Chapter 3: Maid

IT’S NOT AN idol’s outfit. It’s not a waitress’s, either. It has the lightness and frivolity of frills but the stately and dignified nature of a service uniform. It’s easy to work in, of course, considering the original purpose of the clothing. Like so many other types of clothes imported to Japan, the Japanese people adapted it into their own unbeatable, sexy, adorable version. This is…the maid outfit.

And who wears maid outfits? Why, maids, of course.

 

***

 

This paragraph was framed outside the entrance of a backstreet maid café in a quieter corner of Akihabara. There was another sign labeling this establishment “Café Marsha.” The paragraph posted outside was a special message from the owner, whose obsession with maids was clearly second to none.

Kimihito understood the owner’s enthusiasm, but there was something important missing from the description. What exactly is a maid?

Café Marsha was a popular maid café in the Tokyo Metropolitan Area and the next place on the work pilot program schedule.

“Ah! A maid café. So, ballads, chivalry, damsels in distress?” Centorea inquired.

“I think it’s a different type of maid.” Though Kimihito couldn’t be entirely sure with that signage.

“Guh,” Manako said. “I am so nervous.”

Today, Kimihito was escorting Centorea the centaur, also known as Cerea. The MON agent with them was Manako the cyclops, an elite sniper.

“Are you all right?” he asked her.

“I’m just fine,” she clipped, unable to bring her voice above a whisper. “As long as you’re here, Kimihito, I’ll do my best.” Manako clenched her fists and stared at him, her single eye glistening, though her tears seemed more desperate than determined.

Centorea, on the other hand, stood with her lips in a hard line and her eyes focused. It was clear they were both extremely nervous, even if they expressed it differently. “Milord…we are both unlikely to show any skill at customer service. We lack the experience.”

“Aw, it’ll be fine. There’ll be veteran maids there to teach you how to serve the customers,” Kimihito said, “or at least, that’s what I was told.”

“Veterans? Then we shall be in reliable hands,” Cerea said, not looking especially comforted.

“They said to wait at the door until someone comes for us.” It would only be a moment, he was sure. Akihabara was famous as maid city, and anyone who’d worked in this competitive area for a while would be an expert at customer service.

“Welcome!” a loud voice greeted them as the door opened. Despite its volume, the accompanying shadow was very small.

“Hm?” Kimihito tilted his head. The voice was familiar, too.

“Congratulations on the pilot program! I think it’s awesome that liminals want to join the workforce and that you’re willing to put in the hours to prove you belong! I’m your maid supervisor, Ren Kunanzuki!” She took a deep breath. “I personally volunteered to look after you! Let’s all do our be—eeeh?!”

“Ah, y-you’re—!” Kimihito yelled at her familiar face.

“You—!” Ren replied.

Centorea was mute with astonishment.

“I knew one of the liminals would be bringing her host, but I didn’t think it’d be you, Kurusu-san,” Ren Kunanzuki said, shaking her pigtailed head as she gaped at him.

“Um, do you know her?” Manako asked, tilting her head. She’d missed out on meeting Ren previously.

“Manako,” Kimihito said, “this is Ren Kunanzuki. She’s…uh…she was part of Rachnee’s original host family.”

“Rachnera’s origi—oh!” Manako’s eye widened as she realized the significance. When Rachnera first arrived in Japan, she had been hosted by the Kunanzuki family, including Ren. However, Rachnera accidentally hurt Ren, and the family decided she was too difficult to live with. They abandoned their duty as a host family and sold her to someone else. It’d been a shocking scandal and MON had gotten involved, so although Manako didn’t recognize Ren’s name, she certainly remembered the story.

“Does that mean…Rachnera-san will be here, too?” Ren asked, peering into the street behind them.

“Hm? No, Rachnee took a different assignment. It’s just these two,” Kimihito said.

“O-oh. I see.” She gave a little sigh. There was relief in it but also some disappointment. Her feelings about Rachnera must be much more complex than the rest of her family’s. Steeling herself, she spoke again. “Um…I would like to apologize for my actions when I came to your house. I caused a lot of trouble for you and your exchange group. I feel really bad about it.”

“Huh?” The Kunanzuki family had sent Ren to Kimihito’s house to ask for Rachnera’s return. She’d been pushy about wanting to live with liminals but hadn’t shown any consideration for their feelings or comfort, treating them like a difficult experience for her to brag about surviving later.

However, here she was, apologizing sincerely and sorrowfully. It seemed she’d learned a few lessons since then. “I thought about what you said, Kurusu-san, and I decided I’d get a customer service job to get some practice being polite. That’s why I’m working here!”

“At a maid café.”

“Yes! And I’m so good at it that when they needed a supervisor for the pilot program, the owner asked me! It’s nice to meet you all, and I’ll do my best as your teacher!”

