by Blitz Kiva
Ah, it’s started. I’ve really been swept along, huh? Yozakura realized, a bit belatedly.
She had been a willful person since birth, so it was rare for her to get swept along in a situation like this. She could have resisted if she’d wanted to, and she’d had plenty of chances to say no. But in the end, she hadn’t. She’d wanted to see through Felicia’s request, and she’d wanted to support Iris. Of course, she wanted to fulfill Ichiro’s orders, too.
Sakurako Ogi wouldn’t admit to it publicly, but she loved cosplay. Thanks to the special upbringing given to her by her two older brothers since she was born, for as long as she could remember, she had been a tremendous geek. Their otaku interests merged with a girl’s natural interest in fashion and produced a passion for cosplay. That was nothing to be ashamed of—the problem was her twisted family environment.
So, since she could see this fashion show as another opportunity to indulge in cosplay, she didn’t mind taking on the model role. It was just a game, after all, and she was even looking forward to wearing Iris’s armor design in a way.
If not for that gimmick...
B-But that was fine. That was fine. She wasn’t necessarily going to be exposed like that; it was only a last resort. If they could earn enough votes from the start, there would be no need to reveal it.
In preparation, Edward had also prepared her a few weapons: made-to-order weapons with original graphics perfect for the Maid-Shinobi. Having come from the Akihabara Forging Guild, they were naturally excellent.
Since it was a fashion show, there were formalities to be observed. Yozakura and Amesho waited in the greenrooms while Iris and Fuyo stood out on stage. In the judges’ seats sat King Kirihito and the Red Sunset Knights. You would expect them to be off fighting on the game’s front lines, but they must have really had nothing better to do.
Hot sparks were already flying between the two designers on stage. Nem stood with one hand on her hip in a model-like pose, glaring down at Iris provocatively. “I’ll give you credit for one thing, at least—that you didn’t turn tail and run!”
Yozakura was surprised to hear her go that far. “Amesho. What ideas have you been putting into Nem’s head?”
“Hmm, nothing in particular,” said Amesho. “I just advised her to face Iris head-on.”
“And this is the result of that?” Yozakura asked. She sounded like a third-rate villain. Who did she think she was, Matsunaga?
“Don’t be mean to Nem, okay?” Amesho said. “This is taking everything she has.”
“That’s true... she does seem a bit overly stressed...” Yozakura murmured. Perhaps her strange demeanor was the result of trying very hard to pretend to be brave. If it was, she really couldn’t blame her.
“We’re about to compete, to establish once and for all whose design sense is more refined,” Nem declared.
“Oh, but Nem, we all knew from the start that you’re far more wonderful than me,” Iris said.
Still, in a competition of bravado, Iris wasn’t about to lose. She spread her legs to shoulder width, folded her arms, and fixed her opponent with a piercing gaze. It was a manly way of comporting oneself, a daunting pose.
The two who had been treating each other as worthy rivals before had now thrown themselves completely into the mudslinging. What was going on here? It was like the promos professional wrestlers cut before a show.
“You really are divine, Nem. You’ve always been my idol.”
“H-Have I?” Nem scratched her cheek, openly embarrassed by the praise.
“Ah, Nem is such an easy mark...” Amesho said with an awkward smile.
“I always thought the difference between us was like Betelgeuse and a turtle,” said Iris. “But, you know... while I may lack your taste and your talent, there is one field in which I win.”
“Oh, and what might that be?” Nem asked.
“Youth.”
Crackle.
There was the sound of the air freezing around them.
The words were like barbed wire. No matter how thick the walls one might prepare around them, there were some things that couldn’t be guarded against. Iris’s words pierced right through those defenses and cut deeply into Fuyo’s heart. There was no sign of a damage visual, but as a woman pushing 30, she couldn’t avoid a hemorrhage of the soul. Megumi had not reached a level of maturity required to shield herself with the weight of her years.
Amesho was cackling irresponsibly. “Nice one, Iris! Hey, Yozakura, what’s wrong? You’re all wriggly... does your tummy hurt?”
