At first, we’d only used these costumes as a last resort, but, somewhat worryingly, they were quickly becoming a regular work outfit.
Since Peeps wasn’t present today, my transformation into the Demonic Middle Manager had to start from square one with makeup. I sat in a chair as Ms. Futarishizuka put on my foundation and eye shadow for me.
“I always knew you had a lot of hobbies, but you’re quite skilled at makeup as well,” I noted.
“What, did you forget I’m a woman? This is a basic skill.”
“Maybe, but don’t you go without makeup most of the time?”
“Why pretty up a face that’s already so pretty?”
Her smugness wasn’t unfounded—she had considerable skill. She’d soon buried my original face under makeup, making me look like a member of a visual kei band. Once I put on my horned hair band, the Demonic Middle Manager look was complete.
Maybe I should practice doing this to myself, I thought. There was no guarantee I’d always have my junior colleague around to help.
“Sasaki! Futarishizuka! Are you done yet?!” called Miss Hoshizaki.
“Perfect. Looking good!” said Ms. Futarishizuka, pleased with her work.
At this point, the terrorist group was repeatedly demanding negotiations through Mr. Akutsu. The latter wasn’t at the venue but was dealing with them over the phone from the bureau. And apparently, he was also hounding Miss Hoshizaki to hurry things up. I’d lost count of how many times she’d urged us along, smartphone in hand.
Finally, we nodded, and the Masked Sailor and Demonic Middle Manager left the staff area. We passed through a staff-only hallway and moved behind the main stage. Our destination was a space reserved for stage workers; it was basically a walkway meant for actors to enter the stage from behind the audience. We were completely hidden from their view.
“What does the world think about these two characters, anyway?” I asked. “I know people were talking about them on the internet after that video of us in the city. But if there’s been any pushback, we’ll need to think carefully about what we say.”
“We’re internet memes now, like it or not,” explained Ms. Futarishizuka. “Toys for the masses to do with as they wish. The Karuizawa locals filmed us, too, apparently. Specifically, the time with the pink magical girlie when you galloped in on the horse—that one’s all over the place now.”
“They’re all just totally unscripted fragments of scenes, though.”
“Yes, and that only gives the people using them even more freedom.”
The two of us chatted as we ran toward the scene. We used the time to plan out the story for our little performance.
“Good thing we were both in disguise, then,” I commented.
“I did a teensy little internet search of my own, actually. Do you know how many lewd pictures of the Masked Sailor there are? A lot. I even saw a few involving the Demonic Middle Manager. Very lascivious, no?”
“And you’re telling me this why?”
“There’s plenty of erotic images out there. But isn’t one of a coworker more, well, useful than one of a complete stranger?”
“Sorry, but if anything, that would just turn me off.”
Perhaps, to the general public, we looked like a couple of YouTubers who went around setting up impromptu flash mobs. We didn’t have our own channel, though, so maybe we came off more like incomprehensible weirdos.
“Sasaki, I’m in position!”
“Understood. We’ll be there in a moment.”
Miss Hoshizaki’s voice reached me over Type Twelve’s translator earphone. We were all still wearing the devices, and they allowed for bidirectional real-time communication. They also meant that, if something went wrong at the venue, Type Twelve could pick it up from her terminals and pods and relay the situation to us right away.
Miss Hoshizaki was waiting backstage to support us if needed. Her main task was to serve as a go-between for us and the section chief. Since her picture had been broadcast on TV in the past, we decided it would be better for her to stay out of the limelight.
We’d considered getting Himegami’s help to trigger an isolated space so we could resolve things there, but when we contacted him, he told us it would take around an hour to get to the venue, even if he rushed.
Type Twelve’s terminal could have reduced that time to a scant few minutes, but the existence of mechanical life-forms was top secret even at the bureau. Either Mr. Akutsu or those above him refused to allow it, and we had to give up. Always with the red tape.
“We’re here, esteemed senior,” announced Ms. Futarishizuka.
“We’ll head in when we see a good opportunity,” I added.
“Right. Good luck to you both!”
The program was continuing on the main stage according to schedule. The screen showed several first-string members singing and dancing. We could see how things were going via the monitors set up all around the backstage area. The feeds covered the sides of the stage, too, and that was where we spotted the middle-aged man holding a gun—most likely one of the terrorists we were after.
“Ms. Futarishizuka, let’s go.”
“Aye-aye, sir!”
As the singing and dancing ended and gave way to an interlude, we headed out, throwing open the door to the standby area. Then we sprinted full speed toward the stage.
The first one to jump out was the Demonic Middle Manager, followed by the Masked Sailor.
“Hold it right there, Demonic Middle Manager!” she shouted.
“I will do no such thing, Masked Sailor.”
Our voices boomed through high-output speakers all around the stage. Type Twelve’s translators were picking up our voices and feeding them through the venue’s sound system using her terminals and pods. The system was set up using IP-based network audio, so I figured it was now mostly under Type Twelve’s control.
Naturally, the audience was shocked. Questions began to rise up here and there—people wanted to know what was going on.
“Huh? What’s this?” “Hey, wait. Who are they?” “Oh, I’ve seen them online before!” “But why now?” “What’s gonna happen to my oshi’s concert?” “The helmet girl looks a lot shorter than in the videos.” “Were they with Otherworld Productions all along?”
Ms. Futarishizuka ran parallel to me along another path through the audience seating. Once we were both at the front row, we leaped off the floor and onto the stage. Using just enough flight magic so that it wouldn’t seem too implausible, I got up in one shot and glanced to the side. Ms. Futarishizuka climbed up after me a moment later.
Then I turned my gaze to the wings. I could see the psychic we’d glimpsed on the monitors earlier. He was holding a gun pointed at a few staff member hostages nearby. When he saw the Masked Sailor and the Demonic Middle Manager burst onto the stage, he looked dumbfounded.