Two guys together at Sea World.

“...How did I even get talked into this?”

It’s the middle of summer vacation, and baseball has been keeping me busy, filling my time with my new glasslot team and the Seibu LionsSaitama Seibu Lions (埼玉西武ライオンズ)

The Saitama Seibu Lions are a professional baseball team based in Tokorozawa, Saitama. It was established in 1950 and was a founding member of Japan's Pacific League. Its ballpark is the Seibu Prince Dome, and its team colors are navy-blue, white, and red.

Several Seibu Lions team members also played in Major League Baseball, including Daisuke Matsuzaka (Boston Red Sox, New York Mets and Cleveland Indians) and Kazuo Matsui (New York Mets).



, of which I’ve been a devoted fan for more than half of my life. But then I get a tragic call from a friend.

“I got dumped.”

“No way! You had a girlfriend?!”

“Nope. I was going to take her on a date so I could confess my feelings to her. I even got tickets in advance, but she rejected me.”

“You confessed to her in this boiling heat?”

“Nope, never asked.”

“What?!”

I try to explain several times that there’s a difference between getting dumped and assuming that you’re going to be rejected, but Murata only gives me a weak smile and refuses to think positively. The problem is that he’s already bought those tickets. It’s a pain to get them refunded, and even giving them away is difficult because the date’s already fixed. Most people already have plans for a Saturday at the end of July. That includes me, by the way.

“There’s a nighter at Seibu DomeSeibu Dome (西武ドーム)

A indoor baseball stadium located in Tokorozawa City, Saitama Prefecture, originally built in 1979 without the roof. It is home field of the Saitama Seibu Lions professional baseball team. on the 28th.”

“A nighter—seriously?!” Murata Ken, the Glasses-kun who shared a class with me in the second and third years of junior high, asks with what is unusual volume for him. “How much baseball stuff have I done with you? I’ve not only been to their games, but to their team practices. I even carried that gigantic cooler! So you could at least spend some time with me when I am totally, completely heartbroken! I mean, do you have any idea how much I paid for these tickets?!”

“All right, all right already! I’ll go, I’ll go, geez! But you know, if you hit your girlfriend with that power of persuasion, maybe she would’ve said yes?”

“As if someone with a trendy name like Shibuya-Harajuku could understand my feelings.”

“...‘Trendy’...? Murata, how old are you, exactly?! Hey, wait a minute! Don’t call me Harajuku!”

That’s right, my name’s Shibuya Yuuri. Yuuri: not the characters for ‘fertile country’ or ‘gentle pear tree’ or ‘enduring lapis lazuli’, but Shibuya ‘Advantageous’. So I don’t really think Harajuku is disadvantageous; you have no idea how much trouble I‘ve had with my name in my fifteen years of existence. I always suspected that it was because my dad’s a banker and his mind is always on interest rates that my parents had the poor naming sense to call me something like ’advantageous.’ I finally learned that it was a kind young man who shared a taxi with my mother on her way to delivering me who gave me this name...but they could‘ve at least picked characters more fitting for a person’s name! Recently, though, I’ve started thinking that at least I got a better deal than my brother, whose name reads Shouri and means ’victory.’ See? I’m all mature and adult now.

So that’s how I ended up going to Sea World with Murata Ken, who thinks he’ll get rejected as a matter of course. The aquarium is jam-packed with couples and parents with their kids—then there’s me the baseball brat wandering around with Glasses-kun. Which of these do not fit the pattern? The aqua tube running straight through the aquarium is really pretty, and the chambered nautilus, luna lionfish, pennant coralfish, pirarucu, and sawfish are all quite graceful and elegant. The sardine and the tuna just look tasty.

“Then I turn my head, and instead of a girlfriend, there’s Murata Ken.”

“You got a problem with that? Want to hold hands or something?”

“That’s not funny! I’m just cursing my unpopularity. Tomorrow will mark the sixteenth year that I’ve been girlfriend-less.”

“Your birthday’s tomorrow?! Huh, okay then. Tell me what you want, and if it’s cheap I’ll get it for you. How about a phone charm from the gift shop we passed earlier? Little Sealeo the spotted seal ¹, maybe?”

“Are you making fun of me? My cell phone’s broken.”

“Oh yeah. So get a new one already. It’s a pain to not have texting.”

As the line carries me forward, I look at the back of my right hand and sigh. The one-day pass is stamped there with a special ink that glows palely under a scanner.

“I don’t really care; it’s not like I need a texting-pal. I mean, it could be anybody on the other side. What happens if I’m talking with a company director or CEO or king or something? I could cause an international incident.”

