“Ohhh...” I was overcome with emotion.
Some might say: “Hey, we’ve got maid cafés, don’t we?” Amateurs! Maid cafés are ultimately just a form of cosplay. They’re fake, a performance—they lack the gravitas of true maids. Those ersatz au pairs are really just high school or college girls. That is to say, they lack the heart, the spirit, the ineffable quality one only achieves through absolute devotion to the Way of the Maid!
But this maid, right here in front of me, she had it. I could tell. My eyes could not be deceived...!
I mean, there’s a difference between someone who wears a maid costume for fun and someone who wears it every day of her life. She just seemed more comfortable in it.
A second look revealed something else: she wasn’t Japanese. I couldn’t quite tell what color her hair was in the darkness, but I could at least make out that it wasn’t black.
Her long hair was tied in twintails, one falling to the left and one to the right, tied high on her head. She was blinking her large eyes in confusion—indeed, fear. I could tell even in the dim room that her skin was as pale and smooth as porcelain, her features finely formed but not ostentatious—the very picture of refined beauty. She was the perfect example of how an air of purity could turn plain looks into a virtue.
She seemed to be about my age; i.e., in her late teens. That maid outfit embraced a willowy body. We often describe such people by saying that they look like they might break in half if you gave them a strong hug—but she looked almost like glass, as if she might be damaged if handled carelessly.
It was practically perfect. If I were a judge for a Maid Achievement Test, I could comfortably give her a 90. Where did those other ten points go, you ask? She could earn them if she were holding a broom. A broom is fundamental for a maid. Otherwise it’s like drawing an oni without his club, or—
Well, never mind.
Still clinging to the wall, the maid hesitantly began to speak.
“Re... Retosamu?”
What was that? What had she said?
“E... Efasu uoi er, Retosamu?”
I stared blankly at her, so the maid repeated herself... I think. If a rising intonation at the end of the sentence indicated a question, then she was asking again.
It wasn’t Japanese; that was for sure. The pronunciation suggested it wasn’t English, either, but what, then? It didn’t seem to be German or French or Chinese. It didn’t really matter, because I didn’t have the foggiest idea what she was saying, in any case.
“Well, this is trouble,” I muttered. I finally had a chance to meet a real-life, in-the-flesh maid, and I couldn’t even make small talk.
I know, I know. Some people might say, “Whatever! First worry about the important stuff, like asking where you are!” Do these people have no dreams? How boorish would you have to be to focus on any of that? I was meeting an honest-to-God, three-dimensional moe character. Before this miracle, every other concern was like a molehill before a mountain!
“Retosamu,” the maid said, sounding at a loss. Apparently, I wasn’t the only one frustrated by the inability to communicate.
Suddenly, she nodded as if remembering something and began hurriedly patting her uniform. For a second I wondered what she was doing, but then I realized she was looking for something somewhere in her clothes.
“Sou tei!”
A smile crossed her face, and she pulled some kind of box out of her pocket.
She began walking toward me hesitantly and showed me what was in the box, which opened from the middle, like a clam.
It was a small silver ring.
“Huh? What’s this?”
The ring looked a little too big, like maybe it wasn’t made very well—but the surface was covered with tiny carved letters.
Just like the kind of magic ring that so often appears in anime, manga, and games.
I wondered what kind of letters these were. It wasn’t the Roman alphabet, and of course, it wasn’t Japanese writing, either. I’d seen the Hebrew alphabet, too—aleph and zayin and such; it shows up pretty regularly in fantasy manga and anime. But it wasn’t that, either.
“Retosamu, regunifu ruoi shisu ete tsupu.”
The maid held the ring out, then looked at me expectantly. Was she telling me to put it on?
I hesitated somewhat to just equip an unfamiliar item. It didn’t feel right. How often has someone put on a magic ring just to be immediately under its control? I mean... I know that hasn’t literally happened, but still.
But then—
“Retosamu.”
