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Yoiryu gets a job at a maid cafe. Shenanigans ensue.
Finally got around to finishing this story that I started almost two years ago. Mostly it just started out as an excuse to put Yoi in a maid dress and it just spiraled out from there.
Title from Psalm 19:10
“Absolutely not”
“I didn’t say anything.”
“I can see you thinking it,” said Yoiryu, his nine tails bristling behind him as he leaned against the table. He folded his arms and gave his boyfriend a stern look. Conall, meanwhile, barely looked up from the living room couch, eyes glued to the TV, only glancing over to Yoiryu to shoot him a smug glance.
Yoiryu was in his ‘Mostly-Human’ form today; if it wasn’t for the tails, ears, and the black-white gradient in his hair, you could easily confuse him for anybody else. Of course, he could choose to appear however he liked, but Conall had found, in their few years of dating, that his boyfriend had a few forms he preferred for laying around the house.
The Channel 35 news blared through the television speakers; little bits of screen candy decorated the edges of the news broadcast as the camera focused on a small café right in the middle of Sapporo’s downtown, with details about its grand opening.
“Christ,” said Yoi, his nose turning upwards into a sneer as the camera lingered on a frilly black-and-white dress. “I thought we quarantined all those freaks in Akihabara. Now it’s spreading like the T-Virus.”
Conall considered his next words carefully, seeking to goad his boyfriend without him catching on. “You don’t like Maid Cafés?” His tone was calculatingly innocent. The queer look Yoi gave him was inscrutable but disapproving.
“They’re demeaning to women,” said Yoiryu, flatly. “Plus, it attracts the worst clientele. The most unpleasant shut-ins, lay-abouts, and perverts in the country. They always become Meccas for Hikikomori. Besides-”
“Sure, sure,” Conall said, sincere, if lukewarm, in his agreement. “But this is a news story about local flavor,” he said as he rolled his eyes. “About all the new businesses popping up in Sapporo. And this cafe’s got a gimmick,” he gestured to the broadcast. The rainbow of animal ears and tails that featured prominently in each frame of the broadcast made Conall’s point apparent, and the naturalistic way they flitted back and forth made it apparent that they weren’t just part of a uniform.
Yoi stood in silence, appalled shock sitting clearly on his face.
“I- Already?!” He said. Conall patted the air with his hand in a ‘please don’t wake the neighbors’ gesture. Yoi’s voice fell a few decibels, but lost none of its mania. “It’s been, what, barely a year-and-a-half since the De-Glamouring and they’re already looking for ways to make money from it?” His eyes narrowed and his nose twisted into a rare expression of contempt.
Conall gave a dismissive twirl of his hand. “Capitalism will subsume all things into itself. All that is solid melts into air, all that is sacred is profaned, something something, Mark Fisher.”
“Don’t you ‘something something Mark Fisher’ me,” Yoiryu glared before swapping his attention back to the TV, turning his nose up at the images on screen. “The first Catgirl Café to hire real Catgirls,” he said, the disgust in his voice rising. “It’s just so… exploitative.”
Conall merely shrugged. “Cute ears or no, everybody’s gotta pay rent. Besides, could you imagine a Kemono working as a longshoreman? Or a lathe operator? The mind boggles.” He could see his boyfriend building up to a contradiction, but the glower fizzled out, and he just rolled his eyes.
“Cute ears or no,” Yoi echoed, “I’m not working at a maid cafe.” Even as he said it, his head tilted curiously and he squinted at the TV screen with focus.
“I never said you should.”
Yoi was already pacing about in agitation. “Besides. I doubt they even hire men. The people who go to these types of places only want female waitstaff.” Conall considered interjecting and mentioning that, as a shapeshifter, Yoiryu could turn himself into a woman without much difficulty. But at the moment, it was pointless; Yoi was staring into the middle distance and his tails twitched with metronome-like regularity. He wasn’t arguing with Conall, per se. The half of Yoi that had a sense of dignity and propriety was at war with the part that rejoiced in new experiences. When Yoi got like this, Conall could say just about anything and go completely unheard.
“I’m also technically not a Kemonomimi either. Kitsune are related but distinct. Although I suppose that probably wouldn’t matter to your average clientele…”
“I’m thinking of investing in crypto,” said Conall in response, keeping his tone level to not break Yoi’s concentration.
“Still. I guess it must be said that it’s something I’ve never tried before. I’ve worked in restaurants, of course, but never at a themed one...”
“I sure hope the LDP does well in this next election,” Conall agreed, standing up to give his lost-in-the-sauce boyfriend an amorous hug from behind.
“Plus, gender discrimination in hiring has been illegal since 2006.” Yoiryu’s musings had turned into vigorous statements of fact, his tails twitching at a perfect Allegro. “They might get away with it in Akihabara, but here in Hokkaido it’s a much tougher sell to regulators.”
“I killed a man in Reno just to watch him die.”
“All right, all right,” Yoi said, waving his hand with something between enthusiasm and resignation. “I’ll give it a shot. I mean, what’s the worst that can happen, right? They don’t hire me? I hate the job? Hardly the end of the world. And it’s not like-” The self-justifications continued until Conall practically shoved him out the door.
Flopping back onto the couch, Conall gave a quiet sigh. At least he’d have the apartment to himself some days. And the extra rent money couldn’t hurt. And, somewhere, deep deep down, there was a part of him that was at least a little curious what Yoi looked like wearing a frilly white dress…
Ishida Asako squinted as she peered over the resume. The young man sitting on the opposite side of the desk flashed her a bright-eyed smile while his tail swayed gently behind him. It was a bit mesmerizing, like watching a hypnotist’s watch, and she felt herself having to force her attention away from it and back into the present moment.
Normally, she preferred to do group interviews. When she’d been promoted to manager at her last job, she adopted it as a way of sifting through many applicants at once. Now that she was running her own restaurant, her commitment to hiring only Kemono as waitstaff seemed more harebrained by the second. It had seemed like a good gimmick at the time, but she was already running into staffing issues. Yokai of all sorts were rare, and Kemono in particular were as common as clams in a field. She’d had a total of 6 applicants, total, in the three months since she’d opened, and until now, they had all been female.
Normally she would’ve balked at the idea of hiring a man for the position; She didn’t personally object, but her clientele leaned unquestionably towards the reactionary end of the spectrum when it came to matters of gender; Not all of them, but enough that there was a risk of alienating a section of her customer base. On the other hand…
“Naitou Yoriyuki?” She inquired, glancing up from his resume, her attention focusing back on the present moment. “Yoriyuki’s a bit of an older name, isn’t it?” A bit of a softball question. But it wasn’t like she could afford to be picky with any applicants anyways; He had a clean shirt, two fluffy ears, and a pulse; he spoke English and Mandarin, lived within walking distance and, maybe most importantly, he was beautiful. Like someone had plucked one of those bishonen actors out of a bad period drama. It wasn’t something she found personally attractive, but she could appreciate it on an intellectual, aesthetic level; more like looking at a sunset than an actual person. It wasn’t too hard to imagine him sporting a frilly little dress. Hell, if he pitched his voice up a bit and wore his hair right, you could easily confuse him for a woman…
The man across from her simply shrugged, apologetically. “I was named after a great-uncle of mine.” He crossed his ankles and smiled as he leaned forwards. “My partner just calls me ‘Yoiryu’ though,” he volunteered, and then added, as an explanation, “They’re foreign. I think it’s cute.”
A wave of quiet relief passed over Asako, and she leaned back into her chair. His answers were almost too perfect, like a student who’d gotten his hands on the answer key. “I took a look over your resume, and I’ve noticed you’ve never worked in food service before. How much experience do you have working with customers directly?”
Yoriyuki leaned forwards and made a half-hearted pointing gesture towards the resume in her hands. “I used to work as the front desk manager at the La Vista Hotel, in Hakodate. Most of my job involved checking clients in, answering their questions, and handling their issues. Including calming them down whenever they got irate.”
Another near-perfect answer, although at least this one wasn’t uncannily so. “It’s ¥2500 per hour to start, and you’re expected to work all holidays except for Labor Day. Can you manage that?”
“¥2500?” Yoriyuki’s tail twitched as he leaned forwards conspiratorially. “That’s quite generous for a small café like this.”
Asako gave a lopsided half-smile as she shrugged. “I work with what I have.” She leaned back into her chair with an air that suggested finality. “I know it’s traditional to call you some time after the interview, but why don’t I save us both some time? Are you interested in the position?”
Yoriyuki’s mouth curled up into a genial smile. “Yes, Ma’am, I am.”
“Wonderful. Ask Yanai-San to get your measurements before you go, and I’ll see you here on Monday for your first day.”
Yoriyuki stood up, bowed (at 45 degrees, as was traditional), said “Thank you for your time”, and swiftly departed, vulpine tail swishing with excitement as he left.
Asako let loose a quiet sigh of relief and turned back to all the other business of the day. Interviewing applicants was probably her least favorite part of running the business, but at least there she could point to some kind of tangible success. There was too much red on her ledger to not take what little victories she could…
Yanai Hoshiyo adjusted her arm slightly, pulling the cafe’s menus up to a more comfortable mid-torso height as she passed into the serving area, her ears twitching in rhythm to the clanking of ceramic cups on plates coming from the kitchen as she began showing the new guy the ropes.
The new hire was pretty. Too pretty.
It wasn’t that she was the jealous type; heaven knew she wasn’t hurting for attention from men. Rather, it was an issue of professional pride. Nearly a whole hour of her morning routine had become dedicated to all the small rituals of washing, moisturizing, and applying make-up to her face. Her restroom had long ago begun a slow metamorphosis into an alchemical laboratory to try and keep her at-work appearance as perfect as possible.
And as far as she was concerned, using a grammar was cheating.
All Youkai (or Abscondii, if you were fancy and spoke English) could do magic, of course; but it came more naturally to some than others. Kemono like her were generally pretty low on the magical totem pole, but with enough time and practice she was confident she could throw up a pretty convincing grammar to last the whole workday. It would probably take longer than her usual routine, but it was at least theoretically possible.
On the other hand, she couldn’t really blame the new guy. Otaku were not known for being forward-thinking on gender issues, and while a guy in a maid outfit might be an interesting gimmick for some, for their regulars, it probably wouldn’t play too well. If he had to use a little magic to give his gender a bit of plausible deniability, then so be it.
“Naitou-san,” she said, handing the young man a copy of the restaurant’s menu. “Make sure you look this over and get familiar with it. We only really sell coffee, tea, and a few sweet cakes, so it shouldn’t take you too long.”
“Right,” he said, and his tail briefly twitched in unison with her own as he began to look the menu over. “Is there any specific dish I should recommend if a customer asks?”
Ah, good; So he knew the song-and-dance already. Well, not the literal song and dance they did for birthdays. That was for the later training. Still, his obvious dining expertise made Yanai’s life just-that-little-bit easier. “We have a gâteau St-Honoré that nobody else in Sapporo sells, and it’s our baker’s speciality. It’s got a solid, shortcrust base that’s filled with cream, and an incredibly soft crust, and it’s all covered in caramelized sugar,” she was practically drooling just at the thought of it, even as the strap around her dress complained in anticipation. “Ask Kati-san if she’d be willing to let you try it someday, she loves making stuff with whatever leftovers we have.”
“Kati-san?” Yoriyuki asked, his head tilting slightly.
“Our baker. I don’t know how to say her full name properly,” though it hardly stopped her from trying. “Ka-ti-gu-ba-ku.”
Recognition flashed in Yoriyuki’s eyes. “Katigbak? So she’s from the Philippines?”
Yanai simply shrugged. “Maybe. I was never very good at geography. In any case, her cakes are absolutely perfect.” While her voice didn’t drop, she did lean conspiratorially into Yoriyuki. “Frankly, I think we could get by just fine without the whole meido gimmick, but whatever pays the bills, I guess.” She handed him a stack of folded tablecloths and gestured vaguely to the tables and booths. Catching her meaning, he began dressing the dining area.
“I suppose working at a cafe wasn’t how you pictured your mid-twenties?” Probed Yoriyuki, after a lull in the conversation.
Yanai snorted. “Glad you still think I’m in my mid twenties. Means I’m not an old hag quite yet.” She shook her head ruefuly. “But no, not really. I used to work for the Department of Livestock Industry. Got my degree in Agricultural Science from Hokudai, and it was my job to collect data on livestock numbers in the prefecture.”
“What happened?”
“The De-Glamouring happened.” Yanai felt the corners of her mouth twist into a grimace. “I was in the middle of a presentation, and all of a sudden, I realized everyone in the board room was looking at me like I had grown a second head.” She brought her hand to the top of her head, pressing her feline ears gently down into her hair. She paused a bit, remembering the shock, and then the shame and confusion of the moment. “I ran out of the office and hid at home for the rest of the week. I tried putting the glamour back up when I finally mustered the courage to head back in, but I couldn’t maintain it for that long anymore, and everyone already knew at that point anyways…”
“How did people react?” Yoriyuki asked as he began setting up the tables’ cutlery. He was on the other side of the café now, and slowly making his way back.
