Outbreak Company: Volume 2

by Ichiro Sakaki

  “I think being able to use magic is a pretty serious skill.”

  “Aren’t you a magic-user yourself, Master?”

  “Huh? Oh—you mean this?” I took out my smartphone and pointed to it. “This really isn’t any different from a sword, or... more like a stew pot or a kettle. Anyone can use it if they know how. It might look like magic, but it’s just a tool.”

  Myusel looked a bit perplexed. “Magic is just a tool too, isn’t it?”

  “Uh... Kind of, but isn’t it more of a talent, or a skill?”

  “Don’t you need certain skills to be able to use that tool?”

  “I guess so... I mean, you do have to learn how it works.”

  I guess they do have tests proving how good you are at using computers, so maybe being able to use a smartphone is an admirable ability, too.

  That was when it occurred to me: this was a difference in values. For Myusel and other people from this world, the ability to use magic was completely and totally unremarkable. Thoroughly un-magical as I was, I was the only one who thought it was really cool. But we could say the same thing about electronics from the Eldant perspective.

  Hang on. That means...

  “Do you think I could use magic, too?”

  “...Aren’t you using it right now?”

  “Huh? Wait—do you mean this?!” I looked down at the ring on my finger.

  “Yes, sir. It’s very small-scale, but still.”

  “Ahh... Now I get it.”

  The ability to activate a magic item you had equipped was evidently a form of magic use in itself. From what Myusel was saying, the magical power to use the ring wasn’t supplied by the ring itself; it was coming from me. It was convenient to talk about the rings as if they were doing all the work, but there was actually magic involved.

  “So if I learned the spell, could I use Such-and-Such Fist like you?”

  Myusel nodded. “Since you’re a human, Master, maybe...”

  Some races, like lizardmen, were said not to have magic—but apparently that didn’t mean they had no magic at all. Properly speaking, these races didn’t have enough magical power to manifest it externally, and even if they managed to do so, the effect would be negligible. So even if they were able to use magical items to achieve specific effects—in which case it would be the item manifesting the magic and not them—they weren’t able to chant spells, break seals, or perform other magical actions.

  To come at it another way, because humans had been the first to invent the system of abilities called magic, humans were generally able to manifest magic outwardly via their actions.

  “Huh... Okay.” So magic was actually more of a tool, a skill—at least in this world. “That’s interesting.”

  We came out behind the mansion and walked toward the bucket of water that was reserved for doing the wash. Myusel dumped the laundry in, obviously used to this. As I watched, it occurred to me that there was something I wanted to ask her.

  “Hey, Myusel?”

  “Yes?”

  “Could you teach me some magic?”

  “Yes, sir, right aw—”

  Then she froze.

  “Y-You want me? To teach you, Master?” She was staring at me wide-eyed. “How could I ever dare to—”

  “No one’s daring you.” I smiled. “Or is there some kind of law or custom or something that says you can’t teach me?”

  “There is, but...”

  Because magic was a tool that could be used—and turned into a weapon—by anyone who knew how, it was strictly controlled by the state. If you just leave a weapon lying around, someone will eventually pick it up and use it to commit a crime. Hence, those who had learned magic in the army of the Holy Eldant Empire were forbidden from teaching it to others without permission. And permission was granted only if the learner held a noble rank of knight or above. That is to say, only if they were part of the ruling class.

  “I see... That makes me kind of a strange case, doesn’t it?”

  I was being treated as a noble, certainly, but in reality I was just a foreigner. Would it be a crime to teach me magic? We wouldn’t know without asking the likes of Petralka, Garius, or Zahar.

  “Either way, I could hardly venture to teach you anything, Master. And the magic I know is really only the most basic spells. I left the military before I learned anything more...”

