A New Update Schedule (For Real This Time), and a Choice

I'm terribly sorry I haven't posted anything here in over month. As most of you have probably guessed by now, I tend to get caught up in one project at a time and forget about everything else. That causes a mess, so I'm switching over to a more rigid schedule to get some work done on everything at a regular pace and, hopefully, also make some time for things that might actually help pay the bills.

Because there's so much MGE material, I want to make sure I'm working on the stories that people are interested in first. As a result, I've decided to put it up to a vote. I've translated the first 2,000+ words of two different stories, and made a strawpoll. Vote for whichever one most interests you. The one with the most votes by Sunday evening is the winner, and I'll post updates to that translation here every Wednesday at around this time. When it's finished, I'll make another poll with the story that didn't win, plus a new story. If no one votes, the people I play fighting games with decide without reading either.

Vote here.

(Texts after the cut)

Case 7: Koyoi

Black Falls, Pink Dawns

By Kawamura Hitoshi

"Kill her! Kill that monster!" Shouted an Order soldier in gleaming white armor, catching the blade of the monster in front of him on his own.

He was shouting at a woman. She was clad from head to toe in garments unlike those of this continent. In her hands she held several slips of paper. His voice did reach her, but she was unable to move.

Kill? He's telling me to kill this girl?

She could not conceal her hesitation. From her perspective, the person in front of her was not yet a monster. Her clothes were torn in places, and pink hair showed through the rips. Still human, but only just. It was true that once the transformation into a monster had begun, there was no going back. Whatever they tried, maintaining her current condition was the best they could hope for.

But the soldier had told her to "kill" an opponent who still retained some of her human mind without hesitation. That bothered her. Amanomiya Koyoi was not a woman to forget compassion, even for monsters.

◊ ♦ ◊ ♦ ◊

Koyoi had come into the world in the far east, in the land of Zipangu, a small island nation whose culture bore little resemblance to that of the continent on which Lescatié stood.

The Amanomiya clan were a line of monster slayers so renowned that it was said there was not a person in Zipangu who did not know of them. Monster slayers, as the name implies, drive out monsters to preserve the order of human life.

The name Koyoi — "now evening" — had been bestowed on her at birth by the then head of the clan, her grandfather, Amanomiya Tōtetsu. Evening comes after twilight, the time when evil walks. She had been so named in the hope that she would overcome monsters.

As you have no doubt gathered from that anecdote, from the moment Koyoi was born, she was made to shoulder the extraordinary expectations of the whole Amanomiya clan. As was her elder sister.

Shinonome, born a year before Koyoi, received the same expectations of succeeding to headship of the clan, and the same accelerated education in monster slaying.

Koyoi had a younger sister as well, born five years after her, and named Tasogare. Tasogare, perhaps because her age separated her from her two older sisters, grew up loving to be spoiled. The next head of the clan was to be chosen from among the current head's children. Naturally, Shinonome, Koyoi, and Tasogare's names came up as candidates, but the whole clan had been saying that it was sure to be either Shinonome or Koyoi who was chosen ever since they were small.

◊ ♦ ◊ ♦ ◊

An unbroken line of monster slayers. The proof of that was the abilities they had been born with.

"Eek...!"

Before Koyoi was done hesitating about killing, her opponent ran off. It seemed that there was something in the bloodline of the heads of the Amanomiya clan that monsters feared. She still didn't know what. It might be a lingering scent of the Amanomiyas' secret monster-repelling incense, or it might be some lingering memory or record of the monsters her ancestors had exorcised in her veins. In any case, most monsters felt fear just being in her presence, and ran away. That was enough to take care of most jobs.

She ran into the city with a sidelong glance at the soldier cursing at her for not killing. She was currently just outside the north gate of Lescatié.

The Order forces had decided to let overwhelming numbers speak for them, and so distributed their troops to all gates evenly. They would all charge in simultaneously at a predetermined signal. The plan was to cut off the enemy's escape with a pincer attack. Mercenaries like Koyoi had been evenly distributed to each gate as well, and were to attack in concert under the direction of regular troops.

Initially, the Order forces' upper echelons had been vehemently opposed to engaging mercenaries. After all, the city of Lescatié was so important to the Order that it could even be called their second holy land. Their pride, which was harder than diamonds, would not allow them to rely on outside forces. Urgent problems demanded sacrifices, however, and they had sought the cooperation of the mercenary guild. Due to those circumstances, the regular troops did not feel particularly well disposed toward the mercenaries.