“That’s ridiculous. You only see incognito kings in girls’ manga.”

Actually, he’s got one standing right next to him. How that happened goes something like this:

I was living the perfectly ordinary life of a high school student when, just three months ago, I got flushed down a western-style toilet. Then it was to another world: GO! ...or something like that. All these things happened to me that sound like some kind of weird dream. My job in this other world is to be a king. So yeah, I’m the head of a kingdom at the tender inexperienced age of not-quite-sixteen.

And I’m not just the king of any old place. Mr. King’s Gyozagyoza (ギョーザ)

The Japanese version of Chinese dumplings, typically consisting of minced pork, cabbage, Chinese chives, sesame oil, and garlic/ginger in a thin dough wrapping and boiled or pan-fried. in front of the station downtown is great, but my job is pretty darn awesome, too. I’m a completely average high school boy: physique, looks, even brains...

But I’m the MaouMaou (魔王)

Lit.: "demon king", the king of the Mazoku. The position is neither elected nor inherited, but filled by choice of the Shinou, the first Maou..

If you were suddenly summoned to a parallel universe and told “Starting today you’re the Demon King,” you’d think it was a dream too. So yeah, that’s what I thought. Especially when I’ve got all these uber-beautiful Demon-folk, the MazokuMazoku (魔族)

Lit.: "demon clan" or "demon tribe", the people of Shinma Kingdom. They are much more long-lived than humans, and their actually age is usually five times that of their physical appearance., for my people. And the people I thought were the same race as me? They called me sinister and evil and started throwing rocks. It was a complete shock, and I decided I probably wasn’t in a theme park, so the only remaining answer was that I was in a dream—so when I woke up, everything would be back to normal.

But then I woke up, and I still had the pendant I was given in that world.

I close my hand around the five hundred-yen-sized stone I’ve been wearing around my neck ever since. Silver filigree border around azure blue a shade darker than the sky. The Lions-blue magic stone is a tangible weight in my hand.

I was born with the soul of the Demon King, and I promised to protect that country.

I promised.

“Hey Shibuya, take a number.”

“Huh? Oh, yeah, sorry!”

A smiling park employee is handing me a scrap of green paper. The surging crowd has carried me out of the aquarium exit into the Friends of the Sea show. A wave of heat suddenly assails me. Stepping over the water-blue benches, I walk down the stairs looking for a seat. In front of me are a white stage and a huge pool with transparent sides. I rub at my eyes with my right hand, dazzled by the midsummer sun.

“Ugh, there’s sweat running down the backs of my legs! It’s totally gross.”

“But at least it’s still probably several times cooler than wearing a uniform.”

Even though I know it’s useless, I flutter the ticket at my throat. It generates a tiny breeze.

“It’s summer, but there aren’t any pretty girls in swimsuits or people throwing balls.”

“Sure there are. Look down at the stage and you’ll see both.”

One’s an animal trainer and the other’s a seal.

As my mind meanders through questions like: are emperor penguins more imposing than me? What batting order should I use for the practice game next week? the strength goes out of the back of my neck. I watch the show in a daze. The seal heads the soccer ball into the goal-basket. I wonder if the ball game’s over? Next, the woman in the wet-suit shakes a pink box vigorously. What’s that for?

“All right! Please come down to the stage if you have ticket number twenty-seven!”

The pre-schooler sitting on his father’s lap next to me starts howling. Poor thing, maybe he’s been chosen as the sacrifice for some sort of really scary ritual. Wait a minute, stuff like that doesn’t happen here in modern-day Japan.

“Wow, Shibuya, I can’t believe they selected you out of a full house!”

“...Huh?”

“Please come down to the stage if you’re the audience member with ticket number twenty-seven!”

“Hurry up and go, or else they’ll think you’re not here—and after you made that little kid cry because you got picked instead of him, too.”

I open the ticket in my hand and look at the number written in the middle of the green slip. Woah! So I’m the chosen one? But for what kind of sacrifice?!

Murata pulls me by the arm down the stairs, looking as delighted as if he were the one who’s won the prize.

“Wait a min...! Stop that, I’m gonna fall!”

The animal trainer, in her wet suit and a professional smile, puts her blue cap on me. She passes through the acrylic door with the familiarity of having done it countless times before. Something tiny dangles from her finger.

“Congratulations! I have some souvenirs for you: a dolphin cap, dolphin cell phone charm, and dolphin keychain. How about we hang the phone charm and keychain from your belt so they don’t get lost?”

“Woah.”

