
“Sure thing. Sorry I couldn’t be more help.”
“You’re already more than enough help, Chiho,” Emi reassured Chiho. “If it weren’t for you, we’d have no idea that idiot angel is in trouble. We can handle the rest.”
The three girls parted ways in front of Sentucky Fried Chicken. Emi and Suzuno followed the staggering Sariel to parts unknown.
Smartphone at the ready so they could track their progress on a map, the pursuers followed him down the shopping street, through a walking path, and into a timeworn residential zone. At the far end of it was a condo building.
“Is that it?”
Even before Sariel approached it, the pair could tell the building was almost brand-new. Zoning regulations prevented it from having too many floors, but through the windows, Emi could tell its occupants enjoyed more free space than she did at her place. Its front faced a two-lane road, and like many apartment buildings downtown, the first floor had two spots reserved for business tenants; one was occupied by a convenience store selling fresh produce.
“That would certainly make things easy on rainy days,” praised Suzuno, her motherly/housewifery instincts coming to the surface.
The other business space had a FOR RENT sign on it, but judging by what was visible through the window, it was set up to be a café of some sort.
Sariel, paying them no obvious mind, made it through the crosswalk and disappeared into the building’s entrance.
“That must be the place. ‘Heaven’s Chateau,’ though? Seriously?”
That was the name on the sign— HEAVEN’S CHATEAU HATAGAYA . Emi sneered at it before something occurred to her.
“Hmm?”
“What is it?”
Emi’s eyelids burst open as the duo waited for another walk-signal cycle before crossing. Someone familiar had just exited the convenience store. The figure walked down the opposite sidewalk, not approaching them. Emi watched her walk off, breathing a sigh of relief that she didn’t have to pass her by and give her a polite “hello” or the like.
“What is it?”
“Didn’t you notice? Maybe the street clothes threw you off. That’s the manager at the MgRonald… Kisaki, I think it was.”
Suzuno followed Emi’s gaze, but the figure was already out of sight, going down the next crosswalk ahead and behind a building.
“Kisaki…? Why was she in that building?”
“…I dunno. I’m sure it’s just a coincidence, but…”
“But? Do you have your doubts?”
“Well, like… If they were speaking to each other, Sariel wouldn’t be going around like a zombie, would he?”
“…True.”
As they spoke, their eyes drifted back to the signal. The walk sign was already about to tick down to zero.
“Ah…!”
The moment they took a step to cross, the timer stopped and flipped back to red. The two of them resignedly brought their feet back to the curb.
“…No, the very idea is impossible. I could never imagine Kisaki giving Sariel so much as the time of day. Kisaki’s dismissal of Sariel is the whole reason for his downtrodden behavior, is it not?”
“One would think… I haven’t spoken to Kisaki all that much myself, but from what the Devil King and Chiho tell me, she’s not the type of lady to give a crap about some guy who crumbled to dust the moment she dumped him.”
Disquieting thoughts crossed Emi’s and Suzuno’s minds for a moment.
“Well. We can consider this later. Lord Sariel takes precedence.”
“Can we get the apartment number from the mailboxes? Oh, but what if it’s an auto-lock door?”
Considering the building’s newness, that seemed pretty likely. They had no problems with storming Sariel’s residence, but not if it meant causing trouble for the other tenants. Emi tried to think of a way to reach his place without causing a ruckus.
Then, both of them gasped out loud.
“Ah!”
To their amazement, Sariel himself walked back out of the building. When he had his suit on, he could just barely manage to maintain an air of decency. But now, in a beat-up jersey and T-shirt, he looked beyond all hope.
“Well,” observed Suzuno, as he walked to the convenience store Kisaki had just departed, “clothes certainly make the man after all.”
“If that’s how he’s looking, I guess Kisaki didn’t just pay him a visit, no.”
“Quite true. The light is turning green, Emilia. We had best accost him while we—”
The pair were already halfway across the street when they realized Sariel was stopped in front of the convenience store’s automatic door, standing bolt upright.
“?”
Did he notice us? Not that Emi cared. But why didn’t he turn around?
Gingerly, Suzuno attempted to engage him verbally.
“Lord…Sariel?”
“My…goddess…”
“Huh?”
“My goddess was here ?!?!”
“Aghhhh!”
Without warning, he latched on to the shoulders of Suzuno, eyes wide and bloodshot. It caught Emi off guard.
“Wh-what are you doing?! Get your hands off Bell!”
“Answer me, Crestia Bell! She was , wasn’t she?! She was here , my most beloved of goddesses, until mere moments ago!!”
“P-please, Lord Sariel, calm yourself! When, when you say ‘goddess,’ do you mean Ms. Kisaki from MgRonald?”