  As Myusel told it, you were taught three spells when you entered the army. One was a fire spell, one was wind magic, and the third was healing magic. In other words, these were the three things they thought would be most useful to someone as a soldier. But the stronger spells, the stuff that could maim or kill somebody—they didn’t teach you that until you rose up the ranks. Now that I thought about it, Tifu Murottsu hadn’t been a one-hit kill or anything. And the fire magic might look spectacular, but it wasn’t very powerful; it was really only good for starting campfires or disinfecting things. Even the healing magic was mostly for cuts and scrapes; it wouldn’t bring your arm back if you got it ripped off, or save your life if you were hemorrhaging blood.

  I supposed that made sense. You wouldn’t hand out the most powerful weapon you had to every foot soldier in the army, either. Once they had served for a while and you were sure they were good and loyal, then you could teach them more powerful magical attacks.

  “No dice, huh?” I murmured. Gee, and life would be so interesting if I could use some magic.

  All the talk of teaching brought something else to mind. “Since we’re on the subject, how’s your Japanese study going? I haven’t been able to help you much lately...”

  Ever since the school had started up in earnest, I had just been too busy to look after Myusel’s studies. But since she had reached a point where she was pretty capable of reading and writing, studying on her own would get more and more effective.

  “I’m managing,” she said, smiling shyly. “I understand a fair amount of what you say even without the ring.”

  “That’s really something,” I said. But truth be told, the same was true of me. I hadn’t been going out of my way to study, but when you’re constantly receiving “broadcasts” of a second language, with an ongoing simultaneous interpretation... Well, the way the images from the ring’s “translation” came into my head along with the spoken Eldant words was starting to feel pretty normal.

  I had been hearing the language for half a year at this point, so it made sense that I had started to get used to it. I guess that’s immersion for you. Having said that, I had never studied the local writing system, so I still couldn’t read the language.

  “Master,” Myusel said suddenly. “You’ll go back to your home country eventually, won’t you?”

  “Well, I mean, maybe sometime,” I said. My tone was nonchalant, but it was only after I’d spoken that it struck me. Of course I didn’t figure I would be with Amutech for the rest of my life. There probably would come a time when I went back to Japan. If the world on the other side of the hyperspace tunnel knew about Eldant by then, fine, but if not, my freedom would forever be restricted by the chains of secrecy.

  And that meant that one day, I would probably have to say goodbye to Myusel and everyone else in this world. Myusel had once said she hoped she could go with me when I went back to my country. At the time, I had thought she meant as a trip—the way people like to take vacations to exotic places. But the more I learned about the situation in the Holy Eldant Empire, the more I realized she might not have meant it so casually.

  “But even if I go back, I’m sure it won’t be for a long time yet.”

  The truth was, I hadn’t been granted permission for even a temporary visit back to Japan. Maybe they didn’t trust me yet. Matoba-san went back and forth all the time, but whenever I asked him about where exactly the famous wormhole was, he would suck his teeth, hem and haw, and ultimately not tell me anything.

  I guess they wanted to make sure I wouldn’t try to run away. The upshot was, I wasn’t even free to go back to my home.
/>   “So, Myusel, you’re saying... if and when I quit this job and go back to Japan...” I could practically feel my own embarrassment; it was like a tingle in my skin. I hesitated for a moment, then dived ahead. “You think you want to leave the Holy Eldant Empire and go back with me?”

  “Yes.” Her answer was immediate. It was almost as if she had been waiting a long time for me to ask that.

  “...Izzat right...”

  “Yes.” Then she added, a bit fearfully, “That’s if I’m allowed, of course...”

  That probably had a double meaning—whether I would allow her, and whether the Eldant Empire and Japan itself would allow her. When it came to me personally, I sure didn’t have a problem. But as for our governments... Well.

  It had only been six months. But it had been a whole six months. After half a year living with Myusel and Brooke, they had started to feel like family. I felt closer to them now than I ever had to my parents or sister during my days as a home security guard. Myusel in particular, given that we had survived a terrorist attack together.