“At first it was just awkward. Most people just didn’t mention it. A couple people asked me a few questions; I figured it was only fair, most people were still trying to grasp the idea of magic being real.” Her face turned sour as she started spraying the counters with disinfectant. “But after a little while, once everyone had gotten used to it… Whenever I used to go out on investigations, to check livestock numbers and conditions, none of the farmers would take me seriously. And at the office, my male coworkers would barely pay attention to anything I had to say, and my female coworkers stopped talking to me almost entirely. It was like I wasn’t even a person anymore.” Her voice cracked a bit at that last statement, but she kept her composure. “I think the last straw was when someone grabbed my tail out of nowhere.”
“Your tail?” Yoriyuki’s tone was incredulous.
“I know, stupid right?” She said, biting the laugh mid-exhale. “I’m sure he didn’t mean anything by it, but at that point, I’d had it. I’d heard about this place on the news, and I figured I’d be a shoe-in, so I submitted my resignation and got work here.”
“Do the customers here treat you better than your coworkers?”
“No,” said Yanai flatly, before giving a sharp laugh. “But at least here, if someone gets too handsy we can just throw him out.” She mused on that thought for a moment, before her attention turned to Yoriyuki. “Actually, now that I think about it, it’s a good thing Asako-san hired you; if we ever get any problem customers, we can just send them your way.”
Yoriyuki folded his arms indignantly, holding a stack of menus close to his chest. “Why? Is it all right for me to get harassed just because I’m a man?”
Yanai rolled her eyes at that. “Oh, don’t give me that. I know a grammar when I see one. You can put your real face back on when you leave, and anyone who sees you leave will assume you’re just one of the kitchen staff.”
“Why would I care-” he cut himself off mid-sentence, seemingly realizing the implications in real-time, and his face softened. “Do some of the men follow the waitresses home?”
Yanai nodded somberly. “Either that, or they wait out front to ambush them and propose marriage.” She let out a strained laugh. “Nothing bad has happened yet, but it scared two of the girls away.”
“No wonder the pay’s so high,” Yoriyuki mused, before looking back at Yanai. “All right, yeah, sure. Send ‘em my way. I’ve got… experience in getting folks to behave.” There was something almost sinister in his voice, but Yanai decided not to look a gift horse in the mouth.
“Thank goodness. I’ll tell the other girls. It’ll help endear them to you too; most of them were pretty apprehensive when they’d heard you got hired.”
“Apprehensive? They haven’t even met me.”
Yanai just shrugged. “All the other girls had the De-Glamouring happen when they were in high school or college; I’m the only one who has any experience being treated like a human being in the workplace. Male customers are one thing, but a male coworker…” She shook her head. “I think a lot of them appreciated having a work space that was made up of only women.”
Yoriyuki stopped for a moment, the sympathy on his face more than a little obvious. But after a moment, his eyes lit up, and he smiled at Yanai, as if he’d discovered the solution to a puzzle. “Would it help to mention that I’m already in a committed relationship with another man?”
Yanai let out a little snort. “A bit, maybe. I’ll drop a ‘his boyfriend’ later when we’re gossiping about you. I think that’ll allay any fears that you’ll be leering at them the whole shift. Though, if you really want to help ease the transition-”
“I can get changed somewhere else,” Yoriyuki said, finishing her sentence for her. “I understand.”
Yanai gave a sigh of relief. “I’m glad you understand. Working in this business is tough enough already, I don’t want to make it harder on the other girls. Anyways,” she said, rapidly shifting back into business mode. “If you see here on the menu, for the meat options, we usually serve it with cilantro, so make sure you ask…”
Natsumi stiffened whenever the new guy walked behind her.
It wasn’t that she had anything against him in particular; he seemed friendly enough, and in the two days he’d been here he hadn’t made any leering comments or tried to grab her tail or pat her head, which easily put him above maybe 70% of the men in her life.
On the other hand, the grammar he was wearing was almost too good. In fact, if she hadn’t already known, she never would’ve guessed he was a guy at all, which only made the situation that much worse. She took a dim view of cross-dressing- or at least, she’d like to have taken a dim view of it. But she was currently working at a meido cafe, which wasn’t much higher up in the social pyramid. Her parents had reacted to her new job like she’d chosen to become a prostitute.
But, hell, it beat working retail.
Especially after the De-Glamoring. She’d become something of a tourist attraction in the little outlet at the department store she’d been working at, where men aged thirteen and up would come to gawk at the ‘real bunny-girl’. Some of them had tried to be discreet about it; they’d pop in when she was working, buy a pair of socks to be polite, and sneak a few glances while browsing. Honestly, she hadn’t minded those; it was the men who tried flirting with her that got under her skin. They ran the whole gamut, from upper-middle class salarymen to hikikomori with less than 10,000 yen to their names. But what they all had in common was a belief that if they were just persistent enough, that if they just hit the right buttons, that she’d eventually break down and agree to marry them. Or at least, to grab dinner.
And the worst part was, several times, she’d very nearly agreed. She shot a sideways glance at Yanai, who was tending a table with a group of three career-aged, lonely-looking men. The last thing Natsumi wanted was to be like her; nearing thirty and still unmarried, with no job prospects and a useless college degree. But she’d always been hesitant to take the plunge; she’d seen how men could get when she turned them down: it didn’t matter how gently she tried to put it. It didn’t matter how much she tried to let them down easy.
The worst part was just how random it could be. Sometimes, she’d give a flat ‘No, Thank you’, and the man would understand completely, politely buy the obligatory pair of socks (she’d once joked that ‘courtesy socks’ made up half the store’s annual income), and leave without trouble. And other times, she’d be as kind and gentle as possible, and the man in question would explode. Not literally, though she’d vainly hoped, more than once. It seemed like there was no heuristic to sift the reasonable men from the nuts, and so she’d just grown suspicious of men as a category. Safer that way.
Intellectually, she knew the new guy probably wasn’t an actual threat. Probably. At the very least, he didn’t seem the type to propose marriage after knowing her for a few days, given that, at least according to Yanai, he was already dating another man. And there was a sense of solidarity she had with him over his own ears-and-tail; until he’d started working here, she didn’t even know that men could be Kemonomimi. She’d only ever known it to pass to women; none of her two older brothers had been born with it. And until Yoriyuki had shown up, she’d been the only one who had animal features besides those of a cat’s. Most of the other girls could easily tuck their tails in their pants and hide their ears under a hat, if they wanted. But Natsumi’s tall, leoprine ears didn’t sit comfortably under any size of headwear that couldn’t be measured in gallons.
Still, there was something in her that bristled whenever he came near. It was more autonomic than anything, but she doubted she’d ever really be comfortable with him around. Though, his being here did provide her, and the rest of the waitstaff, with a new tool for handling problems with…
Speak of the Devil, Natsumi’s face turned into a grimace as the doors to the cafe swang open.
Maeda-san had been a problem customer for months now. He visited once, maybe twice a week, and was one of their few ‘regulars’. Natsumi always imagined that he slithered along the ground whenever he thought nobody was watching, shedding his human skin and molting back into a snake until there was someone else’s life to make miserable. In another life, she figured he would’ve made a perfect contract lawyer; he was an expert at pushing just up to the line of acceptable behavior, and right before crossing it. It was maddening; he never touched any of the girls, or followed them home, or even anything in the ballpark. But he would make comments, or stare in ways that made the girls uncomfortable. Sometimes making requests that bordered on acceptability. But never beyond. Never enough for Ishida-san to ban him. It drove everyone crazy. They’d tried serving him bad coffee, ‘forgetting’ parts of his meal, ignoring him for as long as possible. All the ‘polite’ ways that they knew to push him out. Once they’d even considered writing up a false menu with outrageous prices just to see if it would steer him away, and only stopped when Ishida-san caught them at the print shop.
“Hello, master!” She said, affecting her best ‘kawaii’ voice and bowing deeply enough that the look on her face was unreadable. All things considered, Maeda was rather normal-looking considering he was clearly some kind of demon from hell. Except for his height, of course. At almost 185 cm, he was much taller than most of the non-foreign men she knew, which just made him seem that much more sinister.
“Natsumi-chan!” He said, with a big smile on his face. “Good to see you again. Ears as perky as ever, I see,” he said with a smug wink. Natsumi just giggled. It was either that or scream.
What the hell, she thought. I can’t handle this dickhead again. Let the new guy handle it.
She smiled. “Why don’t I seat you with our new girl? Her name's Yuki-chan.” She gestured over to Yoriyuki’s section and waved. Maeda perked up when he saw ‘her’ vulpine tail and ears. Natsumi had always been Maeda’s ‘favorite’ whenever he came in, and she suspected that it was the novelty of her rabbit-like ears. Maeda’s sudden interest in Yuki’s big, fluffy tail only seemed to confirm it for her.
Whatever, she thought with a radiant smile as she led Maeda to Yuki’s section of the floor. It was out of her hands now; Maybe the new guy would make himself useful and chase Maeda off for good. A girl can dream, anyways…
“Nice rear…”
Maeda was looking out into the Sapporo evening as he said it; staring intently at the spoiler of a neon-colored car passing by. The new girl– Yuki-Chan– had spun around as soon as he said it, only for her sudden spike in anger to fizzle out in frustration as soon as she saw the car whizz past.
Maeda knew what he was doing, of course. Something in him liked toying with these girls. Liked watching them squirm in discomfort. It was a game to him; seeing how far he could push until the line finally broke. He’d gotten in trouble for it at work more than a few times, but he’d never been fired over it, and every time, it meant that he’d gotten that little bit of extra practice in. He was a master of his craft, in a way. Most people, men and women alike, were too scared to really confront him due to his height, and it made getting away with trouble that much easier.
It helped that these were just waitresses. Low enough on the social totem pole that people practically expected them to be treated like dolls. Unless he decided to grope one in front of a camera, the worst they could do is kick him out, and then he’d just find some new place to haunt, rinse and repeat.
“How can I serve you today, master?” Yuki-chan asked. Her voice was a low alto, almost breathy in its quality. Clearly, she hadn’t been here long enough to get the ‘kawaii’ voice down, which was a shame, but he figured it’d come with time.
“A tea and cake would be nice, Yuki,” he said, very intentionally dropping the ‘chan’. The kind of informality that was usually reserved for intimate partners and close family. And, also, sometimes, someone would just forget themselves and say something impolite. The two were impossible to distinguish.
Yuki-chan left, and Maeda leaned back into the booth. It was a comfy booth, he had to admit, though less maneuverable than the coffee table chairs he was usually sat in. The automatic lights in the cafe turned on just as the sun crested over the Hidaka mountains, bathing the whole restaurant in a gentle orange glow. They hadn’t skimped on the lightbulbs used for the pseudo-candelabras that lined the walls, which he appreciated. Most places would’ve gone with the cheap option, especially a gimmicky place like this, but he could acknowledge that there was love put into the cafe. He figured the owner had to be an older man- he couldn’t imagine anybody else was simultaneously perverted enough to start a business staffed entirely by 20-somethings with animal ears, and also had the respectability to treat such an establishment with care and consideration. It was something that the female mind simply couldn’t comprehend, and that young men would be too over-eager for, and quickly find themselves in trouble.
Ah, maybe he’d have to ask to meet the man someday. Surely there could be no greater honor than to learn at the feet of a true master…
The Immigration Agent came around at 7 o’clock on Saturday.
Yanai always envied English for its menagerie of profanities. There were times when Japanese just felt insufficient; she’d once heard a foreign man utter an exasperated ‘Aw, fuck’ under his breath in a moment of consternation, and the cadence of the word; the simple finality of it, had stuck with her ever since. She’d still yet to hear a word that could rise to occasion quite like it could.
And as she saw the immigration officer approaching through the windows, it was the only word she could think of that was suitable to the moment.
Yanai put her pinkie fingers to her mouth. She and Asako-san had a signal- a short, sharp whistle loud enough to hear in the kitchen. Long enough for Kati-san to make a quick escape out the back, or into a closet, or, on one occasion, under the sinks. Meanwhile, Asako-san would throw on an apron and pretend she’d been cooking there alone for hours.
In truth, Asako-san was a terrible cook. Yanai had concluded long ago that her boss must’ve angered a kitchen spirit at some point, because it was the only way to explain the sheer chaos that ensued whenever she entered the back-of-the-house to do anything but pass through.
Kati-san was the one who kept the kitchen together. Apparently, she’d been formally trained as a patisserie chef in Manila, which was why Yanai figured that baking technology in the Philippines must be light-years ahead of the rest of the world; she’d made a habit of sneaking macarons, or other little treats, whenever someone wasn’t looking, or when they had extra food that otherwise would’ve been tossed. And every time, it was like biting into a dream.
The immigration agent smiled at her as he came through the front door. Yanai fought the urge to scowl back. Most of the other girls didn’t know about Kati-san’s unique situation. It was something Asako-san had entrusted Yanai with after she’d been here a few months. It hardly seemed fair; Just because there was no recognition on the national level, there was no way for Kati-san to apply for a marriage visa. Leaving her in this awful ‘grey zone’ of uncertainty and confusion. Yanai hadn’t been much for politics ever since the De-Glamouring. Everything had changed too much for her to keep track of it all. But the little college radical in her never died; it had just taken a backseat.
“Hello, officer,” she said with as respectful of a nod as she could muster. “Is there something I can help you with?” She wanted to try and stall him. Her whistle was loud enough for Kati-san to hear, but there was a bigger problem.
Asako-san was out on a grocery run.
