The Devil Is a Part-Timer!, Vol. 2 (11 page)

“Uh.”

Emi groaned. The police had a crime scene to inspect, after all, and at least a couple of witnesses to speak with. This wasn’t what she’d expected.

How long would the cops need to complete their investigation?

“…Umm, sure, no problem.”

It occurred to her that she could leave her cell phone and ID and ask to take a quick trip back to her apartment. She vetoed the idea at once. It wasn’t in her best interest to further interrupt her private time with yet another visit to her neighborhood convenience store later on.

It wasn’t a matter of whether she trusted the clerk or not; it was just the sort of self-defense mechanism any single woman in Tokyo was equipped with.

Dejectedly, she went back inside to her shredded shopping bag. Inside, the curry, coleslaw, and éclair were mixed together in a pulp, like a particularly whimsical pizza.

Emi plucked out the lone survivor in the bag before turning toward the clerk.

“Can I get some hot water? I’m hungry, so I’m hoping I could at least have the soup while I’m waiting.”

Turning to a water kettle in the corner, the clerk filled up the crushed soup container with steaming liquid before inviting Emi into a seat in the back office.

Looking around the one place in the convenience store she’d never seen before, Emi found herself muttering.

“Well,
that
fight sure cost me.”

The Better Half sword she manifested this time was restricted to its phase one form, but contained a level of force that was incomparable to what she had handy against Lucifer two months ago. At this rate, she had no doubt that phase two would be accessible to her, even with her Cloth of the Dispeller fully deployed.

That made it all the more urgent that she found out what that purple light
was
, exactly. She had never run into a foe capable of essentially annulling her holy powers.

Sipping at the soup after letting it seep in water for a minute, Emi gritted her teeth in frustration. It was already shaping up to be a lonely night, and the events carried out by that weirdo scythe-wielding burglar maniac only served to make her feel smaller.

The next time they met, she swore she would slash this mystery assailant in half before any more strange, otherworldly abilities became involved.

“Uh, ma’am, this’s yers?”

The clerk stepped back in, carrying the shoulder bag Emi tossed away the moment all this began.

“Oh, sorry. Thanks.”

It had completely escaped her mind. The clerk pointed at it as she took it from him.

“Uhh, I think th’ phone’s goin’ off ’r something…”

“Huh? Oh. Ah!”

Blushing instinctively, Emi plucked the vibrating phone out from the bag.

She must have forgotten to put it on mute. It was playing a sonorous rendition of the theme from
Maniac Shogun
, one of her favorite samurai dramas, at max volume.

“Uh…ha-ha-ha-ha! You’d, uh, you’d be surprised how addictive that show is.”

Making excuses she had no reason to make, Emi brought the phone up against her face.

“Yusa! Yusa, something’s up with Maou!”

The frenzied scream from the phone made Emi move her head away.

Chiho Sasaki’s name and phone number were displayed on-screen. Almost spilling her soup in surprise, Emi flashed a confused look at the girl’s chosen way to start the conversation before reluctantly bringing the phone back to her ear.

“Ch-Chiho? What’s going on?”

“Maou! Maou, Maou…”

“What about him? Is he dead?”

Emi, far too depressed at the moment to want to think about anything even resembling Maou, let the rather extreme question form on her lips.

She knew full well that Chiho had feelings for Maou.

After the battle two months ago, she’d given her contact information to Chiho, partly to ensure her safety and partly to keep tabs on what Maou got up to during work hours. They’d enjoyed the occasional rambling text- or voice-based conversation about nothing in particular since.

Nothing seemed out of the ordinary between them at MgRonald earlier today, making Emi wonder what could possibly make her so hysterical, when:

“No, he brought a bento in! A homemade bento!”

The voice was tear-laced as it reported the awful truth.

Swallowing a mouthful of soup, Emi tried to figure out why this would make anyone want to cry.

“A bento? So what? The food at MgRonald isn’t free. Ashiya’s probably needling him to cook at home more often. What’s so unusual about…”

“It’s not Ashiya! It’s a big heart mark with a bento—
girl
, homemade, two tiers!!”

“All right, could you calm down a little and get your nouns and verbs and stuff in the right order?”

Emi smirked to herself. Now she knew why Chiho was so worked up.

That thoughtless Maou must’ve done something to hurt a woman’s feelings again.

“So who’s it from? That girl who moved in next to them?”

“You
knew
about that, Yusa?! And you’re willing to put up with that?!”

“Huh? Put up with what?”

Where did
that
question come from? It’s not like Emi cared whose cooking Maou decided to shovel into his mouth. Besides, she’d kind of just had her own dinner scythed.

“I…don’t see why I wouldn’t. I mean, sure, if the Devil King gets in better shape, that might put the entire world in danger someday in the long term, but I can’t watch over every single decision in his life.”

