THE ADVENTURES OF MIKURU ASAHINA EPISODE 00
THE ADVENTURES OF MIKURU ASAHINA EPISODE 00
Her name was Mikuru Asahina, and while she seemed to be a normal, healthy, attractive lass, she was actually a time traveler from the future. I’d like to assure you that any relationship to a person you might already know named Mikuru Asahina is purely coincidental.
Moving along. The truth about Mikuru Asahina is that she was a combat waitress from the future. Why did a waitress have to travel back in time? And why did she have to dress up as a waitress? Such matters are no more than trivialities and, to be quite frank, are meaningless. Any explanation beyond “that is simply the way things are” is impossible, and in fact, none of the individuals here can lay claim to a meaningful raison d’être.
… A booming voice from the heavens has simply declared it to be so.
So, then, let us observe the life of this Mikuru Asahina.
Normally, she was dressed as a bunny girl, as her daily routine involved attracting customers to a neighborhood grocery store. In the evenings, she put on her bunny girl costume and, holding a signboard there in front of the store, she called out the specials in her lovely voice—in other words, she held down a part-time job.
Because she came all the way from the future, you might think she would have a more effective means of supporting herself, but this story was created without any consideration for notions like “realism,” and I thought it would be kindest to make that clear, so that you didn’t set your expectations too high.
So, we have here a combat waitress from the future who also dresses as a bunny girl.
I’ll say up front that you will never find out just why it is that she wears such outfits. It is meaningless. And even if there were some meaning, it would surely never be revealed, which is effectively the same as being meaningless.
Today, as usual, Mikuru Asahina had cheerfully donned her bunny girl outfit and was eking out her living, signboard in hand.
“Sorry to trouble you during your busy day! There’s a new shipment of fresh cabbage today! And for a limited time, for the next hour, each head of cabbage will be half price! Excuse me, madam—please try some!”
There she was, stiffly raising her voice in front of the grocer’s. The bunny ears atop her head aren’t the only thing that bounces and jiggles with the movements of her petite frame, and while you would think the housewives that make up most of the store’s clientele wouldn’t be enticed by such charm, Mikuru’s earnestness brought smiles from all around her, and such smiles helped open wallets.
“You’re always so energetic, Mikuru,” said a passerby stiffly, as though reading from a script.
Mikuru smiled her fluorescent-pink sunflower smile. “Th-thank you! I’m doing my best!” she replied brightly, her innocent charm shining out into the shopping district.
Then she spoke again, her words a spell with the magical ability to transform a household’s menu from whatever had been planned into cabbage stew.
“Supplies are limited! Get them while they last!”
The grocery store was immediately swarmed, and soon every last head of cabbage had been sold.
Mikuru was then called into the rear of the store by the manager, Mr. Kiyosumi Morimura (age forty-six), who gave her an envelope containing her day’s pay.
“Thank you again. This isn’t much, but please take it.”
Mr. Morimura’s wrinkled, careworn face was lowered as Mikuru accepted the money from his strong hand.
“Oh, not at all. I’m the one who should thank you. This is all I can do, after all…”
Mikuru, being a faithfully polite girl, bowed deeply. She then tucked the envelope into her ample bosom.
“Well then, if you’ll excuse me, I must be off to the butcher’s. Good-bye!”
Carrying her signboard, Mikuru trotted off through the shopping district. Truly, she had become an irreplaceable mascot for the district, beloved by all.
Best of luck to you, Mikuru! Take back the customers stolen by the giant store that opened last year! The revitalization of the local mom-and-pop stores rests on your shoulders!
One can’t help but want to shout such exhortations to her.
However, Mikuru did not travel back in time just to rescue a declining shopping district from ruin. Her bunny outfit was a cover; we mustn’t forget that her true identity was that of a combat waitress. It really doesn’t matter either way, but that’s the way it is, and there’s nothing to be done about it.
So, then—Mikuru’s true purpose, her mission, was to secretly protect a certain young man.
That young man’s name was none other than Itsuki Koizumi, who might seem like a completely ordinary high school student, but who was actually an esper. I’m sure it goes without saying that any resemblance this person might bear to anybody else named Itsuki Koizumi is entirely coincidental.
Now, although he was an esper, Itsuki Koizumi himself was unaware of that fact. Evidently it would take some sort of trigger to awaken the supernatural power within him, but for now, that power lay dormant for his own safety, and from both a subjective and an objective perspective, his life was no different from an ordinary high school student’s.
Today, like any other day, Itsuki Koizumi wore his backpack and a carefree smile as he walked home from school. His path took him right down the main street of this shopping district.
