by Hirukuma,
Is he talking to himself again? I focus, trying to make out what he’s saying.
“During this…one month…as much as I can…women…and pouch-pandas…who I’m not used to…be able to…act naturally…”
I catch only pieces, but I have a good idea of what he’s saying. He must want to improve his social anxiety a little by traveling with us—a group consisting of only women and Tasmanian devil people.
The members of the Band of Gluttons are quite different from humans, so I can understand them being easier to talk to. But wouldn’t women make him more nervous than men? Then again, there are a lot of stern-faced male hunters out there… Karios and Gorth, for example, would probably make weak-kneed children cry on sight.
Hmm. I’ll have to help him out, then. When he buys something, I’ll make sure to speak to him. I hope that gets him a little more used to a male voice.
Anyway, let’s set him aside for now. I look around but see nothing.
Just the wall and the wasteland. The scenery is exactly the same, and there’s no sign that we’ve gotten anywhere. Is this going to continue for almost a month? Alone, I’d get fed up with it, but with the soul-soothing Band of Gluttons along with Lammis and Hulemy, it shouldn’t be a struggle.
When lunchtime swings around, everyone buys food from me, then they go off to eat wherever they please. Into groups, actually—three to be precise.
The childhood friends, Lammis and Hulemy. The Band of Gluttons. And Mishuel, on his own.
At this rate, Mishuel will continue being the odd man out. He looks lonely. Lammis and Hulemy had casually invited him to eat with them, but he gently refused, his face a smiling mask, a perfect guard for the extreme shyness inside.
It looks like sitting down for a meal with others is a high hurdle for him. I hope he can eat lunch with us normally before this month is over.
—But still, I feel a twinge of apprehension when I think about such an attractive man hanging out with Lammis or Hulemy.
People can say whatever they want, but they’re weak to good looks. The two act like they have no interest in him, but it’s only normal to feel attracted to such a good-looking guy right next to them. A beautiful woman and a handsome man paint a pretty picture. It wouldn’t be strange for one—no, for both of them to fall for him.
Wait, what use is it for a vending machine to feel jealous? The matters of the heart are no business of mine. It’s weird that I even have this on my mind.
Besides, I’m pretty sure Mishuel isn’t a threat anyway. Having watched how he acts and talks triggers my protective instincts and makes me want to cheer him on.
“T-tomorrow, I’ll eat my food three feet closer to everyone else. Yeah. I have to try harder.”
His pitiable words are carried to me on the winds of the wastes— Yeah, wanting to root for this guy is only human.
On the surface, he looks like he’s happily eating his food, but he’s smiling only when he senses someone watching him. He needs to smile more naturally—his cheeks are starting to twitch a little.
At this point, I feel like it would be easier if he just came out and said he was bad at interacting with people, but he probably can’t, which is why he wears his false mask. I wonder what kind of family environment you’d have to be raised in to turn out like that.
After lunch is over, we set off on our leisurely procession around the periphery.
It’s so peaceful. I’m very much aware that I can’t let my guard down, so I won’t relax more than I need to, but it would be nice if nothing happened.
Ever since coming to this world, extreme, life-threatening events have occurred again and again. Laid-back days like this are what life should really be like for a vending machine.
And just as I had hoped, the first day is about to end with us having done nothing but walk.
The nights in this stratum aren’t cold, and the temperature doesn’t change throughout the year, so the Band of Gluttons snore the night away on the ground, their full bellies exposed. Their sleeping faces are adorable, too. I’ll just record them on my surveillance camera for later enjoyment.
Lammis and Hulemy appear to be sleeping in the covered cart bed. I can just make out their faint breaths. Mishuel and I are keeping watch for the others, but the signs of mental exhaustion from his constant worrying about everyone else looking at him all day are showing—he’s sitting cross-legged on the ground, and he’s close to losing consciousness. Several times, his head droops, then he opens his eyes and looks around.