“Yes, actually,” Officer Sato said conversationally. “I’m with Immigration Services. We received a tip-off that this restaurant was hiring foreign nationals without visas,” he explained. Yanai bit her tongue. That had been the 4th ‘tip-off’ in 10 months. “Do you mind if I have a look around?”
Yanai knew it was better not to fight it. She knew he probably didn’t have a warrant, but that hardly mattered. Refusing a police search was just a recipe for getting raided later. She just hoped that she’d given Kati-san enough time. And that she could lie her ass off…
“Yuki-chan,” she said, passing a glance towards Yoriyuki, who was bussing tables in the corner of the cafe. “Can you handle things up here while I escort this gentleman?” Yoriyuki nodded and didn’t say anything, giving Yanai a genial smile. There was something in it, almost like it was meant to be… comforting, somehow? Reassuring, maybe. She shook the though from her mind.
She escorted the officer around the premises like she was giving him a tour, starting with the seating area, moving into the small changing/locker room, into the office, until, finally, landing in the kitchen. Yanai allowed herself a small sigh of relief as she noticed the distinct lack of Kati-san.
Of course, Officer Sato noticed the same thing. Not Kati-san’s absence, per say, but rather the seeming lack of any kitchen staff whatsoever. Which, of course, was difficult to square with the obviously in-progress baking projects that were scattered all around.
“So,” Officer Sato said with a raised eyebrow. “Do you hire ghosts to make the food around here?” He seemed mighty pleased with himself. Enough so that it took a push of willpower from Yanai not to punch him in the gut.
“We only have one chef on staff,” she said, matter-of-factly. “If we get busy enough, sometimes the waitresses get pulled to help with cooking, but we do just fine with one.”
“Uh-huh,” the officer said. “And where are they-”
“Grocery run,” Yanai interrupted him. “We were out of baking soda.” Officer Sato clearly wasn’t convinced, and although he didn’t say anything, he casually began searching the corners of the kitchen. Peering into the freezer, and then the pantry. Yanai wanted to tell him to stop; to ask him politely-yet-firmly to leave. But she knew it would just cause more problems for her down the line. So she held her breath and hoped that Kati-san had managed to find a good hiding spot.
Her tail shot straight up as she heard the back door to the kitchen open.
She didn’t recognize Yoriyuki, at first. She’d never actually seen him without a grammar on, and his ears were currently hidden underneath a chef’s hat that nearly scraped the pipes in the ceiling. But after a second glance, she was sure it was him. He was more obviously masculine; taller, authoritative, almost. More mature-seeming. But something about the way he carried himself shone through, grammar or not.
He shot a look that could kill at the officer, who visibly recoiled in surprise and something like… fear?
“What,” he said, like there was a rage bubbling up in him that was kept in abeyance only barely. “Are you doing in my kitchen?”
“Are you the chef here?” Sato asked after a brief moment’s recovery.
“Do you think they hired me as a waitress?” He snapped back.
Sato twisted his face in embarrassment. “Right, sorry,” he said. “I only ask because we’d heard that the kitchen staff here was made up of non-resident aliens.”
Yoriyuki turned up his nose again, a fire in his eyes. “My family has lived in Hokkaido since before ‘Japan’ was even dreamt of. If anyone in this room could be accused of being a foreigner, it isn’t me.” The venom in his voice was enough to kill a weaker man. “But if you want to examine my family’s Koseki-”
“No, no, that’s all right,” Sato said, only getting more shamefaced by the minute. “I’m afraid there must’ve been some kind of misunderstanding. A prank call, or something. We just have to check these things out, you know. Part of the job description.”
“Of course,” Yoriyuki said diplomatically (in the same way that ‘war is diplomacy by other means’). “Now, if you don’t mind? Some of us work for a living.”
Sato followed Yanai out of the kitchen, and gave her a brief apology as he found his way out of the cafe. Yanai felt her whole body unclench as she saw him drive away in his squad car. Yoriyuki was already back to being ‘Yuki-chan’, frilly dress and all as he hummed a quiet tune in the corner of the cafe. There was something odd about him; odd enough that Yanai wondered if he was even Kemono at all.
But he’d done a good turn for someone who deserved it. In her book, that made him alright…
Maeda returned to the cafe several times over the next month.
Yuki-chan was resilient, he’d discovered, but Maeda was a self-styled expert. He figured it was only a matter of time before he managed to break her spirit.
And yet, every day he came in, she still gave him the same, polite, unflinching smile. Usually, by this point, he could see the dread in their eyes of his chosen victim as they saw him approach. They could play it off all they liked; he knew that in their hearts, they were miserable.
And why shouldn’t they be? No woman who worked at these kinds of places should be happy. They sold false hope to lonely men who were too ugly, or poor, or otherwise unfortunate. It was deceit of the cruelest kind. Telling unloved men that they were loved, and respected, and worthy of being respected by beautiful women. It made his blood boil.
Maeda san could see that fake smile on Yanai-‘chan’s face as he entered the cafe. He shot her a smug smile and leaned uncomfortably– but not inappropriately– close to her, and waited for her to say her line.
Yanai-chan bowed and said, with a false pep in her voice. “Good evening, master!”
“Yanai-chan,” he said, giving her a lopsided smile. “Is Yuki-chan in today?”
Yanai-chan nodded, her feline tail twitching with some emotion; The ears and tails had been the thing that had driven him most crazy. They were too perfect; too much out of a shonen-addicted 15-year-old’s wildest dreams to be fair. All of these girls were just playing, here. Every one of them would go on to marry some C-Suite exec or some other rich shoe-licker who could treat them like a trophy wife. None of them would ever need to work an honest living. Which just made this whole charade all that more cruel. These girls were giving men a taste of something that was bound to remain ever out of reach.
And among them, he’d found Yuki-chan to be the most bedeviling.
There was just something about her. She was unnaturally beautiful; Her hair, snow white that graduated into jet black at the tips, much like her tail, matched her maid dress perfectly. Almost like she was born to do the job. She moved with such grace and surety, the smile on her face never faltering no matter how busy it seemed to get. Her eyes glowed a brilliant, impossible shade of orange-yellow, like the radiance of the sun itself…
It drove Maeda absolutely mad.
It was the pinnacle of everything he hated. It was dishonest in a way that he could never truly articulate, but could feel in the pit of his stomach. An injustice. And if the worst thing that happened to these women was that Maeda came along and made their lives a little miserable, then it was frankly better than they deserved.
“Yes,” Yanai-chan said, snapping him out of his brief spiral of resentment. “Although- we’re about to close soon.”
“It’s fine!” Yuki-chan said as she bounced up to the hostess stand. “I can take Maeda-kun,” she bubbled and gave him a polite smile. He wanted to bristle. Nobody had called him ‘-kun’ since he was in school, though it had quickly become Yuki-chan’s favored nickname for him. He was still young enough to get away with using ‘ore’ for himself, but ‘-kun’ felt too childlike. Not manly enough. But also, if he let on that it bothered him, it was essentially admitting defeat. So he suffered in silence.
“Why don’t you take off early?” Yuki-chan said to her coworker. “I can close tonight.”
Yanai-chan flashed a glance at Maeda, then back to Yuki. As if silently asking if she was sure she wanted to be alone with him. Yuki-chan just smiled back, and after a beat, Yanai gave a quick thanks-and-goodbye, and began to pack up her things.
Maeda could hardly believe his luck. All alone, in the middle of the night, and he had this girl all to himself. If ever there was an opportunity to break her spirit…
“Can I get you your usual, Master?” Maeda usually went pretty simple- a cup of coffee and some artisanal bread. It was the two cheapest items on the menu, and like most meido places, the prices here were exorbitant. Lonely young men would pay anything for attention from pretty women, after all…
“Actually,” he said, leering up at her. “Could I get some hot tea and some macarons? Honey and lemon in the tea.” He knew that, this late in the evening, the leftover macarons had probably been put in cold storage, which meant that it’d be a pain to pull it all out again, just grab a few more. The hot tea, too, was chosen specifically to bother her; making proper tea involved heating up a kettle (which had probably already been washed early, and would need washing again before the night was over now that it was being reused) and steeping the tea for at least 4 minutes before any additives. Honey specifically was difficult to mix right, and he’d asked for lemon just on the off chance that they didn’t have any pre-cut ones.
“Of course!” Yuki-chan said, her eyes still as bright as ever. She scrawled the order on the notepad. “Anything else?”
“No, that’s it,” he said, and fought to keep from scowling. It was like nothing phased her. He’d tried every trick he’d known in the book, and she seemed as cheerful as when he’d first met her. She turned around, and Maeda watched her tail flutter behind her as she took her first step to the kitchen.
Fine, he thought, more frustrated by the second. Time to go off-book, then.
He reached out and yanked her tail. Hard. Hard enough that she reeled back and let out a shout of surprise, almost falling to the floor in the process. She spun around to face him, a look of shock in her eyes for only a brief moment, before she returned to her natural, bubbly state.
“I’m sorry, master,” she said, bowing apologetically. “But we must ask that you refrain from touching the staff. Especially our ears and tails- they’re very sensitive.” She said it with the cadence of someone explaining mere policy; as though it was just a simple mistake on his part.
“Right,” Maeda drawled, finding himself even more frustrated at her refusal to react. “Nothing bothers you, huh?”
“I’m–” she started, and paused for just a moment in thought. “Made of strong stuff,” she said with the same genial smile. “I have a lot of life experience, you could say.”
Maeda just rolled his eyes. This was pointless. She was either the most strong-willed woman on the planet, or she was too stupid to get upset about anything. And knowing what he did about women, he assumed the latter. “Never mind,” he said, lying back in his chair in defeat. “Just get me my tea.”
He didn’t even like tea. It was always too bitter for him. And it wasn’t nearly enough caffeine to keep him awake during the workday. A few minutes passed, and Yuki-chan came back from the kitchen, order-in-hand. He popped a macaron in his mouth; he shivered in pleasure as it melted.
“Honestly,” he said, casually, to Yuki-chan. “I’m amazed you guys are still open. I would’ve figured the cops would’ve shut you down for hiring foreigners.”
“How did you know-” Yuki-chan started. And then, in a moment of realization, her demeanor changed completely. Her face darkened, and the smile vanished completely as she looked at him with intensity. “So you’re the one who made an ‘anonymous tip’.”
Ah. So that was what he needed to get under her skin. She was the sort of person who could stomach any abuse herself, but fell to pieces seeing others suffer. He would’ve figured she was too pretty to have that kind of personality; the most beautiful women were never the considerate types. But he supposed there was a first time for everything.
“Of course,” he said, leaning in as he decided to capitalize on this newly-discovered line of attack. “I mean, clearly, you managed to hide the gaijin before they could get caught, or something, but it’ll only be a matter of time before they get caught and deported.”
“I think you should-”
“I don’t care what you think,” he said, standing up as he slammed the table, nearly upsetting the cup of hot tea. He was riding high off of discovering her weakness, and he had no intention of letting up now. He was nearly a foot taller than she was, which had always been one of the best weapons in his arsenal. He towered over most women (and men, for that matter), which was enough to cow most of them into submission. “I think you’re barely better than some Susukino whore.”
He stared down into her face, and saw a look of stolid, unmoving defiance, and he felt his temper rear up again. “I think you, and all the women who work here, should be ashamed of what you do.” He stared forwards into her eyes, which burned back into his. “I think that, if we lived in a world with any justice, every single one of you would be placed in front of a wall and shot.” He stared up at her-
Wait, up?
The anger left his body in a flash, replaced instantly with panic and confusion. Was he falling through the floor, somehow? Had she gotten taller in the past few seconds?
He placed his hand on the table to steady himself, and noted that it now came above his waist. “What the hell?” He asked, and he looked back up at Yuki-chan, whose face was swiftly growing further and further away. Realization dawned on him.
“You crazy bitch!” He shouted up at her, despite no longer coming up to her knee. He knew that some Youkai were capable of magic- the specifics had always escaped him, but he’d figured that the Kemono girls who worked here weren’t able to do anything truly impressive; otherwise they would’ve found a way to get rid of him. But clearly, he’d miscalculated. “Change me back!” He demanded impotently.
“Sorry, Master. But I’m afraid I can’t do that.” she said. Her voice was different; loud, to be sure, but even at his rapidly-deteriorating height, he could hear the sound of a facade crumbling. It wasn’t just that her bubbly personality vanished. There was something else to it. Something about her voice…
Then he realized.
It wasn’t her voice at all.
It was his voice.
He could see him clearly, now that he loomed like a colossus above him. But it was more than just clarity. As though ‘Yuki-chan’s’ old face had fallen away, crumbled along with the rest of the facade. Just his luck; of all the pretty girls he had to choose from, he’d gone mad over the cross-dresser.
He continued to dwindle in height, below the table, until the linoleum tile stretched for miles in every direction. Looking up, he could scarcely see Yuki-chan’s face, obscured as it was by the black-and-white skirt of the maid outfit. His black buckled shoes loomed above Maeda, and the stockings climbed up his legs like ivy climbing a skyscraper.
This couldn’t possibly be happening, could it? He knew magic was real, that it was powerful, in theory, but- this all seemed so impossible. He had to be dreaming, or hallucinating, or-
He was brought back to reality by a giant shoe hovering over his head.