“Oh ho,” Centorea said, impressed. She may have made a poor first impression, but Ren was putting real effort into her personal improvement. If the vaunted maid cafés of Akihabara valued her service, she had to have come a long way from her old self, objectifying liminals as a source of suffering for her to overcome. She must have really taken the girls’ advice to heart. “But there are so many customer service jobs you could have applied for. Why choose this industry? This establishment?”

Ren looked aside and fidgeted with her skirt. “Um, well, uh…that outfit Mero-san loaned me was so frilly and—how could I possibly forget it?”

“What?”

“Nothing, nothing! It’s Centorea-san and Manako-san, right? Come on in. Let’s get those maid costumes on so I can teach you the basics of customer service.”

“Rgh.” Centorea bristled, remembering how nervous she’d been before the shock of running into Ren.

“Ah,” Manako said, seemingly feeling the same way. Both their expressions grew stiff and anxious. Did Ren really have enough experience to be an industry veteran? Even if she did, would she be a capable teacher?

“L-looking forward to your tutelage, Ren,” Centorea said, though she sounded doubtful.

“Yeah, leave it to me! I know everything there is to know. We got this!” She gave an energetic little jump and punched the air overhead. She’d clearly matured and gained some experience at the café, but communicating it was a whole ’nother skill set. Would the girls be okay?

Kimihito looked across to Manako and Centorea, and a long silence passed between the three of them, anxiety written on all their faces. He felt like he had to encourage them, but before he could figure out what to say—

“Ah! That’s right!” Ren clapped her hands. “Manako-san, you’ve got some backup from MON.”

“Backup?” Kimihito asked. He hadn’t heard anything about this backup. He looked at Centorea and Manako in turn, but they both shook their heads, as confused as he was.

“Yeah! They came to cheer you on,” Ren reiterated.

Manako was at a loss, her one large eye clouded over with doubt and confusion.

 

***

 

After they’d been at the café for about an hour, they began to practice the fundamentals of being a maid. Rule #1: Greet the customer the minute they enter.

“W-welcome to the shop, Master,” Manako stammered, face completely red. She tugged at her short skirt to try and cover herself while her eye wavered with anxiety. She was trying her best to look at the customer and smile, even if she wasn’t succeeding. “Th-thank you for your order, sir. Moé moé kyun. ♡” She made a heart with her hands and assumed the traditional maid pose.

“Whoooa! That was amazing, Manako-san!”

“Manako-san, now I’ve seen your maid outfit, I’m happy to die for the cause!”

The two human men she was posing for were the MON support they’d been promised.

After a crash course from Ren, Manako had changed into the maid outfit and started practice right away. That made the duo practice dummies of a sort. Not that they minded—they were so enthusiastic about this assignment that it made them seem young again.

“This is too embarrassing,” Manako said.

“No way! It’s awesome, Manako-san!”

“Even your embarrassment is cute! I don’t know why you need to practice!”

They weren’t receiving a bonus like she was—they were just that excited to see Manako in a maid outfit. She moaned and hid her face behind the tray she was holding.

Kimihito was seated at the next table, watching. The men’s sharp suits struck a contrast with their behavior. In fact, they were wearing the same style of suit that Smith wore, which probably meant they were her colleagues. “Uh,” he interrupted.

“Oh!” The shorter one straightened himself out. “Sorry about that, Kimihito-kun, we might have gone overboard.”

“D-don’t worry about it. We haven’t met, have we?”

“No, no.” He bowed his head, and the other followed. “I work at the Office of Interspecies Cultural Exchange. Code name: Salmon.”

“I too am an employee of the Office of Interspecies Cultural Exchange. Code name: Double Two One,” the taller agent said, “but, please, call me Dubtwo.” He stood out as much more built than his coworker.

The two of them, given their excitement, were clearly big Manako fans, but as they handed Kimihito their business cards, they transformed into serious civil servants.

“Nice to meet you. I’m Kurusu Kimihito. Are you, uh, Smith-san’s subordinates?”

“Essentially, yes. The government is still developing its approach to liminals, so our function and workload varies. At the moment we get stuck wi—err, assigned—almost any job related to them.”

“Our specific role is supporting the actual field members of MON, like Manako-san and her team.”

They both bowed their heads again.

Kimihito only really saw Smith, who was his personal Cultural Exchange Coordinator, and the field members of MON. But of course there would be other government agents involved—as many roles as there were liminals in the program. It was thanks to their efforts that liminals like his girls could experience Japan safely.

“We owe you, Kimihito-kun, for taking on this craz—this sudden—request.”

“Yeah, we were at a total loss how to get the test cases done otherwise.”

So even Smith’s own employees though she asked too much.

“Thanks again for all your help!”

“Yeah, and we’ll help you out here in return, to make sure Manako-san does okay.”