“Ah! No, no. Everyone told me it would be fine and Boxxo would keep watch, but… Ughhhh, maaan, that was nerve-racking. They’re both so pretty, and the Band of Gluttons are so cute. It took everything I had to keep my cool. Oh, come to think of it… I wonder if this boxy magic item really does have a mind.”
Dubiously, he looks at me.
Well, it’s probably normal not to be able to believe it without seeing it. The two girls are too sharp-witted, and the Band of Gluttons were lured in by all the food.
He puts a hand to his chin and brings his face so close his forehead almost touches me. He’s staring as though trying to peer inside me. Even a vending machine would be embarrassed.
“Welcome.”
“Ah, yes, hello. G-good evening.”
Personally, I think his mild-mannered, timid state leaves a better impression than his usual “hot-guy mode.” At heart, he’s just a shy young man.
“Um, what should I buy? Oh, yes—that sweet, relaxing drink was really good. I’m always nervous even when I’m buying things, but with this magic-item box, I don’t have to worry about other people watching.”
Yup, that’s right. I get where you’re coming from—a store clerk can really make you nervous. The carefree ability to buy things is one of a vending machine’s merits.
As Mishuel grips his cocoa and exhales in relief, I watch his face in profile for no particular reason. At times like these, he looks younger than his age.
The mood he gives off and the carefree expression he makes when his guard is down would make him a smash hit with cougars. I can say for certain that if someone had shota inclinations, one look and they’d be done for. Normally one would be jealous of something about him given his level of beauty, but when I look at him, I want to help him out. Maybe it’s a personal magnetism.
And so, another week passed without incident—not a fight to be had. It seems like Mishuel has closed the distance just a little bit between himself and the rest of our party.
It’s probably the result of the Band of Gluttons being adorable and Lammis being so sociable. However, he still treats them with the politeness you would use with a stranger—he’s never talked to them in his truly unreserved state.
To be honest, a small part of me balks at the idea of Mishuel fixing his social anxiety and getting too close with Lammis and Hulemy.
I don’t like feeling this way. Ugh. A vending machine being jealous is just weird.
I’ve been paying the most attention to Mishuel, but Lammis is acting rather strange today. Her eyes are empty, and her gait is heavy. It looks like it’s taking everything just to walk.
“Hey, what’s the matter, Lammis?” asks Hulemy. “If you don’t feel well, you can ride in the cart and bring Boxxo with you.”
“Welcome.” That’s right. We don’t have to hurry for this request, so there’s no need to push yourself.
Hulemy is leaning out of the cart, beckoning to her. Considering her issues with physical exertion, the spot in the cart naturally went to Hulemy, but Lammis hasn’t taken a breather even once.
“Hmm? I’m okay. Fit as can be.”
You can wave it off all you want, but you don’t look okay. Your normally lively smile has a huge shadow cast over it.
Still, I wonder what the problem could be. If she had a cold, I’d think she would have been sneezing or coughing, but she’s not even congested. Every once in a while, she’ll rub her lower stomach, so maybe it’s some abdominal pain. My items c
ouldn’t have caused it, right? Then what is it?
“L-Lammis, you shouldn’t force yourself. You should rest for now.”
“Huh—? Hya!”
Mishuel was trying to lift Lammis up on his back, so I changed into a cardboard vending machine. That way, even he can carry us, and he brings us to the cart with light steps.
Hmm. Lammis normally does the carrying, and now she’s the one being carried. Ahh, that murky feeling is starting to come up again. I should be grateful for Mishuel acting out of such kind consideration. I’m the worst.
“Boxxo, you’re lighter than I thought.”
No, no, that’s because I’m cardboard right now. If I was my regular vending machine self, you’d be buried underground at the moment.
Lammis is trying to resist, but she doesn’t seem to have much energy, and Mishuel places her on the cart easily. She can’t even muster the willpower to object, so she gives up and sits down.
If I had arms and legs, would that have been my job? Going back to being human… I might want to seriously think about it.
