Outbreak Company: Volume 3

by Ichiro Sakaki

  “Right,” I said dispiritedly.

  Bedouna was an extremist group that referred to themselves as the “assembly of patriots.” At one point, Petralka, Minori-san, Myusel, and I had all been their hostages. They regarded racial discrimination as a part of the country’s culture and were intent on killing me, whom they regarded as an invader who wanted to undermine that culture.

  “As ruler, we may tell people not to ‘discriminate,’” Petralka said, “but there may be those who do not understand, as well as those who actively oppose us.”

  “True enough,” I said. Racial discrimination was a fraught issue even in my own world. I knew I was hardly going to come up with anything that would eliminate it overnight.

  “Is there anything else?”

  “Well, no big problems,” I said, cocking my head and searching my memory. “I guess I could point out that I’m a little surprised by the lack of reaction to sports stories here.”

  I was being honest. I had decided long before that I wouldn’t hide anything in my reports, good or bad. Although I hadn’t known or wanted it, I had come here as the tip of the spear of an invasion. It would be in my best interests not to hide anything else.

  “Suporrrtz?” Petralka looked confused. “What is that?”

  “Oh, well, you know... How do I explain?”

  Now that I had to put it into words, I found that the concept of sports was so broad I was having trouble summing it up. There were several activities in the Eldant Empire that could have been classified as sports, but they didn’t exactly match up with what I had in mind. Some of them were closer to things like kemari, a kickball game played in Japan in the eleventh century, and others were more like the kind of hunting once enjoyed by English nobles. That sort of thing.

  When I talked about sports, though, I was thinking of things like marathons or swimming or soccer. Rugby or baseball. All a little different from what they had here. The closest thing to swimming in the Eldant Empire was the aquatic training conducted by the royal military forces. It was similar to marathon running and the like. Even when it came to things like kemari or hunting, they were treated mostly as entertainment. People didn’t see them as ways of training the body or keeping themselves healthy.

  There especially didn’t seem to be anything resembling “ball sports” in which players divided into two teams and competed against each other. That was part of why people around here tended to bounce off most sports manga.

  “You know, some people say that ball sports like baseball or soccer are basically substitutes for war,” Minori-san said from beside me. “Think about how violent dodgeball is, for example. Maybe a country that’s actually fighting a war doesn’t have a lot of demand for substitutes.”

  “Sure, I could see that.” I understood where she was coming from. “But still, it’s too bad. They’re missing out on a lot of fun.”

  Soccer, tennis, baseball, rugby, and lots more besides: sports manga were a long-standing genre, to say nothing of all the other works that were influenced by these games.

  “It’s definitely true that sports stories are hard to appreciate if you’ve never played a sport,” Minori-san said with a nod.

  That’s not to say that you can’t enjoy a baseball manga if you’ve never played baseball, but you have to at least be familiar with the premise. If you had never so much as heard of baseball before, it would make it a lot harder to understand the story. Being in an environment where you were exposed to it—via radio broadcasts of baseball games, say—helped, too.

  “If you know how the game is supposed to be played, you can have a lot of fun with things that tweak it, too,” I said. “Think Shaolin So**er or As**o Kyuudan or We Ain’t Got None!”

  I thought back to my father’s personal library. Samurai G***ts was an oldie but goodie. They were forever using the high-jump trick ball or the mirror-image trick ball or the super-spin trick ball and all sorts of other weird pitches that made absolutely no sense, but that was part of the fun.

  There was something to be said for stories that were totally over-the-top. Take the time when one player, hoping to counter the high-jump trick ball, practiced shooting his bat out of a bow on a cliffside...

  “Those are some awfully obscure references for someone your age, aren’t they?” Minori-san asked. “Wouldn’t something like Prince of Soccer or Inazuma E**ven be more appropriate now?”

  That’s a dyed-in-the-wool fujoshi for you: she’s just looking for different things in her media than I am.