He didn’t even have time to swear. Realizing that death (in the form of several thousand pounds of black leather) was fast approaching, he made a mad dash away from the incomprehensible shape above. He could almost sense it as it approached; the light dimming above as it blotted out his sky, and air it displaced washing over him like a hurricane. He dived forwards at the last possible moment, feeling his back graze against the bottom of the shoe as he landed unceremoniously on the ground.
He spun around on his back, and stared up in horror. The shoe loomed above him like a mountain, bigger than his puny, mortal brain was really built to comprehend. He swallowed as he tried to catch his breath, his lungs pounding from the sudden exertion. If he had to estimate, he would’ve put himself at the size of an ant, compared to the colossus above him. Perhaps smaller.
“P-please,” he said, in between labored breaths. “Please stop. I’m sorry. I-I didn’t know-”
“Didn’t know that the person you were tormenting could fight back,” Said Yuki-chan- Yuki-san? At this point, Maeda figured it was better to play it safe and go with Yuki-sama.
“N-no!” He lied. “I mean- I didn’t know that, uh- that you’d be so bothered-”
Yuki leaned down. The earth moved as he did. Maeda could see every little shift in his maid skirt like it was a mountain moving in the distance. A hand the size of Jupiter reached out and plucked Maeda from the floor; massive walls of flesh encased him on either side, soft flesh encompassing the whole of his body, allowing only a thin sliver of light through.
Yuki brought the ant-sized Maeda up level to his face; His eyes really did shine as brightly as the sun, now, swirling as they seemed to be with power beyond mortal ken.
“You didn’t think I’d be bothered by you calling me a whore?” He asked, his eyebrow raised. “Do you refer to all the women in your life like that?”
“No!” He said, and managed to bite back a ‘At least, not to their faces.’
“Uh-huh,” Yuki said, clearly not believing him, and Maeda felt the walls of flesh press him even more between them. He tried to inhale, and managed, though it was becoming more painful by the second.
“You know what I think?” Yuki started, and Maeda felt tears beginning to well up in his eyes, both from the pain, and from the sheer humiliation. “I think you’re a pathetic, spineless creature. I think you blame everyone else for your problems, and you do everything in your power to make everyone- especially women- as miserable as you are. Am I in the ballpark?” He said with a smug smirk.
Maeda couldn’t quite manage any words, but managed to nod. He figured now would be a bad time to argue.
“I also think,” he continued, sitting down in the same chair Maeda had been sitting in moments ago. “That the world would be much, much better off for everyone if I popped you like a grape right now.”
The walls closed in even tighter, and Maeda felt like his whole body was about to burst. His eyes went wide as he shook his head in terror.
“You don’t agree? Fine,” Yuki said, and the pressure released. He made a flicking motion with his finger, and Maeda went flying, landing on the table below. “Prove to me you’re capable of a little humility, and I’ll let you go.”
Maeda finally felt his heart rate slow down to mere ‘chest-pounding’ levels, down from the previous ‘heart attack’ stage it was in. He inhaled his first easy breath in a minute, and considered his next move. There was a way of this. All he had to do was demonstrate that he knew how to apologize, and he was home free.
Still, it was humiliating. He would’ve figured that being shrunk to the size of an ant and nearly crushed to death would’ve been enough to stem his pride, at least temporarily, but he found it a challenge. Part of him wanted to bite back- to challenge the unfairness of the situation. The only reason things were like this was because Yuki had magic, and Maeda didn’t. But still, if it meant going home safe tonight…
He got on his knees, and prostrated himself in the direction of his colossal tormentor. “Please,” he said, his voice shakier than he would’ve hoped. “I’m sorry for causing so many problems for this cafe. I’m sorry for using the police to try and shut it down,” he said, swallowing his pride as deep into his stomach it would go. “And most of all, I’m sorry for treating you so poorly, Yuki-san.”
“Call me Master,” Yuki said.
Maeda felt the edges of his sanity begin to fray. He wouldn’t be treated like this. He refused to be lorded over by some jumped-up pretty-boy just because he won the birth lottery. Magic or no, he refused to submit.
“Screw you,” he said, his voice firm but quiet.
The sky over Maeda darkened almost as soon as he’d said it, and the look on Yuki’s face was not amused. “Shame,” he said, and leaned forwards.
Maeda didn’t even have time to react before he was plucked between titanic fingers again. But this time, rather than threatening to squash him, they moved swiftly, almost disorientingly so, with sudden and intense purpose.
Yuki leaned back in his chair and rested a shoe on the table in front of him. With another flick, Maeda felt himself flying, and he found himself quickly entangled in a miles long weave of fabric that seemed to have no end. He had only a moment to realize that he’d been flung onto Yuki’s sock, before the ground started to shake again, as if trying to sift him down. Down into the shoe below.
He hung on for dear life, but he was currently fighting against a force far greater than he was, and descending ignominiously into the dark pit of Yuki’s shoe below…
It was pitch black inside; the shoe was tightly fit, and the only light that came through was from the occasional bend of Yuki’s foot as it maneuvered around. Maeda found himself pressed against the leather of the shoe, and the wool of the sock, and found that, of the two, he generally preferred the sock.
It was a small mercy that the shoe’s interior smelled much like the rest of Yuki; like lilacs, and a hint of lavender. But that didn’t prevent the close, cramped quarters from getting more hot with each passing second, until Maeda found himself sweating from the heat as well as the stress.
He tried calling out; to beg for this to stop, but every time he tried, Yuki took another footstep- gentle and elegant- and smothered Maeda’s voice in his sock. Maeda felt tears begin to well up in his eyes again. He was pathetic. Miserable. And all because he couldn’t keep his mouth shut. Couldn’t swallow his pride for a few seconds.
A minute passed. Then two. He figured there had to be some magic in place to keep him from being completely crushed flat, and he wondered if it might not to’ve been kinder to just let him die. But then, the weight was lifted, and light filled the sky again, and Maeda felt himself tumbling through, and then out, of the shoe, and onto the tile floor.
“There,” Yuki said, an unearthly smugness in his voice. “Have we learned our lesson?”
“Yes!” Maeda screamed through panted breaths. “Yes! Please- Oh, please. Forgive me, Master. Forgive me. Please. Oh God, please.”
Yuki just gave him a knowing smile. “Fine, I guess that’ll do. But just remember,” he said, his voice half-playful and half-threatening. “If I ever hear that you’ve started backsliding, well,” he smirked, “I can always find a more permanent accommodation for you…”
He let the threat hang in the air for a moment, and before Maeda could even think to respond, Yuki kneeled down and curled his middle finger back against his thumb. He pulled, adn released, flicking Maeda with incredible speed, launching him straight into the window.
Maeda closed his eyes, bracing for the impact, only to find himself rolling on the pavement; His eyes opened and he saw his car– blessedly normal sized– above him as he lay upon the ground. He ventured a quick glance back at the cafe; Yuki merely smiled back at him, his face back to being as beautiful and feminine as it had been before. He winked.
Maeda fumbled around desperately for his car keys, scrambled in as quickly as he could, and pressed the gas pedal to the floor until he reached home.
Yanai arched her back as she stretched.
It was late; almost closing time now. She wanted to go home, and had already started washing and clearing, hoping desperately that they wouldn’t get any more customers before closing time.
“Quiet night, huh?” Yoriyuki asked off to the side. Yanai gave him a strained smile.
“Let’s hope so,” she said, and then paused. She felt a little bad, but hadn’t quite figured out when to broach the topic. She closed her eyes and shook her head- better to handle it now than never. “Hey, uh,” she said, turning to Yuki. “Sorry for leaving you alone with Maeda last night. I hope he didn’t cause you too much trouble.”
Yuki just grinned at her. Which was an odd reaction. “I think,” he began with a smirk. “That he’s not going to be a problem in the future.”
Yanai wasn’t sure whether to shiver or cry from joy. She split the difference with a grateful look. Maeda had been their #1 problem customer for months now. If Yoriyuki was serious, then it was going to be a huge load off all their backs. “Let’s hope so,” she hedged, and then, back to business. “Can you make sure the kitchen door is locked? Let’s get out of here a little early,” she said with a conspiratorial smile.
Yoriyuki nodded and disappeared into the kitchen, and Yanai began to pile the menus back on the hostess stand. Only to leap in fright as the bell to the store rang.
She didn’t bother to hide the look of disappointment when she saw Maeda standing in front of her.
“Ah- welcome,” she said, as flatly as her voice would allow. Maeda barely seemed to notice her. There was something different about him; something more frantic, more panicked. She already wasn’t comfortable around him, and this certainly wasn’t helping…
“Is- uh. Is Yuki-sama here?”
Yuki-sama? Uh-oh, Yanai thought. Whatever Yoriyuki had done, it seemed to have had the exact opposite effect.
As if on cue, Yoriyuki came through the kitchen door, and scowled as he spotted Maeda. Before he could even respond, though, Maeda did something that Yanai never would’ve thought she would see in a million years:
He fell to his knees.
He bowed as deeply as his body would allow, like someone bowing at a funeral, a deep gesture of apology and supplication that was usually only reserved for special occasions.
“Master!” He said, his voice shaky, and Yanai grew more confused, while Yoriyuki pinched the bridge of his nose in agitation.
“Please, forgive me master, but I could not stand to leave without apologizing profusely-” Maeda began to babble, and the words he was saying quickly became background noise in Yanai’s ears. She shot a glance at Yoriyuki, who apologized with his face as much as he could.
“What did you do?” She asked, somewhere between curiosity and horror.
“Nothing!” He lied, exhaustedly. “I just… I tried to get him to show a little humility. Make him rethink how he treats people.” He peered down to look at Maeda, who had wrapped his arm around Yoriyuki’s leg in desperation. “I think I may have overdone it.”
“No kidding,” Yanai agreed. “What did you do to him to cause this?”
“I just-” his face grew hot with embarrassment. “Nothing big, just a little magic I taught myself.” He snapped his fingers, and Yanai let out a shock of surprise as Maeda seemed to vanish completely from her sight. “It’s fine!” Yoriyuki said quickly, before leaning down to pinch something off the ground between two fingers. He held it out to her, and Yanai saw… Maeda? Tiny, helpless, and, it seemed, in a state of pure ecstasy as Yoriyuki held him in his hand.
“Whoa,” she mused as she gazed down at him in amazement. “That’s- whoa.” She turned her eyes back up to look at Yoriyuki. “You gotta teach me how to do that.”
Yoriyuki let out a short bark of laughter. “I can try, but just be aware that magic lessons aren’t cheap,” he said with a smirk. He closed the palm of his hand, encasing Maeda in a prison of darkness. “I should get going. I should probably do something to fix his brain. Are you good to finish closing?” He asked, giving her an apologetic look. Yanai simply nodded. She figured it was the least she could do.
Yoriyuki turned to leave and Yanai let out a short “Stop.” A request, not a command. Yoriyuki turned, his ears and tail perked in attention. She swallowed, not sure how to phrase what she wanted to ask. She stumbled a few times, until finally managed to spit out something…
“You’re not really a Kemono, are you?”
Yoriyuki didn’t say anything, but he winked at her as he turned away, heading out the front door with a strive and purpose that was rarely seen; probably, it was even rarer to see it on someone in a maid dress…
“So, what, you just kept him like a pet?” Conall asked, not even bothering to turn away from the TV as he lay on the couch.
“No, obviously not,” Yoiryu said with a roll of his eyes. “I brought him back to his home, did what I could to fix his mind, and let him sleep off the rest.”
“Fix his mind?” Conall asked, turning his attention to his boyfriend.
“I didn’t change anything, if that’s what you’re asking.” Conall knew Yoiryu wasn’t comfortable with the idea of futzing around with people’s minds. He did many questionable things with all the power he had, but overriding a person’s free will was something he seemed to avoid. Not completely; especially if it was only temporary; but it was a noticeable absence in Yoi’s all-powerful merry-making. “I just gave him some knew information to help conceptualize what had happened, is all.” It was just vague enough to make Conall shiver.
“So, do you think you’ll go back to work on Monday?” Conall asked, peering over at Yoi, who was still decked out in his work uniform. He got the sense that his boyfriend had had his fun, and was looking to move on. Though, he had to admit that he did find him more than a little cute, what with the dress and all.
“Probably,” Yoi said with a shrug. “Though I don’t think I’ll stay much longer. Although, if I do leave,” he said, his head perked up. “Mind if I invite Yanai over every now and then?”
Conall couldn’t keep himself from smiling. “Aww, you made a friend!” He joked, jabbing his divine boyfriend with an elbow. “Of course she can come over. We can set up a play date with just the two of you.”
Yoi just gave him an unnamable look. “Cute. She actually asked me if I could teach her a little magic. She saw me do it to Maeda, I figured, what’s the harm?”
“Plenty,” Conall said, suspiciously. “But I certainly won’t stop you. Just try to leave me out of it. I like my eyebrows unsinged.”
(Last couple paragraphs cut off by FA. Download to read the rest!)
Finally got around to finishing this story that I started almost two years ago. Mostly it just started out as an excuse to put Yoi in a maid dress and it just spiraled out from there.
Title from Psalm 19:10
(Sweeter also than) Honey and the Honeycomb“Absolutely not”
“I didn’t say anything.”
“I can see you thinking it,” said Yoiryu, his nine tails bristling behind him as he leaned against the table. He folded his arms and gave his boyfriend a stern look. Conall, meanwhile, barely looked up from the living room couch, eyes glued to the TV, only glancing over to Yoiryu to shoot him a smug glance.
