Kyou kara Ma no Tsuku Jiyuugyou!

There are loud and hurried footsteps coming down the wet stone stairs.

How many days has it been since there was last a soldier pa.s.sing by? Usually there isn’t much light s.h.i.+ning into this underground prison, the only thing on the mossy stone floor is a cracked bowl.

Although there’s still half a bowl of water in there, time has long since turned it sour.

At the bottom of the stone steps, the castle’s lowest steel gates are creaking open, and the footsteps of two people approach closer.

One is the familiar clack of army boots, but the other one doesn’t walk like a prison guard, looks like both visitors’ shoes and physiques are fundamentally different.

Maybe it’s an executioner here to deal punishment, or maybe it’s another comrade who got caught.

The man thinks dazedly, but he remains motionless, lying on the damp stone floor with his back against the cell door.

After so many interrogations and much physical violence, his body has long since fallen to the pressure. Even if there weren’t cuffs on his limbs, he doesn’t know where to run to.

The rusty bow-shaped lock makes a screeching sound of metal, and the floor, its color changed by the perpetual moisture, is lit up.

“That’s right, it’s this guy.”

Just as he’s wondering at the familiarity of the voice, he’s kicked viciously in the back.

As he’s splayed over the floor, groaning, this time he’s kicked in the side, forcing his body to face forward.

“What a bother.”

A man raises the bright torch in his left hand, mumbling cynically.

“So you haven’t died, after all.”

“…Ah…”

The prisoner swallows the words on the tip of his tongue, not that he could have voiced those words anyway.

In his blurred vision, he can see the other party’s golden hair sparkling in the orange flames.

“Hey, you sure are sleeping like it’s nothing. To get to this lowest-level underground prison, do you know how many crimes I had to commit?”

The tall man with the prison guard—Adalbert von Grantz continuously makes a piercing, gleeful laugh.

“Not only did I eat and drink without paying, vandalized city property, I even sold roast biscuits with drinks without a license!”

How could such a petty criminal be locked together with the mastermind who disrupted the national order?

“But you sure look bad, looks like prisoners are the same in every country.”

“This man is the sinner who attempted to take King Saralegui’s life, he’s different from the other convicts.”

The prison guard replies self-righteously, in a tone of unwavering determination in this truth.

“But no matter how we interrogate him, he simply refuses to reveal his companion’s names.”

“Maybe your interrogation methods are too gentlemanly? How interesting, this guy was a high-level general in the military not too long ago. Who knew he would have fallen so far, so quickly.”

Adalbert bends his knees and squats down, grabbing the silent man’s chin. Although he’s covered in bristles now, not long ago he was very clean-shaven.

Normally, this condition could never be found on a Shou s.h.i.+maron soldier.

“It’s this guy all right, I’m taking him.”

“No way, this wasn’t what we…”

Adalbert waves his large hand, throwing the prison guard who was grabbing him at the bars, and then he kicks the prisoner in the stomach, speaking to him in a familiar tone and lifting up his entire curled body.

“Oh, yeah, there’s something you might like to hear. Wanna hear it?”

“…Whate…”

At first he wanted to say ‘whatever’, but the other party doesn’t give him a chance to reply. This part hasn’t changed either.

“That king who got ahead of you, the boat he’s on…”

These unexpected words make his back twitch subconsciously, which then makes him moan in pain.

“The way I see it, it won’t work, something will probably happen.”

“Why?!”

“Aiya, shouldn’t you be very happy?”

His tone is even sterner than imagined.

Come to think of it, something like this happened before, a long time ago.

But before he can remember what it was like, Nigel Weiss Maxine loses his consciousness.

Which idiot would believe such a far-fetched thing?

s.h.i.+buya Shouri put his cellphone on his shoulder, purposely raising his voice as he spoke.

The shocking truth his brother’s friend told him is still echoing in his mind, but his ears are listening to a regular time enquiry service.

“Hey, Sapp[1]? It’s me, it’s me!”

As expected. Murata Ken leans in closer, but he doesn’t seem to be in the mood for his bad jokes.

“I’m not looking for that Bob. Besides, which scamming syndicate would call robot cops?”

“…Not robot cops, it’s ROBOCOP!”

“I don’t care if it’s crop, copper, Crocop or Coppola[2], just help me get Bob! I’m sure you’re really worried for your brother’s safety, right? Brother of my friend. I’m begging you, do me a favor since we’re both gla.s.ses guys.”