Like she said, they all have dolphins on them. The cap’s brim is a dolphin’s nose, with two dark blue eyes on the forehead. The phone charm and keychain both have skeleton-blue swimming mammals with partly-open mouths hanging from them. I gotta say, though, they’re all totally cute.

Way cuter than the real things.

“Now, as our representative from the audience, let’s shake hands with Dolphin-kun, the idol of Sea World!” the woman says, smiling.

What?!

Three employees pull me towards the pool.

“Wait a minute! I’m serious, wait—wait! I don’t like dolphins very much, to be honest! If it’s gotta be a sea mammal, how about a whale or an orca?”

“Everybody, please welcome our friends the bottlenose dolphins: Bandou-kunBandou-kun (バンドウくん)

A dolphin Yuuri meets at Sea World, one of whom was shaking his hand when Yuuri is tugged into the pool on his third trip to Shinma Kingdom. The other is Eiji-kun. Together, the dolphins' names become Bandou Eiji, a Japanese TV entertainer. and Eiji-kunEiji-kun (エイジくん)

A dolphin Yuuri meets at Sea World, one of whom was shaking his hand when Yuuri is tugged into the pool on his third trip to Shinma Kingdom. The other is Bandou-kun. Together, the dolphins' names become Bandou Eiji, a Japanese TV entertainer.!”

Bandou EijiBandou Eiji (板東英二) 1940-04-05

Bandou Eiji was a pitcher with the Chunichi Dragons from 1959 to 1969 before becoming a television entertainer, hosting several variety and game shows throughout his career.? I’m thrust forward without any time for thought. Two shiny gray dorsal fins cut through the water towards me.

“Waugh—! I’m really bad with dolphins, I don’t get along with them, I don’t like them...however you wanna say it...! Heeeey, Murata! Murata Ken-san, help a friend out here!”

“You’re so lucky, Shibuya! Bandou-kun is totally cute.”

With a splash, Bandou-kun or Eiji-kun stands on the surface of the water.

“Urgh...”

I manage to swallow my scream. It’s way bigger than I thought! I feel like I’m about to cry. It thrusts out its bluish hand—er, fin. There’s a glint in its wide-apart eyes as it stares at me. Tiny teeth like the rows of teeth on a zipper peek out from its slightly open mouth.

“...I, I’m scared...”

“Please step up. It’s all right, I promise it’s not going to bite you,” the trainer urges with an insistence that I can’t refuse, and I’m trapped at the poolside. Bandou-kun, skillfully treading water with its tail and back muscles, scowls at me out of bottomless eyes. The expression on its face says: “Hey human, hurry up so I can get my sardine!” It opens its mouth wide and emits an angry screech.

“Gishaaaaa!”

“Waaaaah!”

I reflexively thrust out my right hand and touch its slimy-looking fin with a finger. It’s more sticky than slippery, the same temperature as the salt water. It seizes my finger.

Come on boss, isn’t this enough? I’m about to shout, before logic tells me that a dolphin shouldn’t be able to grab my hand. I mean, it doesn’t have any fingers, and I don’t think it likes me that much. So how is it pulling on my hand? I’m already at the edge of the pool—I’m about to fall in...

“No way?!”

The park employees and audience all start shouting. Just before I sink into the salty water, I see Murata’s out-stretched hand in the periphery of my vision. But the aqua pool immediately spreads out around me, and I don’t know where I am anymore.

I didn’t think the pool was that deep, but I sink and sink. My soaked shorts and T-shirt cling to my hands and legs. There’s no sign of Bandou-kun or Eiji-kun, whose fault it is that this happened to the representative from the audience.

The pool, which is at most used for Sea World’s shows, can’t be this deep—so how is it offering the bottomless swamp experience? Wait a minute—haven’t I sunk like this twice before?

“This again?!”

I swallow a lot of water as I’m suddenly sucked down by the middle of my waist. No, the physical laws don’t apply here, and nor do the biological or architectural. My back should have slammed into the hard cement by now. Princess TenkoPrincess Tenko (プリンセス・テンコー) 1959-06-29

Princess Tenko is the stage name of the internationally-famous Japanese magician and illusionist, Mariko Itakura. Prior to being apprenticed in 1976 to the first Tenko magician, Tenko Hikita, she was already well-known singer with the stage name Mari Asakaze. She assumed the Tenko name on Dec. 15, 1980 after the death of her teacher the previous year. couldn’t sink endlessly like this, or David Copperfield even if he wore out all his chest hair—!

Next up: the familiar Star Tours.

 
Hey, Mom?

Yes, Yuu-chan?

