The Devil Is a Part-Timer!, Vol. 2 (7 page)

Emi, whose work commute ferried her between Eifukucho and Shinjuku stations, had a commuter pass that her company paid for. That allowed her to get off at places like Sasazuka and Hatagaya along the line, but looking at it that way, it made it seem like her life-and-death struggle against the Devil King was being funded by the HR department at her job with Dokodemo.

She had taken advantage of the stop at Sasazuka to update her pass. Placing the receipt in her wallet, she wearily lumbered away from the shade of the station roof.

“Every single day, why’s it got to be so
hot
…?”

Stepping out of the station’s entrance, positioned underneath the elevated rail line, Emi was blinded by the sun’s rays, already pounding down in the early morning hours.

Any fervor that remained for the Devil’s Castle surveillance mission she promised Emeralda was in grave danger of being burned to a crisp by something even hotter.

Every day was getting to be like this.

In order to defeat Malacoda, supreme commander of the Devil
King’s Southern Island expeditionary force, Emi had to slog from one end of the island’s tropical desert clime to the other on foot. Here, meanwhile, 120 yen was all it took to score a cold drink, and a quick stop at any nearby café would provide instant air-conditioned comfort. But, still, summer is summer, one of the universe’s few truly universal tenets.

Emi took out a flower-print umbrella from her shoulder bag, suited both for the rain and for keeping the sunlight off the back of her neck. Dabbing her forehead with a handkerchief, she set off down the perilous road to Devil’s Castle.

This was day four of her drive to keep daily tabs on the Devil King, something she resolved to do upon receipt of her 5-Holy Energy β shipment. Continuing with this thankless, unrewarding job underneath the punishing summer heat required a remarkable amount of endurance.

On the first day, she staked out a position in the bookstore across from Maou’s workplace near Hatagaya station, reading through all the nearby magazines on the rack as she kept constant vigil over her target. On the second, she made it to Devil’s Castle, but apart from the quiet sounds of normal life, the only unusual thing she saw was a fatigued-looking Ashiya purchasing scallions, dashi soup stock, instant barley-tea packets, and a new drain filter for his kitchen sink. On the third, work obligations kept her away.

“I’m…a total stalker right now, aren’t I?”

Emi chided herself as she quenched her thirst with a small plastic bottle of mineral water.

Standing guard over someone’s personal life and workplace on a daily basis without any actual purpose would be the textbook definition of a stalker, yes.

Outside of the one day she was too busy to sustain her stalker duties, this was the most concerted effort she made to keep tabs on Sasazuka ever since she first discovered the Devil King two months ago.

And today, on day four, she was butting against the weekend with absolutely nothing to show for it.

Fridays were always busy at work. Instead of staggering over after a long day dealing with calls, she opted for an early-morning spy run, even though the rate at which the sunlight was sapping her will to live was a crucial miscalculation.

“Nngh! I need to be reasonable here! If the Devil King and his gang are just working, eating, and sleeping every day, then great! Hooray for peace!”

Emi tried her best to inspire herself as she walked down a road alongside an irrigation canal that crossed north-south through Sasazuka’s residential area.

“…And here I am, hanging around these guys, who are just trying to mind their own business. I’m
totally
a stalker.”

It didn’t take long for her brain to work against her again.

Once the apartment building that housed the Devil’s Castle was in sight, Emi stopped to check on the bottle of 5-Holy Energy β in her shoulder bag.

She hadn’t felt any need for it up to now. She had her doubts she ever would.

And if she did, she was even
more
doubtful that the liquid inside would have any effect on her at all.

“Let’s just check up on things and get to work… The Devil King’s probably sleeping anyway, this early in the morning.”

Emi, demonstrating a clear lack of enthusiasm for her chosen duty even before arriving, folded up her umbrella and placed it in her bag to avoid being too conspicuous. Sneaking past the simple concrete-block wall that delineated the Villa Rosa Sasazuka property from its neighbors, she looked up at Room 201, the one closest to her on the other side.

The Devil’s Castle lacked air-conditioning, so the windows were constantly left open, letting her hear the castle’s denizens conversing with each other. It’s not like they were screaming at each other every day, though, so Emi wasn’t privy to exactly what they were saying.