“…”
A shadowy figure secretly watched Itsuki’s receding form. From the two long ears that protruded from the figure’s head and its nearly-naked-seeming silhouette, even a fool could tell it was Mikuru. You might wonder why she would be stealthily following someone while wearing that outfit, but keep in mind it was her usual clothing, and thus could hardly be helped.
“Whew.”
Mikuru sighed, apparently relieved that Itsuki seemed to be safe. Her sigh also seemed like the sound a younger student would make while gazing longingly at the dreamy upperclassman she has a crush on, but such thoughts are infuriating, so we’ll ignore this latter possibility.
After watching Itsuki go, Mikuru took her sign, complete with Beef Skirt, 98 Yen/100g (heart symbol, original drawing of a cow) written in Magic Marker on it, and walked in the opposite direction from Itsuki’s, heading to her next job, looking a bit dejected as she went.
Having nodded in response to the many greetings that were directed at her on the way, she finally arrived at her destination, which was a dim little stationery shop. The shopkeeper, one Mr. Yusuke Suzuki (age sixty-five), was the head of the local merchants’ council, and he furnished Mikuru with her current lodgings.
“Welcome back, Mikuru. Are you tired?”
Mr. Suzuki greeted Mikuru with a kindly smile, though his intonation was strangely wooden.
“Um, I’m fine. There were lots of customers, and… business was… um, what was it… oh yes, booming.”
“Well, that’s good.”
Mikuru gave Mr. Suzuki a bow, then climbed the shop’s steep stairs to get to her room. At the end of the short hallway was her residence in this time period: a small Japanese-style bedroom.
Mr. Suzuki lived elsewhere, so this room had been vacant. I’m not sure exactly what the process had been, but in any case, Mikuru had come to live here after arriving from the future.
After sliding the door to the room closed, Mikuru began to take off her bunny girl outfit. Unfortunately, this scene was cut. In the next scene, she wore a baggy T-shirt as she climbed into her futon—then that scene, too, ended.
Meanwhile, another pair of eyes gazed thoughtfully upon Itsuki Koizumi.
They belonged to a girl named Yuki Nagato. She hardly looked like a normal schoolgirl, and small wonder, for she was actually an evil alien sorceress. You could easily guess as much, for she wore a cape and a wide-brimmed pointed hat—both well outside modern clothing standards. Incidentally, any resemblance she bears to anyone else named Yuki Nagato is completely coincidental, and this explanation is starting to get really old.
“…”
Yuki stood upon the rooftop of the school, her face not betraying a single emotion. This was the school that Itsuki attended, and although this was no doubt intended as a scene to show that she also had some sort of intention toward him, given the sequence of events, Itsuki had long since gone home, leaving Yuki standing there atop the unoccupied school, making the cut to this scene difficult to understand.
The previous scene was shot around sunset, yet from the position of the sun in the southern sky above Yuki’s head, it now seemed to be the height of midday, which unambiguously led to the conclusion that this scene had been shot during a lunch break. One can imagine how the director’s insistence on filming with a total disregard for logical sequence must have given the editor endless headaches.
That trend held true for the subsequent narrative.
Because of time constraints, Mikuru and Yuki entered their first confrontation without so much as a single explanation for why this might be happening.
After Mikuru ran pointlessly through a flock of pigeons at a shrine, the scene shifted to what seemed to be a forested park.
She, of course, was no longer dressed as a bunny girl, but instead as a waitress whose skirt was far too short. Mikuru, her hair tied up in pigtails and wearing an outfit that did amazing things for her assets, gripped a heavy-looking automatic pistol in each hand. Her face wore a sympathy-inspiring expression of tremulous resignation—and this was not an expression she’d been told to assume, but rather a reflection of her true feelings.
Meanwhile, the black-clad Yuki Nagato betrayed no emotion at all; she just stood there, motionless, holding a magic wand tipped with a star.
The two girls faced each other. It was no doubt intended to be a deadly face-off, but the encounter was too tame to be called as much, perhaps because Mikuru seemed to have nervously judged her own chances of winning such an encounter to be rather slim.
“Yah!”
Mikuru squeezed her eyes shut and aimed her guns blindly as she pulled the triggers in rapid succession. The small pellets came shooting out of the barrels toward Yuki, though most of them went well wide of her, and you could count the shots that were actually aimed properly on the fingers of one hand.
Naturally, Mikuru’s enemy would not simply sit there while she was attacked. With her left hand she waved Star Ring Inferno, her absurdly named magic wand, and deflected the shots.
“Oh no…”
Shortly, Mikuru was out of ammunition, and silence fell.
“I-I guess I’ll have to use my last resort! Take that!”
Although it felt a little too early to be using one’s last resort, Mikuru gave a shout with her charming little voice and opened her eyes wide.