How come everybody says playing with dolphins is good for you? I don’t think it is at all.

But they’re so cute! Do you not like dolphins, Yuu-chan?

I don’t like them. I don’t know what they’re thinking. They probably think we’re stupid even when they act friendly and let us hold their hands and go swimming with us. Like humans are wrong in the head because we like doing things like that.

Ah, I get it! Yuu-chan, you dislike what you don’t understand, right? But you know, Mama thinks you should interact with them. If you do something together, if you look up at the starry sky together and start talking to each other, I believe you’ll start to understand each other. Right? Don’t you think so? That’s how people learn how to be friends...it’s so beautiful!

Friends? With dolphins?

 
I’ve obviously failed at it, I’m thinking with no particular regret as I look up at sky-blue and contrasting white with stinging eyes. I’m pickled in brine, but not in the pool: I seem to be drifting about on the surface of the sea, face-up like a jellyfish.

The sun is high and bright and so intense that the skin on my face and neck are screaming in pain. This must be a midsummer sun—it reminds me of summer vacations when I was little, when it was fun playing at the beach with my family: to the sea we go with watermelons and fireworks and sea shells!

It’s pretty obvious that I’m now in a completely different place than I was before—but then again, this is now the third time I’ve been whirlpooled away into another world, so I’m used to it.

Guess I’ve been summoned again.

It was my own fault for being taken off guard—I just never thought it’d happen in front of such a huge audience. But I know where I am now, and I’ve made lots of friends here. I mean, there are tons of stories in which the main character goes astray in a sword-and-sorcery world and does stuff to become a great hero. The small difference for me being that a cheat code was used on the “hero” character creation screen to make me the “MaouMaou (魔王)

Lit.: "demon king", the king of the Mazoku. The position is neither elected nor inherited, but filled by choice of the Shinou, the first Maou..”

It’s taken about three Earth-months for me to be able to laugh at that ‘small difference.’

A familiar triangular fin approaches from beyond my floating right foot: the dorsal fin of my ocean friend, obviously.

“Ba-Bandou-kun?”

I’m very sorry to have dragged an innocent by-swimmer along with me. I push down my terror to stroke its shiny head. My fingertips touch its chin gently. It feels a lot rougher than the fin I grasped during the show.

“Wow, Bandou-kun, no wonder you’re so fast. It’s like the shark-skin suit that Ian Thorpe uses.”

Huh? Shark skin?

I meet its eyes for an instant—its shark eyes. “Yo-you’re not Bandou-kun! ...You’re...Jirou-kun?!”

What the?! I’ve been cuddling up to a Great White Jirou-kun? I resent ocean animals because I can’t read their feelings, but I can read this ocean animal’s feelings quite clearly. In about five seconds, my background music is going to be the theme from Jaws.

I try to go through emergency coping mechanisms, but my brain stalls. Choking out an odd cry, I clumsily attempt to swim away in something that’s not quite crawl and not quite dog paddle. I guess you can call it ‘free-style.’ What was I supposed to do in a crisis?! Play dead? No, that’s bears. Pretend not to know anything? No, that’s election campaign cars. Nobody taught me what to do when faced with a shark! Should I try threats? Or go for unconditional surrender?

“Your Majesty—!! Are you all right? ...Aaah...”

A familiar voice reaches me from a long way away, and a pointlessly extravagant little craft approaches me with reckless speed, its hand-oars slaloming through the waves. The club of two who want to see Shibuya Yuuri make it to adult Maou-hood row with all their might. The color of one of them changes, and he cries, “How dare you, a fish, so freely accost His Majesty?!”

Lord Günter von Kleist brandishes his oar at the shark as if about to declare his name as a prelude to battle. His rage is so great that it’s enough to spoil his transcendental beauty: the silver hair falling to his waist is disheveled, his intelligent violet eyes are bloodshot, and the captivating baritone that usually comes from the area of his hips is now a hysteric falsetto. My overprotective tutor would make an instant killing of any female in sight! Except that even this beauty instantly crashes to earth when I’m around. It kinda makes me want to clap him on the shoulder and say “have a little more confidence in yourself.”

Lord Weller leans out of the boat as far as he can. His expression is nowhere near as blood-curdling as Günter’s: it’s more one of wry tranquility, as if he’s watching a video of a kid’s epic blunders.

Come on, Conrad, your only catch-ball partner in this world is about to get turned into yam powder. Wait, I mean clam chowder.

“Calm down, Günter. If you keep waving the oar about like that, you’ll hit His Majesty in the face.”

Super-Spartan watermelon-splitting. That would be an ill-omened beginning.

