Hosanna, Blessed Be (5)

Cafe Ulysses.

It sat in a relatively quiet suburb, and the coffee was nothing so remarkable that anyone would come from far away just to drink it. Even so, for several reasons, a fair number of customers sought the place out.

The first was that its owner, Guroyuki Sui, had once been an actress. Even setting that aside, she was a considerable beauty, and there was no shortage of people who came for her alone.

The second, layered atop the first, was that she was the daughter of a famous director. That in itself was no reason for a crowd to gather, but now and then her father would send over heaps of merchandise from his own works, announcing that something or other had come out. At first, finding the stuff a nuisance to be rid of, she handed it out to the regulars — and whether because word got around, customers began to appear in hopes of scoring goods that had already sold out elsewhere.

The third was the existence of a demon called Marbas.

The honor of numbering among Solomon's seventy-two demons is not earned for nothing. Anyone who had set a foot in the occult would be lying to claim they didn't want to meet so great a demon at least once. And yet, ever since that meeting with Guroyuki Sui, the great demon had for all practical purposes attached herself to the woman alone and would not be parted from her. Had the contract itself been what bound her, there might at least have been a release once the business was done; as it was, she stayed entirely out of personal goodwill. In effect, until Guroyuki Sui's life ran its course, there would be no summoning Marbas by ordinary means.

And so occultists and demon-worshippers hoping to meet her paid frequent visits to Cafe Ulysses as well. Lately, though, she had hidden that form, and it had become routine for most who came looking to turn back again in puzzlement.

In any case, the fourth and final reason was a comparatively recent one. If some of the customers had their sights on the former-actress proprietress, this lot had theirs on the waitresses, and that was not entirely strange. The employee who had started there at some point was a glamorous foreign beauty, and the one added not long ago was a foreigner of similar looks. There was simply no way people wouldn't come hoping to get a word in. Even those with no firm plan of seducing them often stopped by just to look, having heard of that rare pairing — foreign, and beautiful. For the record, the verdict of customers who had actually seen them was, more often than not, beyond imagination, and a few wondered what sort of connections could possibly have produced staff like these.

That said, the customers who knew that the third reason and the fourth were in fact the same thing were surely a vanishing minority.

"You finished changing?"

In short, those who had grasped that the black-haired beauty was Marbas herself numbered... a vanishing minority indeed.

"Ah, yes. For the moment..."

And Ninomae Hitomi belonged to that minority. She had, in fact, witnessed with her own eyes the moment Philotanuss sent Marbas's peanuts flying clean off (?). At any rate, that same Ninomae was now dressed in a maid outfit — the classic long-skirted uniform of Cafe Ulysses.

"Mmm, but..."

She shifted this way and that, uncomfortable. It wasn't that the costume itself felt unfamiliar on her. She was hardly someone with zero cosplay experience.

"It's... really tight..."

It was simply uncomfortable in the physical sense. She murmured it while looking down at the chest beneath the apron, and the state of the clothes under there could be guessed well enough from the fabric around them, hauled so taut it looked ready to split.

"...You sure you're pure-blooded Japanese?"

"That's the idea, at least..."

Under Marbas's look of genuine suspicion, Ninomae quietly turned her eyes aside and colored, as if having one's bust remarked upon to one's face were embarrassing even between women. Nor was the remark baseless. The uniforms had, of course, been fitted to the two employees — Marbas and Anri — and neither of them was particularly slender. If anything, even by Western standards, both were considerably well-developed. The clothes ought to have been cut generously through the bust, and if even that fell short, it was hardly strange to start doubting the Japanese bloodline.

"Anyway. If you're dressed, let's get downstairs."

It wasn't a size she couldn't get her body into at all, so it would do. That was Marbas's conclusion. Ninomae nodded and left the room.

The second floor of the cafe was the proprietress's living quarters, and that was where they were now, one of the rooms pressed into service as a staff changing room and break room both. Until Anri arrived, the only employee had been Marbas, who lived with the proprietress — her contractor — and so, rather than make a separate changing room, they had simply changed at home, a habit that continued even after Anri was hired. They were all women anyway, and stepping into the house for a moment could hardly be a problem. That had been Guroyuki's judgment.

"Ah, Miss Shion. Madam Ninomae has come down."

Coming down the stairs in the maid uniform, she was spotted at once. Han Seoyeon only turned toward the stairs after Anri tugged at her sleeve, but it wasn't that she had just now registered Ninomae's presence. With a nose like hers, there was no chance she hadn't known. That she hadn't looked at once was probably nothing more than feeling; she must have been nursing her anticipation the whole while Ninomae changed. The way her gaze locked, spellbound, the instant she took the sight in made that plain enough.

Under that intense stare, Ninomae offered a small, shy smile. She made as if to hide for a moment behind Marbas's shoulder, then found her courage and peeked back out.

