MaruMA:Volume16:Chapter 3

Chapter 3

I’ve known for a long time that mazoku aren’t very, or rather at all, welcome on human land.

Add that to the fact that I’m the type to run around, and that just means I experienced this myself long ago. Still, even if I know it’s because of history and past conflicts, it’s still not too nice when I’m rejected to my face.

And it’s not just my feelings that are greatly hurt, depending on the situation even my life could be in danger.

Especially a Japanese person like me with black hair and eyes. In this world they’re called soukokus, and even treated as a bad omen…

“Waa, this is bad!”

“What? What happened, Shibuya?”

I yank Murata’s hair, stuffing him underneath Gwendal’s shirt that is sticking out, while I hide my head behind the eldest son as well. Although his shirt is dripping wet and sticks to my head, there’s nothing I can do about it. I couldn’t tell normally because he dresses so neatly, but it turns out Lord von Voltaire’s shirt really is very long.

In the past I only had stones thrown at me in the country I went to, but in a land we don’t deal much with there may be false information spreading, I even heard of rumors where double blacks were thought to be rare ingredients for immortality and eaten.

If it was just me, I might still try to bluff my way through by saying ‘you’ll get a stomachache if you eat me’, but together with Murata, who looks like his brains and background are both pretty decent, I wouldn’t be surprised if someone shows up saying, ‘At the very least let me have a finger.’

And they could come up with a lot more excuses too, such as they need to qualify for a license or to get into their dream school.

“We need to hide our hair and eyes, or else we’d be gobbled up!”

“Why would we be gobbled up?”

As expected, Murata is completely shocked.

“Although it depends on where we are, it seems as though there’s a strange rumor that anyone who eats the meat of double blacks like us would become immortal.”

“Huh? Even if the original really is immortal, eating your meat won’t have the same effect, y’know. Who’s spreading that sort of urban legend?”

“When you were in this world, weren’t there legends like that?”

“Of course there weren’t such lame legends.”

“Hey!”

The owner of our hiding place, Gwendal warns,

“Don’t talk beside my stomach.”

“Ah! Sorry, Gwen.”

“This pose is strange enough as it is, if you guys squirm around inside my clothes, I won’t stand for it.”

We get up among the fish scales and slime, trying to figure out a way out of here. Although one of us obviously looks humanoid, the two shorter one are both hiding on the left and right side of his shirt, so we’re walking in a way where the top half looks human, but from the stomach and below we look like a spider.

A spider has eight legs, while we have six. It looks just like that sci-fi movie my dad likes, what was it called? “Ball X from the Shortstop” ?

But to Lord von Voltaire, we don’t look like a spider or an octopus like this.

“This is practically like ‘Chicks Hide-and-Seek’.”

To think that instead of ‘Don't cover your head and leave your bottom exposed’, the strong soldier is more used to saying ‘Chicks Hide-and-Seek’, that’s just too cute… No, I meant, too exasperating. And the latter isn’t a normal thing to say, either. The fact that Gwen purposely said it shows just how much he loves little chicks.

“But the atmosphere here sure is heavy—To me the fishing haul is a rare harvest, but the locals don’t seem to think so—”

Murata lifts up the shirt hem as though pulling apart curtains, and pushes the middle of his glasses up with his finger at the same time. I can’t believe that his glasses didn’t fall off even when we were in the ocean, which goes to show it really is part of his face.

But it is true that our surroundings are abnormally quiet. There are obviously boats entering the harbor one by one, and there are voices as well, but I can’t feel the liveliness, chaos and noisiness of a busy fishing port at all.

Besides, despite the fact that such strange creatures have showed up at the fishing port, no one is pointing at us and laughing or freaking out. No, even the fishermen from before who hauled us up were just staring and muttering, but they didn’t scold or curse us, why on earth is that?

Although I don’t want to be scolded, at the very least we should become the hot topic of conversation.