Koyoi ran, her geta — peculiar Zipangese wooden clogs — clacking on the flagstones. This land received many contributions from the faithful, and was thus amply supplied with capital. The district she was in was, if she had to say one way or the other, probably home to poorer residents, but the roads, while bumpy, were in good repair.

I have to do it. This job is where I belong now. I have to get it right, she told herself, putting a hand to her chest.

She stopped from time to time to sense the flow of mana in the surrounding area. Dense, clinging mana came wafting toward her from up ahead — from the direction of Lescatié Castle — like a gentle breeze.

She looked away. She could see men fallen to the ground, as if through the pools and currents of violet mana. Each of the prone figures was straddled by a woman so beautiful that she might have slipped out of the world of a myth or a story. Every one of them was twisting her hips with a look of ecstasy on her face. They hissed menacingly when they sensed Koyoi's stare, then their faces suddenly paled, and they vanished down alleys with the men over their shoulders.

Koyoi strained her ears. From inside buildings, and down alleys, she could hear women panting and men moaning. They came without order, but there were moments when, by some freak accident, the cacophony harmonized like a choir and put her in mind of a beautiful melody.

She twitched her nose. A rank odor hung in the air, mingled with the accustomed scents of fire and blood.

She concentrated her awareness on her skin, and a warm sensation, accompanied by a tingle of pain, came relentlessly in on her, riding the currents of mana. She understood. She could not defeat that monster.

But they're counting on me. My strength is needed.

Her heart quailed at the powerful mana wafting from her destination. She tried to use her raison d'être to suppress it. She thought back to how she had come to this place.

◊ ♦ ◊ ♦ ◊

The sun was low on the horizon, dying the sky a delicate, peach-blossom pink. Crows wheeled and sang in chorus. In the distance, black kites cried.

"Chanting practice is over."

A mountain retreat owned by the Amanomiya clan. A loud, carrying voice resounded across the wide open field.

"Next, mana refining."

This voice came in a low, bestial growl, but it carried as well as the other.

"Yes sir!" Came the high-pitched reply. Its source was two girls of tender years. It had sounded like one voice because their tone and volume were perfectly matched.

A hut stood in a corner of the field. Before it's door was a stump, in front of which the girls stood side by side. Their eyes were fixed on an old man seated on the stump. He was the owner of the low voice.

The girls were Koyoi and Shinonome. The old man was Tōtetsu. Candidates to become the next head of the clan received instruction directly from the current head from the time they were five years of age. They abandoned all the pleasures of childhood to be drilled in all the necessary skills of a clan leader — mana strengthening, monster slaying, and finally tactics for making effective use of subordinates.

Mana refining was part of that training. By concentrating their spirits and performing a unique combination of actions and breathing, they aimed to increase their total mana volume, as well as the amount they could emit at one time, and to become capable of maintaining their concentration even if their mana should run dry.

At this time, the eldest daughter, Shinonome, was eleven, and the second daughter, Koyoi, was ten. They had no contact with the children in the village at the mountain's foot. They lived every day, from morning to night, in the hut on the edge of the field that seemed forgotten by time. They rose before the sun, ran through the mountains to cure their drowsiness, and took breakfast. Then came Tōtetsu's lecture. After lunch they practiced monster slaying chants. In the evenings they performed mana refinement, then took dinner. After that they went to their own room and reviewed the characters necessary for writing monster slaying talismans, then went to sleep. The performed the same training regimen day after day, like clockwork. Complaints were not permitted, and neither was defying Tōtetsu.

Father, mother.

Many times during her harsh training, Koyoi mentally called on her parents for help. They never answered. They had passed away shortly after Tasogare was born. Tōtetsu was hard on his granddaughters because he was in a hurry to raise them to adulthood while he still lived.

Several years passed, and Koyoi came to accept the death of her parents as a fact of life. More importantly, she had gradually ceased to run to them in her mind. In their place, another feeling had begun to grow inside her.

I'll become head. I'll take everything on myself, so big sis and Tasogare can relax.

Only one of the candidates would become the next head of the clan. As head, they would inherit the main household. The rest would become branch houses, and their responsibilities would become lighter. At that time, Koyoi swore that she would become the head herself in order to ease her sisters' burden.