He finally grasps my arms and pulls me up into the refuge of the boat. Soaked and panting, my heart is still going thud thud thud with terror. I hug Conrad without ceremony.

“Yo-you saved me!...I thought I was gonna get eaten!”

“Oh, no fear of that. It doesn’t attack people.”

“Huh? But it’s a shark—Jaws! Wasn’t it gonna bite my foot off?”

“No no, sharks are vegetarian. I’m sure it just wanted to play with Your Majesty.”

This world’s animals, man. They’re enough to make me cry. Since my nose is dripping, I step away from my protector.

“...Didn’t I tell you not to call me ‘Majesty?’ You did give me my name and everything.”

“Ah, yes. Force of habit.”

This is the fine young man who came all the way to Earth, a parallel universe to his own world, with my soul in his keeping before I became ‘me.’ Who then offered to share a ride with my nine-months-pregnant mother on a Boston street corner, and quite incidentally and shrewdly inspired my name before returning from America. Lord Conrart Weller, without whom I would not be Shibuya Yuuri, is my protector and best friend in this world, and perhaps my last fortress as well.

You might think, because he looks barely twenty, that he doesn’t quite fit the part of a protector. In actuality, his age is about five times that; in Japan he’d get an award for being a super-fit centenarian. In this world, those with MazokuMazoku (魔族)

Lit.: "demon clan" or "demon tribe", the people of Shinma Kingdom. They are much more long-lived than humans, and their actually age is usually five times that of their physical appearance. blood are both long-lived and guaranteed to be gorgeous. Conrad, who is half human, isn’t exactly plain, but he doesn’t come close to the unearthly beauty of the other aristocrats. Even apart from Günter, this place is awash with people who belong in paintings.

Yet I am completely average in looks and physique and intellect. When will this ugly duckling grow into a swan?—I wonder incessantly as I reread Anderson. Currently taking applications from ‘Beauty and the Beast’ girls who want personality rather than looks from her Mazoku.

“...Achoo...”

Guess it’s now summer in this world, too. My soaked clothes, rather than chilling me, are suffocating me in steaming heat. It’s so unbearably hot that I peel off my T-shirt. As I reach for my buckle, I notice with surprise that the dolphin keychain is still hanging from my belt. I guess Dolphin-chan is pretty tenacious.

Seeing the true-blue magic stone swaying against my chest, its previous owner’s eyes crinkle.

“Looks like you’ve got a little more muscle on you, hmm?”

“A little?! There, look at those biceps! See the upper arm?”

That’s all from my daily training. Conrad tests my baseball muscles, smiling his refreshing, fond smile.

“Looks like I’ll have to find a new sword for you. One worthy of a young man.”

“I don’t need anything like that.”

“Then what...”

“Gyaaaah!”

Günter strikes the shark with his oar, letting out a scream that’s impossible to describe. Jirou-kun seems to have called in his buddies: an Ichirou-kun and a Saburou-kun have joined him.

“Oh dear. They might be a little too friendly towards people.”

I wonder if that’s really true.

 
This is the third time I’ve come to this world, but I’ve landed in another unfamiliar place. The white-sand beach and turquoise-blue sea look like something out of a brochure for a beach on the Greek Aegean. I inhale the dry air until my throat burns and immediately forget that I was dripping a moment ago. A short walk from the beach is a villa obviously built to a different architectural style from the two castles I’ve toured so far.

I’m worried that I’ll be made to wear my school uniform in this heat, but the wardrobe girl brings a two-piece summer garb in off-white. It feels like linen against my skin. The cargo pants are a bit loose around the waist, and the girl looks down in shame as if she’s afraid I’ll be angry at her.

“It’s all right, I’ll just use a belt.”

“Your Majesty, have you lost weight? Is your health...”

“No no, it’s all muscle training. I bought some abs workout whatever-it’s-called.”

1000 yen from a discount shop. My goal: Kamen Rider’s washboard stomach. When I pull off my belt, eager to shed my wet trousers, my teacher helpfully runs to a corner of the room.

“Please wait, let me call for a cooling breeze—”

Home appliances don’t exist in a sword-and-sorcery world, of course. But even though there’s no air conditioning, it gets cooler the further I get inside the building constructed of ivory-white stone. I’ve already kicked off my shoes and socks, and I can feel the coolness from the soles of my feet. Before I can tell him I’m not hot anymore, Günter has raised his right hand in a summons. A servant quietly enters gripping the head of a giant duck, which, in its pained state, flaps its wings frantically. Sure it generates a breeze, but it stinks of poultry, and it hurts to look at.