“Mmrgh, don’t tell me they’re giving us the silent eyeball treatment? Although we’re not being hated, it feels pretty embarrassing to not be laughed at either.”

“It’s precisely because they caught people, that’s why none of the fisherman are happy with their haul, right? After all, people aren’t maidmer princesses.”

Gwendal’s words make me ask in terror,

“I-if they caught a maidmer princess, would they eat it?”

“No, they wouldn’t treat it as food. But if they released it into the ocean, there would be good weather the next day, so in a way there are some benefits.”

“Ah, I see, thank goodness.”

So Conrad’s ex girlfriend won’t be doomed.

“Generally this world doesn’t eat humanoid creatures, so you don’t have to be so scared.”

“No, it’s not like I’m scared, I just want to avoid the danger.”

“Is that so?”

Perhaps he’s surprised by my self-awareness and growth, because that hypnotic deep voice only slightly rises in tone. And then he continues as though explaining,

“Only kotsuchizoku would… to each other’s bones… Forget it, that’s just a legend among legends.”

“That’s right, they would suck each other. It’s a sign of affection.”

Murata says something scary.

“Sucking bones!?”

“Yup, just like a child with candy, it’s very interesting.”

Could you really call an action such sucking bones ‘affection’? Murata’s knowledge sends a chill down my back sometimes.

No matter how far we walk in this unnatural pose, the color of the stone slab ground doesn’t change, and the smell of seawater doesn’t go away either. It seems some water even got into my ears, so I hear the splashing of sea waves. Rather than waves, it’s more like the sound of waves beating against boats, or the sound of wood rubbing against wood by the creaky oars.

I find it strange, so I peel apart the military clothes and find that although we’re walking in the street, there are some small boats that look like gondolas in the canal in the middle, letting passengers off at their destinations.

“I didn’t expect this to be a city so filled with the smell of seawater.”

“How unexpected, this place is just like that place.”

Murata is just like a guest who walked into a bar, pulling up the shirt hem with practiced movements and sighing,

“The port city on the water, Venezia.

“You mean, Venice?”

“That’s not wrong either. I bet this canal forks just like a road, and people here use gondolas in place of public transport. Waa~~ nostalgic Venezia.”

“You’ve been there?”

“A previous owner of my soul stayed there once. Back then it wasn’t known as Italy, but the Republic of Venice.”

“That long ago! And there’s such an upper-class feeling.”

We have Gwendal’s waist between us, so I can’t see Murata’s expression. I wonder, what expression is he using when he talks about this homesickness?

“Back then I operated a bakery, and lived a happy life.”

“Mn.”

I answered simply and nodded. Hearing him say that he was happy makes me feel very glad. Still, hearing that it was a life I’m unfamiliar with fills me with a little regret.

“Hey, something seems to be moving inside your clothes.”

I don’t get to immerse in that ill-timed melancholy for long, as soon Gwendal reaches out his hand to pat my chest. That position is just underneath my collarbone, which rises and falls in time, busily.

“Eh? It’s a fish.”

I actually hadn’t noticed there was a fish in my shirt, that just goes to show how slow I am.

“It’s a sardine, huh—”

Murata pokes his head out from behind Gwen’s waist, his expression carefree as he says. He has such a good understand of our friends in the sea too.

So it’s a sardine~~ Sardine fishballs are very popular in Kanto. But it seems rather inconvenient to put it in my shirt or pants pocket, since I can’t use it to wipe sweat or blow my nose.

“A small fish is fine, but you have to be aware of what’s in your shirt pocket. After all, sometimes some really crazy things get in there.”

Maybe he has some experience in that field, because his advice sounds especially real.

Gwen likes small and cute things, so he must have hidden something like hamsters. Although they look fluffy in pictures, but I really don’t want any small animals in my pockets.

When I was in second grade, I once carried an American lobster in my pocket and sauntered on the street, but in the end I was attacked by scissors through the cloth, and it was—that softer part of my skin that was attacked.

Not only didn’t it become a bittersweet summer memory, it instead became a painful and bloody memory.