Salmon and Dubtwo finished summarizing the situation with broad, gleaming smiles.

With two government employees in the mix, Kimihito assumed there wouldn’t be any trouble this time around. Or rather, he’d started to wonder whether he was even needed today. Ren was also here, advising Manako and Cerea from the back, and though he had concerns about her as a person, she’d already shown she was a reliable maid. Everything seems under control, he thought.

“By the way, Kimihito-kun!” Dubtwo called.

“Hm?”

“About Manako’s uniform…” Salmon continued.

They both pointed at her.

“Isn’t that shy smile, serving customers despite her embarrassment, totally perfect?”

“Not that I don’t love her sniper outfit, but with all those frills, the maid outfit is something else!”

“One-eyed girls are the best!” When it came to Manako, they immediately lost their professionalism. He couldn’t come up with a good response, and Manako seemed upset, too.

“I-I’m sorry about them,” she said to him. “They just—they get distracted when I’m around.”

“They’re just being fanboys, right?” He didn’t understand the appeal himself, but they seemed fixated on her single eye.

Overhearing the word “fan,” the men nodded agreeably.

“No way, that’s impossible!” Manako shouted, simultaneously adamant and disappointed.

Kimihito was surprised she’d try to deny it, considering how open they were about their feelings.

“I’m unreliable. They’re just here because Ms. Smith was worried that I’d mess up. Look, I can’t even wear the outfit right. It’s super weird on me.”

“That’s not true at all,” he replied without hesitation. “It looks great on you.”

“Ah…th-thank you very much.” She continued hiding her face with the tray, but her grip relaxed a little as his reassurance sank in. As she lowered it slightly, her smile seemed more genuine. “Am I really going to be okay at customer service? Won’t I scare people?”

From the kitchen, where she was wiping some cups clean, Ren yelled, “Don’t worry about it!!” She’d been listening in on them the whole time. “The owner sent a text to our regulars saying we’d have a cyclops and a centaur on shift today, so everyone who comes by will be here to see you two! Or at least to see liminal maids!”

“Ahhh,” Manako sighed, “I-I guess I should thank you.” She gripped tighter on the tray again, her eye welling with tears.

Even the owner of the café seemed dependable; they hadn’t shown their face, but they’d managed to sort out the customers, the support, and the training. Ren’s voice came from deep within the kitchen: “We’re gonna be busy today! It’ll be packed!”

“Don’t worry, Manako-san. Because of the ongoing cultural exchange between our worlds, the discrimination against cyclopeans has sharply decreased. Furthermore: this is Akihabara! It’s at the forefront of cultural change, and locals can find ‘moé’ in anything. In fact one-eye moé has been around for ages,” Salmon said.

“That’s right! None of these customers will be scared,” Dubtwo added.

“I’ll be in the kitchen, so the floor’s all yours, Manako-san and Centorea-san,” Ren said nonchalantly as she leaned over the counter.

“Wh-what?!” Manako gasped.

Ren balled up her fist and grinned. “You’ll be fine! Just don’t forget the warm hospitality I taught you earlier. You’ve done the coursework, now it’s exam time!!” If any trouble arose she’d probably intervene, but until then, it seemed she’d be spectating from the other side of the divider. This was too much tough love in Kimihito’s opinion, but he kept quiet. Ren tended to be harsh on herself, so it made sense she’d apply the same standards to others, whether she realized it or not.

“O-okay. Okay. Don’t forget…hospitality…” Manako said to herself.

“We’ll be cheering you on, Manako,” Kimihito said.

“This is an important duty… I’ll do my best!” She was serious to her core, but she was also very receptive to their support. Her shyness faded as she found the resolve to do her job. If she could survive the kind of action MON got into, she could survive this.

“Besides—” Kimihito was interrupted by a figure emerging from the changing room.

“Master,” Centorea greeted him, now in the same style of maid outfit as Manako.

Centaur women were large, and while they’d made a blouse to accommodate her figure, they’d underestimated just how big her bust was. It looked like she’d burst the buttons if she breathed too hard. Her horse-like lower half was hidden inside a voluminous skirt. When Kimihito did her laundry, he sometimes mistook her regular skirts for blackout curtains. This maid skirt, made of much finer fabric, could’ve been a curtain in a Western manor instead.

One agent began, “Manako’s a regular girl other than the eye, but Centorea needed her clothes custom-made—”

“—so we had the MON outfitters sew it from scratch,” the second agent finished. Kimihito wondered what MON’s paramilitary outfitters thought of being asked to make a maid outfit, but it would’ve been impossible to source otherwise, so he was relieved it’d been taken care of.

“Er, Milord,” she said, “what say you?” She looked composed, but her blush gave her away.

“It’s great, Cerea,” he said with a smile.