“Sh-she was here?!”
Suzuno’s revelation clearly took the wind out of Sariel’s sails. He turned his pleading eyes toward Suzuno, then Emi.
“Why do you care if she was?! Just let go of Bell already! I’m calling the police!”
The police wouldn’t be much comfort in a fight between a Hero and an archangel, but the threat proved surprisingly effective as Sariel removed his hands.
“No. She was… I can tell.”
The sadness that dripped from every word made even Suzuno, his victim, feel a twinge of pity. For a moment.
“This…the scent of my goddess…of the coffee brewed to perfection by a goddess’s hand…”
“Gross!!”
Emi’s one-word evaluation didn’t stop Sariel from sliding down to the ground.
“Ahh…she was a mere arm’s length away from me… If only I could turn back time…ahh…”
“Bell, what’s with this guy?”
“I cannot say. I cannot say, but at this rate, someone may very well call the authorities. Lord Sariel, please, could you stand up for me, at least?”
“…Ah. I am sorry. This has been all too shocking to me. My shopping trip will have to wait. Whenever I think about my goddess, nothing else can occupy my mind.”
Emi and Suzuno watched wordlessly as the chagrined Sariel wobbled back toward the apartment entrance. Checking up on his status and confirming his address was probably the most they could hope to accomplish tonight. They had other questions, but Sariel was clearly incapable of conversation as he checked his mail cubby.
“Number three-oh-two.”
With Emi nabbing that final piece of vital info, the pair decided to call it a night.
This was even worse than they expected. It’d be one thing if they were in a position to perhaps mend the bridges between Kisaki and Sariel. But Emi and Suzuno knew Kisaki only faintly. Nothing a couple of passing acquaintances could say would make her forgive Sariel, as Chiho put it.
Something had to be done, though. Otherwise, Sariel would cease to function as a defensive net, and any attacking demons would have a truck-sized hole to plow through on the way to their target.
Emi muttered to herself, out of earshot of Suzuno:
“…Why do I have to go through all this headache just to keep the Devil King safe?”
Just as Chiho changed clothes and began her shift, she noticed something was missing.
“Oh? Ms. Kisaki isn’t here today?” she asked one of the front-end crew.
“She’s out somewhere. Said she was on break. Maou’s handling upstairs right now.”
“Really? Wow. Wish I could go up there sometime.”
Maou seemed less than confident yesterday, but even Chiho wanted to try her hand at some new responsibilities sooner or later.
“Oh?” the crewman said, shaking his head and smiling. “Ever since I drank Ms. Kisaki’s coffee, I don’t think I have it in me to run second-floor duty. If someone complains that my stuff tastes different from hers, what am I supposed to do then?”
“Yeah, that might be true.”
Chiho laughed. She definitely wasn’t the only one with that concern. But:
“Ah- hem . Who’s complaining? They’d be providing vital feedback.”
Somewhere along the line, Kisaki came back. Her employee vest and hat were off, and she had a convenience-store bag in one hand and a shawl over her shoulders to prevent sunburn.
“Oh, welcome back. That was quick.”
“Hello, Ms. Kisaki. Did you go out somewhere?”
“Just a little errand. I’m sorry; I’m gonna have to hole up in the staff room for a little while. Are things going okay upstairs?”
“Yeah. I think Maou’s staying above water up there, anyway.”
Kisaki took a peek at an upstairs security-camera screen.
“Great…but I’m gonna have to get all of you working up there sooner or later. It’s gonna be tough to schedule you all otherwise.”
“Oh, hey, that reminds me—Maou mentioned something about some kinda MagCafé accreditation you can get?” Chiho asked.
“Accreditation?” The crewman sounded surprised by this.
Kisaki nodded casually. “Well, it’s not like you need it to work the café or anything. You get a neat little certificate if you take the course, though.”
“A certificate…? You mean like the one upstairs with your photo on it, Ms. Kisaki?”
“Yep. Those are meant for showing off in the dining area. That way customers will know if there’s a specialist on duty, sort of thing.”
Chiho never bothered taking a close look at Kisaki’s certificate. She had assumed it was just for showing who the current manager on duty was.
Kisaki handed the two of them a copy of the same printout she gave Maou earlier.
“MgRonald Barista… Is Maou taking this course?”
“Yep. He signed up for the very next one, in fact. You can join him, too, if you like.”
“Will that let me make coffee as good as yours, Kisaki?” asked Chiho matter-of-factly, as she perused the printout. Kisaki hesitated a moment before replying.
“You might…come just that bit closer, maybe.”
“Man,” the other crewman said in a disinterested tone. “Tough competition.” He might have seen Kisaki’s reply as her lording it over the staff, but after a moment of thought, Chiho nodded and turned her head upward.