“What do you do when you find a sardine by the roadside…”

Actually if I put it down by my feet, it should be able to jump into the water on its own, right? The surface of the ground is very wet and slippery, and there are a lot of puddles preventing my shoes from drying as well. But the sun is very strong now, and the breeze is cool too, so it seems the rainy season is over.

“Hey!”

Just then Gwen forcefully pulls me back from the right side,

“You’ll fall if you walk too close to that side.”

“Eh? Aah.”

Another half step towards the side is the canal, and the water level is pretty high as well. Maybe it rained continuously until this morning. I decided I might as well walk closer and then release the fish into the water, so I hold the bouncing fish with my right hand lightly and face the canal.

Just as I relax my fingers, and get ready to let go.

“Ow!”

A boy running straight at me knocks into my right side forcefully, snatching away the sardine I was about to release. Thankfully Gwen immediately supports me before I fall, but since I lost my balance, I appear from underneath his shirt.

That boy leaves quickly, so all I could see was the back of his curly-haired head, of a color between green and brown. Although I can’t tell his age and whether or not he should be in elementary school by his height, but he sure is fast.

“Hey, you don’t have to run!”

I planned on releasing that fish long ago anyway, but as I yell at that the back of that disappearing head, it seems that the other person doesn’t hear me.

“Forget it, Shibuya, he hasn’t heard you. He must really want sardine.”

“But I have to explain it to him clearly. Hey—Buddy! You don’t have to run, you’re not a thief, geez!”

Judging by that lightning fast speed, I won’t be able to catch up to him no matter how fast I run. In that case, at the very least I must make sure he hears my words. So I put my fishy-smelling hands to my mouth and yell, but Gwen grabs my wrist, as though reprimanding me.

“That was a fish I planned to release, I have to tell him what he did doesn’t amount to stealing. Otherwise that child will think of himself as a thief, and live the rest of his life in fear, right!?”

“But he probably can’t hear you anymore.”

Exactly, that boy’s figure has long disappeared among the buildings, so he won’t hear me no matter how I yell.

What a shame, if that child hadn’t heard my voice, he may always think of himself as a criminal.

“I was already releasing it into the ocean.”

“That child was strange as well, the truth is he just has to go to the jetty, then wouldn’t he have as many sardines as he could want?”

It’s just that for some reason Gwendal ignores Murata and his confusion, instead pulling up his shirt and revealing his stomach—what signal is that? Is he warning us to be careful when sleeping?

It’s only when someone pokes my head that I remember, the whole reason I was hiding under Gwendal’s clothes was to cover my black hair.

“Is it really okay?”

“…Forget it.”

I put my hand on the large, friendly and mature hand of his, pulling his half-dry shirt back to its original place,

“Forget it, there’s no more need to hide under your clothes, it’s not like we’ll be eaten anyway. And there’s no need to hide the fact that we’re mazoku, even if others will say we’re unlucky or throw rocks at us, that’s nothing much.

Hearing my words Murata pokes out his face as well, though his hair, as black as mine, is poking out in all sorts of strange directions.

“Besides, anyone could tell that Gwendal is a mazoku just by looking, right? Not only does he look like a mazoku among mazoku, he even has a more maou-like aura than me. That’s why, once they know you’re a mazoku, they should also know that the two of us, just like live sharksuckers, are birds of a feather.”

“Shibuya, there’s no need to make yourself sound like such a villain, is there?”

I don’t know where the problem is, in the sharksucker or the birds, but such a trivial misunderstanding immediately becomes meaningless.

Because a more serious matter descends on us, and it has nothing to do with sharksuckers or birds.

“It’s that guy!”

I turn around hastily when I hear someone yell, only to see two men pointing at me. Thinking “there’s already someone here to interrogate the double black?”, I instinctively put my hands on my head, but the situation doesn’t seem to be what I expected. Furious, the two of them jog over to us,

“It’s this guy! This is the guy who was saying so much to that brat!”