“A-are you certain? I fear I am unsuited to this style of garment.” She adjusted her arms to keep from bursting out of the blouse.

“Hmm? Yeah?” Her movements were distracting. The more she fussed with the blouse, the more attention she called to her jiggling breasts.

“Um, Miss Centorea,” Manako said, “I’m embarrassed by the outfit too, so let’s just focus on the job together, okay?”

“C-certainly. It’s for the sake of interspecies cultural exchange—we sacrifice our dignity to a noble cause.” She nodded in assent, duty-driven as ever.

Manako made another attempt at forming a heart with her hands. “Moé—moé—kyun—! ♡”

“M-moé…” Centorea’s fingers trembled as she made her own attempt. “Moé…moé…” Actually, her whole body was shaking. “Moé, moé—moé, moé—rrrgh, I refuse!” She gave in and threw her hands over her face.

Through them, she continued to speak. “I cannot allow myself to perform such weak, childish movements! Augh!!”

“W-weak?” Manako spluttered.

“Not to imply that you are weak, Manako—”

“No, it’s okay, I’m kind of a coward.”

“The trouble is how foolish I feel, failing to perform such a simple motion. This ‘moé,’ it vexes me!”

“It really is terrible,” Manako anxiously agreed.

Both of them looked to Kimihito, their reliable chaperone.

“Hmm,” he said. If they couldn’t handle a simple “moé moé kyun ♡,” there was no chance of them completing the maid job. Manako was close to getting it, but Centorea’s failure was making them both nervous and putting the whole day at risk.

More than that, though, Centorea was falling into despair. Her tail and ears sagged, and it was impossible not to feel bad for her. Kimihito had to do something to help. “F-for now, why not try out the rest of the menu?” He grabbed around for it.

“The rest of—the menu?” Manako asked.

“Right, uh, like—” As Kimihito fumbled, Salmon came to the rescue with the main menu sheet, while Dubtwo provided the special menu. There was a highlighted listing for The Maid’s Ketchup Omurice. “Why don’t you try this one?”

Salmon and Dubtwo nodded energetically.

Manako and Centorea looked at each other, then reached a decision. Cerea scrutinized Kimihito with a sharp expression, and Manako turned her eye over to him. In unison, they gave him a nod.

 

***

 

“Well, here we go.” Manako clutched the ketchup bottle in her hand.

There were two plates of omurice on the table, one each for Salmon and Dubtwo. She stood in front of them, anxious, and Kimihito swore he heard her gasp for breath.

The special omurice served at the café was the kind where, in front of the customer, a maid would draw a heart on in ketchup. It was such a common service that there was a specific kind of ketchup, thinner and easier to draw with, that everyone in the industry used. That didn’t make it easy, though. Kimihito had tried and failed before while cooking at home.

“Okay…like this…and…”

“Whoooa!” the MON members cried out in unison.

Manako had taken her time to get it right, and the result was perfect. But it wasn’t a heart—it was a picture of a single, large eye. It wasn’t clear whether she did it to show her personal style or just because she found the heart too embarrassing. Pleased with the result, she gave a slightly bashful smile. “Hee hee.”

Salmon and Dubtwo gazed reverently at the plate, as if it were the face of God on their omurice and they were preparing to worship it.

“Beautifully done,” Kimihito said. He felt a little awed, too.

The lines were uniform and unsmudged, showing just how precise she’d been with the ketchup bottle. “Th-thank you very much. Complicated designs are my passion. I even assemble and disassemble my own guns.”

“Oh, I see,” Kimihito said. It was tough to imagine at the moment, with her standing in front of him in a maid outfit, but thinking back to her appearances with the MON team… Of course a sniper would be in charge of her own rifle, and she had the fastidious personality for both tasks.

“Mmm, it’s too delicious!”

“Yes! I’m having a religious experience!”

The MON agents cried into their omurice as they ate. It seemed they had attained Manako-nirvana.

“Nice going, Manako,” said Kimihito. “They’ve transcended.”

“Oh. H-honestly, Miss Ren made the omurice. I just drew on it.”

“Yeah, but that’s what really mattered to them, I think.”

“Hm. Thank you. Shall I draw on yours, too?” she asked.

It was a kind suggestion, but, “Cerea is doing mine.”

“Oh, that’s right! Miss Centorea, how are you doing?” Manako looked over at her.

“Err.” Centorea stood at the neighboring table, ketchup bottle in hand. At first it looked like she was doing the same thing as Manako, but as she struggled to get the ketchup onto Kimihito’s omelet, he noticed her expression and swallowed hard. The look on her face was terrifying, the complete opposite of what anyone who ordered the special maid service would expect. “Hrrrgh. A heart, you say?” she managed through gritted teeth.

