Editing MaruMA:Volume09:Chapter 1

===Chapter 1 ===


I know this is all very sudden, but I got a girlfriend.

Out of the blue.

No telling sign foreseen whatsoever.

Even the love-forecast had predicted rain.

I can hardly believe it that the person beaming at me from across is my girlfriend, and that we’re actually ‘going out’ beginning from now.

For one thing, I’ve been unpopular for too long.

16 years. Sixteen. Since the day I was born, I have never been in a proper romantic relationship.

There had been instances when I thought - hey it might work out this time - but in the end it always came down to the question: 'Which do you like better, baseball or me?'.

You can’t compare people and baseball, I would reason. Still they would put pressure on me to ‘choose’. Murata told me to just give an answer right off the bat even if it was a lie, while my mother’s advices weren’t of help at all.

'Yuu-chan, worrying will make you grow taller~' that was what she said.

Well if that were true, I should have long since grown over 190 centimeters tall.

What I’ve learned from these bitter experiences was, that it was impossible for me to pursue a romantic relationship during the fall.

It’s because the pennant race in Mount Tenou takes place during August and September, , followed by the Japanese Series.

There’s no time to waste being giddy over love.

In view of such circumstances, this time around the timing couldn’t have been any better.

It was the end of October - and everything had been settled.

Driven to utmost despair, I felt so empty, as if devoid of a soul - I could not speak of baseball at all. I even went as far as considering going into hiding deep in the mountains until spring came, to lead a secluded life without a TV or a radio - to run away from reality.

That turned out to be my stroke of luck.

Having had enough of my sulkiness, Murata dragged me out to his school fair, where I was approached by a schoolmate from middle school.

"Shibuya-kun?"

Yup, my name is Shibuya Yuuri, but very few schoolmates call me "Shibuya-kun" instead of "Shibuya Yuuri Harajuku Fuuri."

'Previous’ schoolmates, to be exact.

She was clad in the uniform of a Missionary school located north of the prefecture. In terms of National Mock Exam scores, it’s placed 10 points above me, which rattled my slight complex.

“Er...”

“Who’s this, that’s what you’re wondering, right?”

Murata, who was standing beside me, asked in an easy-going voice, 'Hashimoto?'

Working for his class as a waiter at the fair, he had donned a flower print apron he brought from home.

This bespectacled guy who was in the same class as me during the 2nd and 3rd years of middle school, has way better memory than me. In the National Mock Examinations he always ranks at the top, and as such is currently attending a prominent prep school in Tokyo.

He is lauded as the greatest genius to have ever attended the school.

In fact, what he remembers is not only his life as Murata Ken. He also remembers his past lives from long long ago as one would the story of movies, tucked away between the folds of his brain.

To me, Murata is a very special kind of person, but no one around me knows this. The fact that he is the Great Sage with knowledge of two world’s worth of history is something no one would believe even if I told them so.

If there's something I don't know, Murata is the one to turn to; we've become pretty comfortable with this routine.

So I turned to Murata to ask as I always do.

“Hashimoto? Who is-”

“Why don’t you ask me myself?”

She asked demandingly. It was a valid argument.

I looked straight at her and asked.

“So, what club activity were you in, Hashimoto?”

“Wait a second, that’s your first question? Wouldn’t you normally ask for my name or class number?"

“Fine”, she said, weaving her finger through her short hair.

“I was in the tennis club. Though I stopped after I tore my Achilles' tendon.”

“Ah! So you’re Hashimoto Asami from the 3rd floor class! The one who was carried away by the by the coach like a princess!”

“Oh, you remember me from that incident?”

‘Cause that episode led to a huge uproar afterwards.

The trite facts were that a tennis player had torn her Achilles' tendon during a friendly match with another school, and that the Maths teacher who was the coach and advisor, had taken her to the hospital in his car.