"Um... how is it?"

She asked it with both hands gently gathered before her, and at once every eye on the cafe's first floor turned to Han Seoyeon. No one had been named, and yet it was as if Ninomae's intent were obvious — or as if she were the only one present with any right to answer.

"It... suits you. Truly."

"...Ehehe."

"Mmm. Ninomae-chan is so cute it's a problem, Akaba-chan."

"Well... not that I'm going to argue."

At that adorable reaction, Guroyuki said it while poking the colleague beside her, the other hand busy firing the shutter of her phone. Akaba caught the wrist and peeled it away, as if to say that was enough poking, though she didn't deny the words themselves. Perhaps that, too, stoked the embarrassment; Ninomae's cheeks flushed a little deeper. Soon her restless hands were fidgeting at the hem of her skirt. Then she lifted her eyes just a fraction and set a smile upon her face.

"Urk..."

This time, the critical hit landed on Han Seoyeon. She raised a palm on reflex and covered her face. The force of it outstripped imagination. Truly, Master had a fine ring to it — and she was, if only a little, moved.

"...Heh."

Some might well have called it an eyesore, but Ninomae looked thoroughly satisfied with Seoyeon's reaction, her expression brightening further, as if it had been worth going so far. Beaming, she came right up to where Han Seoyeon sat, and there, feigning obliviousness, gave a soft little sway. It was a deliberate performance of charm, far too blatant, and still it stirred little resistance. The privilege of a cute woman, Guroyuki supposed. With expressions that lively, there was a pleasure in the watching — though perhaps such things only stood out so much because she herself had bargained her own expressions away to a demon.

"Madam Ninomae. Since it's come to this, why not try a one-day shift?"

Anri, ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠who had been needling her as she watched, came out with it then.

"A shift?"

"While you've got the uniform on."

Ninomae, having asked, soon sank into thought with an mmm. The uniform was pretty, and a day waiting tables in a quiet cafe didn't seem so bad.

"Then... shall I just try it for today?"

"Honestly, this isn't a shop that needs three people."

"I can't? Today's pay can just be one drink."

It was neither spacious enough nor busy enough to need so many hands. In truth, under ordinary circumstances, it was a cafe that got along well enough even without Anri.

"No. I'll pay a proper hourly wage after all. That sits easier with me."

Permission in all but name. Hearing it, Ninomae smiled brightly all over ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠again, and as if to show off that enthusiasm she set a hand on her hip and drew her back straight.

"I'll do my bes—"

Pop!

"N-nheh...?"

The sound of something giving way. At that report, the cafe went utterly still.

"Eek?! I-I'm sorry...!"

As for the cause, Ninomae's top was kind enough to explain. The fabric that had been stretched so desperately taut seemed, somehow, to have gone a little slack. Face scarlet, she covered her chest. The apron was already over it, and still she felt she had to. If the red until now had been shyness, this was entirely the color of someone thrashing in shame.

"At this rate, unless we're shredding a uniform ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠every ten minutes, waitressing is out."

"Uu..."

Marbas, who had been watching, muttered it low — and she added, besides, that the sound a moment ago hadn't seemed to be only one.

"...What's your problem, contractor?"

"Ma-chan is far too short on delicacy."

Guroyuki jabbed her in the side with an elbow. Even so, Marbas wore the face of someone who had merely stated the facts and could not see what the objection was. In the end, Ninomae went home without the one-day job, taking with her only a maid uniform with two ruined buttons.

A small laugh broke from the other end of the line. That characteristic, slightly husky voice, once the receiver had degraded it, could all too easily pass for an androgynous man's. Of course, Akane herself knew the situation below her childhood friend's waist better than anyone, so there was no chance of her making that mistake.

"It suited her well enough, and she seemed to like it a little herself, so she's getting it fixed to wear."

Seated on the living-room sofa, Akane said it with a glance to the side. In the corner lay a neatly folded maid uniform, and set on top of it, sealed in a zipper bag, the buttons — a bonus. It had been left there to be mended and worn later. Whether the repairs would be left to a shop or done by her own hand, Akane hadn't been told.

Obvious as it was, the members of Anathema Production had a group chat of their own. They used it only when there was something everyone needed to hear, and ordinarily they wrote in private — or, if they chatted, did most of their talking in the rooms shared by their own generation. Even so, a combined chat for the first and second generations did exist. At any rate, Guroyuki had apparently decided that a cute junior wearing their shop's uniform was news every colleague ought to have. And judging by the trail of messages underneath declaring they were saving it, the call may not have been entirely wrong. Whether Tenka had downloaded the photo or not, from the way she was talking she had at least looked. So Akane thought.

"Put one on, my ass. Nothing even close to that came up. Clothes that feminine wouldn't suit me in the first place."

A school skirt worn long, delinquent-style — that, maybe. An outfit with frills on it did not. She said so while sinking back into the cushions.