“Don’t worry about it, Cerea. if that’s too difficult, you can draw something easier.”

“I refuse! I am Centorea Shianus! Milord ordered a heart omelet, and I will perform my duty and make him proud! No mere foodstuff can stop me!”

“Sure, but—”

She totally ignored his interjection. It was obvious from her grip that she was holding the bottle too tight and in the wrong place. Unless she relaxed, she would never get anything out of there, let alone draw with it. “O-of course, drawing a heart is childish, far beneath my station, but if it is part of a maid’s duty, I must do so nonetheless! My pride as a centaur is on the line!”

“Okay, do your best,” he sighed.

Centorea’s hands shook as she adjusted the bottle to draw the left side of the heart. She could swing a (fake) sword with ease, but whether from inexperience or her condescending attitude toward the task, she couldn’t get the ketchup technique right. “H-here I go!” she shouted.

Splorch.

With her tight hold on the bottle, it was bound to happen… The ketchup splattered messily all over the plate.

“Ahh?!” she yelped, but she didn’t stop squeezing; the ketchup splatter widened and spread onto the table. Easing her grip—as if that would help now—the bottle slipped from her hands. “Ah!” It rebounded from the edge of the table, the cap flying off, and turned end over end in the air—towards Kimihito.

He saw it arc toward him like it was in slow motion. The bottle trailing ketchup, and him, too busy watching to think of getting away—

“Bwuh!” A direct hit to the face. His vision went completely red, and all he could smell was tomato. It dripped from him like blood from a head wound.

“Aaaaah! Milord! My deepest apologies!!” Centorea screamed in despair, and the sound echoed through the café.

 

***

 

Ren led Kimihito into the break room, where he tried to wipe away the mess with a damp towel. Unfortunately, wiping just spread it further without really removing any, which meant he wouldn’t be clean until he got home and showered.

Luckily, Salmon had some replacement clothes with him. Why he’d brought them was a mystery. When asked, he said that an Interspecies Coordinator needed to be prepared for anything. Maybe it was just standard protocol.

“I sincerely apologize for this, Milord.” Centorea had trailed after him to make sure he was okay.

“No, seriously, it’s fine.”

“Thank you, but it was an unacceptable blunder, and I must find a way to atone,” she asserted.

“It’s just a little ketchup! Don’t worry about it.”

Still, she had such a long face. “I am unfit for this industry.”

“Hmmm.” It was close to their opening time—this was the type of café that was only open in the afternoons. If they didn’t hurry, Centorea would be stuck working with real customers without any more practice. He’d thought Ren could help with some special training, but as long as Centorea was worked up like this, he wasn’t sure how to suggest it to her.

“What kind of a knight,” she said, “is incapable of a simple task like this? I can’t do a single part of this job to satisfaction. On top of that, I caused you trouble, Milord! Today is irredeemable.”

“Don’t say that, Cerea.” He shook his head. Centorea tended to catastrophize, but this was worse than usual. If she kept beating herself up, she’d completely crush her own spirit. But how could he stop her from doing that? He lowered his voice and spoke as gentle as he could. “Hey, everybody’s got skills and problem areas. If the café isn’t a good fit, we can ask Ms. Smith to find a different work placement.”

“Oh, Milord.” She looked at him with complete relief, but midway through her nod of agreement, she stopped herself short. “I couldn’t possibly do that.”

“Huh?”

“Miia, Rachnera, Papi, and Mero have performed admirably. I refuse to be the only failure.”

“W-well, I mean, but—” Centorea’s self-serious personality was usually charming, but right now, her inflexibility was the source of all her problems. If she kept putting pressure on herself to perform perfectly as a maid, she would make similar mistakes when she actually started serving. “Hmm.” Was there no solution?

As he looked around the back room for inspiration, he noticed the door had swung slightly ajar. It seemed someone was peering in—a certain someone with a single, large eye.

“Just a sec. I’ve gotta go ask someone a question,” Kimihito excused himself and went for the door.

“Hm? Yes, take your leave,” Centorea said.

Kimihito left the room and found Manako standing outside.

“Ah—!” Manako startled.

“Shhh.” He pressed a finger to his mouth, gesturing for her to be quiet. If she’d been trying to hide, she hadn’t put much effort in.

“I’m sorry, I was just…worried about Miss Centorea,” she sighed.

“Thanks. I’m sure she’d appreciate it normally, but at the moment, she’s pretty upset. Let’s not push her, okay?”

Manako nodded. “I thought she’d appreciate some help with the ketchup, but of course it was a bad idea.”

“Come on, you know that’s not true. It was a kind gesture. She’s just sensitive that she’s struggling when you’re doing well—”

“No, it’s because I’m serving people I already know. As soon as there are strangers…” She frowned at her lack of self-confidence.

