Outbreak Company: Volume 2

by Ichiro Sakaki

  Her questions always sounded so tentative. I thought about it for a second, then said, “Sure.”

  I had spent the last several days cooped up and isolated, not wanting to see anyone—but to tell the truth, the person I was most afraid of seeing was Myusel.

  It wasn’t as if I had come to hate her or anything like that. I was just... really scared, because it was so painful to see her face. Still, though...

  “Thank you, sir,” she said, and came into the room.

  Not only was she up late at night, but she was carrying a tray with a pot of tea and a cup on top of it.

  “Is that...?” I asked, staring wide-eyed at the tea set.

  We didn’t have a water heater in this mansion, and we definitely didn’t have one of those fancy electric tea kettles that keeps the water hot for you. No gas burners, no induction cooktop. You couldn’t make tea on a whim; the water just wouldn’t be there. Whether you used a small stove or summoned fire sprites with magic, you would have to get a fire going and heat the water yourself—not a quick or easy process.

  That meant Myusel hadn’t just passed by my room, seen the light leaking out, and decided she’d make me a quick cup of tea. No. She must have been constantly making sure we had plenty of hot water, gotten all the tea supplies ready, and then gone by my room several times. She had been waiting for me, so I could come out at any time and tea would be waiting.

  My chest tightened with regret; I felt terrible for putting her to the trouble.

  “...I’m sorry,” I said.

  “Wha? S-Sorry for what?” she asked, blinking.

  She was understandably not sure why I was apologizing to her. Given her personality, it only made sense. I felt too bad to make direct eye contact, but scratching my cheek, I said, “Well, you know, uh... for worrying you like that.”

  “Oh... Yes, sir.” She nodded quite candidly, but then she seemed to realize what she was doing and quickly shook her head instead. “Er, I—I mean, it’s my job as a maid to take your physical and emotional needs into consideration, Master. You c-certainly don’t need to apologize to me...”

  As far as it went, she was right. But I was still happy that she cared that much about me, and I wanted to express that somehow.

  “Right,” I said. I thought for a few seconds, then started again. It was a little bit embarrassing to say all this directly, but...

  “Thanks. It makes me happy. Maybe that works?”

  “Yes, sir!” Myusel said after a very long pause. Her cheeks were red and she was looking at the ground, almost as if she was... embarrassed?

  We had spent more than six months now living in the same house. Yet somehow I never got tired of seeing her; every little gesture seemed fresh and sweet.

  That’s why I was afraid.

  It terrified me to think of her looking at me with hatred, or despair, or rejection. To think of her knowing what I really was.

  And yet...

  “Myusel,” I said, shifting in my seat. “It looks like I’ve been... an invader this whole time.”

  “...What?” She looked at me in astonishment.

  Fair enough, given the bombshell I’d just dropped.

  “An... An invader, sir?”

  “Yeah. I was sent here to help make the Holy Eldant Empire a vassal state of Japan. I was supposed to use otaku culture as a way of undermining any resistance from the people here. Or anyway, that’s what I’m told. I may not be carrying a sword or whatever, but I’m basically an enemy from a country that’s at war with your home.”

  In a corner of my head, part of me was still yelling, Stop!

  I didn’t have to tell Myusel these things. What if she rejected me? What if she hated me, or fell into despair, or looked at me with contempt? I might never recover. If Myusel abandoned me—well, I had a dim sense that the shock would be way worse than getting shot down by my former childhood friend.

  But still...

  “It might... It might be best if I had never come to this country. I might not be able to stay with you guys.”

  Myusel swallowed hard, but didn’t say anything at first. After a moment, though, she collected herself.

  “I... I don’t really understand,” she said; and it was true, she sounded awfully lost. I mean, I had launched into a conversation about invasions and affairs of state. She wasn’t an imperial or a noble, and she wasn’t used to dealing with stuff like that on a moment’s notice. She didn’t know exactly how to respond.