Her hand came up, fingers forming a horizontal V shape around her bright blue left eye.
“M-M-Mikuru Beam!” she cried out, and from her eye shot a deadly laser beam. The death ray would burn through the air at the speed of light, piercing anything in its path—or it would have, but there was someone who would not let that happen.
Yuki Nagato.
Teleporting without the use of trick editing, Yuki reached out and blocked the Mikuru Beam with her right hand. Before the natural-sounding hiss of the beam could be heard, Yuki lunged toward Mikuru.
“Eek—!”
Mikuru cowered before the black form that rushed toward her. Yuki moved toward Mikuru with such speed that her black cloak billowed out, and she grabbed Mikuru’s face and tackled her to the ground.
“Yaah! N-Nagato, wha—!”
The battle waitress flailed her limbs as Yuki sat on her.
What could possibly happen next? What will Mikuru’s fate be? Why is Itsuki here?
All these questions will be answered after this message from Omori Electronics, delivered by our two leading ladies.
Our story resumes after the commercial, as Waitress Mikuru walks dejectedly along.
“I can’t believe the Mikuru Beam didn’t work… I’ve got to do something!”
She muttered to herself as she trudged through the shopping district. Her clothing in disarray, Mikuru arrived at the stationery shop where she lived, and closing herself up in her bare, unfurnished room, she changed clothes again. Evidently she was not a transforming magical girl and had to change outfits like everybody else.
The sliding door to her room opened, and Mikuru emerged, once again wearing her bunny girl costume. Downcast, she descended the stairs.
Evidently, regardless of the outcome of her battle, she had to work again today. Whether she’s honest or just foolish—or simply a hard worker—she was certainly enduring a lot of hardship, which was not far from the experiences of the actress.
Incidentally, at that moment, Itsuki Koizumi was walking down the street with a vacant expression on his face.
Before him appeared that elusive black-clad figure, Yuki Nagato. Yuki now had a calico cat riding on her shoulder, which hung on by digging its claws into her cloak. It seemed more worried about keeping its balance than Yuki was. Unobtrusive as ever, her appearance in Itsuki’s path was quite sudden.
Itsuki looked surprised as he stopped in front of the cat-carrying sorceress.
“What are you?”
A more appropriate reaction might have been nicer, but in any case that is what he said.
“I am—”
Yuki paused.
“—an alien sorceress.”
Looking at the cat, Itsuki replied:
“Is that so?”
“It is.”
Yuki also looked at the cat.
“What do you want with me?”
“You have a hidden power, which I am after.”
“And what if I say it’s too much trouble?”
“I will have you, even if I must use force.”
“What kind of force do you mean?”
“This.”
Yuki waved the Star Ring Inferno. Immediately, a thunderbolt leaped from the star atop the wand.
“Look out!”
A bunny girl tackled Itsuki from the side, and the two toppled over, limbs tangled. The thunderbolt went wide, splitting a telephone pole.
Itsuki was collapsed atop Bunny Mikuru—a deeply infuriating sight. For some reason, Yuki did not press her attack.
Perhaps it was that Mikuru seemed to be stunned after hitting her head in the fall. Itsuki shook her by the shoulders, and she seemed to come around.
“Owww…”
Mikuru stood as she rubbed her head, then pointed resolutely at Yuki, then called out.
“I won’t let you do as you please!”
Yuki looked first at Mikuru, then expressionlessly at the whiskers of the cat on her shoulder, before returning her gaze to the battle waitress and speaking quietly.
“I will retreat for the time being, but this will not happen again. Use what time is left to you to prepare your gravestone, for next time I shall show you no mercy,” said Yuki as she turned to leave, although there was no reason for her to show Mikuru any mercy now either.
Itsuki spoke.
“Who are you?”
“Huh—?” said Mikuru, who was suddenly tense after having begun to look relieved. “Um, er… I’m just a passing bunny girl! Never mind me! Um, good-bye!”
She ran off after Yuki.
“Whoever could she be?” said Itsuki, eyes gazing pointlessly into the distance as the camera panned just as pointlessly up at the white clouds in the sky.
The next round of “Mikuru versus Yuki” took place by a pond.
It went without saying that the details regarding why they had come to this particular place were entirely omitted. Apparently some things happened, and their conflict had been reignited, or whatever.
“I-I-I’m not going to back down, e-e-evil alien Yuki! L-leave Earth at once! Um… I’m sorry…”
“It is you who should disappear from this time period. He belongs to us. He has value to us. Though he has not realized his own power, it is critical. We will use that power to invade Earth.”
“I w-w-won’t let that happen! Not on my l-l-life!”
“Very well. I will take that life.”