  As for Minori-san, obviously, she was living with me, too, and had also been through the terrorist incident. Yet I couldn’t help mentally putting her in the same category as Matoba-san—the Japanese government lurked behind both of them. It wasn’t much, but it made it harder for me to feel close to her.

  I thought silently for a long time. Would I ever be permitted to go back to Japan? Or was I now a permanent resident of the Holy Eldant Empire? It was a dumb thought, but I couldn’t seem to keep it out of my head.

  Truthfully, I didn’t figure a root-and-branch otaku like me could stay here forever. At some point I would start to suffocate for want of anime and manga and light novels and games, and I would beg them to send me back to Japan. That was what I pictured, anyway. As pathetic as it looked, even in my mind’s eye.

  And on top of that...

  Am I really qualified to move to the Eldant Empire?

  If what Alessio had said was true, I was an invader, the tip of the spear.

  I didn’t mean to be, and he didn’t exactly have irrefutable proof or anything. But I couldn’t categorically deny it, either. When I asked Matoba-san about it, he had given me an ambiguous answer. Which meant...

  “Master?” I realized I had been staring at the ground, looking grim. Myusel was watching me with an expression of concern. “Is... Is something wrong?” she asked.

  “No. Nothing... It’s nothing.” And then I forced myself to smile.

  After dinner, I headed to Elvia’s room. She was in one of several guest rooms on the second floor. Just for reference, Minori-san’s room was next door to hers, and—let’s be honest, here—Elvia’s room had been thoroughly bugged with listening devices and cameras. Minori-san was keeping an eye on her. As you might imagine, I wasn’t entirely comfortable with this, but since there was no question she was a spy, I couldn’t exactly object.

  But putting all that aside.

  I was going to Elvia’s room now because she hadn’t come to dinner. In fact, pretty much ever since she had become our in-house artist—more precisely, ever since the materials and supplies I’d requested from Japan had arrived—she had hardly come out of her room at all. I suggested to her that she at least join us for breakfast and dinner, but we never saw her at the table.

  Normally, it would be my job to give her an attitude adjustment. But when I saw Brooke drag himself to the table despite his fatigue just because I’d asked him to, it was hard for me to want to force another member of the household to come to breakfast, too. Plus, I had spent an entire year as a shut-in myself. I wasn’t exactly in a position to criticize anyone for not leaving their room. So for the better part of two weeks, I had left her alone.

  But I was starting to get worried. You’d think I could just check on her using the monitors we’d set up, but Minori-san turned me away. (“Sorry, Shinichi-kun, you can’t.”) I guess using a video monitor to peep into a girl’s room is pretty skeevy, spy or not. I didn’t press the issue.

  Anyway, that’s what led me to the artist’s room to check how things were going with my own eyes and ears.

  “Elvia?” I called through the door. “Elvia? Are you awake?”

  There was no answer. I put my hand on the doorknob and gave a gentle tug. It opened. She hadn’t locked the door.

  “Um... I’m... I’m coming in, okay?” I murmured apologetically, and then entered Elvia’s room.

  No sooner was I inside than my eyes went wide and I froze in place.

  “Y-Yikes.........”

  Books were scattered all over the floor; there was hardly any room to walk. Mostly they were manga, although there were a few coffee table-sized art collections as well. Several of the books lay open, with something like candlesticks holding them down. I saw that they were open to pages with titles like “How to Draw Cool Guys,” “How to Draw Cute Girls,” and “How to Draw and Color Clothing”—all kinds of instructional information.

  And there in the middle of it all was, of course, Elvia.

  She was sitting cross-legged on the floor... And she was half-naked.

  I mean, she had a black cloth wrapped around her chest and hips, but it only just covered her bust, and passed between her legs like a loincloth. It would barely have qualified as underwear. The rest of her was bare skin... kind of. She was covered in streaks of charcoal and crayon in a whole rainbow of colors. In places the streaks were so wide that they concealed the skin beneath. She was quite a sight. I had already seen the laundry—maybe Elvia had decided it was all too much trouble and she would just wipe the wax and left-over charcoal directly on her own skin.