◊ ♦ ◊ ♦ ◊

"Hey! Are you alright?"

Koyoi became aware of a voice calling to her. When she looked in its direction, she found a man in the prime of life standing there, sword and shield at the ready. He was clad in thin, slightly dirty iron armor, scarred in places. His light coat and bracers were made of leather. The bare skin visible through the gaps between the armor and bracers was covered by an armor of muscle cultivated through long years of adventuring.

"This is no place to be spacing out," the man chided her with an exasperated sigh. His scowling face was chiseled with the hardships of his life so far.

Spacing out?

She didn't know what the man meant. She had been reflecting on the past, but she was certain she had maintained her combat posture and her awareness of her surroundings.

"Of, of course. My apologies, Mr. Doon," she thanked and greeted him. Even if she had no idea what he was talking about, she felt his concern was something to be grateful for.

"Oh, it's no big deal. We're in this together. Besides, if anything happens to you, it'll mean more trouble for me," he laughed, but Koyoi could sense that he lacked his usual energy. Perhaps combat had tired him.

Doon was an acquaintance Koyoi had made shortly after joining the mercenary guild. He had been in charge of training new recruits at the time, and had soon warmed to Koyoi. Perhaps it was their shared tendency to be concerned for others. It was all thanks to him that she had been able to adjust to life in an unfamiliar, foreign land, and that she'd had no trouble with her food rations. As far as he was concerned, he was a great senior, and the savior of her life.

If Mr. Doon is here, it will be a tremendous help.

The weight of fear that had been bearing down on her a moment seemed to have gotten lighter.

"Mr. Doon, it appears that the enemy leader is in the castle."

Koyoi pointed at the castle. her back was so straight that no one would suspect she had been running the whole way there. Her manner toward Doon was always stiff, out of respect for her benefactor.

"Humph... So that's why."

Having heard her report, he put a hand on his chin and sunk into thought. His stubble made a scraping sound each time his finger brushed it.

"Why what?" She couldn't help asking back, failing to grasp his meaning.

"Hmm. How should I put it? According to the higher ups, a whole host of monsters attacked this place, but..."

His brows furrowed.

"Doesn't it seem too quiet?"

His words took Koyoi aback.

It's true. This is a battlefield, and yet...

All that reached her ears was here own ragged breathing, the sound of Doon rubbing his stubble, and the noises of men and women making love.

"Nothing. No sounds of swords or gunpowder. No shouts or screams."

"This is starting to look pretty bad."

His voice, more serious than she had ever heard it before, lodged itself deep in her brain.

The castle is the enemy's main base, and there are hardly any monsters in the town.

That pointed to one conclusion.

"That castle must be pretty dangerous..."

Doon's quiet words remained in her heart forever.

◊ ♦ ◊ ♦ ◊

A Hill Where Love Grows

By Strange

The eyelid-piercing light of morning shook him awake.

Sunshine poured down into the room out of the blue sky without regard for the thin curtains, dispelling the dark. Outside the window, birds chirped their joy at the beginning of a new day.

Inside the room, however, it was still cool. Possibly some of the night air still lingered there. It was well past dawn, but still early. Most of the townsfolk would still be in dreamland. And while some might be awake, hardly any could be properly active yet. It's just that hard to overcome one's attachment to a warm blanket.

It was no different for this young man, lying here in his bed. He stirred under the sheets and let out a groan. He was awake, but his eyes were still closed. He groaned again, and pulled the covers over his head, like an insect that hates the bright sunlight. Once his head was covered, a warm softness enveloped his body. The young man let out a contented sigh, and abandoned himself to the bed once more.

His cheeks slackened with contentment as he let himself doze. He felt something springy, yet soft and gentle, pressed against them. It was giving him peace, tempting him into a deep slumber. He felt like he was falling forever, but there was no unease. On the contrary, he felt safe and secure. Just as the young man was about to fall completely back to sleep, however, an odd sound reached his ears. It sounded like someone breathing deeply in their sleep.

It was puzzling. A doubt emerged in a corner of his brain and began to grow, pushing aside his drowsiness. At the same time, a sense that something was out of place — which he hadn't minded earlier — came to the forefront. He was lying face up, so his pillow ought to be under his head, but this springy fluffiness was on either side of it. And he was sure his usual pillow wasn't this big.