"...Right. It doesn't suit me. Junk like this."

Something like agreement drifted through from beyond the receiver.

"If even you're saying so, then it must be objectively true."

They gossiped a little longer, childhood friend to childhood friend, and then the call ended.

They had phoned now and then to begin with, but ever since Akane had come to impose on Han Seoyeon's house, the interval had grown a little shorter. Before, Tsunashi Tenka had dropped by whenever she pleased, since it was only Akane and her grandmother anyway — but that only worked because it was her childhood friend. Even Tenka, who lived with a reputation as a tactless airhead, had enough sense to tell that much apart. And so their relationship, as it stood, was one in which those fewer visits — or rather, the fact that she had not come by even once since Akane started staying here — were being made up for over the phone.

The call finished, Akane tossed her phone onto the sofa as if flinging it aside.

"..."

A sidelong glance.

"...No. I said it doesn't fit. Something like that."

There was no one there to hear. Who on earth was she talking to? Akane knit her brow.

"..."

And she let out a sigh.

What am I even doing.

The changing room adjoining the first-floor bathroom. The vanity with its mirror, set inside. Some time later, Akaba Akane stood before the glass.

Honestly, she couldn't imagine Han Seoyeon bringing a piece of furniture like this into the house at all; Ninomae must have brought it when the two began living together. She was in no state of mind to examine the theory. She looked at the self reflected in the mirror.

...Seriously. What am I doing.

What the mirror held was a single maid with fierce, sharp eyes.

Seen like this, it's not wholly unwatchable... no. What am I saying. I ought to just put it back.

No — perhaps she was a clown. To put on, of her own accord, something that didn't suit her could only be ridiculous, and so a clown was all she could be. A sigh came of itself. It felt as if a fox had bewitched her, just for a moment. Just take it off and put it back, quickly. That was her conclusion.

—Click.

"Huh?"

"...Ah."

At the shutter-sound in that instant, she turned her head on reflex. Ninomae, phone in one hand, was looking her way.

"No, I — it was such a rare sight that I took the photo first, without thinking..."

Their eyes met, and the excuse came out awkward. She stopped short of blaming the evils of social media.

"I'll just head back to my room now!"

"Wait?! You're not even stopping?!"

There was no time to add anything further. Ninomae had chosen flight. She bolted up to her bedroom on the second floor in a flash, and Akane hurried after her, only to find the door already shut fast.

Bang, bang, bang, bang, bang, bang, bang!

"Open up right now, Ninomae!"

"No! I can see exactly what'll happen if I open it now!"

"Open it now, and I'll let it go at deleting the photo."

"Y-you mean it? You're not going to get me back or anything...?"

"..."

The standoff held, a single door between them.

"...Fine."

"What was that enormous pause?! Even if Mary spends her days being treated like a hopeless piece of junk, I can tell that much, you know?!"

"The thing is... I was just going to forgive you, but thinking it over again, I'm starting to get a little angry."

"Auu...! Then of course I can't open it! Please just be satisfied that I raised the radiance ratio of my photo album!"

And so the negotiations broke down.

"Radiance, my ass... It's a photo of the likes of me showing off like a moron in clothes that don't even fit. If you're going to call it anything, it's a comedy meme."

Akane snorted as she said it. Even so, in her head, she was already giving up on dragging Ninomae out.

"Fine. Just don't show the others."

"..."

Well — even if the photo were deleted, it wasn't as if she could erase the memory of Ninomae having seen it herself. So long as it wasn't shown to anyone else, deleting it or not came to the same thing.

"...Huh?"

"I-it suits you!"

That the door would fly open at that very moment was something Akane had never imagined. Ninomae didn't stop there. She caught her hand and held it tight.

"Miss Akaba, you're beautiful enough as it is. You're a truly wonderful person, but you're a pretty person, too, um... I think men's clothes and women's clothes both suit you, as a rule. Yes. They do."

"Ninomae?"

"So... um, please don't tear yourself down so much."

Akane could only lose her words. A moment ago the girl had been frightened half to death, certain she was about to be scolded — and she had opened the door again just to say something like this? Akane had known it all along, but she really was a kind child. In the end, she sighed once more.

"Let go. I'm not going to scold you. And I'll stop tearing myself down."

"Y-you mean it...?"

"You think I'd lie over something like this? ...Let go. I'm going down to change."

Only then did Ninomae carefully take her hand away.

"And... what was it. Right. Like I said just now — so long as you don't show that photo to anyone else, you can keep it."

With that, Akane spun on her heel and started trudging down the hall. Then she turned her head, just slightly, and looked back toward Ninomae.

"...Well. And — thanks. Even if you didn't mean it, it doesn't feel bad, hearing you say that."

At those words, Ninomae's expression brightened all over again. Faced with that sight, Akane smiled wryly. Really — there was no winning against her.