-- Previous Chapter

    *.*.*.*.*.*

    Just in case, I wait until I can hear Wolfram’s signature ‘Gghgpihh-ghgpihh’ before I get dressed and leave the room.  I don’t really think I need it, but to alleviate some of my guilt, I bring along Windpipe No. 1.  Wearing round sunglasses at nighttime and a flashy pink knit hat and using a cane even though I can walk perfectly fine, I’m a very suspicious nightwalker.

    I believe that those under 15 shouldn’t be allowed to spend the night somewhere and those 15 and up have a curfew of 11.  By Earth standards it’s only 9:32 pm so it’s perfectly fine to enjoy some light target practice.  Besides, I luckily had some change in my wallet and this is the town where the night never ends, Las Veg… Atami!

    “Huh?”

    Opening the door at almost the exact same time, a little girl all bundled up comes sneaking out.  She sees me and immediately stops.

    “You’re not… on your way to the toilet, are you?  It’s a little shabby here, but there’s a bath and toilet connected to your room.  So that means, you’re running away?”

    Greta silently shakes her head.  I find it hard to believe that a ten year old would sneak out for a night on the town, so I can only assume that the elementary school girl’s leaving is an assassin’s escape.

    “Ah, that’s fine.  If you’re going to escape, now’s the time to do it… is what I’d really like to say.”

    Letting a little girl walk around alone at night and perhaps letting her get involved in some sort of accident is weighing on my conscience.        Pushing open the door, I point to the two empty beds.

    “Go back to your room and go to bed.”

    *.*.*.*.*

    Even though he’s a white man no matter how you look at him, he’s got a crew cut and Japanese style twisted headband.  His eyebrows are prominent and scraggly, and his bulging chest is peeking out of his animal hide jacket.  I wonder if he’s gotten all macho-muscled from making noodles every day.

    “Brother, you’re a real man for lending a woman your jacket nei?”

    “’Nei?’  Well, I am a man…”

    Eating ramen on a cold night is appealing, but what was handed to us was a soup that’s hard to call a Chinese dish.  The bowl is filled with amber-colored broth right up to the brim with a shrimp and clam topping and the noodles are 100% semolina flour cooked to a perfect al dente.  The contents of this bowl are…

    “…. Seafood spaghetti?”

    “No, hinomokou.  It’s food they serve at the palace in Zorashia nei.”

    “It’s palace food!?  But, what’s ‘nei’…”

    Deciding children are first, I push the bowl in front of Greta.  I lightly tap the wobbly bench next to me for Izura, who looks like she’s uncomfortable standing.

    “Sit down, Izura.  I’ll buy.  Think of it as thanks for saving us.”

    “But-”

    “That’s nice nei, seeing a customer treating a prostitute to some warm food.  You’re going to make me cry nei.”

    “Prostitute!?”

    Maybe because my voice sounded hysteric, Greta raises her face out of the bowl.  The strand of spaghetti she was slurping up is hanging out of her mouth.

    “Weren’t you just messing around for some change?  A prostitute is well, you know, a profession, and if you’re in a profession that makes you a pro!?  A professional… uh, sex worker?  A person in the sex industry?”

    I wonder if that’s the proper term for it.  From a modern-day Japan, sports loving high school boy’s perspective, I only ever hear the term ‘prostitute’ in old, drunken songs my father sang.

    “The sex work… or rather, prostitution I guess… even though you’re so young!?  You’re still in your teens, and not even halfway through them yet.  Even if you gain four or five years you still won’t be legal, you know!?  You absolutely should not be involved in sex work or prostitution!  Uh well, minors pursuing jobs in the sex industry will create a problem in the infrastructure of the country…”

    While I’m spouting out ideals from the side of my personality fueled by middle-class justice, the imagination of the ‘healthy and dirty-minded 15 year old boy’ side of my personality was going ahead at full speed.  A girl this young and cute doing ‘this’ and ‘that.’  Once the image pops into my head, I can’t get it out no matter how hard I try.

    “Anyway, stop that sort of work immediately!  If there’s a problem with your boss… ah damn it!”

    I’m so embarrassed I feel like my face is going to light in fire.  I feel like, no I want to explode from my feelings of guilt and disgust.

    “What are you thinking, damn it!?  You should be ashamed of yourself!  In any case Izura, you can’t continue prostituting.  You shouldn’t ever go back to that shop.  If you have nowhere to stay… ah.”

    After taking two, three steps back and clasping her hands together, she turns on her heel and runs.  With her athlete-worthy legs, I can’t even see her back after a few moments.  Did she realize her lack of morals or was she just not able to eat my ramen?

    “Clothes,” said Greta, her head still turned in that direction.  Wild Goat Girl had run off wearing my jacket.

    “Who cares about the coat!  Ah, I’m horrible!  While I was saying all that, there was some unbelievably perverted stuff going on in my brain…”

    “Brother, don’t get so down on yourself.”

    The old man in the shop, pectoral muscles twitching, gives me some spaghetti soup.  In the middle of the steaming bowl, there was a curled up, scarlet shrimp.

    “You’re a good person nei.  I’m impressed.  At the very least, have some hinomokou poured in this family heirloom, cheer up and get home.”

    “Family heirloom?”

    It’s a ramen bowl that is clashing with the romantic, swords and magic atmosphere of this world with its bright red, Chinese style patterns.  I imagine if I ate it all, there’d be a dragon painted on the bottom.

    “You might even be able to see your future on the surface of the clear broth.”

    “My future?  No way.”

    When I casually look down, there’s a woman’s face showing on the surface of the thin, amber broth.  She has short hair and a boyish face and eyes of a strange color I’ve never seen before.

    “Uwah!”

    My back straightens reflexively. That’s my future!?  That was a girl’s face, not mine.  So does that mean I’m going to date that girl in the future!?  I can finally get a female girlfriend!?  Well guys can’t be a girlfriend, anyway.

    Glancing to the side, I see Greta peering into my bowl.  Oh, that’s the face that was in my soup.

    “It was you.”

    That’s right.  The future isn’t something you can easily understand.  Like I’m going to let some old guy in a ramen stand tell my future.

    Paying with the change in my pocket, we left the hinomokou store.  However, since we ran so much, I have no idea where we are.  I couldn’t see any hints in the dark as to which direction the hotel was.

    Greta has nestled her warm body against mine and is grabbing onto my right hand.

    “It’ll be fine.  For now, let’s just go towards where there’s light.  Once we get out on the main street, it’ll be easy to figure it out.”

    I’ve got Windpipe No. 1 in my left hand and a child in my right.  Luckily, at least my stomach was full so I could walk forward without worries.  The alley gradually widened and we came out into the open.

    Under the high moon and twinkling stars, there are several huge tents lined up.

    “Ah, this place was on the way.”

    I looked around for the main street in the circus plaza.  If we can cut through the back way here, it’ll be a straightforward walk back to the hotel.  In the far distance, I can see a bright haze.  The front entrance must be over there.

    “It’s pretty far, but can you walk?”

    I can feel her nod through my arm.

    The events for the day seem to have ended and the surroundings are growing quiet.