Yoiryu was in his ‘Mostly-Human’ form today; if it wasn’t for the tails, ears, and the black-white gradient in his hair, you could easily confuse him for anybody else. Of course, he could choose to appear however he liked, but Conall had found, in their few years of dating, that his boyfriend had a few forms he preferred for laying around the house.
The Channel 35 news blared through the television speakers; little bits of screen candy decorated the edges of the news broadcast as the camera focused on a small café right in the middle of Sapporo’s downtown, with details about its grand opening.
“Christ,” said Yoi, his nose turning upwards into a sneer as the camera lingered on a frilly black-and-white dress. “I thought we quarantined all those freaks in Akihabara. Now it’s spreading like the T-Virus.”
Conall considered his next words carefully, seeking to goad his boyfriend without him catching on. “You don’t like Maid Cafés?” His tone was calculatingly innocent. The queer look Yoi gave him was inscrutable but disapproving.
“They’re demeaning to women,” said Yoiryu, flatly. “Plus, it attracts the worst clientele. The most unpleasant shut-ins, lay-abouts, and perverts in the country. They always become Meccas for Hikikomori. Besides-”
“Sure, sure,” Conall said, sincere, if lukewarm, in his agreement. “But this is a news story about local flavor,” he said as he rolled his eyes. “About all the new businesses popping up in Sapporo. And this cafe’s got a gimmick,” he gestured to the broadcast. The rainbow of animal ears and tails that featured prominently in each frame of the broadcast made Conall’s point apparent, and the naturalistic way they flitted back and forth made it apparent that they weren’t just part of a uniform.
Yoi stood in silence, appalled shock sitting clearly on his face.
“I- Already?!” He said. Conall patted the air with his hand in a ‘please don’t wake the neighbors’ gesture. Yoi’s voice fell a few decibels, but lost none of its mania. “It’s been, what, barely a year-and-a-half since the De-Glamouring and they’re already looking for ways to make money from it?” His eyes narrowed and his nose twisted into a rare expression of contempt.
Conall gave a dismissive twirl of his hand. “Capitalism will subsume all things into itself. All that is solid melts into air, all that is sacred is profaned, something something, Mark Fisher.”
“Don’t you ‘something something Mark Fisher’ me,” Yoiryu glared before swapping his attention back to the TV, turning his nose up at the images on screen. “The first Catgirl Café to hire real Catgirls,” he said, the disgust in his voice rising. “It’s just so… exploitative.”
Conall merely shrugged. “Cute ears or no, everybody’s gotta pay rent. Besides, could you imagine a Kemono working as a longshoreman? Or a lathe operator? The mind boggles.” He could see his boyfriend building up to a contradiction, but the glower fizzled out, and he just rolled his eyes.
“Cute ears or no,” Yoi echoed, “I’m not working at a maid cafe.” Even as he said it, his head tilted curiously and he squinted at the TV screen with focus.
“I never said you should.”
Yoi was already pacing about in agitation. “Besides. I doubt they even hire men. The people who go to these types of places only want female waitstaff.” Conall considered interjecting and mentioning that, as a shapeshifter, Yoiryu could turn himself into a woman without much difficulty. But at the moment, it was pointless; Yoi was staring into the middle distance and his tails twitched with metronome-like regularity. He wasn’t arguing with Conall, per se. The half of Yoi that had a sense of dignity and propriety was at war with the part that rejoiced in new experiences. When Yoi got like this, Conall could say just about anything and go completely unheard.
“I’m also technically not a Kemonomimi either. Kitsune are related but distinct. Although I suppose that probably wouldn’t matter to your average clientele…”
“I’m thinking of investing in crypto,” said Conall in response, keeping his tone level to not break Yoi’s concentration.
“Still. I guess it must be said that it’s something I’ve never tried before. I’ve worked in restaurants, of course, but never at a themed one...”
“I sure hope the LDP does well in this next election,” Conall agreed, standing up to give his lost-in-the-sauce boyfriend an amorous hug from behind.
“Plus, gender discrimination in hiring has been illegal since 2006.” Yoiryu’s musings had turned into vigorous statements of fact, his tails twitching at a perfect Allegro. “They might get away with it in Akihabara, but here in Hokkaido it’s a much tougher sell to regulators.”
“I killed a man in Reno just to watch him die.”
“All right, all right,” Yoi said, waving his hand with something between enthusiasm and resignation. “I’ll give it a shot. I mean, what’s the worst that can happen, right? They don’t hire me? I hate the job? Hardly the end of the world. And it’s not like-” The self-justifications continued until Conall practically shoved him out the door.
Flopping back onto the couch, Conall gave a quiet sigh. At least he’d have the apartment to himself some days. And the extra rent money couldn’t hurt. And, somewhere, deep deep down, there was a part of him that was at least a little curious what Yoi looked like wearing a frilly white dress…
Ishida Asako squinted as she peered over the resume. The young man sitting on the opposite side of the desk flashed her a bright-eyed smile while his tail swayed gently behind him. It was a bit mesmerizing, like watching a hypnotist’s watch, and she felt herself having to force her attention away from it and back into the present moment.
Normally, she preferred to do group interviews. When she’d been promoted to manager at her last job, she adopted it as a way of sifting through many applicants at once. Now that she was running her own restaurant, her commitment to hiring only Kemono as waitstaff seemed more harebrained by the second. It had seemed like a good gimmick at the time, but she was already running into staffing issues. Yokai of all sorts were rare, and Kemono in particular were as common as clams in a field. She’d had a total of 6 applicants, total, in the three months since she’d opened, and until now, they had all been female.
Normally she would’ve balked at the idea of hiring a man for the position; She didn’t personally object, but her clientele leaned unquestionably towards the reactionary end of the spectrum when it came to matters of gender; Not all of them, but enough that there was a risk of alienating a section of her customer base. On the other hand…
“Naitou Yoriyuki?” She inquired, glancing up from his resume, her attention focusing back on the present moment. “Yoriyuki’s a bit of an older name, isn’t it?” A bit of a softball question. But it wasn’t like she could afford to be picky with any applicants anyways; He had a clean shirt, two fluffy ears, and a pulse; he spoke English and Mandarin, lived within walking distance and, maybe most importantly, he was beautiful. Like someone had plucked one of those bishonen actors out of a bad period drama. It wasn’t something she found personally attractive, but she could appreciate it on an intellectual, aesthetic level; more like looking at a sunset than an actual person. It wasn’t too hard to imagine him sporting a frilly little dress. Hell, if he pitched his voice up a bit and wore his hair right, you could easily confuse him for a woman…
The man across from her simply shrugged, apologetically. “I was named after a great-uncle of mine.” He crossed his ankles and smiled as he leaned forwards. “My partner just calls me ‘Yoiryu’ though,” he volunteered, and then added, as an explanation, “They’re foreign. I think it’s cute.”
A wave of quiet relief passed over Asako, and she leaned back into her chair. His answers were almost too perfect, like a student who’d gotten his hands on the answer key. “I took a look over your resume, and I’ve noticed you’ve never worked in food service before. How much experience do you have working with customers directly?”
Yoriyuki leaned forwards and made a half-hearted pointing gesture towards the resume in her hands. “I used to work as the front desk manager at the La Vista Hotel, in Hakodate. Most of my job involved checking clients in, answering their questions, and handling their issues. Including calming them down whenever they got irate.”
Another near-perfect answer, although at least this one wasn’t uncannily so. “It’s ¥2500 per hour to start, and you’re expected to work all holidays except for Labor Day. Can you manage that?”
“¥2500?” Yoriyuki’s tail twitched as he leaned forwards conspiratorially. “That’s quite generous for a small café like this.”
Asako gave a lopsided half-smile as she shrugged. “I work with what I have.” She leaned back into her chair with an air that suggested finality. “I know it’s traditional to call you some time after the interview, but why don’t I save us both some time? Are you interested in the position?”
Yoriyuki’s mouth curled up into a genial smile. “Yes, Ma’am, I am.”
“Wonderful. Ask Yanai-San to get your measurements before you go, and I’ll see you here on Monday for your first day.”
Yoriyuki stood up, bowed (at 45 degrees, as was traditional), said “Thank you for your time”, and swiftly departed, vulpine tail swishing with excitement as he left.
Asako let loose a quiet sigh of relief and turned back to all the other business of the day. Interviewing applicants was probably her least favorite part of running the business, but at least there she could point to some kind of tangible success. There was too much red on her ledger to not take what little victories she could…
Yanai Hoshiyo adjusted her arm slightly, pulling the cafe’s menus up to a more comfortable mid-torso height as she passed into the serving area, her ears twitching in rhythm to the clanking of ceramic cups on plates coming from the kitchen as she began showing the new guy the ropes.
The new hire was pretty. Too pretty.
It wasn’t that she was the jealous type; heaven knew she wasn’t hurting for attention from men. Rather, it was an issue of professional pride. Nearly a whole hour of her morning routine had become dedicated to all the small rituals of washing, moisturizing, and applying make-up to her face. Her restroom had long ago begun a slow metamorphosis into an alchemical laboratory to try and keep her at-work appearance as perfect as possible.
And as far as she was concerned, using a grammar was cheating.
All Youkai (or Abscondii, if you were fancy and spoke English) could do magic, of course; but it came more naturally to some than others. Kemono like her were generally pretty low on the magical totem pole, but with enough time and practice she was confident she could throw up a pretty convincing grammar to last the whole workday. It would probably take longer than her usual routine, but it was at least theoretically possible.
On the other hand, she couldn’t really blame the new guy. Otaku were not known for being forward-thinking on gender issues, and while a guy in a maid outfit might be an interesting gimmick for some, for their regulars, it probably wouldn’t play too well. If he had to use a little magic to give his gender a bit of plausible deniability, then so be it.
“Naitou-san,” she said, handing the young man a copy of the restaurant’s menu. “Make sure you look this over and get familiar with it. We only really sell coffee, tea, and a few sweet cakes, so it shouldn’t take you too long.”
“Right,” he said, and his tail briefly twitched in unison with her own as he began to look the menu over. “Is there any specific dish I should recommend if a customer asks?”
Ah, good; So he knew the song-and-dance already. Well, not the literal song and dance they did for birthdays. That was for the later training. Still, his obvious dining expertise made Yanai’s life just-that-little-bit easier. “We have a gâteau St-Honoré that nobody else in Sapporo sells, and it’s our baker’s speciality. It’s got a solid, shortcrust base that’s filled with cream, and an incredibly soft crust, and it’s all covered in caramelized sugar,” she was practically drooling just at the thought of it, even as the strap around her dress complained in anticipation. “Ask Kati-san if she’d be willing to let you try it someday, she loves making stuff with whatever leftovers we have.”
“Kati-san?” Yoriyuki asked, his head tilting slightly.
“Our baker. I don’t know how to say her full name properly,” though it hardly stopped her from trying. “Ka-ti-gu-ba-ku.”
Recognition flashed in Yoriyuki’s eyes. “Katigbak? So she’s from the Philippines?”
Yanai simply shrugged. “Maybe. I was never very good at geography. In any case, her cakes are absolutely perfect.” While her voice didn’t drop, she did lean conspiratorially into Yoriyuki. “Frankly, I think we could get by just fine without the whole meido gimmick, but whatever pays the bills, I guess.” She handed him a stack of folded tablecloths and gestured vaguely to the tables and booths. Catching her meaning, he began dressing the dining area.
“I suppose working at a cafe wasn’t how you pictured your mid-twenties?” Probed Yoriyuki, after a lull in the conversation.
Yanai snorted. “Glad you still think I’m in my mid twenties. Means I’m not an old hag quite yet.” She shook her head ruefuly. “But no, not really. I used to work for the Department of Livestock Industry. Got my degree in Agricultural Science from Hokudai, and it was my job to collect data on livestock numbers in the prefecture.”
“What happened?”
“The De-Glamouring happened.” Yanai felt the corners of her mouth twist into a grimace. “I was in the middle of a presentation, and all of a sudden, I realized everyone in the board room was looking at me like I had grown a second head.” She brought her hand to the top of her head, pressing her feline ears gently down into her hair. She paused a bit, remembering the shock, and then the shame and confusion of the moment. “I ran out of the office and hid at home for the rest of the week. I tried putting the glamour back up when I finally mustered the courage to head back in, but I couldn’t maintain it for that long anymore, and everyone already knew at that point anyways…”
“How did people react?” Yoriyuki asked as he began setting up the tables’ cutlery. He was on the other side of the café now, and slowly making his way back.
“At first it was just awkward. Most people just didn’t mention it. A couple people asked me a few questions; I figured it was only fair, most people were still trying to grasp the idea of magic being real.” Her face turned sour as she started spraying the counters with disinfectant. “But after a little while, once everyone had gotten used to it… Whenever I used to go out on investigations, to check livestock numbers and conditions, none of the farmers would take me seriously. And at the office, my male coworkers would barely pay attention to anything I had to say, and my female coworkers stopped talking to me almost entirely. It was like I wasn’t even a person anymore.” Her voice cracked a bit at that last statement, but she kept her composure. “I think the last straw was when someone grabbed my tail out of nowhere.”
“Your tail?” Yoriyuki’s tone was incredulous.