As the responsible faculty member what he did was nothing special, but since the coach was young and single - not to mention handsome too - she'd become the target of jealousy by the other girls in the tennis club. 

It happened around when I punched the coach of the baseball team, but the way the rumors spread was entirely different. Gossips, that she was going out with the coach or that they’d gotten engaged, were circulated, so for her it was probably an awful memory.

“I’m sorry.”

“Hm? There’s nothing to apologize for.”

“I said something insensitive, didn’t I?”

“That's OK.”

“No, it isn’t. I would have been angry if someone remembered me from such an incident.”

Hashimoto Asami tucked the loose strands of hair behind her ear.

Her hair was short, touching just below her ears, probably a habit from her tennis days.

“It’s fine.”

“Oy~ You two there~”

Murata Ken, in his flower print apron, put his finger to his glasses like a parent at a PTA meeting.

“Don’t just hang around in the hallway, head into the coffee shop over there. Come and contribute to our class’ sales.”

“The coffee shop?!!!”

Though we’d just been reunited, we shouted together as one.

This prep school is severely lacking in ambition - the lined up mock shops looked more like standing Soba stalls than a coffee shops.

“That’s right, that’s our Maid Cafe.”

“MAID CAFE?!!”

Looking in from the entrance, we couldn’t see any costumed waiter. There were only a couple of awkward apron-clad students who were dozing away in boredom.

“Sure. Since we’re here, better contribute to the fund-raising.”

In big step worthy of a sports woman, Hashimoto walked inside.

At that, a few of the waiters raised their right hands in unison and spoke.

“Maido<ref>Maido as in 'Maido arigatou gozaimasu', meaning 'Thank you again for coming'. It sounds like 'maid' pronounced by the Japanese.</ref>~”

“Not Maid Cafe, but Maido Cafe?”

“Cafe au lait for me. What about you, Shibuya-kun?”

Securing a seat by the window, Hashimoto looked back at me.

“Er, milk.”

“Milk? Doesn’t the menu say ‘Hot milk’? Well, milk it is. That's very like you, Shibuya-kun. Cafe au lait and milk please. Oh and this [Forest Bear-san’s handmade Mysterious Object]....... is this some kind of hot-cake or pancake?

“A Mysterious Object.”

Taking out a slip from the apron’s pocket, Murata begin jotting down the order.

“That too, then.”

Knowing that it's a [Mysterious Object], she's still placing the order.

She’s a tough daredevil, beyond my expectations.

Pulling out the chair, I sat myself across from her.

On the clumsily draped table cloth, there was a mark left from the previous customer’s cup.

“Now then.”

Hashimoto settled her hands on her knees and straightened her back, smiling all the while. Because I've rarely had the chance to be with a girl my age, everything she did was a novelty.

“Nice to meet you again, Shibuya-kun. It’s been a while, how have you been?”

“You sound like a Radio DJ. I’ve been doing okay. How ‘bout you, Hashimoto?”

“I am doing well myself.”

What worries me is the conversation that’s to follow.

Lucky for me, I have no energy left to wear out my companion by overwhelming them with a one-sided talk about baseball. On the other hand, I have no special topics to elaborate on either, and can only wait for the drinks, while observing the face before me.

But, Hashimoto was different from the girls I’d met before.

She was the type to take matters into her own hands.

“Your uniform’s quite unlike the usual. Gakuran, hm? You go to a public prefecture school, right? What is it like there? Do they have less strict rules?”

“Not sure, since I don’t know what it’s like in other schools. Yours is that Ladies Prep isn’t it? Do they say ‘How are you feeling today?’”

“Yes! In the mornings and afternoons, they say ‘And how are you feeling today?’ We have Mass on Saturdays, and learn French as second foreign language.”

“Second foreign language?! We’re still high school students, must we know more than English? Wow, prep academies really are tough."

To this exaggerated response of amazement from an average high school kid, she giggled out loud.

Cute, I thought.

