“Uuuurgh, I can’t believe it, how did this happen?”
I swallow nausea as I glare at the marble corridor leading to the door of the great hall.
“Nothing for it now, since you were the one who proclaimed that you’ve made up your mind to become the Maou.”
Leaning against a pillar that might very well touch the sky, Conrad gives me a broad grin, looking totally un-aristocrat-like.
“But the coronation...I’ve never even seen it outside of my history textbook, figure 8...”
“You’re the only nominate, Mother is the presenter.”
“Stop talking Academy Award-eese.”
Günter was with me for a while too, but as usual, ran off to check on the progress of the ceremony after singing my praises. The praising was of my school uniform and that incident at the village.
“But to use such strong water magic, then remember almost nothing of it...”
The heavy downpour that could only be said to have pinpointed the village let up, unbelievably, at the exact same time it finished extinguishing the fire. When the group of magic-users arrived from the capital, only sputtering smoke rose from the trees and wheat.
I don’t remember anything but finding Brandon. Everything after that is a total blank. It’s difficult to give any credence to the extravagant praise that I, a common first year senior high student, am being given for the feat of saving the realm single-handed.
“As I have said, magic is intrinsic to the soul. Your Majesty is the bearer of the Maou’s exalted soul, and the four great elements would probably happily obey your will even without bothering with a covenant.”
Günter interprets the events as he wishes, and wanders around spreading these rumors as if it were his personal affairs. Conrad is somewhat more objective.
“I had my suspicions about one place we stopped at on our way to the capital. Both of us drank water there. I don’t have any magic, so I’m not sure about this, but I have to think that it was some kind of catalyst.”
“It doesn’t really matter.”
I mean, since I performed miracles I can’t even remember.
Fluttering gold hair walks towards us from the other end of the corridor. It’s the prince of the Mazoku, Wolfram. His deep sapphire uniform suits him wonderfully. If you’re going to call a man beautiful, he’s the one you should be talking about, Günter, I mutter with a sigh.
“What’s with the simple get-up?”
“...Huh?”
This just after I was told stuff to the effect of ‘this design was created especially for Your Majesty, since the black suit you arrived in suits you best.’
“It has no epaulets and no ornaments at all. Did you think it’s no big deal for the one who’s going to become the Maou to go around looking like a miserable beggar?”
His gaze darts here and there, looking at anything but my face. Maybe it’s my imagination, but his smooth white porcelain cheeks seem to redden just a little.
“I’m not going to let you embarrass me and my brother with that pauper’s dress!”
Before I can open my mouth for a retort, Wolfram grabs my chest and affixes a sparkling gold ornament on the left side.
“Hey...”
“Uncle Bielefelt gave that to me when I was little. It doesn’t have a long history, so it’s perfect for a guy who hasn’t even been on the battlefield, let alone decorated in battle. And besides, you can’t even ride a horse—you must be the wimpiest king in history.”
“Don’t call me a wimp!”
“All right, now now.”
After that unnaturally rapid-fire speech, Wolfram departs at a trot. His present is a gold bird with outstretched wings. Conrad looks at the retreating figure of his little brother proudly.
“In any case, Wolf appears quite attached to Your Majesty.”
“Huuuuuuh?! That arrogant His Highness Nose-in-the-Air?!”
We’re saved from pursuing that topic when the door of the great hall opens a crack. I feel sick again as soon as I see the inside. Lords and nobles from various parts of the kingdom have gathered here for this occasion, as well as representatives from various tribes, some not even remotely human-shaped. My friends the Kotsuhizoku as well as their relatives the Kotsuchizoku, beings that look like the gargoyles you see on top of American buildings, people who walk on all fours and look like gray leopards, hand-sized sprites (or maybe fairies) with wings that look and sound like what you’d see on the large brown cicada, ginormous tuna stretched full-length in huge puddles on the floor...
“Tu-tuna?”
He’s telling me that these are all people of this country, so you must accustom yourself to them. Looks do not make the person—I mean, looks do not make the Mazoku. I’m so tense that I’ve forgotten my policy speech.
The aspirations of the Maou: the Japanization of Shinma Kingdom Plan.