“Stop that, the Society for the Prevention of Cruelty to Animals is going to disapprove! I’m cool enough already!”

“What compassionate words and concern for such a lowly creature! This is precisely why you are the Twenty-Seventh Maou of this kingdom of the mighty Maou and the powerful, wise, and courageous Mazoku who—ah, it must not be forgotten are the origin of everything in the world—defeated the Creator and his army to their eternal glory...”

Even the crook of his fingers is exquisite, and he looks like he’s gazing into a camera. That long verse might sound like the national anthem, but it’s actually this country’s name, which I daringly abbreviate Shinma KingdomShinma Kingdom (眞魔国)

Lit. "True Demon Kingdom"; the kingdom of the Mazoku of which Yuuri is king, founded by the Shinou after he defeated the Soushu. Divided into the terrories under direct control of the Maou and those ruled by the Ten Aristocratic Houses. Its human-shaped population is about 50 million, but also has a great variety of other races, such as the Kotsuhizoku.

The name "Shinma Kingdom" is actually an abbreviation; its true name is "the kingdom founded by the great Shinou and the powerful, wise, and courageous Mazoku who—ah, it must not be forgotten are said to be the origin of everything in the world—defeated the Soushu and his army to their eternal glory" (偉大なる眞王とその民たる魔族に栄えあれああ世界の全ては我等魔族から始まったのだということを忘れてはならない創主たちをも打ち倒した力と叡知と勇気をもって魔族の繁栄は永遠なるものなり王国)..

“Now, Your Majesty, tell me—on which part did I intentionally make an error?”

“I-I’m sorry, I didn’t notice.”

The uber-beauty looks slightly crestfallen.

“If Your Majesty could only stay in this country for a longer period, I could teach you about its people and the basics of its territories and diplomatic relations. Or better still, if you never returned to that other world, I could remain at your side always...”

We’re derailing in a weird direction here. Conrad, who has released the ventilation duck, skillfully corrects our trajectory. “But you already know, Günter, that His Majesty is precious to Earth and Japan as well, and we must not monopolize him,” he interjects with serene eloquence. He knows exactly how to handle his colleague. I can learn a lot from him, too. Like how to spin my teacher.

If I’m so precious, how come I’ve been a bench warmer for three years?

A distant aggrieved voice draws closer. Someone’s angry shouts approach, accompanied by rushing footsteps.

“Günter! Why is my brother the only one who got to go meet Yuuri? Why was I, his affianced, not told of his arrival? How dare you insult me like this?”

The angelically beautiful boy who comes barging in is Lord Wolfram von Bielefelt. One look at my naked upper torso has his cute face twisting in shock.

“...Yuuri, your face and arms are a different color from the rest of you! Have you been stricken ill? Are you under a curse?”

“Curse?! That’s so rude!”

My face and arms are tanned, while my chest and legs are pale white. The uniform tan is the pride of a baseball player, but it’s a bit of a different story at the pool or beach.

Wolfram pinches my cheek between his thumb and index fingers, pulling to the side with all his strength.

“Ow ow ow ow! Present!”

Pavlov dog: an elementary school kid’s conditioned reflex. He questions Conrad with his eyes.

“He’s real?”

“He’s real.”

“Then who did Elder Brother go to meet?”

“A fake, I suppose?”

The person he calls his Elder Brother is not Lord Conrart Weller standing right here in front of us, but his eldest brother, Lord Gwendal von Voltaire. In other words, Conrad and Wolfram, as well as the absent Gwendal, are half-brothers who share the same mother. They were the princes of the Mazoku until just recently, before the Prior Maou suddenly announced that she wanted to retire. I was hurriedly enthroned at that point, so they’re now the Former Princes.

Though we’re of a height, there’s a heaven-and-earth difference between our appearances. Wolfram is a girls‘ manga-style pretty boy who, with his mother’s dazzling golden hair and sparkling emerald eyes, reminds me of the members of the Vienna Boys’ Choir. Any artist would beg to paint him. If you see him in a dream, you’d be moved to tears, believing you’ve been visited by an angel. That is, until he opens his mouth—because then you’d realize he’s more spoiled Pooh than angel. He claims to be eighty-two, and if he were in Japan he’d be one of those stubborn old geezers. Due to a bit of a cultural difference and misunderstanding, we’re now apparently engaged.