“I know, stupid right?” She said, biting the laugh mid-exhale. “I’m sure he didn’t mean anything by it, but at that point, I’d had it. I’d heard about this place on the news, and I figured I’d be a shoe-in, so I submitted my resignation and got work here.”
“Do the customers here treat you better than your coworkers?”
“No,” said Yanai flatly, before giving a sharp laugh. “But at least here, if someone gets too handsy we can just throw him out.” She mused on that thought for a moment, before her attention turned to Yoriyuki. “Actually, now that I think about it, it’s a good thing Asako-san hired you; if we ever get any problem customers, we can just send them your way.”
Yoriyuki folded his arms indignantly, holding a stack of menus close to his chest. “Why? Is it all right for me to get harassed just because I’m a man?”
Yanai rolled her eyes at that. “Oh, don’t give me that. I know a grammar when I see one. You can put your real face back on when you leave, and anyone who sees you leave will assume you’re just one of the kitchen staff.”
“Why would I care-” he cut himself off mid-sentence, seemingly realizing the implications in real-time, and his face softened. “Do some of the men follow the waitresses home?”
Yanai nodded somberly. “Either that, or they wait out front to ambush them and propose marriage.” She let out a strained laugh. “Nothing bad has happened yet, but it scared two of the girls away.”
“No wonder the pay’s so high,” Yoriyuki mused, before looking back at Yanai. “All right, yeah, sure. Send ‘em my way. I’ve got… experience in getting folks to behave.” There was something almost sinister in his voice, but Yanai decided not to look a gift horse in the mouth.
“Thank goodness. I’ll tell the other girls. It’ll help endear them to you too; most of them were pretty apprehensive when they’d heard you got hired.”
“Apprehensive? They haven’t even met me.”
Yanai just shrugged. “All the other girls had the De-Glamouring happen when they were in high school or college; I’m the only one who has any experience being treated like a human being in the workplace. Male customers are one thing, but a male coworker…” She shook her head. “I think a lot of them appreciated having a work space that was made up of only women.”
Yoriyuki stopped for a moment, the sympathy on his face more than a little obvious. But after a moment, his eyes lit up, and he smiled at Yanai, as if he’d discovered the solution to a puzzle. “Would it help to mention that I’m already in a committed relationship with another man?”
Yanai let out a little snort. “A bit, maybe. I’ll drop a ‘his boyfriend’ later when we’re gossiping about you. I think that’ll allay any fears that you’ll be leering at them the whole shift. Though, if you really want to help ease the transition-”
“I can get changed somewhere else,” Yoriyuki said, finishing her sentence for her. “I understand.”
Yanai gave a sigh of relief. “I’m glad you understand. Working in this business is tough enough already, I don’t want to make it harder on the other girls. Anyways,” she said, rapidly shifting back into business mode. “If you see here on the menu, for the meat options, we usually serve it with cilantro, so make sure you ask…”
Natsumi stiffened whenever the new guy walked behind her.
It wasn’t that she had anything against him in particular; he seemed friendly enough, and in the two days he’d been here he hadn’t made any leering comments or tried to grab her tail or pat her head, which easily put him above maybe 70% of the men in her life.
On the other hand, the grammar he was wearing was almost too good. In fact, if she hadn’t already known, she never would’ve guessed he was a guy at all, which only made the situation that much worse. She took a dim view of cross-dressing- or at least, she’d like to have taken a dim view of it. But she was currently working at a meido cafe, which wasn’t much higher up in the social pyramid. Her parents had reacted to her new job like she’d chosen to become a prostitute.
But, hell, it beat working retail.
Especially after the De-Glamoring. She’d become something of a tourist attraction in the little outlet at the department store she’d been working at, where men aged thirteen and up would come to gawk at the ‘real bunny-girl’. Some of them had tried to be discreet about it; they’d pop in when she was working, buy a pair of socks to be polite, and sneak a few glances while browsing. Honestly, she hadn’t minded those; it was the men who tried flirting with her that got under her skin. They ran the whole gamut, from upper-middle class salarymen to hikikomori with less than 10,000 yen to their names. But what they all had in common was a belief that if they were just persistent enough, that if they just hit the right buttons, that she’d eventually break down and agree to marry them. Or at least, to grab dinner.
And the worst part was, several times, she’d very nearly agreed. She shot a sideways glance at Yanai, who was tending a table with a group of three career-aged, lonely-looking men. The last thing Natsumi wanted was to be like her; nearing thirty and still unmarried, with no job prospects and a useless college degree. But she’d always been hesitant to take the plunge; she’d seen how men could get when she turned them down: it didn’t matter how gently she tried to put it. It didn’t matter how much she tried to let them down easy.
The worst part was just how random it could be. Sometimes, she’d give a flat ‘No, Thank you’, and the man would understand completely, politely buy the obligatory pair of socks (she’d once joked that ‘courtesy socks’ made up half the store’s annual income), and leave without trouble. And other times, she’d be as kind and gentle as possible, and the man in question would explode. Not literally, though she’d vainly hoped, more than once. It seemed like there was no heuristic to sift the reasonable men from the nuts, and so she’d just grown suspicious of men as a category. Safer that way.
Intellectually, she knew the new guy probably wasn’t an actual threat. Probably. At the very least, he didn’t seem the type to propose marriage after knowing her for a few days, given that, at least according to Yanai, he was already dating another man. And there was a sense of solidarity she had with him over his own ears-and-tail; until he’d started working here, she didn’t even know that men could be Kemonomimi. She’d only ever known it to pass to women; none of her two older brothers had been born with it. And until Yoriyuki had shown up, she’d been the only one who had animal features besides those of a cat’s. Most of the other girls could easily tuck their tails in their pants and hide their ears under a hat, if they wanted. But Natsumi’s tall, leoprine ears didn’t sit comfortably under any size of headwear that couldn’t be measured in gallons.
Still, there was something in her that bristled whenever he came near. It was more autonomic than anything, but she doubted she’d ever really be comfortable with him around. Though, his being here did provide her, and the rest of the waitstaff, with a new tool for handling problems with…
Speak of the Devil, Natsumi’s face turned into a grimace as the doors to the cafe swang open.
Maeda-san had been a problem customer for months now. He visited once, maybe twice a week, and was one of their few ‘regulars’. Natsumi always imagined that he slithered along the ground whenever he thought nobody was watching, shedding his human skin and molting back into a snake until there was someone else’s life to make miserable. In another life, she figured he would’ve made a perfect contract lawyer; he was an expert at pushing just up to the line of acceptable behavior, and right before crossing it. It was maddening; he never touched any of the girls, or followed them home, or even anything in the ballpark. But he would make comments, or stare in ways that made the girls uncomfortable. Sometimes making requests that bordered on acceptability. But never beyond. Never enough for Ishida-san to ban him. It drove everyone crazy. They’d tried serving him bad coffee, ‘forgetting’ parts of his meal, ignoring him for as long as possible. All the ‘polite’ ways that they knew to push him out. Once they’d even considered writing up a false menu with outrageous prices just to see if it would steer him away, and only stopped when Ishida-san caught them at the print shop.
“Hello, master!” She said, affecting her best ‘kawaii’ voice and bowing deeply enough that the look on her face was unreadable. All things considered, Maeda was rather normal-looking considering he was clearly some kind of demon from hell. Except for his height, of course. At almost 185 cm, he was much taller than most of the non-foreign men she knew, which just made him seem that much more sinister.
“Natsumi-chan!” He said, with a big smile on his face. “Good to see you again. Ears as perky as ever, I see,” he said with a smug wink. Natsumi just giggled. It was either that or scream.
What the hell, she thought. I can’t handle this dickhead again. Let the new guy handle it.
She smiled. “Why don’t I seat you with our new girl? Her name's Yuki-chan.” She gestured over to Yoriyuki’s section and waved. Maeda perked up when he saw ‘her’ vulpine tail and ears. Natsumi had always been Maeda’s ‘favorite’ whenever he came in, and she suspected that it was the novelty of her rabbit-like ears. Maeda’s sudden interest in Yuki’s big, fluffy tail only seemed to confirm it for her.
Whatever, she thought with a radiant smile as she led Maeda to Yuki’s section of the floor. It was out of her hands now; Maybe the new guy would make himself useful and chase Maeda off for good. A girl can dream, anyways…
“Nice rear…”
Maeda was looking out into the Sapporo evening as he said it; staring intently at the spoiler of a neon-colored car passing by. The new girl– Yuki-Chan– had spun around as soon as he said it, only for her sudden spike in anger to fizzle out in frustration as soon as she saw the car whizz past.
Maeda knew what he was doing, of course. Something in him liked toying with these girls. Liked watching them squirm in discomfort. It was a game to him; seeing how far he could push until the line finally broke. He’d gotten in trouble for it at work more than a few times, but he’d never been fired over it, and every time, it meant that he’d gotten that little bit of extra practice in. He was a master of his craft, in a way. Most people, men and women alike, were too scared to really confront him due to his height, and it made getting away with trouble that much easier.
It helped that these were just waitresses. Low enough on the social totem pole that people practically expected them to be treated like dolls. Unless he decided to grope one in front of a camera, the worst they could do is kick him out, and then he’d just find some new place to haunt, rinse and repeat.
“How can I serve you today, master?” Yuki-chan asked. Her voice was a low alto, almost breathy in its quality. Clearly, she hadn’t been here long enough to get the ‘kawaii’ voice down, which was a shame, but he figured it’d come with time.
“A tea and cake would be nice, Yuki,” he said, very intentionally dropping the ‘chan’. The kind of informality that was usually reserved for intimate partners and close family. And, also, sometimes, someone would just forget themselves and say something impolite. The two were impossible to distinguish.
Yuki-chan left, and Maeda leaned back into the booth. It was a comfy booth, he had to admit, though less maneuverable than the coffee table chairs he was usually sat in. The automatic lights in the cafe turned on just as the sun crested over the Hidaka mountains, bathing the whole restaurant in a gentle orange glow. They hadn’t skimped on the lightbulbs used for the pseudo-candelabras that lined the walls, which he appreciated. Most places would’ve gone with the cheap option, especially a gimmicky place like this, but he could acknowledge that there was love put into the cafe. He figured the owner had to be an older man- he couldn’t imagine anybody else was simultaneously perverted enough to start a business staffed entirely by 20-somethings with animal ears, and also had the respectability to treat such an establishment with care and consideration. It was something that the female mind simply couldn’t comprehend, and that young men would be too over-eager for, and quickly find themselves in trouble.
Ah, maybe he’d have to ask to meet the man someday. Surely there could be no greater honor than to learn at the feet of a true master…
The Immigration Agent came around at 7 o’clock on Saturday.
Yanai always envied English for its menagerie of profanities. There were times when Japanese just felt insufficient; she’d once heard a foreign man utter an exasperated ‘Aw, fuck’ under his breath in a moment of consternation, and the cadence of the word; the simple finality of it, had stuck with her ever since. She’d still yet to hear a word that could rise to occasion quite like it could.
And as she saw the immigration officer approaching through the windows, it was the only word she could think of that was suitable to the moment.
Yanai put her pinkie fingers to her mouth. She and Asako-san had a signal- a short, sharp whistle loud enough to hear in the kitchen. Long enough for Kati-san to make a quick escape out the back, or into a closet, or, on one occasion, under the sinks. Meanwhile, Asako-san would throw on an apron and pretend she’d been cooking there alone for hours.
In truth, Asako-san was a terrible cook. Yanai had concluded long ago that her boss must’ve angered a kitchen spirit at some point, because it was the only way to explain the sheer chaos that ensued whenever she entered the back-of-the-house to do anything but pass through.
Kati-san was the one who kept the kitchen together. Apparently, she’d been formally trained as a patisserie chef in Manila, which was why Yanai figured that baking technology in the Philippines must be light-years ahead of the rest of the world; she’d made a habit of sneaking macarons, or other little treats, whenever someone wasn’t looking, or when they had extra food that otherwise would’ve been tossed. And every time, it was like biting into a dream.
The immigration agent smiled at her as he came through the front door. Yanai fought the urge to scowl back. Most of the other girls didn’t know about Kati-san’s unique situation. It was something Asako-san had entrusted Yanai with after she’d been here a few months. It hardly seemed fair; Just because there was no recognition on the national level, there was no way for Kati-san to apply for a marriage visa. Leaving her in this awful ‘grey zone’ of uncertainty and confusion. Yanai hadn’t been much for politics ever since the De-Glamouring. Everything had changed too much for her to keep track of it all. But the little college radical in her never died; it had just taken a backseat.
“Hello, officer,” she said with as respectful of a nod as she could muster. “Is there something I can help you with?” She wanted to try and stall him. Her whistle was loud enough for Kati-san to hear, but there was a bigger problem.
Asako-san was out on a grocery run.
“Yes, actually,” Officer Sato said conversationally. “I’m with Immigration Services. We received a tip-off that this restaurant was hiring foreign nationals without visas,” he explained. Yanai bit her tongue. That had been the 4th ‘tip-off’ in 10 months. “Do you mind if I have a look around?”