  “I’m very sorry. I’m... I’m stupid, and... and uneducated...”

  No, wait, Myusel! I don’t think you’re stupid. And yeah, maybe you’re not educated, but it’s hardly your fault. You just never had the chance.

  “Master.... you’re so... you’re so kind.” She stared ever more fixedly at the ground. As if not content with that, her hands grabbed her apron tightly, as though she were trying to shrink. “You do so much for me... even though I’m no more than I am...”

  “I’m not sure I’d say so much...” Certainly nothing to warrant somebody talking about me like this. “And anyway... how do you know it’s not all just an act, part of my invasion?”

  “What about when you... protected me? Even though it meant angering Her Imperial Majesty?”

  She glanced up at me as she spoke. Just for a second, I wasn’t sure what she was talking about—but I realized she must be thinking back to when I had only just come to the Holy Eldant Empire, when I had taken her side against Petralka, back before the two of them had become friends.

  “Master... Whatever you’re trying to do, surely protecting a pathetic servant girl like me from an empress... can’t gain you anything, can it?”

  “That’s... I...”

  When Myusel turned her imploring gaze on me, I found I couldn’t speak.

  She was exactly right. I guess there was some self-satisfaction to be found in looking out for Myusel, but otherwise, nothing. However Myusel felt about me, whether she loved me or hated me—it wouldn’t make any particular difference to my work. Yes, she was supposed to be taking care of me, but that was her job, just like I had mine. She would do it, even if she despised the person she was working for.

  If anything, talking back to the empress was—from the perspective of my role as General Manager of Amutech—ten times, a hundred times, a thousand times worse than sticking up for my maid.

  “And I’m so happy...” Myusel went on, “that we get to eat with you. I never knew... that eating could be so much fun. I learned that from you, Master.”

  “Myusel...”

  “And yet I... can’t do anything to thank you, Master...”

  “Thank me? You don’t have to do anything to—”

  “I’m jealous of Elvia-san. Because she’s able to help you...”

  “I told you, Myusel, you’re a big help to me. Heck, you saved me!”

  It reminded me of what she had said before, so I told her again what I had told her then—about the cooking, and the cleaning, and the laundry. Those things might seem simple enough to her, but I was extremely grateful for them. And you never want to be hated by someone you’re grateful to.

  At that, a thought occurred to me.

  Didn’t Myusel feel the same way about me? Whatever I was thinking, whatever was in my head, didn’t matter. Facts change in all sorts of ways depending on who’s looking at them. “Truth” has a lot to do with the feelings of the person accepting it. My gratitude toward Myusel was my truth, and her truth was that I was kind to her. Yeah, it was kind of confusing. But still.

  “Master... Shinichi-sama,” Myusel said. “Please don’t say such frightening... and sad things... like that we would be better off without you...”

  I couldn’t speak.

  “I’m begging you... Please... Please stay here with us!”

  This girl... It’s like she was created to tug on my heartstrings.

  I had a dangerous bit of tightrope-walking in mind. I didn’t know if it was going to work out, and if I screwed up, there was a go
od chance I would find myself in a very different position. I might even have to leave this mansion without a chance to say goodbye to Myusel or the others.

  That was why I’d needed something to stoke me up. Someone to say to me, “It’s okay for you to be here.” I’d wanted someone to give me a little push to help get me going.

  No... Not someone.

  Myusel.

  She was the first person from “this side” that I’d met when I arrived in the Eldant Empire; she was basically the physical embodiment of what the words “another world” conjured for me.

  That was why I’d wanted her permission, or perhaps her forgiveness. Why I’d wanted to ask her the question: Can I stay here?

  “Okay,” I said, nodding. “Thank you.”

  “Wha...?” She looked at me for a second, confused, but then—

  “Yes, sir...!”

  A smile as beautiful as a flower blossomed on her face.