The mother of the three brothers is Her Prior Majesty the Former Maou, Lady Cäcilie “call me Cäli” von Spitzweg...who, after crossing race boundaries to fall in love with a Human man of unknown lineage, gave birth to Lord Conrart Weller. He is quite plain compared to the other Mazoku, perhaps because of those human genes. He has an old scar across one eyebrow, and his face with its refreshing smile is handsome rather than beautiful. They must’ve modeled G.I. Joe after him when he was set loose on America decades ago. There is no one whom the military uniform suits more.

I always know what kind of smile he’s wearing even when I can’t see his face. I also know, though more distantly, that he hides the heart of a lion within.

Anyway, I guess three totally unlike brothers really do exist. In looks and personalities and thought.

“Please release His Majesty, Wolfram! I must protest his beautiful face being marred!”

Günter pulls the youngest son’s fingers from my abused cheek. I know these people pretty well at this point, but their sense of aesthetics still confounds me. They actually think I’m more beautiful than all these Mazoku around me. Black hair and eyes are apparently very rare among the Mazoku, and very much cherished. It may be noble and sublime here, but it’s standard issue for the Japanese.

Pointing to my throbbing face, I demand, “What the heck was that about? All this stuff about what’s real and what’s fake? Okay, so I guess I don’t make a very believable king...”

My tutor, who doubles as my aide de camp, clears his throat to speak. “The truth is...there have been rumors of an insolent fellow claiming to be Your Majesty.”

“Huh? Shibuya Yuuri Harajuku Fuuri?”

“No, not with such detail. This brazen criminal was captured in Conanxia, Suvellera, which lies south of our kingdom. Of course we never took his ridiculous claim of being Your Majesty the Maou seriously, but we could not help but be a little uneasy as the execution date was set...there was perhaps a million-to-one chance he really was Your Majesty, but even so...”

Günter’s mumbles trail off, and Conrad offers a clearer explanation.

“In other words, if Your Majesty had somehow arrived in this world without our knowledge—were, moreover, lost in a territory outside Shinma Kingdom without a single subordinate and captured for some sort of unavoidable crime...well, we simply had to be certain. Which is why we had to summon you once more...”

“So that’s why I tumbled head over feet into Star Tours when I shook hands with Bandou-kun.”

Wolf mutters sullenly, “Who’s Bandou-kun? Another man?”

“I have no idea if it’s male or female. Bandou-kun is a dolphin, and Gondou-kun ² is a whale. Jirou-kun is a great white shark, and then there’s the monkey to reflect on, who was called Jirou ³, too. So anyway, I’m here, and he’s there—um, where is there? Cabrera? But that means he’s not me, right?”

“Exactly! Your Majesty’s sagacity never fails to inspire admiration.”

That one was easier than a kindergarten puzzle. As long as I’m me, I can’t be anywhere but here. Now it’s turned into a philosophical question.

In other words, a fake me has appeared in another kingdom and is having the time of his life. It’s pretty rude, but if you think about it, Koumon-samaMito Koumon (水戸黄門)

Mito Koumon is the longest-running and most famous historical drama series in Japan with over 1000 episodes, which began broadcasting on Aug. 4, 1969, and continues today. Its main character is based on Tokugawa Mitsukuni, the retired (goinkyo) daimyo of Mito, who is one of Tokugawa Ieyasu's grandsons. In the drama he wanders around Ibaraki disguised as Mitsuemon, a retired crêpe merchant from Echigo, with two samurai retainers, Sasaki Sukesaburou (Suke-san) and Atsumi Kakunoshin (Kaku-san), helping the oppressed.

Other regular characters include the food-loving commoner Hachibei, reformed thieves Kazaguruma no Yashichi and his wife Kasumi no Oshin, and ninjas Tsuge no Tobizaru and Kagerou Ogin of the Iga School. and the Bold ShogunAbarenbou Shogun (暴れん坊将軍)

Also known as: Chronicle in Praise of Yoshimune: The Bold Shogun (Yoshimune Hyoubanki: Abarenbou Shogun)

A Japanese historical drama set in the eighteenth century which showed fictious events in the life of Tokugawa Yoshimune (1684-1751), the eighth Tokugawa Shogun. The main series ran from 1978 to 2003, and ranks among the longest-running shows in its genre.

Actor Matsudaira Ken originated the role of Yoshimune, the main character, a nearly invincible samurai warrior who roams freely about his capital punishing evil and rewarding good in the guise of Tokuda Shinnosuke (Shin-san), a freeloader at the Megumi fire company. He played that role for the entirety of the show's run. and Michael Jackson and God—important people in all places and times—have all had impersonators. Knockoff merchandise is evidence that your popularity is growing.