I was just feeling relieved that there was only two of them, when suddenly more reinforcements appeared. There are men coming non-stop from behind buildings, the corners of streets, and soon there are enough to surround us, easily more than ten of them. Although they’re not as buff as Adalbert or Gurrier, they all have pretty decent bodies.

All of them have copper skin from days under the sun on the beach, so they should be ship workers. I look around, and notice that there are two women among them. Their bodies are also very sturdy, just like fishermen’s wives.

Wordlessly Lord von Voltaire takes one step forward. Although I can’t see it, I bet the crease between his eyebrows has gotten even deeper.

“Wait a sec, do you want something with me?”

“Please stop pretending, sir!”

“Sir, you are obviously the partner of a thief!”

“Hey!”

The words they use to scold us are so polite it’s eerie, but their attitude is very fierce. As soon as Gwendal speaks, though, his absolute aura of authority turns out to be very effective even now.

“Show some respect with your words!”

The men instantly fall silent, and glare at my face to show the fury in their hearts, which is sort of a way to fight without meeting Gwendal’s gaze. But those ladies can’t keep their temper down at all, and it seems even that deep voice that vibrates all the way into your bones aren’t enough to sate their anger.

“How could as you ask for respect, sir?”

“Sir, what did you say to that child!?”

More than twenty gazes train on my body at once. There are blue ones, brown ones, grey ones with hints of green, all sorts of eyes are looking at me.

“What do you mean, ‘what did I say’…”

“You obvious gave him some kind of orders, sir!”

“Exactly, it was obviously you, sir, who ordered him to steal our stones!”

Although the bizarrely polite speech is making me dizzy, the furious situation in front of me is still nothing to be trifled with.

Overwhelmed by their intensity, I ask them back,

“What stones?”

I didn’t ask the child to steal anything for me, forget stones, not even a cow and chopsticks. Even if we had to retrieve a flyaway ball from a stubborn old man’s house, I would be the one doing it. I thought that as long as I talked reason, I’d find that the other party tends to be very nice.

But the law of talking reason and discovering the other side’s nice side doesn’t seem to work now. Those ladies’ murderous expressions are just too hard to approach.

“It’s stones, the sea grapes! We can’t build boats without that, but you, sir, used a child to steal something so important, and even thought you could get away with it by acting dumb, how shocking!”

What sea grapes? Stop joking, why would a Saitama person like me have an Okinawan specialty?

But Murata keeps repeating that phrase and raises his eyebrows behind his glasses, his expression saying, “Ah~~ now I remember” as he says something to Gwendal.

As for me, I’m desperately trying to deal with the angry missus (and the nodding fishermen), so I don’t have the luxury of listening to his reminisces.

“I didn’t do anything.”

“‘Black-haired’ are just like that!”

The missus scolds me without waiting for me to finish my sentence. One of them leans forwards with her hands on her hips, and the other bends backwards with her arms crossed in front of her chest, her expression that of extreme rage,

“We can’t stand ‘black-haired’ anymore!”

“It’s always like this, always saying you didn’t do anything. Every time you open your mouths it’s ‘we didn’t do anything before that day’, always ‘before that day before that day’. Then why don’t you tell us how we should keep on living before this country sinks?”

“Wait a sec, what are the ‘black-haired’ you’re… Waa!”

The two women grab my collar without answering my question, and Gwendal hurriedly reaches out to stop them, but he’s no match for those missuses who are used to dealing with their husbands and sons.

Their movements are lightning fast, just like Mom when she’s getting her allowance out of Dad’s suit, patting down my whole body and even reaching their hands into my pocket to grope around.

Right now I have no time to get all flushed over the fact that ‘I’m being molested all over by married women’, because soon enough they bring out a stone the size of a pickled plum from the pocket near my butt, their expressions full of triumph. But even that is only for a second, because they immediately look furious again.

“Everyone, look!”

“Eh, so that’s a sea grape?”