“Not cute at all, now if it was some gla.s.ses girls club, that might still be cuter.”

Finally fed up being bothered by the brat, he scrolls down the ‘B’ list in his contacts. Bonda Tetsuro (friend), Boston Shop (hotel), Bowling King (bowling arena), Boris Akademi (exchange student).

“Bob, Bob… got it. Muraken, listen closely, if it doesn’t get through then you gotta give up. If he’s not in the country, I can’t reach him. Because my phone can’t connect with the system over in Europe.”

“As long as you’re willing to give him a call. I won’t complain about your c.r.a.ppy phone, just make the call already.”

“Really, brats should be sincere when asking for favors…”

Shouri’s grouching is abruptly cut short once he hears the dial tone.

For some reason, behind the ridiculous amount of background noise, there’s a hearty American greeting.

How unlucky, they actually got the guy the brat wanted.

“Hi, s.h.i.+buya! It’s been a while, why are you calling me now?”

“Bob?! Where on earth are you!”

But the other end of the phone is nothing but ‘shuu—’ or ‘babeebabee—’ noises. Maybe it’s because the phone is an old model, all they can hear is the background sounds, including even a rhythmic drum beat.

“This voice is JUNIOR, you’re JUNIOR, right? Wo—Yee—Heh--! I’m dancing the samba now! Sing, samba! Dance, samba!”

He’s in Brazil? Shouri grips the phone firmly again.

“Don’t call me JUNIOR, I’m not your son. Back to the point, are you in Rio? Rio de Janeiro?”

“No, Shouri, I’m in… a shopping street. Since yesterday I’ve been at a business meeting… in this shopping street where a carnival is taking place. Hayahou—! Follow the samba rhythm everyone, easy delivery[3]!”

“Are you telling me a bad joke?! And in j.a.panese, too. What type of activities are you handling now?”

The eldest son of the s.h.i.+buya house ‘tsks’ at the phone receiver.

Having such a crazy sungla.s.ses dude as a leader, is the world economy okay?

And this uncle is also the Maou of the entire world, looks like the future of the earth isn’t so bright.

“Bob, Bob took the call? Is it the real Bob?”

Beside him, Murata’s lenses are s.h.i.+ning, and he’s as excited as though it’s his first time discovering matsutake mushrooms.

“Oh, yeah. A brat called Murata came to my place, and he wanted to find you urgently.”

“Murata? Who’s that…”

Murata quickly grabs Shouri’s phone before the American enjoying a samba New Year’s festival starts reminiscing about the past, yelling into the phone and waving at the man who’s obviously not there to see him.

“Bob? I’m Henry. Well, honestly that’s not my ident.i.ty now, but you should be more familiar with this name, right?”

Another unfamiliar name. Shouri can’t help but frown.

“That’s right, I’m Henry Regent. But now I’m called Murata Ken. It"s nice to meet you as Muraken.”

Is this really their first meeting? The introduction right now is spoken in French, but everything before that was fluent English.

He had heard that Yuu-chan’s friend here has a high test score, but he didn’t think that his English was so good, too.

“Sorry for the sudden call, Bob, but I urgently need someone who can help me get to that world. If there isn’t anyone, then a thing or a place will do. The place where Lord Weller came to earth, wasn’t there a power user who helped summon him of their own accord?”

Now they’re talking about a man who came to earth from another world.

That world and earth? What world is ‘that world’?

Mars, or Venus?

Don’t tell me it’s warping to an alternate world?

Don’t tell me that before the universal clock starts its countdown, the era of Star Trek is already here? Hearing the reason for his brother’s disappearance, Shouri can’t help but think that way, and do he asks,

“What? What do you mean? You’re saying that Yuu-chan didn’t travel in a s.p.a.ces.h.i.+p or a machine, but physically went straight through a black hole?”

“That’s absolutely right. And not a black hole, the first time he was flushed down a toilet.”

“Stop joking around, if you wanna sleep talk, then wait till you’re asleep!”

“This is not sleep talk, brother of my friend.”

The brother who has lived with him for sixteen years, is actually the king of a powerful country in an alternate world, and not something romantic like the heir to a long-lost royal line, but the demon king of a tribe with great powers—something like that is really hard to believe.