“Hulemy, can I ask you to take care of her?”
“Sure thing. Leave it to me.”
With Lammis left in her caring hands, I shouldn’t have anything to worry about.
Hulemy removes me from her back and gently puts me outside the cart. I go back to my original vending machine form and, for the time being, stock some sports drinks.
I drop one into my compartment, and Mishuel immediately reacts. “I think this is a gift from Boxxo,” he says, putting it on the corner of the cart.
He’s thoughtful, and he’s good-looking. Yup, there isn’t a single area I can beat him in.
“Sheesh. You always push yourself right up to the limit. Here, take off your clothes. I’ll change them for you.”
“Y-you don’t have to do that. I can do it myself—”
“Quit trying to pretend everything’s fine. You’re obviously worn-out. The kindness of others is something you should accept without complaining.”
I can hear the moans and groans of resistance, but it sounds like Hulemy has the advantage this time. Lammis must be really weak right now. We’ll have her rest quietly for a while—
“Ohhh! Wait, there’s blood! You idiot! Why did you keep qui…qui…? Oh.”
Wait, she’s losing blood?! Did she get hurt somewhere?! Dammit, how could I not have noticed? She was carrying me the whole time!
“Ah, ah, ah, ah…”
As Hulemy continues to stutter in surprise, I hear Lammis simply repeating the syllable Ah like she doesn’t know what to do. She’s not acting like she’s in pain—her face is bright red.
“Lammis, is it your period?!”
“Ughhh, you dummyyy!”
How could you yell that, Hulemy? Now Lammis is crying out in despair, the poor thing.
Mishuel looks away, one hand to his mouth in surprise, but for my part, it now makes perfect sense how she’d suddenly grown so weak.
She’s had days like this about once a month in the past. I’m sorry for not realizing it sooner.
Reality and Fantasy
“What’s a ‘period’? Is it a food?”
“I don’t know. I’ve never heard of it, either.”
“I think it has something to do with women. Suco, do you know what it is?”
“Um, well. It happens a lot with female humans and some types of monkeys. Apparently, it’s a condition specific to females where blood comes out of their lower abdomen.”
The Band of Gluttons are huddled up, whispering like older boys in elementary school.
Come to think of it, I heard once that creatures apart from humans and certain animals don’t experience menstruation, and even the ones that do have only very minor issues. They must not be very familiar with the topic.
“Sheesh, Lammis, don’t be so reckless. Your periods get bad, don’t they? Ahh, your underwear and cloth are covered in blood. If you don’t change this cloth out with a clean one, it could make you really sick.”
“Okay…”
“It’s nothing to be ashamed about. Having children is something only women can do. Treat yourself better.”
I can’t see what it is they’re doing, but based on their voices, it sounds like Hulemy has gotten the whole thing under control. Just listening to their conversation makes me restless, like I’m doing something bad.
Men aren’t good with this sort of thing. I can’t exactly speak on the issue. In terms of what I can do to help… I can give them clean towels, and then— Oh, you know what? There is something I can do.
From my features list, I choose Manually Operated Sanitation Vending Machine and change my form.
My body becomes sheer white, as though to evoke an image of cleanliness, and it slims down quite a bit, too. As the term manually operated would imply, this vending machine doesn’t need electricity. Instead, you put in the coins, then crank a lever to get the products out.
There are two main products this vending machine sells: sanitary napkins and masks. I think there are versions that sell tissue packets, too.
If you’re a woman, you’ve probably seen them near the bathrooms in department stores, stations, schools, and the like. I don’t think many men have had the chance to see one.
Then, you may ask, why can I, a vending machine who is restricted to only stocking products I’ve bought before, provide these? …W-well, it’s nothing to feel guilty about.
One of my relatives was in the cleaning business, and I just have some experience working part-time for them during my school days. I recall a distant memory—having to clean the women’s bathroom and seeing this vending machine for the first time, then buying its contents out of pure interest without even knowing what was inside. Anyway, that’s not important right now.