Cute, but it's nothing like the sensuality that enslaves the hearts of men in an instant. Unlike the women I’d encountered in the other world, she’s neither bewitching or clever, nor valiant or overflowing with compassion.

Instead from her fine lips, pleasant words flow continuously.

Behind the appropriately long eye-lashes, her standard Japanese almost-black pupils are vibrant.

The commonplace water-color blouse and checkered skirt doesn't intimidate me - who has had a long history of having no girlfriends.

While she lacks the sensuous charm of a mature woman, any unpopular guy can sit across from her without becoming anxious.

“Our French teacher, Marianne, is beautiful but really peculiar. We were told that growing armpit hair was a fad during Marianne's school days.”

“He’s a guy?”

“Oh, no, she’s a woman. Madam Marianne was so compelling I went and joined the French Academic Club. What about you, Shibuya-kun? Have you been doing anything fun?"

"Fun, huh..."

Murata came to us with a gleeful face, and placed the cups before us.

I don't know if it counts as 'fun', but I've been going through some very extraordinary experiences for a couple of months now.

It all began that May, just as I'd gotten into high school.

On the way back home from school, while attempting to rescue Murata from a mishap - would you see that! - I was transported to another world through a Western toilet. Surrounded by super-beauties and blond pretty boy, also flying skeletal models, I was told a shocking revelation.

You are the King of our country!

Finally you have returned to where your soul belongs.

Simply put, My Return.

The birth of - not a student CEO, but a student King - with lands and numerous subjects to govern.

More over, it's not like any common leadership post.

I probably couldn't win against Shima Kousaku<ref>The title character in the manga of same name. The manga follows the business success of the titular character, who is also very popular with women.</ref> in popularity to women, but it's a definite landslide win for me in numbers of followers.

 



Even though I was just your average baseball kid, with average features and average brainpower....

It turned out that I was the Demon King.

The profession given to me after I was suddenly transported to this other world, was neither that of a hero, a prophet or a savior - but the Demon King Highness.

From the human's point of view, I'm the enemy's last boss.

Bearing black hair and eyes, I am an ill-omen, feared as much as hated.

But even if I explained this, no one would believe me.

Holding my palm against my chest, through the shirt I clutched the 500yen sized stone.

A stone with silver rim and blue hue deeper and darker than that of the sky.

The surface of the Seibu Lions’ blue stone, which I received from the person who named me, was cold and smooth.

"...There hasn't been anything special."

Concealing this world-shattering experience, I laugh hastily in reply.

Compared to before, I am much more at ease now.

It's because I have Murata Ken who is something of a comrade, to share this secret with, a dream-like secret that’s far from being a dream.

"Liar."

"Eh?"

Hashimoto seemed to have noticed something, and placing her elbows on the table, she leaned forward.

"Your face tells me there's been a lot going on. How should I put it, would it offend you if I said you wear a solemn expression? You've become very mature. Much more than you were in middle school. There must have been something."

She whispered in a hushed voice, and resumed her original position.

I heard the chair creak as she returned to her seat.

There was no time for my heart to speed up.

"But I won't ask."

"Hashimoto."

"Know what, tell me your address."

"Eh?"

Unable to keep up with the speed of this unfolding conversation, I replied with my mouth hanging open.

"We haven't moved."

"Move? No, I meant your cell phone number and mail address. I'll mail you, so save mine too. What kind do you have? A blue one, am I right?<ref>In Japan there is a mail address for cell phones through which you receive and send text messages.</ref>"
"Ohh, that. You'll have to ask Murata then, because I don't have a cell phone."

"You don't?!"

I used to, before it got drenched in water and became useless.

She placed a bright pink device on the white table cloth.

The strap and assorted accessories spread out like an umbrella.

"Unbelievable! Then there's no choice but to call your house if I need to contact you? Wow, this is so surreal, I don't think I've called anyone at their homes this past three years. I might just hang up in surprise if the parent picks up the phone."