"And was that cheap pillow ever this soft?" he muttered, shifting his head. As he did so, the odd sound came again. The doubt continued to grow.

Wait a minute. I feel like I remember hearing that sound somewhere be...

"Ah!"

Before the young man's waking mind could come up with an answer, something lukewarm brushed his cheek. He let out a cry of surprise, but whatever it was didn't seem to mind; it came back for another pass. For a moment he panicked, but he soon realized that there was nothing hostile about the way it touched him, and regained some composure. Besides, he had a feeling that he remembered the soft touch on his skin, as well as the sound.

"...Of course."

The young man slowly let out his breath, relaxed his mind, and opened his eyes. All the tension went out of his body; he felt foolish for having felt it in the first place. In front of his eyes, so close that their noses were almost touching, was the face of a girl happily rubbing her cheek against his.

He sighed, and looked at the girl lying beside him. Shut eyes adorned with long lashes, softly curved cheeks, a slightly downturned nose and a little mouth. She was breathing peacefully in her sleep. The description "truly adorable" fit her perfectly.

The girl's most notable, however, was her hair, and the wool that covered her body, shining pale gold in the sunlight. A pair of large, curled, sectional horns emerged from amid her hair. The ears that peeked out of it were, likewise, shaped just like those of a sheep.

"...Merry. I knew it."

"Merry" was the name of the sleeping girl snuggled up beside him. She was another of the house's residents. As her appearance suggested, she was not a human, but a beastman with the characteristics of a sheep — a type of monster known as a weresheep.

"What am I supposed to do with you, sneaking into other people's beds practically every morning? Honestly..."

The young man stared at Merry with a look of resignation, and prodded her cheek. The weresheep girl twitched her ears at that, and let out a little moan, but she showed no sign of waking up. Deep sleeping was another weresheep characteristic. They were always, and once they did fall asleep, they didn't wake easily. It was partly due to the sleep magic in their wool.

"At least it looks like she's having a nice dream."

"Ehehe... More..." Merry muttered in her sleep, as if in answer to the young man's words. She rubbed his cheek again, still wearing a blissful look on her face. Then, as if to say that that wasn't enough, she rubbed her whole body against his, and held on tight. The bed was narrow, so, naturally, they ended up pressed close against each other. The young man felt the pressure of two bulges, which asserted themselves in spite of their fluffy covering. His cheeks reddened. The touch of Merry's full breasts made him wonder vaguely if this was what was meant by "sleep makes a child grow."

Be that as it may, he couldn't stay like this forever. If he didn't get up soon, it would get in the way of his work on the farm. He'd gone to the trouble of waking up early, so he wanted to avoid wasting time.

"I want to, but as things are..." The young man muttered, unable to extricate himself from the tight embrace. He let out another sigh.

"Mmm... You got me..."

Merry was a sleepyhead at the best of times. It would be a while yet before she woke up. Besides, when he saw her looking so happy, he couldn't help feeling that waking her would be a bit of a shame. Of course, part of that was also his desire to enjoy more of the comfort of her touch. The young man was briefly at Merry's mercy, agonizing over what to do, but not actually doing anything. It was then that another doubt suddenly rose in the back of his mind.

"Come to think of it, Merry being here means..." He started to wonder aloud to himself. At almost the same time, another sound — not from Merry — came from right by his ear.

"Mmm..."

"...Of course."

Even that little sound was enough to make him half certain. Quietly prying loose Merry's clinging limbs, the young man slowly turned his head to look at the side the voice had come from. He saw what he had expected to see. A bit of wry humor crept into his voice.

"I see you're here too, Rico."

Next to him, on the opposite side from Merry, was the face of a girl puffing up her cheeks and glaring at him reproachfully. Rico. She was cute in spite of her expression, but it only took a glance to see that she wasn't human. Like Merry, she was a monster. To be more precise, this girl called Rico was a monster with the characteristics of a cow called a holstaur. The most visible proofs were the furry ears — patterned with black spots on a white ground — peeking through her hair, and the little, pale-yellow horns that parted her short bob. Incidentally, her breasts, although they were currently hidden from sight by the covers, were even larger than Merry's. That was another characteristic of the holstaur species.

...They sure are something.

