The Devil Is a Part-Timer!, Vol. 4

by Satoshi Wagahara

  “…You still alive, Camio?”

  “L-Lord Satan…peep.”

  Inside, the blackbird drowsily hopped around.

  “Bah-hah-hah! …Oh, uh, sorry. Glad you’re still with me. I’ll check up on you later.”

  It must have worked differently for him from when Ashiya and Maou were drained of their demonic force. Camio skipped the human transformation entirely and went straight into songbird mode.

  His voice was the sedate baritone of the avian warrior from yesterday, but the way he now added a high-pitched “peep” in and around his statements struck Maou as nothing short of hilarious.

  “I apeep…apologize…for disquieting you peep.”

  “No, no, no. There’s not much I can really do for you right now anyway. You sure you’re okay without food or anything?”

  “I thank you, my liege…peep… But my demonic force has not fully drained out of my body…peep…peep.”

  “Keh-heh… All right. See you later, then.”

  “Yes, my peep.”

  Then the ex-proud demon warrior Camio nestled down to rest into the towels Maou laid on the bottom of the box. Maou placed a cup of water in the box and set the AC on the high side, around eighty-three degrees, so it wouldn’t be too cold or hot for the demon.

  For a typical bird, this would be their cue to close their eyes and wait for death. But while he looked a bit like a mynah in critical condition, this was actually one of the greatest demons from Maou’s old stomping grounds, high enough in the ranks to recognize Ashiya and treat him with respect.

  He was Camio, the Devil Regent.

  Not every demon in the underworld set off with the Devil King’s forces to invade Ente Isla. In fact, most remained in their respective homelands.

  The organization Maou built from scratch, really the first true state that ever existed in his realm, needed to be governed by someone under his name while he was gone. That someone was Camio, ordered by Satan to serve as his official Devil Regent.

  As Maou’s representative, Camio ostensibly held all the powers of the Devil King when it came to affairs in his realm. But why was he in Japan, and so severely wounded? Maou didn’t know. Camio had fallen unconscious before he could say.

  The demon bird’s chirping went unnoticed until the following morning, by which time Urushihara was already groggily walking to Ohguro-ya after waking up a second time, so Maou had yet to find a chance to discuss matters in detail.

  One thing clear from Camio’s behavior, however, was that neither he, nor the cyclopean, nor the beast demonoid that preceded him, came here in search of Satan or his general Alciel.

  So what were they after, then? Why did they show up in Choshi? And how did they retain their demon-realm forms? Riddles piled upon riddles.

  But, sadly—truly sadly—Maou had no time to pursue any of these questions.

  Out in front, Chiho and the others were meekly waiting, supporting him in the current battlefield, trusting that he would return.

  “I have a job to go back to!”

  Returning to the store space and prepared for anything, he was surprised to find the two rented shaved-ice machines already there.

  It was not even twenty minutes since Emi placed the call. The ice seller must have been a lot closer by than he thought. In his mind, Maou gave his silent, heartfelt thanks to Nanchou Ice Manufacturing.

  “Urushihara! I’ll handle the ice. You just keep the lines orderly and hand out the drinks!”

  “Dude, don’t order me around!”

  Urushihara chafed at the order, of course, but realized that Emi was right. Maou would’ve preferred her out in front, where her attractiveness (visually, at least) would help garner more attention. But her pinch-hitting out back was sorely needed, and Urushihara wouldn’t learn anything from this otherwise.

  Ignoring the silent daggers of lightning Urushihara shot from his eyes, Maou gave one receipt pad each to Chiho and Amane, leaving them to handle orders and take money as he returned to his own job.

  By the time he started tackling the mountain of outstanding orders, Suzuno had restored the seafood yakisoba plate to the menu. She was standing in front of a large pot at the moment, filling it with curry in a mad dash to keep from running out.

  If they kept this up, they might just survive the lunch rush.

  It was thanks to the girls that they recovered from today’s mistakes. Starting tomorrow, they’d have to learn from them, figuring out how to improve their system so they didn’t need Chiho and the gang’s help.