  “And these are interesting, you say? We are intrigued.” Petralka leaned forward in her seat. When it came to enjoying otaku goods, the loli-ish empress had pretty wide-ranging tastes. That made it easy to get her on board with ideas like this, which I was thankful for.

  “You want to try it?”

  “Hm? Try what?”

  “Japanese-style sports!” I said.

  If I could get her interested in sports as a whole, it would open up a number of options in the future.

  “I admit, if we’re going to do them properly, we’ll need a baseball diamond or a soccer field or something. I’ll bet we could just use the training ground, or an empty field somewhere.”

  “Hmm...” Petralka looked thoughtful for a moment, and then said, “We will consider it.”

  Chapter Two: Lunatic

  Japan Self-Defense Force First Garrison, deep in the Holy Eldant Empire. The front-line base for the JSDF in this brave new world.

  This was a haven for the members of the Japanese military who had been sent on this most secret of secret assignments. The elite of the elite gathered here, waiting for the mission that would determine the fate of their country!

  .................................Yeeaaaah no.

  I could act as serious as I liked, but the place really wasn’t much to look at. In the corner of a plaza in the corner of a training ground in a corner of the Eldant Empire, the JSDF had constructed a temporary barracks to sleep in. They may have named it the First Garrison, but there was no Second or Third Garrison, nor did they have any intention of building any.

  It was to every appearance just a slapdash temporary residence. The size of the hyperspace portal didn’t permit any really big materials, so the scale of the building stayed modest. It afforded just enough space for one JSDF platoon—fewer than thirty people—to sleep in. Until a few months ago, it had been a collection of tents.

  When I consider the vast gulf between where I was living and where they were living, the stark difference between Amutech, which was at least nominally a joint venture of the Japanese and Eldant governments, and the army, where the Japanese had to fend for themselves, became apparent.

  “Hey, it’s Shinichi-sama.”

  “Shinichi-sama!”

  When we showed up at the training ground, the Japanese officers weren’t the first to notice us and come rushing over. Instead it was the training ground’s original residents—the kids who were getting ready to go into military service. They all seemed to be in their early teens; there were plenty of humans, but more than half of them were demi-humans, including even a handful of lizardmen.

  For the record, they weren’t yet proper soldiers, but because they were treated as effectively members of the military, they were wearing magic rings. Hence we were all able to communicate with each other.

  From the far side of the field, the JSDF soldiers looked up and waved. They were near a collection of shock-proof resin containers, all piled up. Those containers were why we had come to the First Garrison.

  “Are those the trade goods from this Ja-pan of yours?” Elvia asked with interest.

  Yep: those containers were transport crates filled with stuff from Japan. The containers themselves were military equipment, with unassuming exteriors, but they were sealed tight and completely impact-resistant. They could be rained on or handled a little roughly, and the cargo inside wouldn’t get a scratch. Great stuff.

  Trade had yet to start in earnest, but the JSDF already made
regular trips between Japan and the Eldant Empire, and they also handled transporting goods from Japan over to this side of the wormhole. The current shipment went beyond the usual provisions; it was what you could call an experiment in the commerce we were about to commence. It wasn’t yet completely clear what effect the hyperspace tunnel had on things that were transported over here, so these containers included some items for me and Minori-san as well as members of the garrison force.

  When there were a bunch of PCs or manga or light novels or anime DVDs or games to deliver, the JSDF’s armored personnel carrier would pull up at our house. When it came to things that weren’t directly connected to Amutech’s business, though—like personal items for me or Minori-san, or food that was hard to get in the Eldant Empire—they came with these weekly deliveries. I was here to pick up a few items I’d requested.

  With me, incidentally, were Minori-san, Elvia, and Brooke. The latter two were to help me carry boxes. Maybe it seems unfair to force a girl to cart cargo around, but Elvia actually volunteered, on the grounds that if she didn’t get plenty of physical exercise, there was a greater chance of her doing something crazy again.