It’s not just the size, it even looks exactly like a pickled plum. It’s hard since it’s a stone, but at the very least its outward appearance, its color and wrinkles are just like the high quality pickled plum made from Kishuu-nankou-ume, completely different from the oceanic pearls from Okinawa.

Why the heck would I steal a stone like this when I don’t even know how to use it!

“You’ve understand, ladies, it wasn’t me! There’s no point at all in me taking something like this… Could it be, that child just now!?”

“So you, sir, were the one who ordered that child to steal the sea grape!”

Crap, so it wasn’t that he wanted sardines, but instead he wanted someone to hide the stolen stone on? He pretended to knock into me and then put it into my pocket, no wonder he ran so fast after that. The truth is he wanted to get away from these two furious missuses.

“So what he wanted wasn’t sardines, but a scapegoat…”

Murata murmurs helplessly.

“That brat must have been hired by those guys, that must be it!”

“These adults are the real masterminds!”

The men who let their wives take charge of catching the thieves start yelling as well.

Doesn’t that mean the one treated as a criminal now isn’t that boy, but me!?

And then some busybody, I don’t know who, tattled to the police, and four men in soldier uniforms run towards us, all armed with swords on their belts too.

This time even Gwendal has lost all his patience, pulling me out from the fishermen surrounding me and pushing me towards Murata,

“Go now.”

“Gwen!

“Cut the crap and run.”

He pushes aside the cowering fishermen with moves of a trained soldier, and the soldiers of this country arrive at the same time, quickly drawing their swords in unison.

“You guys go ahead, I will definitely catch up.”

He swings a punch at the stomach of someone near him, and then spins around to knock the other person’s chin with his arm. The next moment, his fingers, calloused after so many years of holding the sword, have already taken the weapon from the falling soldier’s hands.

I lean out to try and stop him, but my hands don’t reach,

“Wait! Wait a sec, Gwen! Stop, I won’t run!”

“What are you saying!?”

He glares at me with a look that says, ‘Have you gone mad?’

“I won’t run.”

Behind me, Murata sighs,

“Are you for real!? What happens now if you’re arrested in another country under some unknown charges? At the very least know your own position, to the mazoku, you are…”

I immediately know what is at the end of that unfinished sentence.

I am the king of the mazoku, and their symbol.

“I know, and it’s because I know that I said that. That’s precisely why I can’t run. If I run, won’t that be admitting that I’m guilty?”

Lord von Voltaire, who looks like a rational kind of thinker, is already unable to protest.

“If I run just like that, then I will forever be treated as a criminal in this country—Because I didn’t steal the stone, and because I didn’t commit the crime that would make me a thief, I cannot run.”

Sorry, Gwen. I apologize to him wordlessly in my heart. Sorry you went to all that trouble for nothing, but I can’t stand being misunderstood.

“I know my position, but if I’m treated as a criminal, what do you think would happen to our comrades who come to this land in the future?”

If I don’t clear my name, won’t the mazoku be treated as people who don’t mind even after they commit a crime?

Murata breathes softly, interrupting me over my shoulder,

“It’s not suitable, faced with this situation now, to think of something so far ahead.”

I don’t know if he’s talking to me, or to Gwen.

“I think our brothers who come here in the future would also think that the number one priority right now is your safety. We’ll have other ways to clear your name later, so it’s not a bad idea to leave first temporarily and figure out a proper plan of action.”

I shake my head slowly, saying,

“I won’t run.”

If it were Conrad, by now he would surely be saying with a smile, “I knew it would end up like this.” If it were Wolfram, his pretty face would surely go completely red with anger, and then he’d say, “That’s why you’re such a henachoko.”

Lord von Voltaire isn’t like either of them.

He stops his defending and attacks, releasing the sword he’d just taken. The metal falls onto the damp stone floor, making a deep and hard sound.

And then he lowers both hands to show that he has given up fighting back, closing his eyes at the same time,

“Is that so?”

That’s all he said.

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