Only once had she picked up on Ashiya, the human version of the
Great Demon General Alciel, lecturing Urushihara, the human version of Lucifer, about wasting money on something or other. It demonstrated all too well the pointlessness of keeping such close tabs on them.

“They must’ve done the laundry today. Nice job hanging all of it. Did they just throw it wherever it’d stay up, or what?”

The clothing and washcloths hanging off the window frames were hanging haphazardly in the wind, hopelessly wrinkled. Time passed by slowly as she contemplated this, until she had finally emptied her water bottle.

“…Well, nothing, I guess. I’m still a little early, but maybe I should head for work.”

Just as she muttered it to herself:

“My goodness, can’t you handle the laundry with at least a modicum of gentleness? I had no idea you knew so little of housekeeping, Hanzou.”

“?!”

Quickly, Emi flattened herself against the apartment’s outer wall to stay unnoticed, praising her fast reflexes as she did.

She froze at the sudden voice, her body instinctively carrying her to safety as she assessed the situation.

“If you hang this in such a wrinkled state, it will lose its shape! And you’ll see the most ghastly of crinkles once it dries. You should at least be aware of
that
much.”

Taking out a hand mirror, Emi extended it past the corner of the wall to examine the upstairs corridor.

It was a girl.

A girl, one she had never seen before, was evening out the wrinkles in the Devil’s Castle’s laundry, piece by piece.

“Right. Now, do it again. These summer blankets, as well. Spread them out wide, then use these clothespins to keep them in place. And if they fall down, back into the wash they go!”

“Yeah, yeah. Sorry.”

The sheepish voice that responded to her was undoubtedly Urushihara’s.

This was no mirage, no case of mistaken identity. The hand mirror didn’t give her a clear view, but there was definitely a girl there, wearing a triangular head scarf, inside Devil’s Castle.

“…I doubt anyone’s living on the first floor.”

Slowly, Emi edged along the wall, checking that no one was looking down before hiding under a tree directly beneath Room 201. She was now totally concealed from the second floor above.

“Jeez. It’s like Ashiya cloned himself or something.”

“You have nothing to blame but your own laziness, Hanzou. If you intend to stay indoors like a hibernating mouse all day, the least you could do is assist with the daily chores.”

“I swear to…want…say it, too…”

Emi could hear someone that sounded like Ashiya as the girl and Urushihara spoke to each other, but—perhaps because he was on the opposite end of the window—he was difficult to make out.

She focused, trying to decipher the muffled voice, but soon the other two grew too quiet to understand. And even worse:

“Ugh…not now! Jeez, pipe
down
, you bastards!”

The countless thousands of cicadas that called Emi’s tree home were crying out the plaintive summer call, simultaneously, at full volume.

Jii jii rhee rhee jkk jkk jkk cht cht cht rheeeeeooouuuuuhhh…
The cacophony of calls from this single tree seemed to morph into a single wall of noise, symbolizing the ardent, all-encompassing urges that drove these chatty beasts as they staked their lives upon the only summer they’d ever experience.

Something light bounced off Emi’s head. She brought a hand up, only to find it was a discarded cicada skin.

“…They
have
to be trying to mess with me. There’s more than one species in there, too.”

Emi discarded the skin as she grumbled at no one in particular. But even the Hero of Ente Isla, gifted in all the languages of the world, had trouble getting her point across to the cicada race.

Resigning herself to the futility of trying to shut them all up, Emi shifted her thoughts to her next move.

This was the first major change in four days. She couldn’t leave until she got to the bottom of this. The girl from before might be some new visitor from the demon realm, someone Emi didn’t know about.

Judging by their laundry-themed discussion, she could tell this interloper was no immediate threat to the area. Regardless, Emi wasn’t going to let this opportunity slip through her fingers.

“This might be risky, but so be it…”

Steeling her resolve, she tiptoed away from the window and toward the front stairway.

Then, slowly, as to avoid making any sound, she climbed the stairs. She had her work heels on, so she kept a careful hand on the guardrail, ensuring she wouldn’t take an embarrassing tumble like before.