Yuki did not have her cat with her this time. Instead, she had three other companions, who from their uniforms appeared to be high school students—an energetic-looking girl and two puzzled boys.
Mikuru seemed to know the long-haired girl, at least.
“Oh, um, Tsuruya! Not… not you too! Come b-back to your senses!”
“How am I supposed to come to any senses at all with you dressed like that?”
Tsuruya replied immediately, her acting slipping for just a moment. She curled her lip maliciously and continued.
“Sorry, Mikuru. I don’t want to do this, but I’m being controlled. Sorry, really!”
“Eek!”
“Now prepare yourself!”
Tsuruya and the two others approached Mikuru in an entirely nonthreatening fashion.
Behind them, Yuki waved her wand as though giving commands. Whether it was psychic emissions or electromagnetic radiation, something seemed to be emanating from the wand and robbing Tsuruya and the two others of their volition, turning them into puppets to be controlled.
Yuki Nagato was a force to be reckoned with. Such a cowardly attack! How could Mikuru fight back against this? Mikuru, whatever shall you do?
“Eek! Eeeee—!”
Nothing, apparently.
The pitiful girl found herself grabbed by the arms and legs by Tsuruya and the two boys and tossed into the brackish green water of the pond. One of the boys—the more clownish-looking one—seemed to stumble, and he took a dive from the edge of the pond as well. Not that it mattered. He’d probably haul himself out.
Evidently the pond was deep enough that Mikuru’s feet didn’t reach the bottom. Panicked, she beat at the water frantically, but in her urgency she was hardly making any progress at all. Before long, she’d be fish food. She couldn’t swim—or at least, she’d been told she couldn’t swim, so all she could do was flail in the water. Mikuru Asahina was in a pinch.
But there was someone who could save our heroine.
“What happened?”
Along came the dashing, gallant Itsuki Koizumi to the rescue. Kneeling down at the edge of the pond, he extended his hand to the convincingly drowning Mikuru in a manner that can only be described as “comic-book-like.”
“Grab hold—but be careful. Don’t pull me in with you.”
Just where had Itsuki been all this time? The pond was surrounded by flat ground—there was nowhere to hide, and yet from his timing, he must have been watching all along. Even more strangely, the wand-waving Yuki, along with her three zombified flunkies, had disappeared. She had been on the cusp of victory—where had she gone?
“Are you all right?”
“… Oooh… So cold…”
After being dragged out by Itsuki, Mikuru coughed, crawling on all fours.
“What were you doing in a place like that?” asked Itsuki.
Mikuru did not immediately answer, simply staring blankly at him, but eventually she seemed to remember her line.
“Um, uh… some bad people, they… um…”
A voice sounded from offscreen, and Mikuru suddenly moaned and collapsed. Yes, the script says she faints.
“Get a hold of yourself!”
Itsuki tried to pick up Mikuru, but she went limp in his arms.
Normally at times like these, you would think the person in Itsuki’s role would call an ambulance or get help from a bystander, but Itsuki—that cad!—just lifted Mikuru onto his back and started walking off somewhere. Just where in the hell are you taking that beautiful, helpless girl? you might want to call out, but his stride did not waver.
He walked off, as purposefully as though he himself was being remotely controlled by mind-altering waves.
But to where?
To a house, it turned out. His.
Despite the omission of scene-setting details, based on the spacious, traditional-style bedroom Itsuki laid Mikuru down in, we can infer that his house is a large one indeed, and built in the Japanese style.
Notably, Itsuki had committed the outrage of carrying the now-T-shirt-clad Mikuru in his arms, and Mikuru looked unavoidably as though she had just bathed.
As it’s quite impossible to imagine just how an unconscious person is supposed to be able to bathe themselves, doubts cannot help but surface in one’s mind about what else this scoundrel may have done to her while his hands were washing her body, and such doubts would immediately turn to rage, which in turn might become murderous intent—and there’s that murderous intent, right on schedule.
Itsuki should be less worried about Yuki and more worried about how he’s going to protect himself from half the school’s student population.
Taking an unconscious, half-drowned girl to his own bedroom was crime enough, but to give her a bath transcended mere criminality and was a fundamentally evil act, and there could be no complaint upon the summary execution of the person—Itsuki—responsible. Please, someone punish this man.
In any case, Itsuki placed Mikuru on a futon that had suddenly appeared, then sat down cross-legged beside her. He folded his arms and appeared to be deep in thought. But I’d wager he wasn’t thinking a damned thing. Any takers?
As proof, upon hearing directions from someone offscreen, he leaned over Mikuru. If that bastard Koizumi—I mean, Itsuki—had moved so much as one centimeter farther, someone who wasn’t supposed to be there was going to have to break the fourth wall and kick the crap out of him, but fortunately he was interrupted by someone else, whose appearance was less surprising.