“Could I take that workshop, maybe? It says here you need at least some work experience, but…”
“Well, as long as you have the manager sign for you, no problem. I can’t waive the course fee for you, since you don’t have management experience like Marko does, but if that’s all right with you…”
“That’s fine. It sounds kind of neat, actually.”
“Oh? Well, just fill out that application and give it to me tomorrow, okay? I should be able to put you in the same workshop with Marko if you do.”
“All right. Thanks very much.”
Chiho neatly folded the sheet, bounded for the staff room, and put it into the bag in her locker.
There was no subterfuge there. As a MgRonald crewmember, she really did want to brush up on her knowledge and technical skill. But there was one other motivation.
“…I wonder what Maou really thinks about all this.”
She wanted to get Maou’s take on current events—in a place with no Emi, no Ashiya, and no Japanese uninitiated to the existence of Ente Isla.
His reply to Chiho’s long-ago confession of love was still on the back burner, but she was at least convinced that her presence in Maou’s life was something he saw as a net positive. The evening she stayed over at Suzuno’s place, learning about how lost at sea Emi felt, she couldn’t help but wonder how Maou was grappling with it all.
Looking back, it never seemed like Maou saw Emi as much of an enemy at all. Not even at the very start. There was, of course, that whole past where he tried to destroy an entire world and remake it in his own image, but currently Maou was eking out a living in Japan and not demonstrating much in the way of violent, despotic behavior at all.
She could always go over to Devil’s Castle and ask to speak with Maou in private. Suzuno would almost certainly object, though.
With Emi starting to see Maou as something besides just an enemy, and with demons turning against Maou and starting wars in his native realm, and with Chiho attempting to learn a magic spell crafted on another world—with all these changes in his everyday life coming at him all at once, what did he think? She wanted to know that—and she wanted to hear it from his mouth. Alone.
Alone…?
“Is that like…like, a da—”
“Something bothering you?”
“Hyah!”
Chiho leaped at the voice, her mind righting itself from its momentary meandering. There, her eyes met Kisaki’s, as her manager sat at her desk, munching on a convenience-store sandwich.
“Well, you were kind of talking to yourself after you put that sheet in your bag. Don’t forget, you’re still on the clock.”
“Oh, um, was I spacing out that bad?” Chiho blushed, the embarrassment driving her to touch her head in assorted random spots.
“More than you usually do, anyway,” Kisaki chuckled as she took a sip from a plastic bottle of tea. “Is there an achievement test you have to take once summer break is over?”
“Huh? Why?” Chiho found the question puzzling.
“Oh, no, I just felt like something’s been bothering you lately. Pretty much ever since we opened up again, your face has been telling me that you’re up against a wall over something. Right now, even. When you smile, your eyebrows don’t even budge.”
Oops. She was trying not to let it show on her face, but having the oblivious Kisaki spot it so easily taught her all over again how futile the effort was.
“You’re easy to read like that, you know? I’m actually getting kind of frantic over something right now, too. I mean, I try to make sure that what I’m doing isn’t making me go down the wrong path, but…”
Kisaki tossed the remainder of her sandwich in to her mouth, then washed it down with a swig of tea.
“I hope you don’t mind a thirty-ish woman like me lecturing a teen like you about life, but lemme give you one word of advice. Don’t let fear keep you from taking action. A lot of things in life…unless it literally kills you, you’d be amazed how often you get a do-over with them.”
“You think so?”
“If you don’t take action, then maybe it won’t end in failure…but more important, it won’t start anything, either. If you do, whether you succeed or screw it up, something’s gonna change. And if you’re afraid of change, you’re gonna have a lot of trouble living in this world.”
“I…I’m not…afraid of change, exactly…but…”
Kisaki nodded lightly as Chiho lost herself in thought.
“If it doesn’t seem like stewing over it’s gonna produce an answer anytime soon, just concentrate on the work in front of you instead. Like, right now, during your shift, I think your first priority is MgRonald work, Chi.”
“Oh! Yeah! Um…sorry I’m being all lazy.”
A glance at the clock revealed that Chiho just spent the last ten minutes tormenting herself in the staff room. The sight of her galloping out the door made Kisaki decide to open a desk drawer and take out a stack of employee résumés.
“Hmm…”
Looking over Chiho’s application, Kisaki’s thoughts turned to Maou, currently brewing coffee straight above her.
“Oh, Chi’s taking that, too?”
After her break ended, Maou discovered Chiho’s interest in the MgRonald Barista course from Kisaki.
“Yep. She’s scheduled for the same time you are, Marko. You oughta go together.”
“Sure. I can do that.”
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