“N-No, I’m fine...” Yozakura said. But the spear of Iris’s words had dished out collateral damage.
“Y-Youth has nothing to do with—” Nem began.
“It has everything to do with it!” Iris declared. “I beat you in vivacious emotion and flexibility of thought! It’s not old people who create the future, but the young!”
“Iris! How dare you...”
“Oh, did I hurt your feelings?” Iris mocked. “But a woman’s shelf life is a short thing, and anger will give you wrinkles, big sister.”
“Yozakura, if you’re not feelin’ good, you can log out for a while...” Amesho said.
“I’m fine! I’m fine!” Yozakura gasped.
Having revved herself up to the battle to this degree, Iris was throwing herself into the role. And the rant had only gotten started. “You know, you really are a red giant star, shining in the sky! But red giants are also at the end of their lifespan. And when a supergiant goes supernova, they don’t even become a black hole! Just an ugly neutron star! Unlike me. An ugly little turtle like me has limitless potential. I could even live 10,000 years, and become the great turtle that bears Mt. Penglai on its back!”
“What’s Iris talking about?” Amesho wondered.
“I’m not even sure she knows,” Yozakura answered.
After that machine-gunning of random thoughts, Iris followed up with this, shoulders heaving: “I’m going to show you how a turtle fights. Once it bites down, it never lets go!”
Maybe that was what she had been building to.
“Why don’t we meet the models?” Stroganoff, who had for some reason taken up MC duties from his judge’s chair, said in a stern voice.
“Oh, looks like we’re up. Okay, Yozakura. I’ll go first!” Amesho cackled, then headed for the stage.
The crowd burst into cheers. “Yeeeeeeeeeeeeah! Ameshooooooo!”
So much passion, just from her appearing on stage... She really was incredibly popular, and such popularity was power.
There were about 5,000 people gathered in the venue. Two thousand of them—over one-third of the total—were only there to see Amesho. The fact that every single one of the young men cheering for the self-proclaimed middle schooler Anthromorph girl was handsome was also a sight unique to the game. There were Humans and Elves, and the occasional pay-to-play race, and the sight of all these handsome men who didn’t look Japanese cheering one girl’s name at once was strangely invigorating in its unreality.
They didn’t care about the show. Their attention was focused on one person: Amesho. They’d be flinging out those rapturous, flirtatious cries no matter what she’d come on stage wearing.
“Hey guyyys, thanks for coming out to see me today!” Amesho called.
And what kind of introduction was that? What was she, an idol?
Watching her perform with microphone in hand, it was impossible not to feel envy. This sheer shamelessness... Was this the nature of youth?
Yozakura gritted her teeth a little as she watched Amesho from backstage. Could she manage a performance clever enough to trump such overwhelming popularity?
“Now, about the armor she’s wearing...” Stroganoff urged.
“Right.” Megumi Fuyo picked up the mic. “As you can see, Amesho is so charming, I wanted to keep the design simple.”
Fuyo, cleverly realizing that all the interest was focused on the model, avoided a lengthy explanation about the design, instead just providin
g commentary that allowed Amesho’s charm to do the talking for her. It was unlikely that any of the players present were interested in fashion, so that seemed like a wise decision.
The truth remained, though, that Fuyo’s design was very good. The design, prizing simplicity and avoiding patterns, felt lively and refreshing. It was the perfect way to emphasize Amesho’s youthful and sprightly appeal. The eye was drawn to the sky blue pintuck blouse and the lime green shorts. Rather than the patterns and body con trends that were hot this summer, they emphasized evergreen concepts like peplum, pastels, and neon colors, which all helped to keep it from feeling tacky.
It was silly to think that fashion alone didn’t matter just because it was a game. It was true that most of the players weren’t looking at the clothing that Fuyo had designed, but it was her clothing that helped assert Amesho’s charm and appeal. Perhaps this was the meaning of the saying “the charisma of the talented.” Fuyo had come out swinging, and her attempt had been completely aboveboard. Her sheer talent had eliminated the need for any overt self-assertion.
