26. Ichijō Sae 2

The Embassy had been completed with startling speed, but apparently the internal equipment—aside from energy-related systems—was repurposed from a destroyer. The eighth, ninth, and tenth floors, designated as exclusive Agirakana sectors, were capable of maintaining a fully sealed environment, and could sustain life indefinitely within them. Moreover, unlike in open space, rain fell here—fuel for their systems—and carbon dioxide was present in the atmosphere, meaning they could produce tube-fed nutrient paste without needing to recycle food. They could survive until the equipment reached its durability limit, it seemed. Though, judging by the odds, their own lifespans would likely run out first.

The assault landing ship they were currently on was probably more convenient in some ways, but since it had been decided to move the office to the embassy as soon as possible, the entire temporary office area had simply been relocated to the eighth floor of the embassy. Previously, the room adjacent to the temporary office had been my private quarters, but from now on, my private quarters would be a room within the residential block on the ninth floor. Since it seemed unnecessary, I hadn’t had a dedicated office for the ambassador built.

The usual contingent of resident officers who’ve been living in Japan as assigned personnel had gathered, coordinating orders for supplies—including provisions—and finalizing construction plans. All are treated as embassy staff, granted visa exemptions by the Japanese Government. For security, a fifty-man squad from the ground combat unit had also been dispatched. The unmanned support units designated for ground combat personnel, though few in number, were stored alongside other equipment in the underground third-floor hangar. Carrying weapons of a rather alarming nature, but then, it’s far too late to worry about that now.

For now, there’s a round-the-clock, complimentary Dining Hall on the seventh floor for Japanese staff and on the tenth floor for Agirakana personnel, though the food served there is prepared by an automated cook. This automated cook was originally developed for Agirakana, specifically for me— a machine that, given data on ingredients and desired final state, can produce a meal in short order. As long as it’s not overly elaborate, the results are quite palatable.

Society, having finally begun to settle after the shock of the Agirakana incident two weeks prior, was slowly returning to routine.

Ichijō Sae was quite startled when, the morning after the Agirakana incident, she saw a man named Yamada on television— a man who bore an uncanny resemblance to her senior, Yamada Keiichi, who had supposedly emigrated overseas. But upon further reflection, she concluded it was, of course, impossible. She’d sent several emails to Keiichi, none of which had been answered—but if he were abroad, it made sense.

She’d worked overtime straight through yesterday, utterly exhausted, and today was a holiday shift—only just now getting home.

Pulling a canned beer from the refrigerator, she opened a snack she’d picked up from the nearby convenience store and, for the first time in ages, turned on the television. The news was on.

“Today, at around morning, the government announced that the embassy grounds—previously leased to the Agirakana Republic—had been completed in just half a day by a vessel referred to as an Agirakana workship. Here is footage, beginning mid-construction.”

Pssshhh. Gulp. Huff.

Watching the footage, she saw a building descend from the sky and settle perfectly into a large hole that had just appeared in the ground. That was all. And yet—she thought it was incredible.

“Amazing… I wish my job could just… *sploosh* like that.”

Gulp.

Muttering to herself, she drank the beer.

The footage ended abruptly, showing a full view of the Embassy, its entire façade glass-walled and gleaming. Adjusting the remote, she changed the channel—only to find a segment introducing this year’s most-talked-about phrase.

“Today, we reveal the nominees for this year’s Annual Phrase of the Year Award. Among them, the one drawing the most attention is, yes—‘Agirakana’s coming?!’ Well, that one’s practically a guaranteed winner. And the phrase currently leading for second place, the one everyone’s buzzing about—‘Mr. Yamada and the Four Beauties.’ That’s it—”

The profile of Mr. Yamada and the four beauties filled the screen, large and unmistakable.

“Puuu—!”

Ichijō Sae spat beer from her mouth as she watched the television broadcast.

Mr. Yamada looked remarkably young—but no matter how one looked at it, the man on screen was unmistakably the same person as Yamada Keiichi, whom she knew.