"Well, yeah, so call Murata - the call usually gets through."

"What's with that?"

Aimlessly flipping the cell phone open and close, Hashimoto knitted her slender eyebrows together, as if at loss.

"Why don't you buy one? Isn't it inconvenient? Since we're going out and all, it's okay when we're together, but I want to be able to text you mail when we're apart."

"We can just meet up... wait a sec!! We're going out?! When was that decided?"

"But Shibuya-kun, do you have a girlfriend at the moment?"

I shook my head with all my might.

Of course I don't.

No sane guy would come alone to his friend's school festival if they did.

My brain ceased all cognitive functions at this sudden turn of events.

At once, blood rushed to my head.

Returning with the Mysterious Object on a plate, Murata Ken imposed himself on the conversation.

"This is between us, ma’am. Shibuya-kun's been spurned only 2 months ago~"

"You can’t say things like that about me, Murata!"

Hashimoto Asami's voice became relieved, and she lightly squeezed her white hands.

"Great! I'm also single. So get a cell phone, even a pre-paid one will do! I'll go with you and help you choose! That reminds me, Shibuya-kun, do you use internet? If you have an e-mail address..."

"Er, I do go to sites for baseball, but it's always under my dad’s or my brother's name."

"Wow, you lead a very peaceful life."

For the fact that I couldn’t tour those sites that adults enjoy, it sure was an immensely healthy internet life.

Fiddling with the phone strap, Hashimoto turned the camera lens on me.

"The internet is fun. You get to know more people, and though you don't know their faces, you make a lot of friends with whom you can chat. I'm exchanging email with an American student. Her name is Abby, Abigail Graves."

"In English? That's amazing."

“Oh, not really”, she denied waving her hands, and checked the time on her cell phone display.

"She's coming to visit Japan... oh no, it's already 3'o clock."

"Three?"

Was that a request for deserts?

If that's the case, there's [Forest Bear-san's handmade Mysterious Object] steaming right there.

"The 'Miss Contest' will start soon. We need to hurry to the auditorium. Eh, didn't you come for that Shibuya-kun? You'll be surprised, some of them are really cute!"

I say this just to be safe, but there are only guys in Murata's school.

A guys-only Miss Contest is a festival event particular to an all-male academy.

But since I’ve already seen and met lots of spectacularly beautiful men – such as the uber-beuty and stubborn pretty boy – the merit of the event is lost on me.

"I'll pass. I've something else to do."

"Okay, then we can meet back here at 5'o clock. Let's walk home together."

Turning her back to my vague reply, Hashimoto hurried out of the classroom.

At the doorway she looked back and waved her small hand.

Her lips mouthed 'See you later'.

I was balancing the chair on the hind legs, and subsequently, almost toppled backwards.

"Sir~~ your bills~"

Murata who'd been going through the customers' plates uninvited, flaunted the bill in front of my eyes.

However I had no time for such things.

Just now, I might have entered my first phase of popularity for the very first time in my life.

With a nice and decent person of the opposite sex. A real girl the same age as me.

"W-wha-what do you think Murata?"

With a force enough to rip off one of the apron's ribbons, I demanded an answer from my friend.

"Just what is opening this gate to a rosy prospect? God? Is this some mistake of God? Not that I'm in a position to be turning to God, but still!"

Murata sat down in the chair opposite me.

"Calm down, Shibuya. Hey, I thought you were cool with this, were you in fact desperately covering it up? Now, now - don't get so over-excited. Good for you! Go out with her! You've been down lately with this and that; it should be a good change."

"You shouldn't drag a girl into things for your own convenience!"

"Drag in? She was the one who brought it up."

For a second I almost agreed with my friend's level-headed observation.

"Er, since you put it that way... um, and I don't think I recall being confessed to. ARGH-- I don't know if Hashimoto likes me or not!!!"