  Looking back, Kisaki had been right all along, in her own way. If they made mistakes, it was fine. As long as they could make up for them all, it would never hurt in the end.

  Three in the afternoon.

  That’s how long it took before the orders died down and everyone could breathe again.

  All the tables were empty, there was some extra yakisoba simmering on the side of the griddle, and Maou took that as his cue to plop on a chair.

  “Uggghhhhh. I’m exhaaaaausted…!”

  “Here you are, Maou. From Amane.”

  Chiho handed him a bottle of chilled 5-Honest Energy.

  “Ah, thanks.”

  He grabbed it, opened the cap, and chugged the contents in one go.

  “Ooooooh. That hit the spot.”

  The ice-cold carbonation ran down his throat, the resulting light case of brain freeze feeling like a small vacation.

  “But really, though… Thanks, Chi. If you guys didn’t show up, I think we would’ve been screwed. Sorry we wound up putting all this work on you.”

  Chiho bowed her head as she sat next to him. “I’m just happy we helped you out.”

  “I bet some customers are gonna start asking about you tomorrow, Chi. That swimsuit looks good on you.”

  “…Huh?”

  From heartfelt thanks, straight to a backhanded compliment. It came out so naturally from Maou’s mouth that it took a moment or two for Chiho’s face to redden in response.

  “Ah, I, um, thank you. …Very much. Um…”

  No longer able to look Maou in the eye, Chiho wriggled her legs a bit as she stared at the 5-Honest Energy in her own hands.

  “It looks…good on me?”

  “Yeah. That’s why I said it. You didn’t…bring it with you, did you?”

  Chiho earnestly shook her head as she made eye contact with Amane, currently scrubbing the frying pan she used to sauté the pork and chicken.

  Maou followed her eyes over. Amane, for reasons only she knew, gave them both a thumbs-up.

  Her “go” sign, he supposed.

  “Y’know, I wasn’t gonna ask at first, but…well, it’s a cute swimsuit and all, so…um…”

  I wanted you to see it. Chiho wanted to blurt it out, but saying it out loud seemed in poor taste, so she opted to blush and stare at the floor instead.

  Maou easily interpreted the words she swallowed.

  “You know. We’re here at the beach and all, so I thought it’d be nice if you took advantage and swam a little bit.”

  “Oh! Oh yeah! Sure! Uh… Ha-ha-ha-ha! Ahhh…”

  Chiho picked up the conversation string, face still reddened, but suddenly let out a sigh.

  “It’s actually something they had on sale here at the beach house…”

  “Really?”

  Looking back at Amane, Maou saw her back turned to them, thumb still in the air.

  Besides the food and drink, Ohguro-ya offered some extent of summer merchandise—sunscreen, beach blankets, inner tubes, beach balls, and the like.

  Swimsuits hung from the walls as well, but swimsuits were much harder for a shop like this to manage. They were high-priced items—beach houses usually gambled with them, selling them at marked-up tourist prices—but generally speaking, they sold slowly, if at all.

  That was the problem with such things: The sort of person who went to a beach in midsummer without a swimsuit usually didn’t intend to go swimming in the first place. You needed someone enthuse
d enough to hit the beach for some wild fun in the water, forgetful enough to leave their suit back at home, lazy enough not to run back to town and purchase one from a full-on beach supply shop, and rich enough not to mind the rip-off prices here. That didn’t happen often.

  Maou still wondered why Amane was so ready to give out her dead-stock inventory as presents, but given that it allowed Chiho and the girls to enjoy some summer leisure time by the sea, he didn’t regret her decision much.

  Besides, Maou wasn’t being polite. She really did look good.

  “Well, I like it. I bet that swimsuit’s proud it’s got you wearing it.”

  “Oh… I… Wow, thank you so—“

  “Whoa there, Maou. Kind of playing favorites a little too much, huh?”

  Just as Chiho was about to spontaneously combust, Amane sidled in closer.

  “Chiho isn’t the only goddess who saved our butts today, y’know.”

  Her eyes turned to the other side of the shop. Emi and Suzuno looked back at them.

  “Ahh, well…you know.”