  Actually, I guess she could be trying to spy, too.

  “This isn’t the stuff we want to sell,” I said. “More like personal items.”

  As I said, goods for Amutech’s use would be delivered directly to us. In this case, we were just sort of piggybacking on a delivery that was mainly for the soldiers.

  “Shinichi-sama, Shinichi-sama!”

  “Hurry up, open it!”

  The children at the training ground were insistent. Apparently, they had been waiting for me eagerly. I gathered that the JSDF troops had refused to open the containers until Minori-san and I got there, and the ever-curious kids had been on tenterhooks.

  “I wonder if they’ll have rice crackers this time.”

  “If they have seaweed, I’d trade them for some macha-macha berries.”

  The kids sounded very excited. They saw the JSDF soldiers every day, so they weren’t intimidated by them. Every once in a while I saw a soldier hand out some sweets or a Japanese snack that they had imported. It reminded me of the way the American troops were supposed to have acted toward Japanese children after World War II.

  “Come on, hurry!”

  We worked our way over to the containers, the children urging us on. I bowed to the troopers posted on guard over the delivery, then made a beeline for the crate with Minori-san’s and my stuff in it. It was already unlocked, so all I had to do was open it and check that everything we had asked for was inside.

  I pulled open the airtight lid with its rubber gasket and saw, inside, several cardboard boxes.

  “Brooke, let’s take all these out of here and set them over there.”

  “Yessir.” He came slowly forward, stuck his arms into the shipping container, and emerged with boxes of various sizes. The shipping container was pretty deep, so when we had to get boxes that were piled all the way back, Brooke with his tall height and long arms made quick work of the job.

  We ended up with a collection of ten or twelve cardboard boxes, some big and some small. The system was, when I thought of something I needed, I would write it down and give it to Minori-san, who would handle the rest. It meant that I didn’t necessarily get things in the order I asked for them, so I didn’t know exactly what was in the boxes. There was only one way to find out.

  Hence, I pulled the packing tape off one of the boxes and started to open it.

  “Maybe you could help open the others, Elvia.”

  “If you’re sure,” she said, and nodded.

  This was her first experience with cardboard boxes and packing tape, and she looked very interested in getting her hands on them. She happily grabbed one of the boxes and—

  Riiiiip!

  “H-Hey, Elvia, what are you doing?!

  “Huh...?”

  She looked at me blankly. At her feet was a ruined cardboard box, its contents spilling all over the ground. I only needed her to remove the tape, but she had torn the top of the box clean off.

  That’s some strength...

  That was a beast person for you. Guy or girl, they were strong. Especially when it was “that phase”—or maybe she misjudged her own strength.

  “D-Did I do something wrong?” She sounded a little nervous.

  “No, I mean—well, it’s fine.” It was just a cardboard box, after all. Not such a big deal if she destroyed it. I could just consider it a warning to be careful what I asked Elvia to handle during that time of the moon. She looked like she could crush a plastic figurine in one hand.

  “I don’t mind about the box,” I said, “but there’s some fragile stuff inside, so be careful, okay?”

  “Very sorry about that,” Elvia said with an uncomfortable laugh. She started to gather up the stuff scattered on the ground—but then suddenly, she froze.

  “Elvia?” I said, but I didn’t get a reaction. She had gone stiff, as if something had taken her by surprise. I followed her gaze to see—

  “A ball?”

  A box with pictures from some anime had come open, and a golden ball had rolled partway out. It was about the size of a soccer ball. In fact, the golden color had thrown me, but when I took a closer look, I saw the pentagon pattern—it was a soccer ball.

  “Huh? This looks oddly familiar...”

  “Oh, that’s mine!” Minori-san said happily, sticking her hand in the air. “Oooh! I’m so glad they were able to get it!”

  “What is it?”

  “It’s limited-edition merchandise from Prince of Soccer FINAL!” She scooped up the ball with a victorious look on her face.