Suzuno Kamazuki was certainly a girl with a boundless reserve of naïveté, but Japan’s a big country. It may be hard for a dyed-in-the-wool Tokyoite to imagine, but the daughter of an old, traditional family from out in the boonies may just live that sort of lifestyle, even today.

And if Maou was going to do anything that’d put her in danger, he would have done it long ago, during the several-days-long period when Emi wasn’t aware of Suzuno’s existence.

Emi mulled over this while sipping another mouthful.

“And you still call yourself a Hero, Yusa?!”

The indignant rebuke made Emi hold the phone away for a moment again.

“What if that next-door neighbor is some bad guy or assassin who’s thinking up ways to kill Maou and his pals? What then?”

“……”

Not even Emi was expecting
that
from Chiho’s mouth. It stunned her into silence.

“And besides, don’t you think it’s all just a little too
weird
? These three guys, all living in a cramped, decrepit apartment—they’ve plainly got no money, and they’re not particularly cool or whatever anyway, and this girl just moves right in and gets that close to them? That just doesn’t happen! Maou told me it was just a neighborly gift, but what kind of girl would do that for a neighbor, a complete stranger she just met a few days ago?!”

“…I know I’m not in any position to ask, but you
do
like him, right, Chiho?”

The amount of abuse Chiho was laying upon Maou’s feet was harsh enough that Emi somehow felt obliged to check.

“Well, I’m just
saying
, I’m about the only girl who would even
think
about doing something like that!”

She thought she was the only exception in the world. Young love can be blind like that sometimes.

Even so, Emi had seen for herself how deeply Suzuno had ingratiated herself with the denizens of Devil’s Castle. She’d heard the woman herself express a keen interest in the Devil King.

Along those lines, Chiho plainly had larger threats to her life than some box lunch.

But, recalling the events at the Devil’s Castle this morning, Emi suddenly realized something else.

She had given Suzuno her contact information. In great detail, no less.

Emi reasoned the girl could use some other female friends in Tokyo, but on the very day the Devil’s Castle changed before her eyes and she gave her contact info to a girl upon their first meeting, she was attacked by a scythe-wielding maniac.

Was that related somehow?

But it was hard to imagine such a prim, proper woman, so stately in her traditional kimono, going around in that hilariously unstylish outfit. The only thing the two shared in common were their relatively small frames.

Still…
thought Emi as she collected herself.

Was it ever
truly
a coincidence if huge events befell the Hero and the Devil King…at the same time?

The battle against Lucifer and Olba two months ago flashed across her mind.

“Yusa? Hey, Yusa?”

Emi’s self-immersion was ruined by Chiho calling her name.

“Oh! Sorry. I was just thinking about something.”

“Well, look, Yusa. You’re the Hero, right? So you’re gonna have to defeat Maou sometime, right?!”

Emi swallowed. It was like Chiho had her physically cornered in the back office.

“I… Well, yeah, pretty much, but…”

“So, you know, if you wanted to help me out…”

Emi, who had no idea how her plan to mercilessly slay Maou would help out his would-be girlfriend, waited for Chiho to continue.

The first report of Olba Meiyer’s disappearance sent shock waves across the All Bishops’ Sanctuary, the meeting place shared by the six archbishops that led the Church.

Olba was an important figure in this cabal, not just one of their number but one of the intrepid adventurers who joined the Hero on her quest to dispatch the Devil King.

But the Reconciliation Panel, the self-policing group within the Church that handled the investigation into his disappearance, released a report just as shocking after completing their search of Olba’s office, which lay in the Church’s headquarters within Sankt Ignoreido.

“The Hero Emilia is alive and well in another world?!”

As the report was read to the remaining five archbishops in their sanctuary, Robertio Igua Valentia, the eldest of their flock and the one among them that served as chief canon of the Church, was the first to react, almost falling out of his chair.

“But Olba himself stated to me that Emilia Justina and her Better Half sword disappeared into nothing at the end of the pitched battle against the Devil King Satan!”

“It would appear that was a total fabrication, sir.”

The female inquisitor submitting the report spoke coldly toward
the five, all but striking down the oldest among them with her words.

“We have discovered traces of multiple sonar transmissions that he aimed at this other world. The recent capture and holding of Emeralda Etuva and Albert Ende was also perpetrated by Archbishop Olba’s underlings.”

“What…what on…!”

Robertio, whose health had been the subject of recent rumors itself, glowed red in the face at this cascade of unbelievable news.

“Regarding Emeralda Etuva, we have confirmation that she has returned to her home, the Holy Empire of Saint Aile. Other reports state she is publicly avowing Emilia’s safety and spreading the word of Olba’s apostasy far and wide.”

“A-a-apostasy…! Apostasy, by an archbishop…!”

“Canon Robertio! Please, take a breath and calm down!”