  Amane had a point, of course. Yesterday and today, there were countless challenges that would have gone unsolved without Emi and Suzuno’s help. So, remaining in his seat, Maou turned toward the pair, placed his hands on his knees, and bowed his head.

  “Thanks. You really helped me out.”

  The unexpectedly honest gratitude made Emi and Suzuno gasp and look at each other.

  “…I’m just making sure you owe me one. Like yesterday. I don’t need you thanking me.”

  “Emi is correct. We simply lent a hand because it would be a drag upon our heels if you blundered yourselves out of business. We do not seek your adulation or favor.”

  The gratitude was heartfelt; the response, less so. He left it at that, expecting little more from them in the first place. But Amane remained unconvinced.

  “Whoa there. That’s it? That’s not all, is it? Come on, give it a bit more oomph.”

  “Oomph? Oomph how?”

  “Oh, Maou, don’t say ‘oomph how’ to me! Chiho here’s got some gifts, that’s for sure, but you’ve got two other young ladies baring their all, too! Gotta compliment your wife sometime, you know? She’ll start running around on you if you don’t! Chiho’s suit was a freebie, but those two paid for theirs. A few choice compliments could earn you some mucho attaboy points right now, y’know?”

  It wasn’t Amane’s fault, maybe, but her skills at reading the relationship between these people proved profoundly lacking.

  “Huh…?”

  Maou was genuinely at a loss as he stared at Emi and Suzuno, their turned backs only adding to the awkwardness.

  Why do both of them have their backs to me? Pondering over this, Maou decided to bare his honest soul to them.

  “Um, I appreciate everything you guys did today, but I guess I don’t know if I should be complimenting you—or if there’s any point to it—or, like, did you really give up on the whole beach vacation thing after all?”

  He understood that a swimsuit was a vital fashion accessory to a woman, and that complimenting one would never offend anyone. That was common sense. He was quite generously willing to admit that Emi and Suzuno looked beautiful in their outfits.

  But in terms of their personal relationships, if you asked whether Emi and Suzuno were hoping for a compliment from him, the answer was absolutely no.

  And yet…it was weird. Maou thought he gauged the situation accurately enough with his words, but now he thought he saw their bodies shiver, a dark miasmic aura looming over them.

  “…Wow, are you blind, or what?”

  Amane was floored. From a third-party perspective, Maou was being at best petty, at worst abusive.

  “My l—Maou! Sir! Over here!”

  Surprisingly, it was Ashiya who threw a life preserver to Maou.

  “You are being far too honest! At least bend a bit and give them a compliment!”

  “Huh? Like, even if I did, you know…”

  “It does not matter who compliments them. Whether from a worm, or a cockroach, or even a waterbug, no woman minds a compliment! And how dare you say there is nothing to compliment about them! I sincerely doubt Yusa will respond as amiably as Ms. Sasaki, but it would make her feel conflicted, at least!”

  “Oh, come on. You’re just being mean now. Like, seriously? You’re putting me on a cockroach’s level?”

  “And while it is with my extreme reluctance, Suzuno does provide a service to us every day. If you would kindly practice some social etiquette and compliment her, perhaps that would remove some obstacles going—grrk!”

  As he feverishly griped at Maou, Ashiya suddenly rolled his eyes and collapsed on the beach.

  Maou and Chiho dragged him up, unable to carry his weight. At his feet was an unusually large chunk of ice; on his head, a yakisoba spatula.

  “We would never dream! In a million years! Of ever! Desiring your compliment!!”

  “Yeah. Besides, there’s nothing about me to compliment at alllll, right? Ohh, noooo.”

  Suzuno and Emi’s twin-pronged attack, more demonic than most demons, tore into Maou.

  Perhaps they didn’t realize it, but the way both of them crossed their arms in order to cover their chests was a bit touching, somehow.

  He wasn’t going to try praising them, but it wasn’t like he was totally oblivious to them, either. That was what he was trying to say, but if he did, they’d be tossing ice blocks and liquid nitrogen at him next.

  “Maou…Ashiya… I’ve lost faith in you.”

  With a grand wave, Amane—the woman who both set this scenario up and tore it down with her bare hands—departed to the back room.

