“Nah. Just a coward.”
Silence from the other party. It stretched on for a minute or more, until finally, with a deep sigh, the voice started up again, slow and reluctant.
“We have great esteem for all you’ve achieved in such a short time. But if you insist on being obdurate and not coming home, then you leave us no choice. You were born and raised in Chiba, as I recall. Is that correct?”
I was a bit surprised by the sudden change of subject. It gave me a tingle of an unpleasant premonition.
“Your immediate family consists of your parents and a younger sister, is that correct?”
“So what if it does?” I asked after a moment. It was only with effort that I kept my composure.
Still, it was all too clear to me what the voice was trying to say. It was a dirty move—but undeniably effective. I was sure the people I was talking to had done similar things countless times before and were well acquainted with the usefulness of such tactics.
“If you come back to Japan now, and swear absolutely never to speak of anything that’s happened, we can guarantee the safety of yourself and your family. You’d be kept under observation, of course. But we could find some pretext to give you a little stipend. Live within your means, and you could go your entire life without working ever again.”
It was actually a pretty extraordinary idea: they were offering this former home security guard a second chance at a failed life. I could go back to school, have dinner with my family again, all the little things. All the stuff I could have done while I was in Japan, but chose to ignore. They may not seem like much, but taken together, the little things add up, until they bear real fruit. That was something I’d learned here in the Holy Eldant Empire, another world.
I didn’t say anything. True, not everything I’d done since I got here was especially praiseworthy. There was the fact that I had been an invader, not to mention I had probably turned half of the next generation of nobles into irredeemable otaku.
That part of me—the invader part—wanted to take this opportunity to escape.
“Think hard about this, Kanou Shinichi-kun. Not that we can imagine why you should hesitate.”
“That’s true. You’re absolutely right,” I nodded. “I don’t have to hesitate to tell you I’m not going back.”
A hubbub broke out on the other end of the line. It quickly turned into a storm of shouting—shouting at me, by a bunch of men who were probably trusted with the most important offices of the government.
“A shut-in failure of a human being like you doesn’t have the right to choose! You never did!”
“You think we can’t do whatever we want to one piddling little household? You’ve abandoned your family!”
They had given up trying to hide their hostility.
“I’m betting none of you got elected on a platform of killing families, intimidating citizens, and calling people failures. How about I share the recording of everything you just said with the whole internet?”
“Silence! People who want nothing but escapism through children’s cartoons and comic books have no right to speak! And nobody raised on such trash—nor their families—should have anything to do with the fate of the country!”
“Gee, tell me how you really feel.”
Strangely, I wasn’t intimidated—if anything, I felt my emotions cool and settle down. Maybe it was just... you can only get so scared or so angry before you go numb.
“I wonder what makes you think you have the right to badmouth otaku like that. To try to get rid of us. You’re always so happy to parade Cool Japan around, as long as it’s making you money...”
“It’s because you’re a menace!” the loudest man exclaimed.
Ahh. Here we go. They had no basis for their criticism. All they knew about otakuism was the stuff that riled up the public. They had probably never even sat down and actually read a manga or watched an anime. That was why they could dream up something as ridiculous as brainwashing people with otaku culture. Not just dream it up, but actually attempt it. They had convinced themselves that an otaku-fied people would be easy to control.
Someone had been brainwashed here, in a manner of speaking—it was these bureaucrats who had let themselves be taken in by the superficial judgments of the public at large.
They probably figured otaku culture was no different from narcotics. They avoided it themselves, called it a danger—but when it would make them money or gain them power, they were only too happy to push it on others.
“Act as brave as you want, boy,” another voice said, taking advantage of my silence to get in another jab. He sounded triumphant. “It doesn’t change the position you’re in. You may disavow your parents and your... younger sister, was it? But surely even you can’t just stand by and watch them die. Or do you intend to offer them up as sacrifice in your own place?”
This time I really was lost for words. Hostages? That was the oldest trick in the book—but also one of the most effective.
“Pardon me a moment, gentlemen.” The unexpected interruption came from Matoba-san, his voice perfectly calm. “This is Jinzaburou, the bureau chief, speaking. With your permission?”
“Yes, what?” the voice replied. “Right now, I don’t think your opinion—”
“You may recall that one of our criteria for choosing this boy was that he be someone whose disappearance would have scant impact on the world. As you say, a shut-in otaku NEET certainly seems the definition of a failed human being. His parents seemed unlikely to make too much of a scene if he vanished, as well. That, I believe, was why we decided he would be perfect from a confidentiality standpoint.”
Geez. He’s really not pulling his punches, is he?
Every word was like getting stabbed in the heart. But then...
“Yes? And what about it?”
“We chose him because his family might well be willing to overlook his absence. So what gives you the confidence that he wouldn’t also be willing to overlook the absence of his family?”