  The sun shone brightly. It was still early in the morning—my watch said not even 6:00 a.m.

  The Eldant Empire, though, was a country of early risers, and people were already out and about. I could hardly complain about being sleepy—although in fact, I hadn’t slept a wink the night before.

  I stood in front of the thick door. Beyond it was the audience chamber, the place where you could meet the empress publicly to talk, or to make your case. It wouldn’t be an exaggeration to say that all the power in the Eldant Empire was concentrated in this room. I hadn’t thought too much about it when I’d been here before, but a few words exchanged right here could decide the fate of hundreds or thousands—in extreme cases, even tens of thousands.

  No pressure.

  No sooner had the two royal guards announced, “Kanou Shinichi-sama has arrived!” than the door ground open.

  “Master,” Myusel murmured encouragingly from beside me.

  Minori-san, who was also with me, didn’t say a word, just nodded. Given her employer, I could understand if she didn’t want to be too obvious about taking my part. It’s tough to bite the hand that feeds you.

  “Yeah. It’s gonna be fine,” I said with a nod, and then I stepped into the audience chamber.

  It looked just like it had the last time I’d been there. The ceiling vaulted above me; a narrow red carpet stretched ahead of me like a road. Against the far wall was a dais raised so high that several staircases were required to reach it, and on top of it was the throne.

  Dressed in their most resplendent outfits, the prime minister along with nine of the empire’s other ministers were lined up one step below the throne and looking down upon the supplicant—namely, me. In addition to Prime Minister Zahar, I could see the knight Garius among them.

  Sitting on the throne was, needless to say, the girl empress Petralka.

  Silence. The collective gaze of all these worthies fell upon me. It seemed to ask, Just what is he here for?

  I hadn’t yet explained the reason I had asked for this official audience with Petralka. They would never normally have accepted an audience request whose purpose was unspecified, but I leaned on Petralka and Garius to make it happen.

  Minori-san, who was armed, and Myusel, who was a maid, were not allowed into the audience chamber. After the terrorist incident, they had become more strict about who they let into this room.

  But the show must go on...

  “Well come, Shinichi. We’ve been waiting!” Petralka announced.

  Beside her, Prime Minister Zahar gave a pointed cough. “Shinichi-dono requested to be allowed to participate in the morning audience today...”

  “And despite its suddenness, his petition has been accepted,” Petralka said in her most dictatorial tone. “The otaku culture he has brought from Japan even now influences our empire in a way that cannot be ignored. We believe there is wisdom in hearing the thoughts of its evangelist, Shinichi.”

  A murmur ran through the assembled VIPs. Well, that was only natural. Some “evangelist” drops by from who knows where, earns the attentions—I mean the totally platonic attentions, okay?—of the empress, and then starts acting like he wants to meddle in politics and stuff. I could understand why I was getting the stink eye from a few of them. I must have seemed a bit like the Japanese monk Dokyo, or Rasputin in Russia—religious figures who got close to female rulers, to the detriment of their countries.

  “Not that I know the first thing about politics,” I muttered to myself with a wry smile, before stepping forward to address that very ruler and all the people around her.

  I looked around at the ranks of important personages, then spoke in a voice loud enough to carry to everyone in the room.

  “I have a suggestion.”

  There was a mix of caution and curiosity in the looks that came back at me. I was sure the nobles would be paying close attention to everything I said and did. If I got too close to the empress, their own share of authority could be severely threatened. I assumed they were each evaluating me: if they thought they could use me, they would; but if they thought I was going to get in their way, they would get rid of me.

  “Some time has passed since the establishment of Amutech, the company that’s introducing otaku culture. The same is true of the school Amutech runs,” I said, forcing a quaver out of my voice.

  Calm down, Kanou Shinichi! You need to have your game face on.

  “At present, we have some people who have learned enough Japanese to conduct daily conversation without trouble, and more and more students are learning to read and write. I think it may be time to consider taking the next steps.”