“Wait.”
It was Yuki Nagato, coming in through the window and looking like some kind of half-baked grim reaper’s apprentice. I forgot to mention that this was on the second floor. That may lead you to wonder where she was standing this entire time. Please just suspend your disbelief.
Yuki—who was maybe more of a black-clad angel in mourning than a pseudo-reaper—clambered through the window, then stood.
“Itsuki Koizumi. You should not choose her. Your power will only become effective at my side.”
Yuki spoke flatly, regarding Itsuki with dark, ever-calm eyes.
Itsuki being Itsuki, he showed no alarm at a girl climbing into his room through a second-story window.
“Huh? What do you mean by that?”
His reply was awfully straight, his face serious.
“I cannot explain now. But you will understand soon enough. You have two choices. You can join me and help advance the universe toward its ideal form, or you may side with her and snuff out the possibilities of the future.”
As I recall, perhaps a third of this line was ad-libbed by Yuki. Was it really meant only for Itsuki, I wonder?
We’ll set aside for a moment the implication of Nagato’s—I mean, Yuki’s—words. Itsuki’s face looked troubled as he contemplated.
“I see. So either way, he… or, in this scene, it would be me, I am the key, am I not? And the key itself has no power. At best, a key can only open a door. When that door is opened, something will change. The thing that will change is…”
Itsuki paused for a moment and for some reason looked directly at the camera. Just who the hell was he looking at, and what the hell was he trying to say?
“I understand, Yuki. But as I am now, I do not have the right to decide. I think it is too early to draw any conclusions. Shall we table this matter, then? We still need time to consider. Of course, if you’re willing to divulge everything, then that’s a different matter.”
“That time will come soon. But it is not yet upon us, that is certain. We customarily view a lack of information as a flaw. We do not act without certainty.”
It was an opaque conversation, but there seemed to be a kind of incomprehensible understanding developing between Itsuki and Yuki.
Yuki nodded slowly, and after glancing at Mikuru’s flushed face, clambered out the window and disappeared. She didn’t fall from the second floor, though; she was just standing on the eaves, but in any case, you couldn’t see her anymore.
Itsuki resumed his thoughtful expression and looked back at the sleeping Mikuru.
When Mikuru awakes, will she comprehend the particulars of her situation and, enraged, throw whatever’s handy at Itsuki? All alone with a boy, unconscious, wearing nothing but a T-shirt—it’s not unreasonable that she’d conclude that something had happened to her and blame Itsuki, right? I’d like very much for that to happen.
But instead of fulfilling any such expectations, it’s time for another commercial break. Please enjoy our two leading ladies delivering a promotion for Yamachi Model Shop.
…
After the commercial, the story hit a turning point. The combat-themed plot thus far was completely and inexplicably eclipsed by a romantic comedy.
Mikuru seemed to have moved in with Itsuki, and the resulting cheesy cohabitation story was so terrible you want to pass out rather than endure the embarrassment of watching it anymore.
Here was Mikuru cheerfully offering Itsuki her terrible cooking, and there she was blushing furiously and making a big fuss over accidentally brushing his finger while seeing him off to school from the house’s front door, and now she was doing the cleaning and laundry, and finally she happily greeted Itsuki as he arrived home from school.
It was enough to make me want to scream, “Oh God, please stop this,” but such pleas were likely to fall upon deaf ears, as Itsuki and Mikuru’s touching love story dragged on for an eternity. Hey, Koizumi—want to trade places?
Incidentally, Itsuki Koizumi lived with his younger sister, it turned out, so a ten-year-old fifth grader was hauled in—sorry, her birthday was last month, so I guess she was eleven. Anyway, now she was fooling around with Itsuki and Mikuru on-screen in yet another scene that makes the fate of the story quite a mystery. What was the point of giving Itsuki a sister, anyway?
Amidst all of this, the incomprehensible battle between Mikuru and Yuki over Itsuki’s fate had now moved to Itsuki’s school.
Shockingly, Yuki transferred to Itsuki’s high school. Why we’re using such sluggish filler material, I have no idea, but in any event, Yuki abandoned her black robes and pursued a more indirect method of pursuing her target, cleverly attempting to push Mikuru aside while becoming closer to Itsuki. She left no psychological attack untested—she left love letters in his shoe locker, brought two box lunches and forced one on him at lunchtime, staked out the front gate and intercepted him as he left school, secretly took photos of him and kept them in her wallet, and so on and so on. That all seemed more like a frontal assault than a clever scheme, though.