  Luckily for me, this had the effect of blunting her eroticism, which took a bit of the pressure off me.

  “Elvia...?”

  Had she been in here drawing this entire time?

  “Wait... I recognize this...”

  When I looked closer, I saw a bunch of dirty dishes in a pile. Myusel must have brought them originally. It really reminded me of my time as a shut-in. In fact, if you replaced the dishes with plastic bottles and cup ramen containers, it would have been my room exactly.

  Hold on... So how long has it been since she took a bath?! I don’t care how animalistic or werewolf-y she is—a girl her age should care a little bit about hygiene, shouldn’t she?!

  I got up on my mental high horse. Yes, I had once been a shut-in, but for the record, at least I had bathed.

  “Elvia? Elvia!” I weaved my way among the books using the small patches of visible floor. Sometimes to get from one patch to another, I had to jump like a sumo wrestler trying to surprise his opponent. Slowly but surely I made my way over to Elvia, calling her name the whole time.

  The artist herself was surrounded by illustrations. When I got a better look at them—

  “Wow...”

  I was surprised to find they were true moe art. Myusel seemed to be her model; there were several illustrations of a smiling maid. They weren’t colored, but they would definitely make an otaku happy. They were like manga or anime art that had evolved further away from realism.

  As I’ve explained, just because this style of art isn’t realistic doesn’t mean it’s easy to draw or that everything looks the same. If realism is what you’re most interested in, you can’t beat a photograph. The individuality of different artists would disappear. The real key to this style of art, and the way artists express their individuality, has to do with what you put in and what you leave out. The style is abstracted, but you still have to decide which details count. And then there’s “super-deformed” stuff, where you deliberately add an element of unreality.

  From that perspective, these moe pictures definitely bore Elvia’s mark. She had put her own spin on Myusel the maid, including the necessary information and leaving out what was unnecessary, emphasizing her cuteness and even making her look a little bit smaller than she was.

  “This is incredible, Elvia, picking it up in such a short time...”

&nbs
p; However, the most important person in this conversation, the artist herself, didn’t seem to hear my praise; she was still stretched out over a piece of paper, running some designer’s charcoal over it.

  “Um... Elvia-san? Hellooooo. Elvia! Can you hear me?”

  It was no good. There was no reaction whatsoever.

  I looked over her shoulder at what she was drawing right then and found she was in the middle of an impressive illustration, something that could have been a full-on manga page, background and all. It showed Myusel—I thought it was Myusel—sitting by a window and smiling. It was totally adorable and plenty moe, even without color.

  “But this...”

  It made me uneasy in a way that was hard to describe. What could it be? I felt a bit like I had opened Pandora’s box. I couldn’t quite explain it, but I felt like we were on the verge of something very dangerous.

  I was glad to see Elvia working so hard to master moe art. That had, of course, been my whole plan. But I was taken aback by how quickly her art style had changed. It seemed a bit too quick—dangerously so. Maybe I was overthinking it?

  Thoughts of shapeless horrors whirled in my mind. And finally...

  “Elvia!”

  Almost spontaneously, I grabbed her hand to stop it from moving. The result, though, was that I was effectively hugging her from behind.

  “Oh, gosh! Did you startle me!” The spell broken, she quaked in surprise—but at least she stopped drawing. “Shinichi-sama, I don’t mind you coming into my room, but you could at least announce yourself.”

  “I did! Several times!”

  “Oh, y-you did? Gee, I’m sorry about that. This is just how I get when I’m drawing...” She smiled ruefully.

  Ah. That explained why she kept trying to get a better and better angle to draw our mansion, and didn’t notice Minori-san and the guards sneaking up on her.

  Okay, wait. Never mind that.

  “Say, er... Shinichi-sama?”