  “Ha…ha. Ha-ha-ha-ha! Suzuno, your, uh, spatula…”

  The real victim here was undoubtedly Chiho, subjected to all these horrors through none of her own doing.

  “Chiho.”

  “Y-Yes?”

  Suzuno, accepting the spatula that Chiho peeled off Ashiya’s head, washed it in the sink and flashed, for just a moment, a resentful look at Chiho’s chest.

  “I know things are as they are, but I feel you must rethink this.”

  There was no way Chiho could offer a response to that.

  “So, uh, what? You guys want to be complimented, or what? I don’t get it.”

  Urushihara, safely out of the line of fire at his now-empty drink booth, fired a deviously hateful salvo at Emi as she indignantly scraped bits of ice off the machines.

  “You want me to kill you?”

  The way she palmed the ice pick in her hand spoke louder than her words.

  “Oh. Okay. Got it.”

  Urushihara had at least the sneaking suspicion that Ashiya was correct, but respectfully declined to mention that out loud, lest it directly affect his life expectancy.

  After that wise move, Urushihara rewarded himself by removing a can of soda from the available merchandise, opening it up, and entering full break-time mode.

  “…Um, if you’re free, would you mind cleaning the shaved-ice machines? It’s gonna rust if somebody doesn’t wipe the ice crystals off. Why do I have to do it? I’d just as soon disembowel you.”

  Emi’s reply only seemed excessive if one didn’t remember that Urushihara all but abandoned his post to her earlier.

  The fallen angel turned his head toward Emi as she continued stabbing away at the ice clogging up the nooks and crannies of the machine.

  “By the way, Yusa, there’s something I wanted to ask now that we’ve got the perfect opportunity here.”

  “What? Where’d that come from? If you’re gonna compliment me or something, I’m gonna decapitate you.”

  “Dude, all right, okay? Just listen.”

  Urushihara let out an audible belch as he took a drink from his can.

  “Urp… So, like, what do you think of Olba, anyway?”

  Were it not for the bright, sunny interior of the shop, the area would have felt suddenly enveloped in an anxious, dark silence.


  “That’s pretty sudden of you. And rude. …What do you mean, what do I think of him?”

  “Oh, nothing that deep. Just, like, are you enough of an optimist that you think he’s just out being a model prisoner somewhere?”

  “Well, no, but… It’s not like I could find out where he is now, and even if I did, what could I do about it?”

  “What if I said I knew?”

  The waves, the beach, and the people around Ohguro-ya were just as breezy as before, tropical and carefree.

  “What’re you…saying?”

  “He’s being indicted at the Shibuya district jail. I don’t know exactly where he is, though. They brought him up on weapons possession and destruction of property, but I’m sure that’s just a stopgap until they find some evidence to connect him to our little mugging spree.”

  “Wh-Why do you know all of that?”

  “What? I didn’t hack into government records or anything, dude. Anybody can have it looked up if they want to. You have to jump through a lot of hoops, but still. They arrested Olba as a non-Japanese resident, too, and that means human-rights groups and stuff have to get involved. You know how the news has been going on about foreigners getting freed from jail for crimes they didn’t commit, right?”

  Urushihara was actually learning about Japanese society, in his own way. Emi was impressed for a moment.

  “So anyway, I hacked into one of those human-rights groups’ databases.”

  Only for a moment.

  “…Well, correct me if I’m wrong, but they can only hold him in jail for a few days, right? It’s different from prison that way.”

  “Huh. You been studying?”

  “Well, you know, I watch a lot of TV dramas so I can keep up with conversations at work. Boy, when the main guy’s wife got killed during season six of Quaking Mad, that just about blew my mind!”

  Between her samurai shows and TV dramas, Urushihara began to wonder if the Hero would be staying up to watch late-night anime next.

  “That’s really nothing to be proud of, dude. Oh, that’ll be a hundred and twenty yen. Thanks.”

  With a sigh, Urushihara handed a cola bottle over to a passing customer. Over the past few hours, the whole process from money-taking to soda-giving had grown smoother and quicker—something neither Emi nor the ex-angel himself noticed.