Of course, Mikuru struck back. She also transferred into Itsuki’s school. Wouldn’t it have made more sense to just have her there to begin with? If her raison d’être is protecting Itsuki, it wouldn’t have been strange for her to be in school with him—on the contrary, it would’ve made more sense that way.
Without any explanation whatsoever, for some mysterious reason Mikuru and Yuki never fought with laser beams and magic spells on school grounds. Apparently their goal had become trying to be the first to capture Itsuki’s heart.
The story went completely off the rails, devolving into a narrative about two girls vying for the affections of one boy.
Of course, Yuki had a huge problem. After all, Mikuru lived under the same roof as Itsuki, giving her an advantage that was like the Great Wall of China, making Yuki (where did she live, anyway?) an invading Hun, totally unable to get over the barrier.
To make a comeback, Yuki would have to resort to extreme methods.
“…”
“Hey, what are you doing?”
Yuki started hugging Itsuki regardless of time and place. No doubt the sudden feminine physical contact was meant to leave Itsuki shaken, but Yuki’s face was so expressionless, it’s hard to ascertain what, if anything, she was feeling, and it was more eerie and off-putting than anything else.
Her facial expression had no relationship to her actions.
Although Mikuru managed to act jealous every time she saw the two of them, from outside Itsuki appeared not to care one way or the other, so there was no real emotion conveyed at all.
It was as though it didn’t really matter what happened to Itsuki.
And owing to time constraints, it was about time to gather everybody together for one last gasp at the finale.
Perhaps because they were bored with the lighthearted school scenes and the cease-fire that applied on the school grounds, or perhaps because their true identities simply came through sometimes, Mikuru and Yuki now resumed their original roles of Battle Waitress and Alien Sorcerer and skirmished sporadically.
With each scene, the depth of the plot’s confusion increased as it progressed thusly:
—Mikuru fighting Yuki and Yuki’s cat familiar, Shamisen, in an apartment complex courtyard.
—Mikuru and Yuki (with Shamisen) tossing firecrackers at each other in the bamboo forest behind the school.
—Mikuru and Yuki wrestling each other in front of some unknown person’s house, with a bored Shamisen looking on.
—Mikuru and Yuki chasing each other around Itsuki’s living room, while Itsuki’s little sister holds Shamisen and laughs.
And just when you think we’ve made it through these pointless scenes, the film flirted with exhaustion yet again as it dredged up the school/love-triangle plot.
Itsuki thus far had remained indecisive on the matter of Mikuru and Yuki, which of course would earn him cries of resentment from all around him—from the other boys, that is. But the Ultra Director who ruled this story like a god chucked all such complaints out of the ring and obstinately imposed her own will.
Which would explain why the story so far had careened out of control, like a chimpanzee playing a racing game, crashing at every corner then rampaging ahead anyway.
But even the Ultra Director eventually realized that despite the play-it-by-ear philosophy she’d used thus far, if she didn’t wrap things up soon, they’d never get to the ending at all.
Of course, it was already too late, if you asked me.
Anyway, perhaps she realized that at this rate there’d be no story at all, so all the little scenes with the characters doing who-knows-what got forcibly mashed together as we rushed toward the end.
Yuki suddenly remembered her original purpose and informed Mikuru of their final confrontation.
One morning, Mikuru opened her shoe locker to find a note reading LET’S FINISH THIS in mechanically written letters that looked like some printer had spit them out.
But still—if Yuki had really wanted to take out Mikuru, she’d had scores of opportunities thus far, and she wouldn’t have had to go to the trouble of informing Mikuru ahead of time. And yet who can fathom the mind of a space alien who goes around pretending to be a normal, expressionless high school student while constantly battling with her opponent? What did she want, anyway?
And who had any idea what Mikuru wanted either? After reading the missive from Yuki, she looked off into space with a steely gaze, gripping the note and nodding decisively as though having realized something. What had she realized? I know I’ve said this before, but I had no idea. The only one who knows won’t ever be on-screen.
As for me, behind the camera, well, comprehension was impossible, but thankfully I knew that everything in this world comes to an end eventually, giving salvation from this eternal hell.
We had arrived at the climax.
Appearing again for another cameo, Tsuruya came up to the troubled-looking Mikuru.
“What’s the matter, Mikuru? You look like you’re worried about some old man stalking you. Did your doctor tell you that you have athlete’s foot or something?”
Crouching in the corner of the classroom, Mikuru replied.
“The time has finally come. I must go and face the final battle!”
“Wow, how ’bout that! I’ll leave you to it, then—Earth’s in your hands!”
Tsuruya kept a straight face when she delivered the line, but then her face twitched and she burst out laughing.
“… I’ll do my best…”
Mikuru’s reply was so soft that the mic could barely pick it up.