There was a shocked silence on the other end of the line.
“Remember, gentlemen, we’re talking about someone who indulged his own whims at the expense of causing great trouble for his own family. Their distress could not keep him from spending long hours playing games, or watching anime, or reading manga. That is Kanou Shinichi for you.”
H-He’s really not pulling his punches!
And to add insult to injury—
“Yes! He real-ly is most des-pic-a-ble!” Petralka said in Japanese, a mischievous smile on her face. What, now even she was getting in on the act?! And going out of her way to speak Japanese to do it?!
But her merciless words had a surprising effect.
“Matoba-kun!” one of the voices demanded. “Who was that who spoke just now?!”
“The empress of the Eldant Empire,” Matoba-san said drily.
There was absolute silence from the communication machine. It stretched out until I thought it would go on forever, even though it probably lasted no more than five minutes. Finally, someone on the other side spoke in a weary voice:
“Matoba-kun, for now... consider the operation suspended. We’re delegating full authority to you. Just please have the special operations unit withdraw, if you can.”
Later.
We had the soldiers from the special operations unit taken back to the cave where the hyperspace tunnel was and released there. Without their weapons, naturally. The royal forces who accompanied them reported that the men went quietly back to Japan—maybe they knew when discretion was the better part of valor.
And me? I had opened every window in the mansion, trying to get the last traces of the tear gas out as quickly as possible. I was sitting at home, despondent.
Almost before I knew it, the sky had started to lighten, the sun working its way over the horizon and chasing the night away.
In the moment, sheer adrenaline had almost kept me from thinking about it, but I, a home security guard/average teenager, ha
d just gone toe-to-toe with honest-to-God VIPs of the Japanese government. Now that I had a chance to think about it, the whole concept was so terrifying it left me drained.
“Master.” Myusel sat down beside me and gently put a blanket over my shoulders. “At least you’re back home. I’ll put tea on.”
“Thanks.” I smiled and stood.
At that moment, though, I heard Matoba-san’s voice. “Kanou Shinichi-kun.”
We had undone his bonds. Minori-san was next to him; we had freed her, too.
“I’ve had a few words with my superiors. For the time being, your disposal has been... put on hold.”
“Gee, I’m thrilled.”
“I have to attend a meeting to discuss how the government will deal with the Eldant Empire going forward. I’ll be returning to Japan for a while.”
“Have fun,” I said with more than a hint of sarcasm.
It was only after my conversation with the bigwigs that I realized: when they figured out we were essentially negotiating along parallel lines, they had started to get nervous. I mean, hostages are only useful if they’re alive, right? If I had really insisted on staying in the Eldant Empire, the government could have killed my family—but in doing so, they would have lost their leverage.
In fact, it would be fair to say the operation had really failed the moment we found out who the special ops unit was. I’m sure they never expected the brain trust of the Eldant Empire to be waiting in the mansion with me.
They made one other miscalculation, too: the Japanese language.
They were so taken with their magical translator rings that they failed to account for the spread of Japanese. They assumed these other-worlders wouldn’t know what they were saying, and it caused them to let down their guard. They said things they might not have said otherwise. You can’t put a magic ring on a communications device, and they just figured that even if someone from the Eldant Empire happened to be in the room with me, that person would never understand what we were all saying.
But as it happened, Petralka and Myusel were both already capable of handling simple, daily conversation in Japanese. That’s partly because they were both smart people, and partly because they had a sort of competition going to see who could learn the language faster. Nothing like a good rivalry to help you study.
So why did Petralka jump in at the end of our conversation, deliberately speaking Japanese? I’m sure she just wanted to let them know that she was listening—and understanding. She was putting them on notice that they had just revealed their true motives to the empress of the Eldant Empire. They had no choice but to give.
“Kanou Shinichi-kun.” Matoba-san again. (Obviously.) He looked as relaxed as ever, but his tone held a hint of a warning. “You’ve chosen a most dangerous path. Do you understand that? You revile the thought of being an invader, but how are you going to draw the line between what’s invasion and what isn’t? Even if you manage to do so, you’ll have to walk that line for the rest of your life.”
I didn’t answer immediately, but quietly met his gaze.
He was right. I could argue that it was all good as long as everyone had freedom of choice, but the truth is, it’s hard to make sure you maintain something as ambiguous as freedom. And even if the Eldant side at this moment, meaning Petralka and the others, gladly accepted and understood what I was doing, there were no guarantees that later generations might not look back and decide it really had been an invasion after all. That was something that I and the people of the Eldant Empire would always have to watch out for.
“Sure, I understand,” I said. I nodded, a smile of challenge on my face. I couldn’t let him see any sign of weakness right now. “But I’m an otaku. I play my games on Hard Mode or nothing.”