By the time she reached the end, breathing shallowly the whole way, she was covered in sweat.

The kitchen window overlooking the outdoor corridor was open as expected, providing what little ventilation the apartment had to offer.

“Honestly, Hanzou, what will we ever do with you? Surely this is not beyond your comprehension.”

It was the girl from before. Emi crouched down beneath the iron bars covering the window as she listened.

“Now, then. First, you dice these shallots and grate some ginger, then you use some cold water to dilute the soup stock. Then all you have to do is bring the udon noodles to a boil, and it’ll be ready to eat at a moment’s notice. You can even serve them chilled, if you like, by immersing them in cold water right after they’re done boiling. Add a raw egg, and it will be simply perfect.”

“Oh, man, you want me to boil noodles in
this
heat?”

“That is exactly what Ashiya does for you, every day and every meal. It would be only proper to offer him some gratitude in return.”

It sounded like the girl’s diatribe against Urushihara was still underway. At least the topic had shifted from laundry, thankfully.

“Don’t let up on him, Ms. Kamazuki. I yell, and yell, and yell at him, and he never listens…”

Finally, Ashiya came in loud and clear. “Ms. Kamazuki” must be the girl’s name. The listlessness in Ashiya’s voice gave Emi more than a bit of pause.

“I will take care of preparations today, so watch me carefully, lest Shirou chides your performance on the morrow. Here, grate the ginger for me. You know how to use a grater, I trust.”

“All right… Hmm? Hey, Ashiya, we didn’t use up all the ginger, did we?”

Emi heard the refrigerator open, followed by Urushihara’s voice as he peered inside. Then, Ashiya’s weak, wavering voice continued.

“Ah… Last night’s was the last of it. Sorry, Ms. Kamazuki. We’ll have to make do with shallots alone today… Urushihara, shut the damned fridge door behind you!”

The strength popped right back into his voice at the end.

“Hmm, no ginger? It’ll be quite lacking in nutrition otherwise. I think I have some ginger amongst the vegetables I brought along. Perhaps I could fetch some?”

Emi could tell this Kamazuki girl was cooking inside Devil’s Castle. It raised the question of how she and the demons of that stronghold came to know each other in the first place.

She was never granted the time to calmly think it over.

“Let me look inside my room. I’m quite sure I had a healthy supply left.”

The woman’s voice began to shift from the kitchen to the front door. Was she going outside? Emi’s head swiveled around in a panic. There was no place to hide safely.

“Hanzou, while I’m gone, I want you to unravel the noodles for me with those kitchen chopsticks. Slowly, now. Make sure none of the strands stick to each other.”

“Right, right, right.”

“One
right
is quite enough! I will return shortly.”

The front door rattled. She was coming out! There was no time to guess which “room” she was headed for. Emi had to get away.

Her panic had caused her to lose track of her feet.

“Ah…”

The next thing she knew, Emi was midair, her feet slipping right off the top step of the staircase. The bright blue morning sky sparkled before her, the cicadas providing the ideal background music for her upcoming journey downward.

Off the corner of her eye, she saw her phone, her wallet, her commuter-pass holder, her folded umbrella, her half-read paperback novel, her makeup case, her hand mirror, her handkerchief, her memo pad, her bottle of 5-Holy Energy β, her toothpick case, a tissue packet with an advertisement for some loan-sharking firm printed on it, her pen case, her lip balm (which, for some reason, was unscrewed all the way out), and everything else in her shoulder bag disperse in all directions into the air.

“Yaaaaaagghhhhh!!”

After a moment to take all of that in, Emi herself began to fall in majestic fashion. She didn’t know exactly how much force she applied to the foot that slipped, but depending on how she landed, there was the potential for some serious injury. She braced for impact, unable to find a way to soften the blow in midair, when:

“Oof…?!”

With a dull, soft
thud
, the falling stopped without warning.

Emi closed her eyes out of instinct, but the pain was nothing like what she pictured. Instead, all she heard was the pitter-pat of assorted small objects falling around her, and:

“Owwwwwwwww…”

A familiar groaning voice right next to her.

Timidly, she dared to open her eyes.