Incidentally, although it’s probably pointless to point out any more problems with this terrible story, just when did Mikuru become friends with Tsuruya? Tsuruya’s first appearance was as a mind-controlled puppet in the pond scene, and Mikuru seemed to already know her at that point, which means that she knew Tsuruya even before Mikuru transferred into this school. But if that’s the case, Yuki’s mind-control attack should have happened later. At the very least, the knowledge that Tsuruya and Mikuru were friends would have improved that scene, and the fact that it didn’t play out that way is frankly a mistake.
Of course, the voice of God believed herself to be infallible, and she had no time for such observations, instead pouring all her energy into immediately filming whatever scene popped into her head. With no idea of when her instinct-driven activities might cease, ordinary humans like me were run totally ragged in both mind and body.
Thus did the final battle come to be held on the school rooftop.
During the lunch hour, the black-robed Yuki waited with Shamisen draped over her shoulder.
After a few seconds, the doors to the roof opened and out came Mikuru, dressed in her combat waitress outfit.
“Yes.”
Yuki answered honestly. Mikuru had needed to change in a stall in the girls’ bathroom, and while I didn’t know whether that was why she had taken so long, she’d kept the cameraman waiting for quite a while too.
“Well then,” said Yuki.
Her honesty was dispensed with, and she now launched into the lines that had been prepared for her.
“Let us settle this now. We do not have much time. We must end this in a few minutes, at the most.”
“I agree, but… but! Itsuki will definitely choose me! Um… this is embarrassing, but I believe it’s true!”
“Unfortunately, I do not plan to respect his wishes. I require his power, and I will have it. If I must, I will conquer Earth to get it.”
Why couldn’t she just go ahead and conquer Earth, and then gain control of Itsuki after she’d done so? No one would be able to resist her then, and Mikuru would be left to struggle alone as the majority went ahead and handed over Itsuki—not even the loveliest of battle waitresses would be able to stop them.
And anyway, if she had the power to conquer Earth, shouldn’t capturing just one person be no problem?
“I won’t let you! That’s why I’ve come from the future!”
Oh, right. Mikuru was a waitress from the future. That fact had been used hardly at all so far, so I was starting to wonder.
The laser-beam fight scenes between Yuki and Mikuru now started again.
On one hand, you had Mikuru firing beams, trip lines, missiles, and micro black holes while shouting “Shazam!” and “Kapow!” and so on, while Yuki wordlessly waved her wand around.
The word of God came down that there were some effects you just couldn’t do with CG, so a variety of firecrackers were set off atop the school, and although they were old castoffs from the shopping district’s toy store, they were still plenty loud when lit. The resulting racket attracted the attention of several teachers down below, and we all got an earful.
That’s what happens when you play with fire at school, obviously.
If anything bad was going to go on my permanent record as a result, I’d ask that it instead be attributed to the director. But even if she shouldered Asahina’s, Nagato’s, and Koizumi’s burdens as well, she’d still be able to get by without any problems, thanks to her excellent grades. If she’d just sit down and shut up, nobody would have any complaints about her.
Despite the cameraman’s internal monologue, the battle raged on.
This is thanks to the director’s stubborn assertion that if the teachers forced us to withdraw from the rooftop and abandon this important scene, she would file a claim against the school for trying to stifle students’ freedom of expression.
I was afraid she’d actually do it too.
The teachers retreated from the rooftop with an impotent request to please not play with fire on school grounds, and we were getting more and more of an audience coming up through the roof’s entrance, which made Mikuru even more nervous.
One thing led to another, and Mikuru wound up at the end of her rope. None of her attacks had affected Yuki, and as she’d backed away from the constantly advancing alien sorcerer, she was cornered against the roof’s railing.
“Be at peace. I will carve you a fine epitaph. Be sure and do many good deeds in the afterlife, so as to store up good karma for your next life.” Yuki delivered her parting words as she thrust her wand at the waitress. “Farewell.”
That instant, the Star Ring Whatever lit up absurdly, and there was a cheap flashing effect that flickered several times.
Mikuru clutched her head and collapsed into a fetal position.
It wasn’t clear what kind of attack Yuki used, but evidently it was very powerful. It may have looked as though it was only causing the screen to flicker, but it was a spell potent enough to disintegrate Mikuru right down to the last atom.
If you don’t get excited here, there’s not going to be any more opportunities for excitement, so thanks in advance.
“Eeeek! Aaaaah!”
Mikuru continued to cry out.
It would be easy to get annoyed at such a totally useless heroine, but she was so cute that all was forgiven.
And even forgiven, she was at this rate about to be erased from the story. If evil triumphed over good, the narrative would become an ironic commentary on the fact that no matter the predominant views on who should succeed, those with power would always win.