Matoba-san blinked, looking confused. At length, he said, “I see. That truly is how you differ from those of us who seek benefit first and foremost.”
He smiled with surprising earnestness and gave me a friendly pat on the shoulder. Then he turned and left, accompanied by Minori-san and a waiting detachment of Eldant soldiers.
It seemed like for the first time, I had seen something of how Matoba-san really felt.
I looked up, suddenly noticing how much brighter the sky had become. The pale, warm sunlight shined over the whole (other) world. Myusel stood beside me, and together we looked up at Eldant Castle. I gave a great stretch.
“All right then! Things are gonna be busy from here on out.”
“They are?” Myusel asked, tilting her head like a little bird in an adorable gesture.
I smiled and nodded. I pointed in the direction of the rising sun and said, “They sure are. For starters... hmm. Let’s hit the marketplace and set up our own slice of Akiba.”
Our fight was only just beginning!
...Pfft. Or something like that.
(つづく)
To be continued...
Afterword
Hello! Light novelist Sakaki here.
I’ve got Outbreak Company Volume 2 for you.
Incidentally, this is a work of fiction. Any resemblance to actual people, organizations, or events is purely coincidental.
For example, say some of the political goings-on in this book seem sooooort of somehow like something in real life to you. It’s just your imagination. I’m definitely not trying to pick any fights here (heh).
Okay. With that out of the way, I can be confident my book won’t get banned......... probably.
But anyway.
Outbreak Company is one of those “alternate world” stories. And no alternate-world light novel (swords-and-sorcery tales being the exemplars) is complete without illustrations.
For that matter, that’s probably true even of non-alternate-world light novels. I mean, having pictures is kind of part of the definition. (Okay, I know not everyone will agree with me on this.)
It’s just... How do I put this? The amount of information that can be communicated instantaneously by a picture, the atmosphere that can be established by eleven pictures, just can’t be achieved in linear text.
You can offer a detailed description of something, sure. That increases the quantity of information available. But the simple reality is that it doesn’t have the instantaneous impact of a picture, that “bam!” quality. A text is ultimately a collection of the symbols we call words, which are used to help create an image in the mind of the reader. It takes time and effort.
But if instead you can show even a single picture of this alternate world, that’s going to have a lot of influence on the reader’s conceptions.
Not to mention, the market is flooded with light novels these days. When potential readers pick up your book and say, “Oh. Another isekai thing,” it’s not an exaggeration to say that the pictures may be what sway them to read one more alternate-world fantasy.
In that sense, having an artist who can draw evocative illustrations can be a matter of life and death for a book like this one, and whether or not that artist is good at getting the details, the little things, right can have a huge impact on the impression the book leaves on readers. It can actually change how deep the world is perceived to be.
I’ve got Volume 1 next to me as I write this, and I can only say, with the above in mind, how grateful I am to have been able to work with Yuugen-shi* as my illustrator. They make the characters moe, no question, but they don’t stop there; they incorporate them into real scenes, atmospheric moments. It’s a surprisingly uncommon talent.
Uncommon it may be, but as moe is so situation-dependent, it really is a crucial part of true “moe art.”
Actually, from a philosophical perspective, it’s pretty close to what Shinichi says about Elvia’s art in this book.
I’ve been awfully lucky in terms of the illustrators I’ve gotten to work with for my books, and this series is no exception. I’m probably more eager than anyone to see as many of Yuugen-shi’s Outbreak Company pictures as possible.
On that note, I’ll get right on plotting for the third no
vel. In addition to the obvious main characters, Elvia and Brooke seem pretty popular, so I’d like to come up with something they can get involved in.
I hope you’ll pick up Volume 3 when it comes out.
All right, then! See you in the next volume!
Ichiro Sakaki
25 November 2011
*Note: -shi (from the kanji meaning “master”) is an honorific often attached to the names of artists and craftspeople.
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Copyright
Outbreak Company: Volume 2
by Ichiro Sakaki
Translated by Kevin Steinbach
Edited by Sasha McGlynn
This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, or persons, living or dead, is coincidental.
Copyright © 2011 Ichiro Sakaki
Illustrations by Yuugen
All rights reserved.
First published in Japan in 2011 by Kodansha Ltd., Tokyo.
Publication rights for this English edition arranged through Kodansha Ltd., Tokyo.
All rights reserved. In accordance with the U.S. Copyright Act of 1976, the scanning, uploading, and electronic sharing of any part of this book without the permission of the publisher is unlawful piracy and theft of the author’s intellectual property.
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The publisher is not responsible for websites (or their content) that are not owned by the publisher.
Ebook edition 1.0: February 2018
Outbreak Company: Volume 2 Page 16