“But if you could clear it all up by calling me, why go investigate? Where’s the sense in...” Recalling that it was the oldest brother who went on said investigation, I unconsciously trail off—“...Gwendal...”

“That is quite true. The execution of an ignorant Human fool does not concern us in any way. However, we did receive information Your Majesty’s...”

“Doppelgänger?”

“—yes, your doppelgänger was in possession of a special item that cannot be used by any save the Maou. This precious artifact, a treasure of the Mazoku, was taken just two hundred years ago. It has been lost to us ever since. If the information is true, we must do whatever we can to retrieve it. Twenty years ago, someone was sent on a similar mission—a relative of Gwendal’s.”

“Who was it?” Conrad asks. He looks like he already knows the answer, yet cannot help but ask for confirmation.

"Lord Grisela. Lord Gegenhuber Grisela.

“Aah, Hube, then?”

The words are laden with meaning. Even this good-natured guy appears to dislike the man in question. I try to get a clearer picture of him from the normally talkative third son.

“Who is he?”

"He’s Elder Brother’s cousin on his father’s side, the son of my aunt Voltaire. He married into the Grisela family.

“Ah, I see,” I give the textbook response, slightly disappointed. I was expecting something more dramatic—more Ultraman vs Alien Baltan or SeibuSaitama Seibu Lions (埼玉西武ライオンズ)

The Saitama Seibu Lions are a professional baseball team based in Tokorozawa, Saitama. It was established in 1950 and was a founding member of Japan's Pacific League. Its ballpark is the Seibu Prince Dome, and its team colors are navy-blue, white, and red.

Several Seibu Lions team members also played in Major League Baseball, including Daisuke Matsuzaka (Boston Red Sox, New York Mets and Cleveland Indians) and Kazuo Matsui (New York Mets).



vs DaieiFukuoka SoftBank Hawks (福岡ソフトバンクホークス)

A professional Japanese baseball team based in Fukuoka, Fukuoka Prefecture, part of the Pacific League. The team was bought on January 28, 2005 by the SoftBank Corporation; before that it was known as the Fukuoka Daiei Hawks.. “So anyone can carry this treasure. I won’t have to get my fingers bitten or have my hand go numb or get vomit spewed on me this time!”

I remember the Demon Sword Morgif’s miserable face like it was yesterday. Compared to that, even a snake’s cast-off skin could be called a treasure.

“True...anyone can carry it away. But only Your Majesty would be able to play it.”

“Play?!”

“Yes. The Mazoku treasure spotted in Suvellera was the ‘Magic Flute.’”

“Magic Flute!” Wolfram, who is feeling my tan line curiously, suddenly joins in excitedly. See? Vienna Boys Choir OB—he gets excited about Mozart. “I heard stories about its beautiful sound from Father. It would cause the skies to rumble, the earth to shake, and the seas to swell. It can summon the winds.”

“Wh-what about cows?”

“The cows would only purr loudly.”

So the calling of the wind must be a thunderous roaring. That or a Gouda Takeshi solo concert in the behind-the-scenes vacant lot (abbreviated G-Con): which would be more destructive? Clearly I’m thinking about this treasure as if it were a flute or piccolo, but then I make a 180-degree turn: there’s a high possibility that it’ll turn out to be a conch shell.

“I wish I could hear it. It must be wonderful, Yuuri’s Flute-playing.”

“Me?! I’m supposed to play it?! I, er, don’t think that’s a very good idea. If it’s a conch shell, you can get a mountain ascetic or a wandering Buddhist monk, or Dragonball if it’s Piccolo!”

He would probably call the wind.

Something seems to catch Conrad’s attention as he listens in his usual arms-crossed pose leaning against the wall. “I wonder if they would be compassionate enough to bury an executed criminal’s belongings with him in his coffin?”

“What are you saying? That the jailor’s gonna take his stuff? And what do you mean coffin?...he’s gonna be killed?! My doppelgänger! He did something so horrible that they’re going to kill him?!”

“No...if I recall correctly, he left a restaurant without paying the bill.”

“Left a—?!”

No way... My first look-alike ever, and he’s going to be executed for eating and running? I can’t just sit back and let that happen. Executing people for such minor crimes is a huge humanitarian issue. Besides, if I can bring him back with me...

“We can switch off like Perman Number Two!”

“But Your Majesty, Number Two is a chimpanzee.”

“Oh yeah...wait, how did you know?”

Hold on, we’re not in Fujiko F. Fujio’s story right now.

“...I gotta save him.”

“Huh?”

“I gotta save my knockoff!”

Shibuya Yuuri doppelgänger epic rescue battle-operation codename:

Mission Impossible.