Yanai knew it was better not to fight it. She knew he probably didn’t have a warrant, but that hardly mattered. Refusing a police search was just a recipe for getting raided later. She just hoped that she’d given Kati-san enough time. And that she could lie her ass off…
“Yuki-chan,” she said, passing a glance towards Yoriyuki, who was bussing tables in the corner of the cafe. “Can you handle things up here while I escort this gentleman?” Yoriyuki nodded and didn’t say anything, giving Yanai a genial smile. There was something in it, almost like it was meant to be… comforting, somehow? Reassuring, maybe. She shook the though from her mind.
She escorted the officer around the premises like she was giving him a tour, starting with the seating area, moving into the small changing/locker room, into the office, until, finally, landing in the kitchen. Yanai allowed herself a small sigh of relief as she noticed the distinct lack of Kati-san.
Of course, Officer Sato noticed the same thing. Not Kati-san’s absence, per say, but rather the seeming lack of any kitchen staff whatsoever. Which, of course, was difficult to square with the obviously in-progress baking projects that were scattered all around.
“So,” Officer Sato said with a raised eyebrow. “Do you hire ghosts to make the food around here?” He seemed mighty pleased with himself. Enough so that it took a push of willpower from Yanai not to punch him in the gut.
“We only have one chef on staff,” she said, matter-of-factly. “If we get busy enough, sometimes the waitresses get pulled to help with cooking, but we do just fine with one.”
“Uh-huh,” the officer said. “And where are they-”
“Grocery run,” Yanai interrupted him. “We were out of baking soda.” Officer Sato clearly wasn’t convinced, and although he didn’t say anything, he casually began searching the corners of the kitchen. Peering into the freezer, and then the pantry. Yanai wanted to tell him to stop; to ask him politely-yet-firmly to leave. But she knew it would just cause more problems for her down the line. So she held her breath and hoped that Kati-san had managed to find a good hiding spot.
Her tail shot straight up as she heard the back door to the kitchen open.
She didn’t recognize Yoriyuki, at first. She’d never actually seen him without a grammar on, and his ears were currently hidden underneath a chef’s hat that nearly scraped the pipes in the ceiling. But after a second glance, she was sure it was him. He was more obviously masculine; taller, authoritative, almost. More mature-seeming. But something about the way he carried himself shone through, grammar or not.
He shot a look that could kill at the officer, who visibly recoiled in surprise and something like… fear?
“What,” he said, like there was a rage bubbling up in him that was kept in abeyance only barely. “Are you doing in my kitchen?”
“Are you the chef here?” Sato asked after a brief moment’s recovery.
“Do you think they hired me as a waitress?” He snapped back.
Sato twisted his face in embarrassment. “Right, sorry,” he said. “I only ask because we’d heard that the kitchen staff here was made up of non-resident aliens.”
Yoriyuki turned up his nose again, a fire in his eyes. “My family has lived in Hokkaido since before ‘Japan’ was even dreamt of. If anyone in this room could be accused of being a foreigner, it isn’t me.” The venom in his voice was enough to kill a weaker man. “But if you want to examine my family’s Koseki-”
“No, no, that’s all right,” Sato said, only getting more shamefaced by the minute. “I’m afraid there must’ve been some kind of misunderstanding. A prank call, or something. We just have to check these things out, you know. Part of the job description.”
“Of course,” Yoriyuki said diplomatically (in the same way that ‘war is diplomacy by other means’). “Now, if you don’t mind? Some of us work for a living.”
Sato followed Yanai out of the kitchen, and gave her a brief apology as he found his way out of the cafe. Yanai felt her whole body unclench as she saw him drive away in his squad car. Yoriyuki was already back to being ‘Yuki-chan’, frilly dress and all as he hummed a quiet tune in the corner of the cafe. There was something odd about him; odd enough that Yanai wondered if he was even Kemono at all.
But he’d done a good turn for someone who deserved it. In her book, that made him alright…
Maeda returned to the cafe several times over the next month.
Yuki-chan was resilient, he’d discovered, but Maeda was a self-styled expert. He figured it was only a matter of time before he managed to break her spirit.
And yet, every day he came in, she still gave him the same, polite, unflinching smile. Usually, by this point, he could see the dread in their eyes of his chosen victim as they saw him approach. They could play it off all they liked; he knew that in their hearts, they were miserable.
And why shouldn’t they be? No woman who worked at these kinds of places should be happy. They sold false hope to lonely men who were too ugly, or poor, or otherwise unfortunate. It was deceit of the cruelest kind. Telling unloved men that they were loved, and respected, and worthy of being respected by beautiful women. It made his blood boil.
Maeda san could see that fake smile on Yanai-‘chan’s face as he entered the cafe. He shot her a smug smile and leaned uncomfortably– but not inappropriately– close to her, and waited for her to say her line.
Yanai-chan bowed and said, with a false pep in her voice. “Good evening, master!”
“Yanai-chan,” he said, giving her a lopsided smile. “Is Yuki-chan in today?”
Yanai-chan nodded, her feline tail twitching with some emotion; The ears and tails had been the thing that had driven him most crazy. They were too perfect; too much out of a shonen-addicted 15-year-old’s wildest dreams to be fair. All of these girls were just playing, here. Every one of them would go on to marry some C-Suite exec or some other rich shoe-licker who could treat them like a trophy wife. None of them would ever need to work an honest living. Which just made this whole charade all that more cruel. These girls were giving men a taste of something that was bound to remain ever out of reach.
And among them, he’d found Yuki-chan to be the most bedeviling.
There was just something about her. She was unnaturally beautiful; Her hair, snow white that graduated into jet black at the tips, much like her tail, matched her maid dress perfectly. Almost like she was born to do the job. She moved with such grace and surety, the smile on her face never faltering no matter how busy it seemed to get. Her eyes glowed a brilliant, impossible shade of orange-yellow, like the radiance of the sun itself…
It drove Maeda absolutely mad.
It was the pinnacle of everything he hated. It was dishonest in a way that he could never truly articulate, but could feel in the pit of his stomach. An injustice. And if the worst thing that happened to these women was that Maeda came along and made their lives a little miserable, then it was frankly better than they deserved.
“Yes,” Yanai-chan said, snapping him out of his brief spiral of resentment. “Although- we’re about to close soon.”
“It’s fine!” Yuki-chan said as she bounced up to the hostess stand. “I can take Maeda-kun,” she bubbled and gave him a polite smile. He wanted to bristle. Nobody had called him ‘-kun’ since he was in school, though it had quickly become Yuki-chan’s favored nickname for him. He was still young enough to get away with using ‘ore’ for himself, but ‘-kun’ felt too childlike. Not manly enough. But also, if he let on that it bothered him, it was essentially admitting defeat. So he suffered in silence.
“Why don’t you take off early?” Yuki-chan said to her coworker. “I can close tonight.”
Yanai-chan flashed a glance at Maeda, then back to Yuki. As if silently asking if she was sure she wanted to be alone with him. Yuki-chan just smiled back, and after a beat, Yanai gave a quick thanks-and-goodbye, and began to pack up her things.
Maeda could hardly believe his luck. All alone, in the middle of the night, and he had this girl all to himself. If ever there was an opportunity to break her spirit…
“Can I get you your usual, Master?” Maeda usually went pretty simple- a cup of coffee and some artisanal bread. It was the two cheapest items on the menu, and like most meido places, the prices here were exorbitant. Lonely young men would pay anything for attention from pretty women, after all…
“Actually,” he said, leering up at her. “Could I get some hot tea and some macarons? Honey and lemon in the tea.” He knew that, this late in the evening, the leftover macarons had probably been put in cold storage, which meant that it’d be a pain to pull it all out again, just grab a few more. The hot tea, too, was chosen specifically to bother her; making proper tea involved heating up a kettle (which had probably already been washed early, and would need washing again before the night was over now that it was being reused) and steeping the tea for at least 4 minutes before any additives. Honey specifically was difficult to mix right, and he’d asked for lemon just on the off chance that they didn’t have any pre-cut ones.
“Of course!” Yuki-chan said, her eyes still as bright as ever. She scrawled the order on the notepad. “Anything else?”
“No, that’s it,” he said, and fought to keep from scowling. It was like nothing phased her. He’d tried every trick he’d known in the book, and she seemed as cheerful as when he’d first met her. She turned around, and Maeda watched her tail flutter behind her as she took her first step to the kitchen.
Fine, he thought, more frustrated by the second. Time to go off-book, then.
He reached out and yanked her tail. Hard. Hard enough that she reeled back and let out a shout of surprise, almost falling to the floor in the process. She spun around to face him, a look of shock in her eyes for only a brief moment, before she returned to her natural, bubbly state.
“I’m sorry, master,” she said, bowing apologetically. “But we must ask that you refrain from touching the staff. Especially our ears and tails- they’re very sensitive.” She said it with the cadence of someone explaining mere policy; as though it was just a simple mistake on his part.
“Right,” Maeda drawled, finding himself even more frustrated at her refusal to react. “Nothing bothers you, huh?”
“I’m–” she started, and paused for just a moment in thought. “Made of strong stuff,” she said with the same genial smile. “I have a lot of life experience, you could say.”
Maeda just rolled his eyes. This was pointless. She was either the most strong-willed woman on the planet, or she was too stupid to get upset about anything. And knowing what he did about women, he assumed the latter. “Never mind,” he said, lying back in his chair in defeat. “Just get me my tea.”
He didn’t even like tea. It was always too bitter for him. And it wasn’t nearly enough caffeine to keep him awake during the workday. A few minutes passed, and Yuki-chan came back from the kitchen, order-in-hand. He popped a macaron in his mouth; he shivered in pleasure as it melted.
“Honestly,” he said, casually, to Yuki-chan. “I’m amazed you guys are still open. I would’ve figured the cops would’ve shut you down for hiring foreigners.”
“How did you know-” Yuki-chan started. And then, in a moment of realization, her demeanor changed completely. Her face darkened, and the smile vanished completely as she looked at him with intensity. “So you’re the one who made an ‘anonymous tip’.”
Ah. So that was what he needed to get under her skin. She was the sort of person who could stomach any abuse herself, but fell to pieces seeing others suffer. He would’ve figured she was too pretty to have that kind of personality; the most beautiful women were never the considerate types. But he supposed there was a first time for everything.
“Of course,” he said, leaning in as he decided to capitalize on this newly-discovered line of attack. “I mean, clearly, you managed to hide the gaijin before they could get caught, or something, but it’ll only be a matter of time before they get caught and deported.”
“I think you should-”
“I don’t care what you think,” he said, standing up as he slammed the table, nearly upsetting the cup of hot tea. He was riding high off of discovering her weakness, and he had no intention of letting up now. He was nearly a foot taller than she was, which had always been one of the best weapons in his arsenal. He towered over most women (and men, for that matter), which was enough to cow most of them into submission. “I think you’re barely better than some Susukino whore.”
He stared down into her face, and saw a look of stolid, unmoving defiance, and he felt his temper rear up again. “I think you, and all the women who work here, should be ashamed of what you do.” He stared forwards into her eyes, which burned back into his. “I think that, if we lived in a world with any justice, every single one of you would be placed in front of a wall and shot.” He stared up at her-
Wait, up?
The anger left his body in a flash, replaced instantly with panic and confusion. Was he falling through the floor, somehow? Had she gotten taller in the past few seconds?
He placed his hand on the table to steady himself, and noted that it now came above his waist. “What the hell?” He asked, and he looked back up at Yuki-chan, whose face was swiftly growing further and further away. Realization dawned on him.
“You crazy bitch!” He shouted up at her, despite no longer coming up to her knee. He knew that some Youkai were capable of magic- the specifics had always escaped him, but he’d figured that the Kemono girls who worked here weren’t able to do anything truly impressive; otherwise they would’ve found a way to get rid of him. But clearly, he’d miscalculated. “Change me back!” He demanded impotently.
“Sorry, Master. But I’m afraid I can’t do that.” she said. Her voice was different; loud, to be sure, but even at his rapidly-deteriorating height, he could hear the sound of a facade crumbling. It wasn’t just that her bubbly personality vanished. There was something else to it. Something about her voice…
Then he realized.
It wasn’t her voice at all.
It was his voice.
He could see him clearly, now that he loomed like a colossus above him. But it was more than just clarity. As though ‘Yuki-chan’s’ old face had fallen away, crumbled along with the rest of the facade. Just his luck; of all the pretty girls he had to choose from, he’d gone mad over the cross-dresser.
He continued to dwindle in height, below the table, until the linoleum tile stretched for miles in every direction. Looking up, he could scarcely see Yuki-chan’s face, obscured as it was by the black-and-white skirt of the maid outfit. His black buckled shoes loomed above Maeda, and the stockings climbed up his legs like ivy climbing a skyscraper.
This couldn’t possibly be happening, could it? He knew magic was real, that it was powerful, in theory, but- this all seemed so impossible. He had to be dreaming, or hallucinating, or-
He was brought back to reality by a giant shoe hovering over his head.
He didn’t even have time to swear. Realizing that death (in the form of several thousand pounds of black leather) was fast approaching, he made a mad dash away from the incomprehensible shape above. He could almost sense it as it approached; the light dimming above as it blotted out his sky, and air it displaced washing over him like a hurricane. He dived forwards at the last possible moment, feeling his back graze against the bottom of the shoe as he landed unceremoniously on the ground.