The maid pointed to her own hand. On her left ring finger, she had a ring that looked a lot like the one she was holding out to me. She took it off, handed it to me, and instead put the ring she had offered me on her own hand.
What was going on here?
It seemed like she was trying to show me the ring was safe to put on, sort of like how someone might eat a bite of food to prove it isn’t poisoned.
But it was also kind of like the way a couple exchanges rings when they get married, and that left me a little embarrassed. Now I was reluctant for a whole new reason...
“Retosamu...?”
She spoke again, a look of anxiety on her pale face. Holy crap, is she cute!
But that very cuteness made me feel guilty. The maid didn’t seem sure what to do if I wouldn’t put on the ring.
“Aw, fer... Okay, I get it.”
I’m a man. And an otaku, too. To have an ideal woman like this maid turn such pleading eyes on me couldn’t fail to move me. My heart burned with the moe-ness of it all, urging me to hurry up and put on the ring.
“All right, here goes...”
With much fear and trembling, I put the ring on my finger. There was no flash of light or explosion, nor did it suddenly start burying itself in my flesh. It just slipped on.
“Like this?” I asked.
“Yes! Can you understand me now, Master?” (Sei shisu moufu donatosuredonu uoi naku, Retosamu?)
“Hwah?!”
I let out a whoop of surprise. All of a sudden I could understand what she was saying.
And it wasn’t like she had spoken Japanese. She was still speaking that weird language, but I heard the Japanese meaning in my head, almost overlaid with hers, like a simultaneous interpreter.
How the heck does this work?
Okay, wait. Never mind that for now. What had she just said?
Master? Who was that? Did she mean me?
“Yesss!”
In a fit of emotion, I looked up at the ceiling and sighed.
Master! Master! MASTERRRRRR! Listen to the sweet sound of it! Normally a maid calls her employer “sir”—but to be called “Master”! What a feeling!
Thank God I’m alive! If I’d had a time machine, I would have gone back to myself a year ago and told him, “Be glad you’re alive! Just hang in there, one day a maid is going to call you ‘Master’!”
This and other sundry joyous thoughts went through my head, but after a while I could no longer ignore the unresolved situation in front of me.
I.e., What was going on here?
Where was I, who was this girl, and how did I end up like this?
“Hrmm...”
Wracking my brain cells, which didn’t really want to work that hard because of a dull ache, I went back through my memories.
I recalled that I had been looking for a job in Akiba, the otaku haven in central Tokyo. I was there for an interview. I was pretty sure there was a break, during which time I got an oolong tea from a drink machine.
I remember drinking it, and then... nothing.
Huh? That didn’t explain what I was doing here at all.
“Master...?”
When I stood frozen for too long, the maid spoke again, sounding worried. I still didn’t know the details of her language, but apparently the word Retosamu, which she’d used several times, meant Master.
“Oh, um.” I looked at her. “Sorry, can I ask you something?”
&
nbsp; “Certainly. Anything at all.” She nodded, seeming relieved—even happy—to finally have a conversation going.
“For starters, who are you? What’s your name?”
“I’m Myusel—Myusel Fourant.” She gave me an adorable little bow.
“Myusel...” What a sweet name. It fit her. I was just trying the name out, but she seemed to think I was calling her, because she said, “Yes?”
“Um... What’s your social status, exactly?”
Notwithstanding the wave of ecstasy that transfixed me the first time she called me Master, I was hardly enough of a hopeless jerk to be all, Yes, I am your master!! Like a maid would just pop out of thin air and serve me? Come on.
“I will be seeing to all your needs from today forward, Master.”
“Okay, but... Who’s this ‘Master’? Who are you talking about?”
“...I’m sorry?” Myusel blinked. Then she said apologetically, “Oh... Would you rather I called you something else?” She ducked her head slightly. “Kanou... Shinichi-sama.”
Kanou Shinichi.
That was my name, all right. In other words, the “master” this girl kept referring to was... me!
“I’m your... master?”