  Prince of Soccer was the soccer drama for a new generation, a story about a pretty-boy soccer player with near-supernatural abilities and techniques that bordered on magic. The franchise encompassed both a manga (perfect for fujoshi) and an anime, a classic example of multi-media marketing.

  But hang on. Wasn’t FINAL supposed to be the third season of the anime? I recalled the show doing at least as well as I**zuma Eleven in the annals of outrageous soccer stories. It was immensely popular, spawning not just an animated adaptation but video games and a stage musical, too. Given that it was aimed squarely at fujoshi, it fell outside my personal interests, but I knew it by reputation: its fans were notoriously rabid.

  “This is a replica of the ‘golden ball’ that the hero Masato gets at the end. Okay, so they just painted a regular soccer ball gold, but as pack-ins go it’s a pretty— Huh?”

  She was halfway through her sentence when she noticed that the soccer ball had disappeared from her hands. Or, not disappeared, exactly. It had been stolen at an incredible speed. But who’d done it?

  “Hey, what?!”

  “Elvia?”

  Minori-san and I both saw Elvia, roll-l-l-l-l-l-l-l-l-ling around the training field with gusto, as if she were a ball herself. She must have been the one who had jumped past and taken Minori-san’s ball, and now she was clutching it to her chest, but she had been overwhelmed by her own momentum.

  “What?” Minori-san said. “What the heck?”

  “Yeah, seriously,” I said.

  We both looked on in astonishment, as did the soldiers and the kids. Everyone at the training ground was completely taken aback, and in the blink of an eye we were all focused on the thief, Elvia. Actually, there was one person who might or might not have been surprised; I couldn’t tell. That was Brooke. But never mind that.

  With a “H-Hey, give that back!” Minori-san snapped to her senses and shot off after Elvia.

  The beast, however, rolled until she came to a standstill on the far edge of the training ground, where she popped to her feet and glanced back at us. Her eyes had the same berserk look they’d had when she attacked me the other day.

  Welp, this was no good. She’d checked out.

  For a moment, she watched Minori-san get closer and closer, and then—

  “Yarf!”

  W
ith something like a dog’s bark—or was that a wolf’s?—she turned around, the golden soccer ball still in her hands, and dashed away from Minori-san.

  “What in the world? Huh?” one of the JSDF troopers said to me. We were united in our total confusion and our desire to know what the heck was going on. Was her true identity as a spy coming to the surface? Had she figured it was time to stop pretending (or maybe realized she wasn’t much suited to being a spy in the first place) and decided to make a break for it? But what was she hoping to gain by stealing one soccer ball and running away?

  But just like the time when she jumped on me, Elvia had those (in manga terminology) spiral eyes again. If we worked from the premise that her instincts had taken over, the question became: which instincts could possibly have motivated her to do this? I was pretty sure she wasn’t, you know, hot and bothered for a soccer ball.

  “Somebody stop her!”

  “H-Hey, Minori-san, what do you think you’re doing?!” I exclaimed when I saw her reaching for the suitcase she always kept with her and extracting the 9mm machine gun.

  Crap, crap, crap. She might as well have spiral eyes, too!

  Granted, for her it wasn’t so much about instinct as it was the frenzy of having a precious bit of rare merchandise stolen from her; that was all (?). I guess you could call that an otaku’s instincts.

  “Stop or I’ll shoot!”

  “Don’t do that! Hey—if you try that, you’ll just end up hitting your merchandise, won’t you?!”

  “Better that than to see somebody run off with it!” She sounded as if she had just found her lover in bed with someone else; she had no interest in my eminently rational advice.

  “That’s enough, Koganuma!”

  Just as I was thinking things were about to really get out of hand, three soldiers rushed up to us. Two of them pinned Minori-san’s arms behind her back, while the third ran after Elvia. I couldn’t have my artist getting shot, so I joined the chase.