Cervantes Reberiz, archbishop and administrator of the Church’s agricultural policy, rose to place a reassuring hand on Robertio’s back as he shot back against the Reconciliation Panel representative.

“My dear lady, please refrain from overly inciting our order with your—”

“If I may, Archbishop, I am merely stating the truth.”

The inquisitor gave them no quarter.

“But…but how we can simply avow that Olba was lying to us…? Perhaps he himself learned that Emilia was alive and set off to help her…”

“I’m afraid that is not possible, Canon. A dead Hero was found to be alive. Why would a lone man not spread this cataclysmic news far and wide, instead keeping it to himself for whatever reasons he deemed fit? It is only natural to conclude that Archbishop Olba had a motive to ensure that Emilia’s ‘death’ was as true as he himself reported earlier.”

The inquisitor sighed, face stern upon continuance.

“And if Saint Aile’s most well-known court alchemist is officially declaring that Emilia is alive, we cannot ignore the impact this will
have. It directly conflicts with the Church’s public position that Emilia is dead. I request a well-considered decision.”

“A well…considered…”

Robertio hyperventilated slightly, his anger threatening to make his heart beat its last at any moment.

The inquisitor was not ready to relent, standing firm while facing the panic-stricken canon.

“Will you recognize the mistakes Archbishop Olba has made, or will you continue to push the Church’s decisions upon its people?”

All Bishops’ Sanctuary was plunged into a profound silence.

“Or, to be more exact, will you affirm and condemn the apostasy committed by the archbishop against the Church, or will you instead decide to murder Emeralda, Albert, and finally Emilia herself?”

“This is ridiculous… Emilia and Albert are one thing, but what could we do against Saint Aile’s court alchemist…?”

Cervantes seemed to suffocate on the words. The inquisitor continued, wholly unfazed.

“It is something the Church has always done, ever since the days when the Devil King’s armies freely roamed the land, in order to solidify the Western Island as a monolith under the name of the Church. And when I say ‘the Church,’ I mean myself and the other members of the former Council of Inquisitors.”

The statement made the already-heavy atmosphere around the Sanctuary seem to sag even more painfully upon the council.

But nothing would stop the barrage.

“No matter which option you select, the Church will have to pay a great sacrifice. But if we leave the problem unattended like this, the sun will set for good upon the Church’s infallibility and authority. I doubt many people would choose to place their faith upon a Church so willing to throw away the Hero, the hope of the people, the woman who dispatched the Devil King.”

The inquisitor’s glare pelted like a storm of stones against the shaken Sanctuary. Heavily, Cervantes opened his mouth.

“You are part of the Council of…that is, the Reconciliation Panel, yes? How would you handle this question?”

The woman’s answer was curt.

“I am sure, Archbishop Cervantes, that you understand the import of the Council of Inquisitors transforming itself into the Reconciliation Panel, at least in name.”

Cervantes quickly averted his gaze away from the woman’s eyes.

“In the past, it was the goal of defeating the Devil King that united us. But now, when everyone believes that threat to be gone, it would be a grave mistake to believe that simply any act in the name of the gods shall be forgiven.”

“Wh-what are you saying?”

Robertio did not fail to notice the point the woman danced around.

“I was hoping that the initial shock would subside before I continued.”

She chose her words gingerly as she sized up the five archbishops before her, one by one.

“But Satan, the Devil King, is also alive and well on this other world.”

Robertio fell away senseless, foam dribbling from the corner of his mouth.

“So you’re having trouble drumming up the confidence?”

Saturday morning, the following day. Early in the morning, with the early-summer sun just beginning to make its full presence known, Emi and Chiho found themselves standing in front of the door to the Devil’s Castle.

“Well, I mean…you know.”

Chiho, hiding herself behind Emi as she peeked furtively at the door, was carrying a bulky tote bag. Emi could easily imagine what was inside.

“If I fail here, I don’t know if I can recover from that by myself…”

Fail at
what
, exactly? It seemed silly to even bother asking.

“I’m just saying, it wasn’t really right for the summer season, but it was, like, a
really
well-made bento box! Plus, you know, if it’s got poison or something in it, Maou and his friends could be in big trouble…”

“If an Ente Isla assassin was going to poison him, they would’ve done it ages ago.”

Even Emi could be sure of that.

Chiho felt like either potentially disastrous conclusion would be a huge blow to her, but the matter of her own true feelings at the moment was by far the more urgent issue to tackle.

“Well, standing there and blaming us for all of this isn’t going to accomplish anything. Just be yourself. Take the bull by the horns.”

“…All right!”

Emi pushed Chiho out from behind her, giving her a reassuring pat on the shoulder.

After a moment, Chiho turned back around, the nervousness still writ large upon her face.

“Uhm, Yusa? I’m sorry. Thank you.”

Behind the terse statement was a full understanding of both
Yusa
and
Maou
.