“Ah, it’s so cute...” Tiramisu of the Knights said, offering an earnestly feminine expression of her feelings. She was a dedicated gamer herself, but she was also a woman. In addition, since she was a popular player, Tiramisu’s words had weight. They imprinted the idea of “this is a good design” deep in the subconscious of the fashion-ignorant spectators.
“Next up, show us the latest from Iris Brand!” Stroganoff’s cried in a voice that sounded almost like a threat.
Iris turned her gaze to Yozakura from the stage.
Yozakura nodded. That was her cue.
The music on the stage changed, and the lighting went down. Smoke billowed out and psychedelic lights danced around the stage. Iris had picked the BGM and the staging herself. It was known as “Showa Rock.”
The audience was snapped back to attention by the atmosphere that seemed unusual for a supposed fashion show.
Here it was. Yozakura prepared herself mentally. She leaped onto the stage and began a martial arts demonstration beneath the lights. Maybe she couldn’t compete on cuteness, but she could compete on coolness. She did imaginary battle with countless invisible enemies, and when the BGM finished its cycle, she froze in the middle of dishing out a backfist. The lighting returned to normal.
Reluctantly, she straightened up and bowed slowly to the audience. The venue burst into applause.
Good, it went over well. Despite the tension prickling throughout her body, Yozakura struck an internal victory pose.
“It’s nice to meet you, everyone!” she called. “I am the maid-shinobi Yozakura!”
“Wow! Cool!” Amesho, standing beside her, clapped her hands while cackling. “It’s just like a superhero show!”
“Oh, how embarrassing...” Yozakura scratched her cheek. A superhero show, huh? Well, maybe that had been what she was going for.
Iris was behind her now, so Yozakura couldn’t see her expression, but she hoped this matched her vision. She also hoped Iris wasn’t feeling excessive pressure to push things further. She hoped...
“Now, about Yozakura’s armor,” Stroganoff called. “Iris, please explain.”
“Okaaay!” Iris’s voice, in reply, sounded surprisingly relaxed.
Yozakura exhaled in relief.
“Um... explaining it officially is a little embarrassing. As you can see, she’s a maid-shinobi. I based it on bug monsters from the Lancastio Spiritwood Sea. It’s light armor, so it has no level requirements, and the full set offers agility and perception bonuses. That’s what allows even the low-level Yozakura to perform those action moves you just saw.”
A pleased murmur could be heard, starting from the judges, then spreading. Stroganoff, Gazpacho, and Gorgonzola seemed the most interested. Parmagiano, who seemed most likely to appreciate it on a class level, was actually focused more on the thighs peeking out from the hem, while King Kirihito had kept his eyes averted in disinterest the whole time.
In terms of design, the maid costume was more the “Japanese maid” style. Given the need for a Shinobi to be active, Iris had given the hem a rather bold cut. The thighs that Parmagiano was staring at so intently were covered in chain mail stockings and concealed with knee-high boots. The hand guards, knee pads, and other dangerous parts had a shuriken motif, as well.
Yozakura decided to look at Nem’s expression, and saw her grimacing. Maybe she had some opinions about Iris’s design, which straddled the line between fashionable and functional... even if it was just that it was trying too hard to be clever.
It was a strong reception.
“Hmm...” Stroganoff mused quietly. “King, which do you like better?”
“The one that came out first,” King said sullenly, without even looking at the stage.
Parmagiano whistled. “Oh, is that how you like them, King?”
“No, but the maid-shinobi is so pandering, I can’t stand it.”
King’s words caused Yozakura’s smile to freeze on her face. Immediately, she got angry, to stifle the waves of regret and embarrassment that were assailing her. That bratty little boy—er, bratty little girl, possibly. Of course, she didn’t show any of that on her face.
“Shall we take a straw poll, first?” As Stroganoff said that, voting panel windows appeared in front of all the players in the hall. “This isn’t the real vote yet. If you aren’t sure, don’t press anything. Choose whichever one gave you the best first impression.”
The eyes of the four people on the stage—in other words, Iris, Yozakura, Fuyo, and Amesho—all turned to focus on the big panel set up nearby. The words “MiZUNO” and “Iris Brand” were written there, and the numbers displayed beside them started surging upwards.