Due to her one-eyed nature, Manako was met with a lot of fear when she first arrived in Japan, but she built a life for herself and persevered—up to and including this attempt at being a maid. “I think it’s incredible the amount of effort you’ve put into this,” he said.

“What? No, no, I’m no good. My social anxiety just keeps getting in the way.” She lowered her head to hide her face. “That’s part of why I don’t think we should push Miss Centorea too hard. Everyone has things they’re bad at, you know?”

He nodded. “You’re not wrong…” Centorea’s stubbornness made her reluctant to admit her mistakes, which meant she wouldn’t get help, which meant she would repeat them over and over. How could they stop her from spiraling? “Hmm.”

“Sir?”

“But if you don’t keep trying the stuff you’re bad at, you’ll never improve.”

“Well, sure.”

Centorea’s personality wasn’t suited to playing a maid, but she did do a lot of acting; the knight routine was mostly a performance. Unlike Ren, who pursued impossible challenges and somehow overcame them, Centorea was the kind of masochist who’d throw herself on the sword and stay there. Which meant they needed to change the obstacle in front of her to something she could get past.

“Hey, Manako, your maid outfit—do you like that style of clothes?” Kimihito asked, formulating a plan.

“Hm? It’s a bit too frilly, but I do like wearing cute stuff.” She pushed the petticoats down absently.

“So it’s not distracting you from your work.”

She tilted her head at him uncomprehendingly, her eye opening wide.

“Maybe we should let Cerea do the job in her own style?”

“Oh.” Now Manako got it. “I see.”

The back room, typically for Akihabara, had a lot of different reading material scattered around. Doujinshi—the self-published books endemic to the area—filled the shelves, an exhaustive list of popular fetishes and interests. Surely, somewhere in those…

“Manako, give us a few minutes. I’ll figure something out for her,” Kimihito said decisively.

“That sounds like magic. What’re you going to do?” she asked.

“I’m not a hundred percent sure,” he said, scratching his head bashfully, “but I’ve got a few ideas.” Despite the hazy details, his voice had a certain conviction to it. “This might just work out.”

 

***

 

“Hail fellow, well met!”

The two men waiting outside the café doors were startled by the boisterous voice that greeted them.

“Uh…?”

“A centaur in a maid outfit—or, wait, not quite…?”

It made sense that they were confused. Centorea stood at the door in an altered costume, with a silver cuirass strapped across her chest and a fake sword slung at her side. Under close scrutiny, it was obvious the armor was also fake, but it was well made enough to make the right initial impression. As the customers gaped at her, she announced, “I am Centorea, and while I normally serve as a knight, today I am sworn to this maid café! For reasons.”

“So you’re, like, a female knight? A…knight-maid?”

“Wow, her acting’s on point.”

“I am not an actor!” she insisted. She’d been having this conversation since the start of the shift. The armor came courtesy of Salmon and Dubtwo, who’d somehow found a set at short notice. “A chivalric heart beats strong inside me, and when I return from this post to Milord’s side, the hardships endured here will have strengthened it further.” She gazed hard at the customers.

“O-oh,” one of them stammered.

“Her sense of duty is so inspiring!” cheered the other.

“Come, let me serve you! Let us proceed to your assigned seating.” With a dramatic sweep of her arm, she invited them inside. She was every bit the accommodating maid but with her own special twist.

From the corner, Kimihito watched Centorea work. Salmon and Dubtwo had taken the next table over. “That armor could be in a movie,” he whispered, trying to keep a low profile without knowing why.

“Thank you—but of course, it’s actually cardboard.”

“We got the pattern from a cosplay magazine, copied it at a larger size, and then sprayed it silver. Akihabara’s got everything.” According to Dubtwo, the spray paint used for plastic models could make anything look metal with just one coat, and dried fast.

“It’s made really well,” Kimihito said.

“There’s a trick to it—”

“—We got a lot of practice at work!”

They laughed in unison. What on Earth did Smith have her agents doing?

The sword itself was a dull metal display sword she carried daily to “protect” Kimihito. Somehow, it had finally come in handy.

“Thanks to your help, Cerea seems like she’s actually having fun,” he said.

“We barely did anything.”

“Yeah, the whole maid-knight idea was yours. Don’t sell yourself short.”

“Can I really take credit for that?” He wore a pained smile. “That’s just how she acts all the time.” His thinking had been: if she couldn’t play the role of a traditional maid, there must be another type of maid she could be instead. Thanks to Akihabara’s unusual tastes, he’d found the perfect option. After all, lots of maid cafés had secondary themes they used to stand out, and there would always be customers who liked a change from the norm. The break room here had tons of doujin about female knight characters.