  “...And what steps would those be?” Zahar asked on behalf of the crowd.

  “I have several in mind. Consider: otaku culture, and the Japanese language necessary to understand it, have begun to spread among the nobility and the merchant class of commoners, but ultimately only a very small percentage of the population has been able to encounter otaku culture directly. Most commoners are left with only secondhand knowledge that they pick up from the students.”

  “Meaning?” Garius asked solicitously, his interest obviously piqued.

  I gave an exaggerated nod and went on. “I propose opening the school to everyone, including commoners. In addition, I recommend foreign expansion.”

  The murmur among the nobles became a distinct buzz.

  Now was the time to press my point home. I raised my voice a little more and forged ahead. “Any merchant interested in the current state of Eldant has surely noticed the craze for otaku culture among the nobility. Because of the limits on how much product we can bring from Japan, the sale of otaku goods has been prohibited until now—but I say we should permit buying and selling those goods, as well as allowing them to be exported to other countries.”

  I let my eyes sweep the assembled crowd, then delivered the coup de grace: “We allow traveling merchants to carry otaku culture beyond the Eldant Empire.”

  “Are you suggesting our empire should take otaku culture as its export?” Petralka asked, sending a fresh wave of chatter through the crowd.

  Up to this point, the otaku culture Japan had brought in was a localized phenomenon, a trend in the Eldant Empire. For better or for worse, it had been centralized under Amutech’s control and oversight.

  But what would happen if it became a commodity from the Eldant Empire itself? Of course, the Japanese government might try to exact a large payment from the empire. Granted we shared no common currency, it might be in the form of something like mineral resources or food, something that had real value in Japan. As far as that went, there was still no official exchange rate established between the two nations. The chance of Japan totally ripping off the Eldant people would be obvious to anyone. But—

  “But it’s not such a bad idea.” This came from Garius. “Just like any import or export, even a small tariff on a commodity good like this could produce significant profit. For that matter, if we were able to fix the selling price of otaku works themselves, that itself could bring real abundance.” />
  I knew he was sharp. He practically made my points for me. And he kept going.

  “Allowing general admission to the school is intriguing as well. If we don’t concern ourselves with noble qualification, we could easily be open to those who wish to come from abroad to study with us... bringing their money with them, of course.”

  Another noble broke in hurriedly, “Perhaps so, but that would be as good as inviting in enemy spies in the guise of ‘studying abroad.’”

  Garius frowned and said, “All the better to have them in one place where we can keep an eye on them, then. Kill a spy or an intelligence agent, and another one will replace them, but so long as the current agent is alive there will be no others. Indeed, to a living agent we can feed convenient misinformation and send them on home.”

  Several of the nobles exchanged stunned looks.

  “On top of that, the increased flow of people and money will allow our own merchants to report back to us about the state of other nations.”

  “That’s true,” I nodded.

  As Garius had understood almost immediately, if they got rid of their rigid perspective and took the long view, this could actually be a pretty good thing for the Eldant Empire. A new market, a new source of income. And after seeing how wildly otaku culture had succeeded here, it was easy to imagine it exploding the same way in other countries. Each place would have its own national characteristics, but the many variations of otaku culture would, I was confident, allow it to adapt.

  I offered a further suggestion. “Otaku culture has already spread among the people of the Eldant Empire. As a test, why not send out bards and minstrels and the like to other countries, to see how they’re received?”

  The elves had developed a mode of declaiming light novels to musical accompaniment that was experiencing a small boom in the downtown markets. People at the bars loved it, of course, but I had heard that even farmers were humming the songs as they worked in the fields. Nobles were summoning groups of famous bards to hold contests and sing-offs.

  “I see...” someone muttered. By giving a concrete example of something they were familiar with, it looked like I had helped wake them up to the possibilities. Now the nobles were starting to talk amongst themselves, and a lot of what they were saying was positive.