Even if Chiho may already have one foot firmly planted in the events sweeping Ente Isla, from Emi’s point of view, it would not be the most laudable of tactical decisions to allow her any closer to Maou than she already was.

Right now, in full control of her holy energy, there was no longer any obstacle between her and obliterating the Devil King.

She could wipe clean the memories of everyone in Japan who ever interacted with him—there weren’t
that
many of them—massacre the rest of the Devil’s Castle, call for Emeralda and Albert to zip on over, and make a triumphant return to Ente Isla. That was all there was to it.

But, after a smile with a whirlpool of emotion behind it, Emi responded.

“No problem. I don’t care about them at all, but I want to still be friends with you, Chiho, so…”

That, too, was an honest, earnest slice of Emi’s heart in verbal form.

Whether that heart came across or not, Chiho took another deep, emboldening breath and rang the Devil’s Castle doorbell.

The reward was instant.

“Ah, yes, welcome back.”

“…!”

Chiho was frozen, unbreathing, at the sound of an unfamiliar female voice. Even Emi could clearly see the resolve she spent so much time building up begin to crack and wobble.

Thus, it was not Maou, the master of the house, who opened the door, nor was it his faithful househusband Ashiya. And it certainly wasn’t Urushihara the unemployed shut-in. It was Suzuno Kamazuki, the refreshing morning-glory pattern on her aqua-blue kimono framed by her familiar apron.

Even with her hair put up, the morning sun still shone brilliantly through it. It was already growing humid, but not a drop of sweat betrayed itself on her skin, the milky white of skin which so brilliantly matched her kimono. She was drying her hands off with a towel as she opened the door, indicating her presence in the kitchen until this very moment.

She seemed younger than either of her visitors at first glance, but her firm, refined countenance had an air of maturity that Chiho’s still lacked.

“Ah, good morning, Emi…and may I ask who you are?”

“I-I-I…”

Her voice was calm and collected. Chiho, meanwhile, sounded like someone had superglued her throat shut.

“Sadao, there is a visitor at the door.”

Chiho was struck dumb once more at this unknown Japanese beauty’s words.

She had referred to Maou by his given name. It was a sign of intimate familiarity in Japanese. As far as she knew, nobody else in Maou’s life used it.

Chiho never had, of course, being younger than him and more or less his apprentice at MgRonald. She doubted she could even if asked to.

And yet here was this woman out of nowhere, expressing honest, homespun warmth as she called him
Sadao
.

Chiho began to find it hard to remain standing—not because of dizziness, but from the sheer hopelessness of it all.

Emi, watching from behind, had no lifeboat to give her. This was Chiho’s battle. Only Chiho had the power to change anything.

“Uh? Is Emi back around again?”

“No, not merely Emi.”

“Huh?”

It was Sadao Maou, the only man in Chiho’s eyes.

“Whoa, Chi?! What’re
you
doing here? It’s pretty early, isn’t it?”

And his first reaction to Chiho was, at best, indifferent.

“M-Maou…”

Even before the battle began, Chiho’s eyes had already begun to tear up.

Emi brought a hand to her forehead in exasperation.
This is pointless. He doesn’t even realize what’s unfolding right now.

“Um, ah, well, um, I, uh, if you’d, uh, like, uh, to eat…”

She bravely attempted to piece a few words together, her voice like a mosquito’s cry, but having the wind knocked out of her so early on made the process painfully difficult.

“Uh, is something up, Chi?”

Even Maou noticed Chiho’s odd behavior by now, but all he did was watch on, warily, as her face quivered.

The lifeboat arrived from inside Devil’s Castle.

“Oh… Is Ms. Sasaki out there…?”

It took the form of Ashiya’s listless voice, one that still managed to boom audibly out the door.

“I hate to bother you, Ms. Kamazuki, but I have some teabags inside the shelf under the sink…”

“Ashiya?”

Chiho noticed that, on the other side of Maou and this unknown woman, Ashiya was lying on the floor, covered by something resembling a blanket.

“Oh, no, are you sick, Ashiya?”

“Yeah, I dunno whether to call it that or not, actually.” Maou scratched his head as his eyes darted between Chiho and Ashiya. “But, like, this is the story behind that bento yesterday, I guess.”

“Huh?”

Chiho, tears still in her eyes, now flashed a look of utter bewilderment.

“Oh, my, look at how finely you chopped these
shiso
herbs! It’s so beautiful…”

“Yes! And a well-sharpened knife performs half of the work for you. After that, take a leaf, cut it in half, place the halves on top of each other, crumple them up, then cut it into strips, and it could hardly be easier.”

“So how did you get that red-leaf lettuce all crisp like that?”

“Well, first you wash it thoroughly in cold water, then just shake the excess water off. Remove the core and set it aside first. That will help you remove the sand and other bits of dirt you wouldn’t normally see. Much more effective than simply running it under the tap.”