“—should our guests prefer, we also have this option—”

Of course, most of those doujin followed a formula, one he didn’t think would go down well with Centorea: the knight would be captured by enemies who did lewd and indecent things to her. They’d still been useful inspiration, especially since several of them featured the theme of a female knight doubling as a maid. He’d shown her an example of the trope to help her understand what he was suggesting. After looking at it, she agreed that since she acted as a knight in her daily life, it wouldn’t be too hard to be a knight-maid instead.

“—summoned me, traveler? Prithee, speak, and I shall take note of your order.” Centorea stopped at the table on the other side of Kimihito. As she went through the menu with them, her mannerisms were different from the standard maid, but they fit in just fine with the wild spirit of Akihabara.

When they pitched the concept to Ren, she agreed that allowing each maid some individuality could be a hook for some customers. Everyone was on board.

Salmon and Dubtwo watched Centorea and nodded.

“Now that’s what I call a female knight.”

“Stiff, awkward, and eager to serve? She’s the ideal!”

Kimihito wasn’t sure why that was ideal, but he breathed a sigh of relief.

“Two iced coffees? Very well. Please be patient.” She finished with the customers and made her way over to Kimihito, an uneasy look on her face. “Milord,” she said to him, “is this truly permissible? I feel as if I’m taking too high-handed a stance with the customers. It is completely unlike what Ren demonstrated to us.”

“Think of it like a concept café! She did give us the okay, remember?”

“’Tis true…” She didn’t relax at all.

Salmon and Dubtwo leaned in.

“Have you heard of the tsundere café? People come from all across the city just to get insulted by those cute girls! There’s a café for every taste.”

“Even if your speech is overbearing, Centorea-dono, it’s what suits you. People think you’re putting on a character.”

“It is not a character, though!” she shouted.

Kimihito smiled. “It’s fine. Just keep being yourself,” he said.

“Y-yes. You’ve been quite clear.” Centorea nodded and trotted off to the kitchen.

The customers watched her go with unwavering gazes. They didn’t just stare at her face but also her armor and her horse-like hind quarters.

“Centaurs are great, huh?”

“Here’s hoping someone opens a dedicated monster girl café.”

“I wanna see a bunch of them. A café for every type!”

“Yeah, monster girls are the best!”

Unsurprisingly, liminal girls were popular with this crowd. Through Smith, Kimihito had learned that there were a lot of people who wanted to host them, and as a host himself, he could understand the appeal.

“U-um, excuse me!” Suddenly Manako’s voice lifted above the rest. He looked up and saw her turning toward him with a teary eye. Salmon and Dubtwo readied themselves, leaning forward and preparing to leap to her aid. “There’s a problem!”

“What’s the matter?” Kimihito asked.

“People keep asking for pictures!” she said.

“Huh?” He surveyed the crowd and discovered many of them were watching her with phones at the ready.

“I…I’ve just never been asked for them before! Is it okay? Are there policies I need to follow?”

“It’s fine! Go get ’em, Manako!” Ren called from the kitchen with an encouraging gesture.

Manako continued to cry, but now it seemed to be from relief—maybe even joy. It was unlikely that anyone had ever asked to take a picture with her before.

Salmon and Dubtwo seemed moved, too.

“Here I thought they’d never see the charm of the cyclopean!” said Salmon.

“Her future’s so bright, we oughtta make her shades!” said Dubtwo.

Their own eyes filled with tears.

It was a mystery to Kimihito why they were so invested, but he couldn’t dwell on it, because Manako was shivering with anxiety. He had to intervene. “Hey, could I take the pictures?” he asked.

“Wh-what?! But you’re meant to be relaxing!” Manako said.

“It’s no trouble. Besides, I’m sure you’d like a familiar face there for your photo debut.”

“Th-thank you so much!” She was more obvious about it, but they were both relieved. He’d felt weird sitting around with nothing to do. It would be a genuine pleasure to help Manako navigate her newfound popularity.

“We can’t just sit and watch,” said Salmon, “we gotta get in line, too.”

“Yeah,” said Dubtwo, “it’s not like we’ve ever had the chance to be in a photo with her! This is an incredible opportunity for her two biggest fans.”

They clenched their fists passionately and rose to their feet.

“Aren’t you her coworkers?” Kimihito asked.

“It’s Maid Manako, though! That’s an SSR Manako variant!”

“Yeah! Plus, she’s normally with Zombina-san and Doppel-san! They’re so scar—so close to her that they’d get in the way if we tried!”

Any excuse to get that photo, huh?

Kimihito readied an instant camera as fast as he could. It was a simple point-and-shoot, no settings to mess with, so he felt up to the task.

As she settled into position, Manako gave him a shy smile. “Thank you very much.”

If that’s how she smiles for this, she’ll hit the top of the popularity rankings in no time, thought Kimihito as he took the first shot.