“Oh. Boxxo, what’s up? You got thinner—and whiter. If you transformed now, it must mean something. I’ll put in a coin.”
Whenever it comes to Lammis and Hulemy, it’s easy to get my point across. Seriously, thank you.
Hulemy pulls the lever, removes the product, and then looks at it closely for a bit. She tilts her head, not seeming to really get it.
“Huh, this is strange. I don’t think I need this clear bag. This cloth feels strange to the touch… Wait, is it paper?”
She pokes and prods it as she studies it, then appears to understand from the situation what I want her to do. Finally, after seeming to fail a few times, she manages to use it properly.
“This thing’s amazing. The absorption is incredible. With this, we won’t have to worry even on days when it’s super-heavy.”
Hulemy soaks up water from a bottle with her newly purchased sanitary napkins in admiration.
Menstruation is such a true-to-life problem. Fantasy stories often feature a lot of female adventurers, but it seems like they have struggles of their own to deal with behind the scenes.
I would never have understood it if I hadn’t been reborn in another world.
“I guess I’ll get some water from Boxxo to wash your bloodstained pants and underwear.”
“Oh, I can wash them for you.”
“No, I don’t think that would be a good idea. At the end of the day, Lammis is technically a girl. I’ll do it.”
“You didn’t need to add ‘technically’…”
From my vantage point next to the cart, I see Mishuel, completely unfazed, attempt to ask Hulemy to give him the dirty underwear and pants. I can’t decide if I should be impressed about that or critical. You’d think a man would be a little resistant to the idea.
I’ve heard bloodstains are tough to get out, so I add a new feature.
This is something I’ve been considering for a while. I change into a coin-operated, fully automatic washer dryer. It’s the kind of washing machine with a door, like in laundromats.
I’ve been concerned about the unhygienic lives of hunters, who only pack maybe one change of clothes, since any more would be too much of a hindrance. I figured they’
d be happy if they had a chance to wash their clothes during monster-slaying quests and other missions.
For now, I pop open my round door, trying to motion to throw the laundry inside. Nobody enjoys the idea of hand-washing underwear with blood on them, after all.
Actually, now that I’m thinking about it calmly, isn’t this situation a little risky? They’ll be putting women’s clothing in me to be washed… Uh, well, I’m a machine, so I don’t feel guilty about it, and I’m not a pervert, so everything’s fine. Definitely fine.
“This is a strange-looking form,” says Lammis. “I wonder what it is.”
“Is Boxxo telling us to put the dirty clothes inside?”
“Welcome.”
“Right, then, I’m actually gonna put ’em in, okay?”
“Huh? You’re going to put my underwear in Boxxo?”
I hear Lammis’s confused voice, but— Look, I’m a machine, so you don’t have to worry.
This will be a test run, so I’ll give it to you for free. There’s an automatic detergent injector, so after they throw in the clothes, all we have to do is wait. It’s possible to adjust the settings to determine how to wash them and the length of time, too, but I’ll take care of all those controls.
Mishuel, who looks like he’s enjoying watching the clothes being washed, sidles right up to the glass to peer inside. The Band of Gluttons, watching him, grow curious, and eventually they all end up watching the washing machine spin round and round as well. What is going on here?
With this washing machine’s specs, it should take thirty to forty minutes to finish. However, I’ve increased my speed, so it finishes in about ten. Increasing my speed was the right move. I can only change forms for two hours, which means I wouldn’t be able to use this more than once unless I shortened the time.
When the sound plays to signal that it’s finished, the Band of Gluttons jump back and cry out with a “Vaaaaaa!” of surprise. Their roaring is another thing I’ve gotten used to.
After I open the door, Hulemy hesitantly sticks a hand inside, pulls out the freshly washed pants and underwear, and holds them aloft. They flap in the wind blowing across the wasteland.