“Let’s see, on this occasion on which I am inaugurated the twenty-seventh Maou, we begin our march towards the ultimate goal of pacifism and sovereignty of the pe...pleeeee...Conrad, I think I’m gonna throw up...and the tension is...killing my stomach...I gotta go, where’s the toilet?”
“Again?”
“What again, it’s my stomach, my stomach’s killing me.”
“We don’t have time for that, Your Majesty!”
My tutor comes running over in a tight white Chinese-style tunic, looking as worried as if he were the one giving the speech.
“We’re starting immediately. All right, Your Majesty, please proceed down the center and step onto the platform, then accept the crown from her Prior Majesty Lady Cäcilie as I explained...of course even without this ceremony the people of this country would be unwavering in their loyalty to Your Majesty, but the formalities are important in themselves....”
“Augh, okay already, I said that I’d do it right, didn’t I?”
“It eases my mind greatly to hear such an assurance from you. Your resolve gladdens my heart. Just seeing Your Majesty’s hope-inspiring form...”
An expressionless man passes next to Günter, who, overcome with emotion, has entered ‘granther’ mode. I hurriedly stop Gwendal as he reaches for the door.
“Wait a minute, is it okay for you to go in in front of me?”
A forced smile curves the usual sullen lips of the one who is most qualified for the position of Maou not only in looks but probably in intelligence as well. Woah, ultra-freebie.
“Her Majesty the Prior Maou has appointed me with the exalted duty of presenting the crown to you.”
“Oh, is that all it is. I thought you were going to crash the ceremony or something. ’Cause you’re strongly opposed to me being the king, aren’t you?”
“I? Opposed?”
With a smile that sends shivers down my spine, he takes a step back towards me and tilts my head with a finger beneath my chin. Aah, what a complete difference in stature. But this isn’t basketball or volleyball—I’m sorry to say it’s not even baseball; height doesn’t have anything to do with being a catcher or a king.
“That’s ridiculous, why would I be opposed? I hope from the bottom of my heart for a good king.”
“Good...”
“An honest, tractable, obedient king.”
“So you’re scheming make the king your puppet?!”
From behind Günter, who’s acting like an overprotective mama towards me, Conrad says something completely carefree and unrelated. At least, that’s what it sounds like.
“Speaking of which, Gwen, Anissina came.”
Gwendal, who has cool for sale, instantly makes a face like he’s swallowed some sort of bitter bug. Though I’ve never tried chewing anything like that. He clicks his tongue slightly and disappears through the door. Wow, what a surprise, so Gwendal has a weak point, too?
“Now then, Your Majesty, are you prepared? Are you nervous? Take a deep breath, inhale, exhale.”
“How about you follow your own advice?”
Accompanied by Günter and Conrad, I march down the center of the great hall like I’ve been taught. It’s covered with pure black flower petals. What a bad omen. I ascend the stone steps to the platform, where Lady Cäcilie is waiting for me in sparkling golden ringlets and an alluring deep crimson dress.
“Y-you look very beautiful, Lady Cäli.”
Her smile fills her entire face.
“Thank you, Your Majesty. But you don’t have to flatter me today of all days, since you’re playing the leading part.”
We’re standing in the exact positions musicians would take on a live stage. There’s a small artificial waterfall directly in front of the stage about the width of both arms outstretched, and in its center is a softball-sized hole. I step onto the narrow passageway. Water falls quietly to either side.
“Now then, Your Majesty, put your right hand through the waterfall’s center and listen to the Shinou’s will.”
“Huh? But the Shinou’s dead, isn’t he?”
“Yes. But this hole leads to the Shinou’s mausoleum, and only the one chosen to become the Maou can place his hand inside. If the Shinou approves of the new king, he will gently grip that person’s hand.”
“Whaat?” Even though he’s supposed to be dead?!
“It’s just for show,” Lady Cäli whispers with her lips at my ear, “I placed my hand inside during my ceremony as well, but no one squeezed it. Leave your hand inside for a moment to emphasize the importance of the gesture, then slowly pull your hand out and raise it high. As if you have indeed received the Shinou’s recognition. See, Your Majesty, there’s nothing difficult about it, right?”
Günter nags from behind, “Your Majesty, please hurry.”
“All right already.”
I stand for a moment with my right hand raised in front of this thing that reminds me of the Bocca della Verit, the famous Italian tourist spot, and listen to the zaa zaa of the small waterfall.