The young man remembered the times he'd touched them, and his face grew even redder. Rico, meanwhile, was making no attempt to hide her displeasure as she stared at the young man. He stared back, but It made him feel just a little uncomfortable.

"Don't glare like that."

"Moo~"

The drooping jade-green eyes beneath her characteristically white-and-black hair wavered. There was something gentle about her features that reassured anyone who saw her. Now, however, there were faint tears pricking in the corners of her eyes, and the corners of her lovely mouth downturned in a frown.

"B, but..." Rico muttered, pouting. She was normally as calm and gentle as she looked, but her expression tended to get serious when it came to this young man. Especially when Merry was involved. Apparently she felt something like jealousy toward the weresheep, who, despite being a latecomer to the household, was always snatching the best moments for herself.

"Oh, don't cry first thing in the morning. Come on."

The young man roughly scratched his own head, then gently brushed Rico's tears.

"Ah... Ehehe."

Rico seemed taken aback for an instant, but soon she smiled. The effect was like a flower blooming.

"Hey," she wheedled, "do you mind if I hug you?"

"Sure. Go ahead."

"Yay~!"

No sooner had the young man given his permission than she squirmed up to him under the blanket, and wrapped her arms and legs around him. She was now squeezing him for the opposite side as Merry.

"Honestly. Talk about calculating. A certain somebody who was crying a moment ago is all smiles now."

"Tee hee hee."

Rico disregarded the young man's exasperation, and squeezed even tighter. Her tail was almost certainly wagging under the covers.

"Mmm... I just can't get enough of this."

Rico wriggled herself even closer. Her body heat reached him even through her clothes and fur. It was a comfortable warmth, in a different sense from the warmth of the blanket.

On the other hand, the young man could feel his face rapidly reddening. The barely-contained teats Rico was shoving against him were the cause. The sensation of her springy breasts pressing on him gave him almost violent pleasure. He was in danger of losing his reason. In fact, any normal man would embrace his primitive instincts in the face of that.

"I get it, but..." The young man muttered, feeling the ample chest that could almost be called the proof of a holstaur's identity.

I see. Her milk must be so delicious because it comes from these breasts, the young man thought, half avoiding reality. Just then, something soft pressed against his back. The sensation resembled Rico's breasts, but it was subtly different.

He turned his head to look, wondering, and there was Merry, cuddled up against him. Unusually for the lackadaisical weresheep, her expression was pouty. Merry glared at the young man, making a soft noise like a fretting infant. Apparently she'd sensed the other two flirting, and woken up. A shade of reproach could be seen in her now-open eyes.

"Just Rico's no fair! Me too! Me too!" Merry demanded, pouting, and hugged the young man as well. Soft wool enveloped him, and weresheep man soaked his body, lulling him to sleep. A sense of comfort filled him, like, and yet unlike, the one Rico gave him.

"Hey! No cheating! Just look at me, dear."

Rico, seeing the young man's eyelids droop, put a hand on his cheek, and gently turned his face back toward her. His eyes widened in surprise as she smiled, and pressed her lips to his cheek.

"Hey! I want a lick too."

Merry, who had been forced to watch the scene at close quarters, reacted fiecely.

"No. Kissing is just for me," Rico declared. She hugged the young man's head, and busied herself intently running her tongue over his cheek.

"Mmm... Dear, you're so... mph... tasty."

Rico stared at Merry as she announced triumphantly, her cheeks flushed. Merry, in contrast, stared back with a mixture of jealousy and just a little vexation on her face.

"Oh... Fine then!" Merry muttered. She had been watched what Rico was doing for a little while, but now released her hold on the young man, and slipped under the covers as well.

"What?"

The young man wasn't sure what Merry intended to do, but he soon found out. Once Merry had wormed her way in under the covers, she pulled down his pyjama pants.

"Hey, wait! What do you think you're doing, Merry?"

"Huh?"

Rico broke off her kisses at the young man's sudden panic.

"Wait, you can't... Hey!"

Merry, however, would not hear his call for restraint, and shoved her hand further into his underclothes. He soon found himself remorselessly stripped of his underpants as well. The young man frowned with the unease and embarrassment of being half naked, even under the blankets. He soon guessed her aim, however, and opened his mouth to shout that it was out of the question.

"You can't be... Wait! Stop tha... Oo...!"