2,109 votes for MiZUNO. 1,726 votes for Iris Brand...
No, 1,727 votes. Lower than expected. If not for what that stupid King Kirihito had said...
Considering that close to 2,000 people there were fans of Amesho’s, though, maybe it was a good showing.
Close to 600 people in the venue hadn’t yet voted. It might still be possible to win, but...
Yozakura turned around trepidatiously. Iris met her eyes and said with a smile...
“No time to be playing the good girl, Yozakura. It’s time for Plan B.”
Yozakura noticed something especially nasty in Iris’s tone. King’s thoughtless words must have made her angry.
But Plan B... Plan B, she’d said? Was she... was she telling her to do that?
Yozakura clutched her head in her hands. She really didn’t want to.
It was true that it was a tradition for ninja, and had been ever since that classic RPG. Yozakura, as Sakurako, had two older brothers. The eldest, Umehiko, was a fan of Wizardry, while the second brother, Momotaro, was into Ultima. She’d been made to play them both until she was sick of them, so the traditions were firmly entrenched in her mind. Even so, she didn’t like it.
“Aw, there’s no need to push it, Yozakura,” Amesho said with a giggle, casting a triumphant smile at the votes shown on the display. “I don’t know what you’re thinking of doing, but I’ve got lotsa friends. About 40% of the people in this hall are on my side, y’know? It’s always the power of connections that wins in the end.”
“Th-Those are insightful words, Amesho...” It was Amesho’s words, surely unintentionally, that gave Yozakura her final push. “You’re right. It’s the power of connections that will win in the end...”
“Right? So...”
“But one of my loyal friendships is worth a thousand of yours!”
Jerking her face upwards, Yozakura pressed one of the shuriken designs on her bracers. An electric visual ran through her body and she shouted the keyword to activate the gimmick:
“Cast off!”
“Haaaah!!” Yuri raced across the ground, exchanging blows with Taker. To bridge the enormous level gap between them, Yuri had PvP-specialized Grappler Skills and Arts, as well as her own personal history as a former attendee of th
e national karate tournament. Of course, Taker had the same class, and he appeared to have just as much combat experience as she did.
He swiftly sidestepped each of Yuri’s kicks as they came. Felicia wanted to go to help her, but the masked-and-frilly Shinobi Army was keeping Gobo locked in place. Meanwhile, Matsunaga had scaled the Power Golem’s huge form.
“Eek! It’s him!” Felicia screamed.
“You make me sound like a monster or a stalker...”
“You are a stalker, Mr. Matsunaga!” Felicia’s honest expression of her feelings caused the grin to disappear from Matsunaga’s face; he must have been genuinely hurt by that one.
In the momentary opening this created, Felicia threw Gobo-Two. It slammed Matsunaga in the forehead and sent him plunging to the ground. Given that he managed to break his fall, though, he must have still had HP remaining.
Edward was crossing swords with the Shinobi Army on the ground, firing off his Lost Gun on support. Gobo’s arms swung around, tossing the swarming frilly Shinobi Army this way and that.
It was then that Felicia noticed Sorceress, whose support magic was making a lot of trouble, as it had on the beach a few days ago. Felicia knew they had to take her out somehow, but all of her allies were currently being held at bay by the strengthened Shinobi Army.
With a cry, Felicia held Gobo-Two aloft, then catapulted him using a Masakari Submarine Pitch. The steel shot flew towards Sorceress at high speed, but she just quirked a smile and erected a wall. Gobo-Two bounced harmlessly off the new barrier.
“It’s all pointless,” Sorceress giggled.
Felicia stiffened. What was with this girl? The way she smiled... it was like she was mocking any attempt at effort. She had even trivialized Nem’s and Iris’s honest competition. What was she trying to accomplish?
“You’re not the one who decides what’s pointless!” A black shadow flew in from an unexpected direction. It was Kirihito.
The black-clad swordsman attacked Sorceress from behind with his sword. With an expression of mild surprise, the girl jumped away. Although she managed to get her barrier up just in time, the swordsman had taken out a chunk out of her HP.