“…”
But of course, that is not what happened. The character who stood on the side of justice right up through the very end was not suddenly going to disappear. The hand of an unseen god would move to exterminate evil, allowing a crucial character to appear with unbelievably exquisite timing. That was the scenario the director had dreamed up.
It goes without saying that the deus ex machina that saved Mikuru was none other than Itsuki Koizumi. I mean, of course. Who else would it be? There wasn’t enough time to suddenly introduce another character, after all.
In a flash, Itsuki picked Mikuru up, successfully dodging Yuki’s assault. It was awfully slow, that magical ray of Yuki’s.
“Asahina, are you all right?” said Itsuki, who then turned to face Yuki, holding out his arm. “I cannot allow you to hurt her. Yuki, please stop this.”
Seeing Itsuki’s determined stance in front of the helpless Mikuru, Yuki looked at the cat on her shoulder as if contemplating something. Perhaps she was considering annihilating them both, if she indeed could not have Itsuki.
But the answer came from an unexpected source.
“There is nothing to consider. You have only to steal the boy’s will. From what I’ve heard, you have the ability to control others. Simply take control of him, then, and hide him away somewhere, then deal with the girl at your leisure.”
Shamisen spoke, and I freaked out. I’d told him not to speak, so what the hell was he doing? No dinner for him!
“Understood.”
Yuki, composed as always, bopped Shamisen on the forehead with the star that tipped her wand. The cat shut his mouth. Yuki then spoke again, to nobody in particular.
“That was ventriloquism.”
She then raised the Star Whatever.
“Take this, Itsuki Koizumi. Your will becomes mine.”
A cheap special-effect thunderbolt leaped from the star.
I’m sure it’s obvious what happened next, but I suppose I might as well relate the events of the last battle.
To make a long story short, Itsuki’s potential power was realized. Having found himself in a desperate situation, he activated the latent potency that he never knew he had and his full abilities were unleashed. Such powers are often difficult to control, and Itsuki’s case was no different. The force of his emotion caused his incomprehensible power to reflect Yuki’s attack back on her with incredible energy.
“… How unfortunate.”
“Meeooow—!”
And with that, the mysterious Yuki and Shamisen were blown off into the horizon, leaving behind terribly disappointing final words.
Itsuki watched their demise, then spoke to Mikuru in a soft voice.
“It’s over, Asahina.”
Mikuru looked up tremulously, gazing at Itsuki as though he were a very bright light.
Itsuki put his arm around Mikuru and helped her to her feet, then rested his hand on the roof’s guardrail and looked up to the sky. Mikuru followed his gaze to the clouds as the camera panned up.
It was obvious that the camera panned up any time the connection to the next scene was unclear.
Which brought us to the very last scene.
Despite its being autumn, Mikuru and Itsuki walked along a cherry-blossom-filled road. The degree to which her waitress outfit and his school uniform went together is strangely irritating.
Conveniently, a sudden gust of wind arose, sweeping up the scattered petals into little whirls. This was the only natural scene in the film.
Itsuki smiled as he plucked a cherry petal from Mikuru’s hair. Mikuru blushed bashfully and slowly closed her eyes.
The camera’s focus blurred, then tilted up to capture the blue autumn sky. The sky again? Really?
The intro to the ending theme we stole from somewhere began to play as the credits scrolled.
The voice of God, evidently recorded separately, began to deliver some narration as The Adventures of Mikuru Asahina Episode 00 came to its conclusion just as confusingly as it began.
Calling a movie filled with such ridiculousness from beginning to end a “movie” is an insult to people who are actually serious about making movies, and yet somehow this wound up being rather popular. The film was supposed to be bookended by features created by the film society, but in the end the audience demand for our film wound up pushing the others aside and monopolizing the film society’s projector, no doubt because the voice of God had been hard at work hyping the movie, and also because Mikuru Asahina was quite popular.
Evidently the poor film society ended up screening their movies in little spurts whenever the A/V room was free.
Since we weren’t collecting ticket fees, no one was making any money, but the popularity went directly to the director/producer’s head, and she immediately proposed a sequel, along with a new edit entitled The Adventures of Mikuru Asahina: The Director’s Cut that would be burned to DVD and sold, ideas that both myself and a teary-eyed Asahina are trying our best to dissuade her from.
Right now, we’re just praying that our brigade chief will turn her antennae toward something besides filmmaking for the next school festival.
But try as we might, no matter what she does, the same fate surely awaits, and that’s assuming the SOS Brigade still even exists by that point.
… Will it? I wondered.
I decided I should ask the time traveler. I quietly hoped the information wasn’t classified.