And surprisingly, the reason he’s forced to believe this sort of fantasy story, aside from the fact that he knew his father is a mazoku since he was young, is the forced heir to the position of the Maou of earth.

And that person forced to be heir—is himself.

Shouri pinches the Post-it notes on his computer desk lightly.

If it was his smoker of a great-grandfather, by now he would have long since smoked a cigarette to calm himself down.

But he can’t smoke, because there’s an athlete in the house.

If the second-hand smoke affected his brother’s growth, he would blame himself till the day he dies.

“That’s why, Bob, normally he should be back within two or three minutes. If you count according to that place’s beep—time, it should been a few days already. Normally he’d be wearing that beep—G-strings, floating in the same place as that beep— stupid Star Tour. But this time it’s already been ten or twenty minutes…”

Gripping someone else’s phone tightly, Murata swears uncharacteristically.

The high school student is actually proficient enough to converse with an American in fluent English, but when he listens carefully he notices there are plenty of curses mixed in, four letter words and excrements flying everywhere.

Where did a j.a.panese high school student learn this kind of language? The strings of ‘beep—’s really grate on someone’s ears.

“Hey, use some politer Englis.h.!.+ Don’t just spout p.o.o.p or F-words.”

His brother’s friend reacts to an elder’s warning with just a glance.

“Nothing, it’s just that JUNIOR is a bit impatient, being sidelined. The main problem now is how do I go over to that side? Last time s.h.i.+buya… I’m talking about Yuuri, the younger one. As long as there’s a technique to find his presence, moving across is surprisingly easy. It’s actually a piece of cake, after all he’s so unique, and his maryoku so powerful. Truth is, Yuuri can already travel across these two places with his own power, he just hasn’t realized it yet. As long as the circ.u.mstances allow it, he can cross over with his own power, though of course it needs sufficient stamina and outstanding resolve. But the situation this time is a little serious. Because I can’t feel his consciousness and soul whatever I do. This is the first time I’m not able to sense a soul like s.h.i.+buya’s anywhere in my sensory field, I could vaguely feel him even when he was in human territory last time. What kind of strong barrier did he meet this time? Or has he really been called to a place where the power of the mazoku can’t reach?”

“Hey!”

Murata ignores Shouri’s yell completely, just shaking his head at the phone in denial.

In this moment it’s very clear that he is after all a j.a.panese.

“Mazoku items from that side? Hmm… One thing does come to mind, I think it’s a metal carving of a condor or an eagle! It’s something Yuuri was wearing from the start.”

“Hey, you can’t do that—”

Turns out the special calendar used to note down when the new games can be pre-ordered has been used by Murata to jot down notes.

Whatever, small matter.

“…Mn, Mexico… should be around there. Got hold of the place Rodriguez is working?”

Finally losing his patience, Shouri s.n.a.t.c.hes his phone from the guest’s hands, and uses the English he learned from a textbook to deal with the college entrance exams to say non-stop,

“Bob Robert! Tell me where to go, too, PLEASE! HE IS my BROTHER, you know! No matter what, as an older brother, it’d be weird if I don’t go along. Yuuri is my younger brother, there’s no way I can hand my precious baby brother to a friend he just met a few months ago, is there?!”

But the answer he got is monotonous.

“I’m really sorry, Shouri, but you can’t go there.”

His response of “why?” comes out trembling. The hand holding the dark blue plastic cover on the phone is already sweating.

“You are purely and wholly a living being that belongs only to this world. Be it your blood, flesh, or your endlessly reincarnating soul, they’re all created from the earth’s elements. As long as you are a descendant from the prokaryotes of the distant past, you’re considered as having a very pure bloodline. And so those who lack any elements from that world, can’t get across without a certain amount of power. And you’ll need a lot of that power.”

“You say a certain amount of power… Then exactly how much force do you need to go to the alternate world? Is falling from a very high place enough? Like the Tokyo Metropolitan Government Building or the Yokohama LANDMARK TOWER? Or is it a bomb, or nuclear bomb? If I use the explosive force of a nuclear core, will it blow me to the ridiculous world Yuuri is in?”

The other side sinks into a long silence. The background noise has long been left behind, all that’s left is the piercing sound of a connection almost lost.

“Robert!”

“…Very sorry.”

Shouri slams the phone onto the ground without ending the call.