Wiping up the spilled beer with a kitchen towel, her phone rang.

Piroron, piroron.

It was her senior!

『Ichijō, can you take the call now?』

『Senior, where are you calling from?』

『Right now, Tokyo. How’s the connection?』

『OK』

『Got it. I’ll call you back now』

Piloron, piloron. Piloron, piloron.

『Hello. This is Ichijō.』

『Hey, it’s me. Long time no see. Actually, I need a favor—can we meet tomorrow?』

『Can’t we talk now? And more importantly, aren’t you that Mr. Yamada?』

『If I tell you I’m Mr. Yamada over the phone, would you believe me?』

『Of course. The face on TV’s the same as yours, isn’t it?』

『Huh. So I’m really that similar to the guy everyone’s talking about? Well, they say there are three people in the world who look exactly like you. Could be true.』

"Tell me clearly, is this a lie or the truth?"

"Got it—let's meet and talk about that too. How about Hanabishi? What time works for you?"

"Wait, Hanabishi's a Japanese restaurant, right? Then I'd like to enjoy some good sake. How about seven in the evening? We can talk in detail there."

"Understood. I'll reserve a private room under my name at Hanabishi tomorrow evening. Don't forget."

The next day, evening.

I arrived at the restaurant by stealth-mode shuttle from the embassy, having been transported from the capital city.

The appointment was at seven p.m. Five minutes early, I entered the restaurant, gave my name, and was led by a waiter to a private room.

"Your guest has already arrived."

As the waiter opened the door, I saw Ichijō seated at a four-person table.

Just as I settled into the seat across from him,

"Hey, Ichijō. Long time. Sorry to call you out like this. I’ve ordered the omakase course—should that be alright?"

Seeing Ichijō nod, the attendant—

As per your reservation, the recommended course should be acceptable, then? And what would you like to drink?

"For now, let's start with bottled beer. Ichijō, you can have beer too, right?"

Ichijō nodded silently.

The moment the maid stepped out and closed the door, Ichijō clung to me, looking my way.

"You're Yamada-senpai, right?"

“What’s wrong, all of a sudden?”

I kept staring, wondering if it was a fake Yamada-senpai—something about the glasses just seemed off, not quite right.

"What kind of nonsense are you talking? It's me, Yamada Keiichi. Honestly..."

For now, let's leave it at that. So, what is it that Mr. Yamada wishes to discuss with me?

"Excuse me. The appetizers and the beer, please."

Small bowls and two beer glasses were placed on the table, and the waiter poured beer into the glasses before exiting.

"First, a toast."

They clinked their glasses lightly. Ichijō downed about two-thirds of the beer in the small glass in one gulp. It was a small glass, after all.

"Senior, you're really Mister Yamada, aren't you?"

"Hey, keep your voice down. Lower it a bit. That's what people are calling you these days, apparently."

"So, Senior, you're an alien, then?"

"Does the person right in front of you look like an alien to you?"

Removing the black-rimmed, non-prescription glasses he’d been wearing, Ichijō stared straight into his eyes.

"The thing is, Mr. Yamada here—well, I’d like to ask you to quit your current job and come work for me."

"You want me to become an alien?!"

"You're still saying it? No, no—what I'm asking is, would you like to work under me at the newly established Embassy of Agirakana? I'll make you a Special Advisor. I'm expanding the Japanese staff going forward, and you'd be the de facto head of that effort. How about ten times your current monthly salary?"

"Take-home pay, including overtime."

"Oddly particular about details. Fine. That's fine. So, is that a yes?"

"For my senior, I'll do my best."

"Excuse me. Crab-shinjō and yuzu soup, please."

"Senior, it's about time we had some sake. I'll have this fourth-generation daiginjo, bottled. What'll you have?"

Ichijō is bustling over the drink menu.

A real spendthrift—orders expensive liquor like it's someone else's money.

That day, I instructed Ain to designate Ichijō as a protected individual.