“Yes, sir.” Myusel looked perplexed, as if wondering how I could find this so difficult.
This made no sense! What the heck was going on here?!
“Okay, so... So...”
Let’s forget why I’m her master for now. I decided to try to find out where I was instead. I tried again to remember, but once more I found my memories stopped cold in the otaku mecca, Akihabara. Wherever I was, assuming I didn’t have a second personality or some kind of amnesia, I hadn’t come here of my own free will.
“Where... are we?”
“In the Latatos Forest on the edge of Marinos, capital of the Holy Eldant Empire.”
The answer came—well, not from Myusel. I looked around in surprise to see who had spoken, and found a woman standing there.
She was young, wearing a dark green outfit—a military uniform. But it wasn’t a combat uniform, just the sort of thing you would wear around the office. What the armed forces might call a work uniform. Jacket above, tight skirt below. Special job and rank insignia on the collar, even a necktie.
What really caught my eye, though, wasn’t the uniform, but the person wearing it.
Specifically, her chest.
It... It’s huge!
That was the first thing I noticed. Not the necktie, not the job insignia or the badge of rank—it was all about those two towering hills...! She was an F cup for sure, maybe even a G. Incredible. When I thought of the juicy white peaches concealed under the highly regulated costume called a uniform...! She couldn’t have hidden the plumpness of them if she’d tried, and I was instantly lost in them. Who knew such massive breasts actually existed! Did this mean not all of those photos of pop idols were photoshopped?! Amazing! La**ta really does exist...! (I was starting to grow incoherent from sheer excitement.)
“Are you all right...?” the woman asked dubiously, as I stood there with my eyes frozen on her chest. “Can you hear me, Kanou Shinichi-kun?”
“Huh? Oh... Yeah.”
Hearing my name snapped me back to reality. With tremendous effort and no small regret, I was able to stop my leering and look my conversation partner in the face.
Her chest might have been the first thing I noticed, but her face was lovely, too. I suspected she was in her early twenties. Her hair was short. Or—judging by the fact that I couldn’t see any hair near her collar, I guessed it just looked short from the front. Most likely, she had it done up in a bun or something in the back.
Her features were well-formed, but had just a hint of vulnerability, a feminine softness to them. She was wearing glasses, which took the edge off of everything, giving the impression of a sweet, round face. I guess you could say she was one of those archetypal characters who made you feel warm and fuzzy inside.
She was, though, still wearing a military uniform. Unlike Myusel, she was also obviously speaking actual Japanese, and her features were unmistakably Asian. So I assumed she was a member of the Japan Self-Defense Force—what you might call a WAC. (It stood for “Women’s Army Corp,” but basically meant a lady soldier.)
“Your surprise is understandable,” she said with a smile. “But you’d better calm down. Otherwise, this won’t last.”
“Is... Is that right?” I found my expression frozen from shock. “I see... So it won’t last... I’d heard how easily they sagged, but... I understand. I’ll calm down. I will absolutely calm down. If by calming down I can preserve humanity’s most precious treasure, I will calm down as much as it takes! You can count on me!” I clenched both my hands into fists as I made this emphatic declaration.
Still, I wasn’t sure how my calming down could keep her boobs from sagging. Was that my secret power? My superhero name could be “The Buster,” lifesaver in boob emergencies! I just needed to stay calm and focus on my powers in order to prevent women’s chests from sagging.
“Erm... Kanou Shinichi-kun?” The WAC was looking at me with a perplexed smile. “It looks like what we have here is a failure to communicate... What’s this about ‘sagging’? What in the world are you talking about?”
“Huh? Aren’t we talking about boobs...?”
The WAC was still smiling, but she was completely silent. That smile just sat there, as though someone had hit the pause button on her, until—
“How about we start with introductions?” The smile became a little more real again as she forcefully changed the subject.
Apparently, she intended to pretend like the whole discussion about boobs hadn’t happened. That’s a public servant for you. They know how to ignore things.