He spun around on his back, and stared up in horror. The shoe loomed above him like a mountain, bigger than his puny, mortal brain was really built to comprehend. He swallowed as he tried to catch his breath, his lungs pounding from the sudden exertion. If he had to estimate, he would’ve put himself at the size of an ant, compared to the colossus above him. Perhaps smaller.
“P-please,” he said, in between labored breaths. “Please stop. I’m sorry. I-I didn’t know-”
“Didn’t know that the person you were tormenting could fight back,” Said Yuki-chan- Yuki-san? At this point, Maeda figured it was better to play it safe and go with Yuki-sama.
“N-no!” He lied. “I mean- I didn’t know that, uh- that you’d be so bothered-”
Yuki leaned down. The earth moved as he did. Maeda could see every little shift in his maid skirt like it was a mountain moving in the distance. A hand the size of Jupiter reached out and plucked Maeda from the floor; massive walls of flesh encased him on either side, soft flesh encompassing the whole of his body, allowing only a thin sliver of light through.
Yuki brought the ant-sized Maeda up level to his face; His eyes really did shine as brightly as the sun, now, swirling as they seemed to be with power beyond mortal ken.
“You didn’t think I’d be bothered by you calling me a whore?” He asked, his eyebrow raised. “Do you refer to all the women in your life like that?”
“No!” He said, and managed to bite back a ‘At least, not to their faces.’
“Uh-huh,” Yuki said, clearly not believing him, and Maeda felt the walls of flesh press him even more between them. He tried to inhale, and managed, though it was becoming more painful by the second.
“You know what I think?” Yuki started, and Maeda felt tears beginning to well up in his eyes, both from the pain, and from the sheer humiliation. “I think you’re a pathetic, spineless creature. I think you blame everyone else for your problems, and you do everything in your power to make everyone- especially women- as miserable as you are. Am I in the ballpark?” He said with a smug smirk.
Maeda couldn’t quite manage any words, but managed to nod. He figured now would be a bad time to argue.
“I also think,” he continued, sitting down in the same chair Maeda had been sitting in moments ago. “That the world would be much, much better off for everyone if I popped you like a grape right now.”
The walls closed in even tighter, and Maeda felt like his whole body was about to burst. His eyes went wide as he shook his head in terror.
“You don’t agree? Fine,” Yuki said, and the pressure released. He made a flicking motion with his finger, and Maeda went flying, landing on the table below. “Prove to me you’re capable of a little humility, and I’ll let you go.”
Maeda finally felt his heart rate slow down to mere ‘chest-pounding’ levels, down from the previous ‘heart attack’ stage it was in. He inhaled his first easy breath in a minute, and considered his next move. There was a way of this. All he had to do was demonstrate that he knew how to apologize, and he was home free.
Still, it was humiliating. He would’ve figured that being shrunk to the size of an ant and nearly crushed to death would’ve been enough to stem his pride, at least temporarily, but he found it a challenge. Part of him wanted to bite back- to challenge the unfairness of the situation. The only reason things were like this was because Yuki had magic, and Maeda didn’t. But still, if it meant going home safe tonight…
He got on his knees, and prostrated himself in the direction of his colossal tormentor. “Please,” he said, his voice shakier than he would’ve hoped. “I’m sorry for causing so many problems for this cafe. I’m sorry for using the police to try and shut it down,” he said, swallowing his pride as deep into his stomach it would go. “And most of all, I’m sorry for treating you so poorly, Yuki-san.”
“Call me Master,” Yuki said.
Maeda felt the edges of his sanity begin to fray. He wouldn’t be treated like this. He refused to be lorded over by some jumped-up pretty-boy just because he won the birth lottery. Magic or no, he refused to submit.
“Screw you,” he said, his voice firm but quiet.
The sky over Maeda darkened almost as soon as he’d said it, and the look on Yuki’s face was not amused. “Shame,” he said, and leaned forwards.
Maeda didn’t even have time to react before he was plucked between titanic fingers again. But this time, rather than threatening to squash him, they moved swiftly, almost disorientingly so, with sudden and intense purpose.
Yuki leaned back in his chair and rested a shoe on the table in front of him. With another flick, Maeda felt himself flying, and he found himself quickly entangled in a miles long weave of fabric that seemed to have no end. He had only a moment to realize that he’d been flung onto Yuki’s sock, before the ground started to shake again, as if trying to sift him down. Down into the shoe below.
He hung on for dear life, but he was currently fighting against a force far greater than he was, and descending ignominiously into the dark pit of Yuki’s shoe below…
It was pitch black inside; the shoe was tightly fit, and the only light that came through was from the occasional bend of Yuki’s foot as it maneuvered around. Maeda found himself pressed against the leather of the shoe, and the wool of the sock, and found that, of the two, he generally preferred the sock.
It was a small mercy that the shoe’s interior smelled much like the rest of Yuki; like lilacs, and a hint of lavender. But that didn’t prevent the close, cramped quarters from getting more hot with each passing second, until Maeda found himself sweating from the heat as well as the stress.
He tried calling out; to beg for this to stop, but every time he tried, Yuki took another footstep- gentle and elegant- and smothered Maeda’s voice in his sock. Maeda felt tears begin to well up in his eyes again. He was pathetic. Miserable. And all because he couldn’t keep his mouth shut. Couldn’t swallow his pride for a few seconds.
A minute passed. Then two. He figured there had to be some magic in place to keep him from being completely crushed flat, and he wondered if it might not to’ve been kinder to just let him die. But then, the weight was lifted, and light filled the sky again, and Maeda felt himself tumbling through, and then out, of the shoe, and onto the tile floor.
“There,” Yuki said, an unearthly smugness in his voice. “Have we learned our lesson?”
“Yes!” Maeda screamed through panted breaths. “Yes! Please- Oh, please. Forgive me, Master. Forgive me. Please. Oh God, please.”
Yuki just gave him a knowing smile. “Fine, I guess that’ll do. But just remember,” he said, his voice half-playful and half-threatening. “If I ever hear that you’ve started backsliding, well,” he smirked, “I can always find a more permanent accommodation for you…”
He let the threat hang in the air for a moment, and before Maeda could even think to respond, Yuki kneeled down and curled his middle finger back against his thumb. He pulled, adn released, flicking Maeda with incredible speed, launching him straight into the window.
Maeda closed his eyes, bracing for the impact, only to find himself rolling on the pavement; His eyes opened and he saw his car– blessedly normal sized– above him as he lay upon the ground. He ventured a quick glance back at the cafe; Yuki merely smiled back at him, his face back to being as beautiful and feminine as it had been before. He winked.
Maeda fumbled around desperately for his car keys, scrambled in as quickly as he could, and pressed the gas pedal to the floor until he reached home.
Yanai arched her back as she stretched.
It was late; almost closing time now. She wanted to go home, and had already started washing and clearing, hoping desperately that they wouldn’t get any more customers before closing time.
“Quiet night, huh?” Yoriyuki asked off to the side. Yanai gave him a strained smile.
“Let’s hope so,” she said, and then paused. She felt a little bad, but hadn’t quite figured out when to broach the topic. She closed her eyes and shook her head- better to handle it now than never. “Hey, uh,” she said, turning to Yuki. “Sorry for leaving you alone with Maeda last night. I hope he didn’t cause you too much trouble.”
Yuki just grinned at her. Which was an odd reaction. “I think,” he began with a smirk. “That he’s not going to be a problem in the future.”
Yanai wasn’t sure whether to shiver or cry from joy. She split the difference with a grateful look. Maeda had been their #1 problem customer for months now. If Yoriyuki was serious, then it was going to be a huge load off all their backs. “Let’s hope so,” she hedged, and then, back to business. “Can you make sure the kitchen door is locked? Let’s get out of here a little early,” she said with a conspiratorial smile.
Yoriyuki nodded and disappeared into the kitchen, and Yanai began to pile the menus back on the hostess stand. Only to leap in fright as the bell to the store rang.
She didn’t bother to hide the look of disappointment when she saw Maeda standing in front of her.
“Ah- welcome,” she said, as flatly as her voice would allow. Maeda barely seemed to notice her. There was something different about him; something more frantic, more panicked. She already wasn’t comfortable around him, and this certainly wasn’t helping…
“Is- uh. Is Yuki-sama here?”
Yuki-sama? Uh-oh, Yanai thought. Whatever Yoriyuki had done, it seemed to have had the exact opposite effect.
As if on cue, Yoriyuki came through the kitchen door, and scowled as he spotted Maeda. Before he could even respond, though, Maeda did something that Yanai never would’ve thought she would see in a million years:
He fell to his knees.
He bowed as deeply as his body would allow, like someone bowing at a funeral, a deep gesture of apology and supplication that was usually only reserved for special occasions.
“Master!” He said, his voice shaky, and Yanai grew more confused, while Yoriyuki pinched the bridge of his nose in agitation.
“Please, forgive me master, but I could not stand to leave without apologizing profusely-” Maeda began to babble, and the words he was saying quickly became background noise in Yanai’s ears. She shot a glance at Yoriyuki, who apologized with his face as much as he could.
“What did you do?” She asked, somewhere between curiosity and horror.
“Nothing!” He lied, exhaustedly. “I just… I tried to get him to show a little humility. Make him rethink how he treats people.” He peered down to look at Maeda, who had wrapped his arm around Yoriyuki’s leg in desperation. “I think I may have overdone it.”
“No kidding,” Yanai agreed. “What did you do to him to cause this?”
“I just-” his face grew hot with embarrassment. “Nothing big, just a little magic I taught myself.” He snapped his fingers, and Yanai let out a shock of surprise as Maeda seemed to vanish completely from her sight. “It’s fine!” Yoriyuki said quickly, before leaning down to pinch something off the ground between two fingers. He held it out to her, and Yanai saw… Maeda? Tiny, helpless, and, it seemed, in a state of pure ecstasy as Yoriyuki held him in his hand.
“Whoa,” she mused as she gazed down at him in amazement. “That’s- whoa.” She turned her eyes back up to look at Yoriyuki. “You gotta teach me how to do that.”
Yoriyuki let out a short bark of laughter. “I can try, but just be aware that magic lessons aren’t cheap,” he said with a smirk. He closed the palm of his hand, encasing Maeda in a prison of darkness. “I should get going. I should probably do something to fix his brain. Are you good to finish closing?” He asked, giving her an apologetic look. Yanai simply nodded. She figured it was the least she could do.
Yoriyuki turned to leave and Yanai let out a short “Stop.” A request, not a command. Yoriyuki turned, his ears and tail perked in attention. She swallowed, not sure how to phrase what she wanted to ask. She stumbled a few times, until finally managed to spit out something…
“You’re not really a Kemono, are you?”
Yoriyuki didn’t say anything, but he winked at her as he turned away, heading out the front door with a strive and purpose that was rarely seen; probably, it was even rarer to see it on someone in a maid dress…
“So, what, you just kept him like a pet?” Conall asked, not even bothering to turn away from the TV as he lay on the couch.
“No, obviously not,” Yoiryu said with a roll of his eyes. “I brought him back to his home, did what I could to fix his mind, and let him sleep off the rest.”
“Fix his mind?” Conall asked, turning his attention to his boyfriend.
“I didn’t change anything, if that’s what you’re asking.” Conall knew Yoiryu wasn’t comfortable with the idea of futzing around with people’s minds. He did many questionable things with all the power he had, but overriding a person’s free will was something he seemed to avoid. Not completely; especially if it was only temporary; but it was a noticeable absence in Yoi’s all-powerful merry-making. “I just gave him some knew information to help conceptualize what had happened, is all.” It was just vague enough to make Conall shiver.
“So, do you think you’ll go back to work on Monday?” Conall asked, peering over at Yoi, who was still decked out in his work uniform. He got the sense that his boyfriend had had his fun, and was looking to move on. Though, he had to admit that he did find him more than a little cute, what with the dress and all.
“Probably,” Yoi said with a shrug. “Though I don’t think I’ll stay much longer. Although, if I do leave,” he said, his head perked up. “Mind if I invite Yanai over every now and then?”
Conall couldn’t keep himself from smiling. “Aww, you made a friend!” He joked, jabbing his divine boyfriend with an elbow. “Of course she can come over. We can set up a play date with just the two of you.”
Yoi just gave him an unnamable look. “Cute. She actually asked me if I could teach her a little magic. She saw me do it to Maeda, I figured, what’s the harm?”
“Plenty,” Conall said, suspiciously. “But I certainly won’t stop you. Just try to leave me out of it. I like my eyebrows unsinged.”
(Last couple paragraphs cut off by FA. Download to read the rest!)
Category Story / Macro / Micro
Species Kitsune
Size 120 x 120px
File Size 331.8 kB
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That's very kind of you to say! I've always got a few irons in the fire, but if you're ever interested in pitching an idea you'd like to see, I do have a suggestion box HERE!
Ooooo that was excellent!
Love the use of actual discussion about the nature of irl maid cafes to set up a veeeery satisfying bit of indulgence towards the end there. Think we all know a Maeda in our lives who we wish would get his sooner rather than later.
And I just love all of Yoiryu's lil flexes of power~ Though personally... I would love to see him work in a butler cafe~
Love the use of actual discussion about the nature of irl maid cafes to set up a veeeery satisfying bit of indulgence towards the end there. Think we all know a Maeda in our lives who we wish would get his sooner rather than later.
And I just love all of Yoiryu's lil flexes of power~ Though personally... I would love to see him work in a butler cafe~
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