"No one would ask out a person they didn't like."

Images of suspense drama series swirled though my mind.

Helper lady-san, could you check it out for me? And tell me what has actually happened<ref>From a Japanese mystery drama called 'The Helper lady knows!'</ref>.

"She- she is after my valuables....."

"Oh yeah, that makes sense, she's after your baseball collection.

Sure, sure- that's exactly what she needs. The disappointing Central-league-only baseball cards, and the old worn out spike."

Oy, what's with that 'Que sera sera' attitude.

"But you know what Shibuya?"

From the coffee pot he'd brought over, my friend began to pour into my left over milk cup.

I took a sip from the lukewarm caffee au lait.

"Sometimes it's better to fool around and have bucket loads of fun, and get rid of the glumness quick. If it’ll take your mind off things, going out with Hashimoto is definitely an option. I always knew you were single-minded, but this recent bout of blues is odd, even for you."

"It's 'cause the baseball season is over..."

"You know that's not it."

His glasses seemed to flicker and shine.

"Ever since the 2nd semester began, you've been acting distant. You're not half as enthusiastic about baseball practices as before. Sometimes you gaze at the oddest places with an anxious glint in your eyes. Ponds and fountains. Try putting yourself in the place of a person who has to fret over the possibility of his friend jumping into the fountain by the station. From what I heard, you've taken up visiting bathhouses as a hobby. Your mother told me you shoved a leg down the toilet at you house, the other time.”

That… was because I had some reservations about putting my head in.

Murata downed the contents of the cup in one go, and then wrote 'Coffee 1' on the slip.

Wait just a- you intend to have me pay for this?!

"Oy, why do I have to pay for..."

"I understand you're concerned with the issues over there, but unless you learn to draw a line between things, this will only harm your body and mind. As you were originally born on earth, you need to relax and enjoy life while you're here, and replenish your spiritual energy. Otherwise you'll burn out later. It's like planet Plankton for Superman. Er, or was it planet Eric Clapton<ref>Murata is trying to say planet Krypton and failing, for those not familiar to comics.</ref>? Anyhow, I invited you to my school so you could shake off that blues and cheer up a little."

In a serious tone much different from his usual, Murata added.

"Even so, you're here today in search of a probable 'start point', right?"

Nothing goes unnoticed by the legendary Great Sage.

Spreading all five fingers out, I rubbed both of my palms on the table cloth.

Beneath my fingers I felt the rough fabric crumple.

"I'm sorry! Sorry! It's just like you said. I didn't come for the festival. Neither for the guys-only Miss Contest. I've long given up on the illusions of beauties. I came to search - especially since this is your school, I thought it'd have a link to there."

Bowing my head slightly, I opened my eyes to look up.

Faced with an unfamiliar stern face, I carefully glanced into Murata's eyes.

It's a mesmerizing black color.

From the mirror reflections I couldn’t tell, but were my eyes like that, too?

"And, this might just be the last fortress.<ref>'Last fortress' an expression in Japanese that means last chance/option.</ref>"

"Last fortress?"

Murata looked at me like a elementary school nurse would.

It was difficult to tell whether he was perturbed or baffled from the expression on his face.

Then, after blinking once, he threw his head back and stared up into the sky.

"Fortress is more about defense though... Ah well, I'd guessed it was all about this. Follow me. Most of the students are at the auditorium now, so the pool should be empty."

"You'll take me there?!! Thanks, sure good to have an understanding friend."

"But in exchange-"

Lightly smacking my cheeks, my friend stood up with new found vitality.

Do you know that that is a courtship ritual in Shinmakoku?

"Shibuya, don't forget that you called it the 'last fortress'. A man don't go back on his words, so make this the last time, okay? Even if we have to get back soon, if the pool doesn't work this time, then you must give up and rest for the time being. Promise?"

"Yeah."

It's not like there are any other places that I can think of.

If this fails, it's The End.





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