“I’m Koganuma Minori.” She placed her white-gloved hand on her chest as she spoke. Even that was enough to subtly change the shape of her bust. Whoa. Must be soft. “I’m a Private First Class with the Eastern Army of the Ground Self-Defense Force, First Division. My assigned duty is your protection.”
Thus the lady from the SDF—or I should say, Koganuma Minori—identified herself. I could have called her “Koganuma-san,” but that sounded so stiff and formal. So in my mind, at least, I decided to call her “Minori-san.” ............................................................Wait a second.
“Protection?!”
But that implied danger! Protection meant I had to be protected from something. Which meant I was in a position where something might threaten me.
“Wh-Wh-Wh-Wh-Wh-Wh-Wh-Why?!”
I wasn’t aware of anyone who was out for my life. But then again, you never know who’s going to turn out to have it in for you. Maybe that guy I beat in that Yahoo auction for that bishoujo figure got so ticked that now he wanted to kill me!
“But that’s ridiculous! I mean, yes, I kept putting in crazy-high bids right at the end, but I would’ve sold my soul for that Kuuko figure! She’s super rare and you can take her clothes off and they got her breasts perfect and I would’ve died if I didn’t get her and—”
“Again, please calm down, and— What are you talking about, anyway?” Minori-san asked, furrowing her brow.
“You mean the guy who lost that auction isn’t out to kill me?”
“I really don’t think that’s the kind of situation the JSDF would get involved in.”
“How can you sound so dismissive?! This is a limited-edition Kuuko figure we’re talking about! I grant she’s not the main heroine, and her breasts aren’t as big as yours, Minori-san, but she’s wonderful in her own way!”
“...Pretty sure my breasts have nothing to do with this.” She crossed her arms over her chest as if trying to hide them. It only made them look even bigger. She didn’t seem very savvy about them.
“In any event,” she said. “If a criminal were after you, it would be the police’s job to protect you.”
“I... I guess you’re right. But why are you here, then?”
Who
would the JSDF fight? They only came out for foreign armies and natural disasters and Godzilla and stuff. I couldn’t picture a situation that would get them to protect a lone regular guy.
“Your protection is incidental to my main duty. If there were really a clear and present danger, do you think they’d send a WAC like me? No, you’d have a fully equipped squadron waiting for you.”
“I guess that makes sense.” It’s just pretty surprising when an SDF officer appears out of thin air with no explanation whatsoever.
“I’m sorry we dragged you here so suddenly and with no explanation whatsoever, but we had to maintain secrecy and such. That’s why we had to resort to strong-arm tactics. Sorry again.”
“Maintain secrecy?!”
Another phrase that fails to inspire confidence. Maintain secrecy is a profoundly dangerous phrase, one that could easily cause someone’s death, and (I assumed) frequently did. And of course, if the SDF was involved, that was as good as saying it was a state secret. That’s an order of magnitude more dangerous than a corporate secret.
Wait, hang on. Didn’t she say I was “dragged” here? So I’d basically been kidnapped and taken to a strange place by the JSDF?
“No way...” I began to tremble at the situation I was in. “So a developmental bioweapon got out and infected me, and as a result I’ve got incredible new powers?! So I’m a mutant soldier, a living military secret, and that’s why they’re after me?!”
“...Again: What?”
“Or is it that a spaceship with hyper-advanced technology came crashing down from overhead, and the control mechanism, manifesting itself as a beautiful girl, has chosen to request a pact with me out of all earthlings?!”
No response.
“Or is it that a 3,000-year-old seal has been broken, freeing the Demon King, and the kingdom has mustered all its might to keep him at bay, but the one clan that could seal him away again is already extinct, and I’m the last descendent of that clan’s bloodline?!”
Minori-san still didn’t say anything, just stood there with that smile on her face, her eyes growing colder and colder. In light of her expression, I decided this would be a good place to stop my chuunibyou rant.
The Power of Moe Page 2