 

***

 

Sooner than anyone expected, the day was over. Just as the sun finished setting, they (politely) shooed out the last customer and locked the door. Centorea and Manako both collapsed from exhaustion.

“Zounds…” gasped Centorea.

“I’m so sorry, Miss Centorea. There was such a demand for pictures I couldn’t come back to the floor,” said Manako.

“Not to worry, Manako, it was work all the same. And my, how many customers it drew!”

The maid café’s atmosphere was much less calm and much less adult than the bar’s. As soon as word got out about the centaur and cyclops maids, one day only, there was a rush on the place. They’d been swarmed.

Salmon and Dubtwo gave the girls a standing ovation.

“Thanks for the amazing effort, you two,” Kimihito said as he reentered the room, “I got you some drinks.”

“Milord! That’s excessive! You’ve done too much already.”

“It’s your turn to be taken care of.” He smiled and set a cup of vegetable juice in front of her, then a mug of hot cocoa for Manako.

“Thank you so much, Kimihito!” Manako said.

“That was a lot of hard work,” he remarked.

“On your part, too,” she insisted, “And now, these drinks…”

“It’s the least I can do,” he said with a dismissive wave.

“Thanks for giving it your all!” Ren shouted as she burst out of the kitchen. “For first timers, you did super well! We were so busy that I couldn’t set foot out of the kitchen! If I could, I’d hire you full-time!” Her volume didn’t waver.

“Alas, duty compels me home,” Centorea said.

Manako winced. “My feet hurt so much.”

“Yeah! Customer service, huh? Anyway, I’ll let the boss know you did great!” She slapped her chest for emphasis.

When Kimihito and Ren first met, he’d been worried about her future, but it seemed like the café had improved her social skills a lot. At this rate, she might be able to have a casual conversation with Rachnera sometime soon. He hoped so, anyway.

“And we’ll report to Smith-san on a job well done,” Salmon and Dubtwo said. Though they’d spent a lot of the afternoon as customers and fans, they’d been a huge help to Kimihito too, especially with the armor.

He bowed to them silently.

Centorea had been leaning, fatigued, on a table, but some life sparked back into her and she rose to her feet. “Oh, yes, Milord!”

“What’s up, Cerea?”

“May I attempt the special menu omurice again for you? To redeem myself.”

“R-really? Even though you’re supposed to be done?”

She clenched her fist, armor shining, and stared resolutely at him.

“Um! I’d like to try, too,” Manako said, nervously raising her hand.

“Both of you?!”

“I made some for the MON employees, but not for you, and I want to repay you for all your help…if that makes sense?”

Kimihito considered. “I see.”

The two maids watched intently, hands clasped over their breasts, as they awaited his answer.

“Well, if you’re sure, I can’t say no, can I?” he said.

“Milord! I will craft the finest omurice in all the land!” Centorea proclaimed.

“Miss Centorea, let’s not get too excited,” Manako said.

“Y-yes. You are correct, of course. Calm, calm…”

“Okay—on three. One, two, three…”

“Moé! Moé! Kyun~! ♡”

 

***

 

The maids made their way into the kitchen. Though they’d closed and tidied, it was probably okay for them to use it a little.

Ren had no problem, at least. “Sure, go ahead. We didn’t get any breaks, so they’ve definitely earned the right to mess around a bit.”

Hmmm… thought Kimihito. The two liminal girls seemed happy, but Cerea’s sudden insistence on cooking was odd. In fact, everyone’s been acting weird about the work experience pilot program. Miia, Rachnera, Papi, and Mero, too. But no matter how much he thought about it, he couldn’t figure out the reason.

Centorea in particular took on a lot of pressure, worrying about her performance when it didn’t have any bearing on how much she’d get paid. When this is all over, I’ll have to ask her why.

“Milord, dinner is served.” She approached with the omurice balanced on her palm like a waitress, which she basically was. Placing it in front of him, she braced herself. “W-well. Now for the maid ketchup.”

“Miss Centorea, shall we do it together?” Manako placed her hands over Centorea’s to steady them.

“You have my thanks, Manako.” Her nervousness seemed to abate somewhat.

Now that she wasn’t so tense, she was able to draw a beautiful, even line of red ketchup over the golden yellow omelet. With Manako easing them around the corners, the curves didn’t wobble. In the end, a perfect heart shape was drawn over the omurice.

“I—I did it, Milord!”

“Y-yeah—I’m kind of embarrassed,” Kimihito replied.

“Wait a moment, Miss Centorea!” Manako said. “We have to deliver the line!”

“Ah! How foolish of me to forget. Are you ready, Lady Manako?”

They lifted the plate and looked Kimihito straight in the eyes.

“Milord—”

“Kimihito—”

“Here’s your meal! Moé moé kyun~! ♡”

Of course, it goes without saying that the omurice they made together was the best Kimihito had ever tasted.