“It won’t bite my hand off if I tell a lie, will it?”
“Certainly not. It’s made of very hard stone. It will not make any sudden movements.”
Right, of course. I move my right hand timidly towards the dark hole and stick my index and middle fingers into it. True to expectation, pleasantly cool, moist air coils around my hand. I boldly stick the rest of my hand inside up to my elbow.
“Aaah, I’m so glad, this ceremony turned out to be nothing after all. Next I put on an important air and raise my arm...”
What the...?
My fingertips collide with something. The back of the wall, maybe?
“Your Majesty?”
Günter peers at me worriedly.
“What the...uwah, uwaugh! Something is, something’s—!”
Something cold has grabbed hold of my fingers.
“S-something’s grabbed me, uwah, eek, Conrad! Something’s grabbed hold of me?!”
“Grabbed hold?!”
He pulls at my right hand with terrifying strength. Hey, wait a minute, he’s pulling? But this is an artificial waterfall, so there should only be a wall behind the curtain of water, right?! Do you get attacked if you collide with the wall?! But then who is it pulling so hard on me from inside...?
“Dwaaap!”
With a chorus-boy scream, my face plunges into the water. Günter is desperately holding onto the back of my clothes, my left arm. Conrad seizes my belt, shouting my name. But there’s a wall of water between us, and only distorted sound reaches me.
There’s a wall of water, but not the wall of stone that should be there. I wheeze and gasp for air... And as I’m wheezing, suspicions begin to surface in the back of my mind. Because when I came to this world, it was through a public Western-style flush toilet. If I’ve bought a round-trip ticket, then I should be returning in the same way. Except that this time the water’s clean—maybe that means I’m been upgraded just a bit to business class?!
I’ve decided to name what comes next the Star Tours.
Ya....ya...ya...
What’s going on, did the sumo wrestler not show up for the tournament? Why do they keep saying ‘ya’? Yariika1, Yankees, Yanbarukuina2? Yanbarukuina, ah, that brings back memories.
The “Bold Shogun Theme” echoes at my ear—a chance for Kintetsu?—my eyes jerk open. Oh, it’s just the timer going off on my blue cell phone.
“Shibuya!”
“Woah, you scared me!”
So it was the ‘ya’ in Shibuya. Someone shakes my shoulders, and I spring upright. The one calling my name is the Glasses-kun who was in my class in my second and third years of junior high. Who was that again? Oh, right, Ken—Murata Ken.
There’s water in my nose like I‘ve taken a gulp of water from the swimming pool. Cold, wet, heavy, stiff cloth sticks unpleasantly to my skin. I narrow my eyes against my flickering vision and look around. The dim girls’ bathroom at the park: gray walls, light blue doors, an unlikely brand-name Western-style toilet behind me (and paper holder, not that it really matters). Murata Ken peering at me, and a police officer in uniform two, three steps away.
“Murata Ken...didn’t you run away?”
“I wouldn’t run away and leave the person who saved me behind.”
The policeman asks if I’m okay, about damages and if I know the names of my attackers.
I’m thinking absentmindedly: the nighter’s started.
And then I remember playing a night game with someone in a gently-lit courtyard. I remember making a promise to a kid who doesn’t even know that baseball in Japanese begins with ‘ya’ 3. I remember almost everything that happened in my dream.
“Murata...I had this really amazing dream.”
“About what?”
I shake my head silently. It’s a long, long story.
“Hmm, okay. Then, Shibuya, there’s something I wanted to ask you about...”
When I move to stand up, a cold stone touches my skin beneath my clothes. And sparkling gold wings at the breast of my school uniform vie for my attention. I grasp the gold wings tightly with my left hand.
It wasn’t a dream?
Günter, Wolfram, Gwendal, Cäli, Brandon...Conrad.
“...Was it all really a dream?”
“Eh?” Murata Ken smiles vaguely and gives me his hand. “Um, it’s looks like your belt’s missing...well, this is totally personal taste, so I don’t want to say anything, but...”
I quickly look down at myself. My belt’s been torn off, and my pants’ button and zipper are both totally open. And peeking through the gap, the current height of Mazoku fashion: sexy underwear...
“Yeeargh!”
Oh no, maybe it wasn’t a dream?
I guess it’s not game over yet.