The Trash Returned from Warhammer

Hey, what kind of maid café is this?

Misato held her coffee cup, looking left and right, feeling quite restless. Didn’t the TV say these places were all about being cute and moe?

Where did the legendary ”Welcome home, Master” and ”Heart-shaped Omurice” go? Why is there nothing left but overwhelming, crushing loyalty?

No one could be lively in this environment. The customers, who had come hoping to admire beautiful young girls, sat upright and straight; no one dared to strike up a conversation. There were no sweet smiles or fluttering skirts—only young girls in plain black habits. Under that gaze of unyielding loyalty, all improper desires vanished into thin air.

As for enjoying service from the two beautiful girl pilots? That was a pipe dream. Even the regular female students stood at attention. If you wanted something, you raised your hand, and a boy in a linen robe would come over to serve you.

Honestly, forget maids—there wasn’t even a sense of femininity. What made it even harder to endure was a teenage boy patrolling the café incessantly. His leather boots made a rhythmic, muffled thud-thud-thud sound. He was expressionless, his eyes cold and sharp, like a king patrolling his territory, ready to drag anyone disloyal out for judgment.

”Hey, how did you come up with this? It’s completely different from the maid cafés I know.”

Misato grabbed Shinji as he walked by; she really couldn’t take it anymore.

”Does it feel good?”

”Good? As if!”

Misato instinctively lowered her voice in this environment, pulling the boy aside to sit down. ”I shouldn’t have had expectations when I heard you designed this, but isn’t this going too far?”

This wasn’t a café; it was clearly the Spanish Inquisition. If there were a bonfire party tonight, would they just tie the ”guilty” ones to it and burn them?

”Do you think I don’t know the selling points of those maid cafés? Using ’fan service’ to attract customers—it’s just so unfaithful.”

Shinji scoffed, looking around. ”Since I decided to participate in the design, it was impossible for me to let it be that kind of frivolous place.”

’Fair point.’

Misato imagined this ”Man of Steel” going to a regular maid café and instinctively shuddered.

”But you don’t have to be such an old fossil, either! Don’t you know the saying ’beauty is a feast’? You’ve covered everything up; what are the customers supposed to look at?”

Shinji’s throat moved. Based on what he had seen and heard, ”beauty as a feast” was literally a feast—and there were many ways to eat it. He thought about it, but ultimately decided not to say anything, lest he make everyone in the café vomit.

Adjusting his posture, Shinji said, ”Feeling solemnity and savoring loyalty—that is my plan.”

”A rational judgment, Dr. Akagi. Most of the budget is fronted by NERV. I truly hope to recoup the deficit.”

’Hey, hey, hey! How did the two of you start singing in harmony?’

Misato had long since stopped trying to understand Shinji. She found he had a unique magic—a magic that made everyone around him stop acting like earthlings.

Just as Ritsuko said, the uncomfortable customers drank up and left, while a constant stream of people came out of curiosity. The girls were also happy; they didn’t have to be stared at with lecherous gazes—they just had to stand there.

’Tsk, this kid is quite the calculator.’

Misato shook her head.

’It really is a magic; why are my own thoughts starting to sound like they aren’t from Earth either?’

”By the way, are you just going to stand guard here the whole time?”

”Yes, I don’t like to shirk my duties.”

Misato’s eyebrows twitched; she felt genuinely insulted.

”That’s so boring! The school festival only happens once a year; enjoy it properly! You’re not even going to Rei and the others’ band performance?”

Misato wiggled her fingers. Seeing Shinji actually hesitate for a moment, she covered her face.

’It’s hopeless. If you dare not go, believe me, Rei and Asuka will ignore you for a year.’

”I’ll ask for leave when the time comes.”

”That’s more like it! But don’t waste the hours in between. You could invite someone to stroll around the campus with you. The stalls outside have pretty good food, you know.”

She puffed out her chest as she said this, leaving Ritsuko across the table dumbfounded.

’Huh? The ”someone” you’re talking about wouldn’t happen to be you, would it?’

”No, Rei and Asuka still have final rehearsals. I can’t disturb them. Besides, inviting either one of them would affect the squad’s unity.”

”You could pick someone else.” Misato rested her chin in her hand.

”No, I have no intention of deepening my contact with the other girls in class.”

”Why be so obsessed with school? Expand your scope and think about it again.” Misato pointed at her nose with her finger, as if the tip of her nose were itchy.

This time, Shinji stared at her intently, hesitating: ”You...”

”Oh, that wouldn’t be very good, after all, I...”

”Oh, never mind then. Someone is looking for me; you two continue.”

Shinji dropped the words and walked away, leaving a stiff-faced Misato frozen in place, her finger still pointing at her own face.

Pfft.

Akagi Ritsuko finally couldn’t hold it in any longer and covered her stomach, laughing loudly. When the ”loyal” gazes converged on her, it was like a psychological suggestion; she coughed lightly, quickly sat up straight, and maintained a solemn expression. But seeing Misato’s expression, she still covered her mouth, her shoulders shaking.

”Enough! Is it that funny?” Misato gritted her teeth and downed her coffee in one gulp.

”Sorry, sorry. It’s just quite funny to see a ’waste-of-an-adult’ get snubbed.” Ritsuko crossed her legs, rested her chin on her hand, and said meaningfully, ”Misato, you wouldn’t be trying to ’rob the cradle,’ would you? I’ve reminded you many times: that’s a crime.”

”Hey! I’m only 28, how am I a ’cradle robber’? Besides, compared to that guy, he clearly looks older!”

’That’s true. In terms of psychological age, you really do have a huge gap, and you’re just getting younger and more regressive as you live.’

Akagi Ritsuko suddenly felt a twinge of envy. Who wouldn’t want to be a carefree ”waste”? Moreover, she found it strange: the moment Misato expressed her feelings, she didn’t feel any age gap between them at all.

’Hmm, it’s like a teacher-student romance, except Shinji-kun is the teacher.’

”Shinji-kun really does suit your tastes. If I remember correctly, you have a ’father complex.’ Also, it’s true—nobody is more mature and steady than Shinji-kun.”

”Nonsense! I’m clearly into shota!” Misato explained, then realized that wasn’t right either, and just shrugged noncommittally. ”I just want to correct Shinji’s way of thinking; that’s a guardian’s responsibility, right?”

”How old are you, still playing those Asuka-style games? Aren’t you ashamed?” Ritsuko glanced at the flushed Misato and turned to look in the other direction. ”But don’t be too obvious. If the ’snipe and the clam’ fight, the fisherman profits—you might mess this up.”

Misato was a bit lost, then shuddered. She turned her head and saw a gap in the curtain; a pair of crimson eyes were looking through that very slit.

Stare—

Rei Ayanami was watching Misato with eyes like blades, making the latter’s hand tremble as she held the coffee cup. She dropped 10,000 yen and ran off as if her life depended on it.

”Rei, what are you looking at?” Ibuki patted her on the shoulder.

”A neglected opponent, a cat wanting to steal a taste of fish, a human-disqualified adult.”

The complexity of that sentence left Ibuki confused. She opened the curtain to look out, but didn’t see any cat, only customers sitting formally. She couldn’t help but laugh.

”Ikari-kun’s move is great. I was worried about being looked at with strange eyes, but look how well-behaved everyone is! We’re relaxed, too.”

”Ikari-kun’s arrangements never fail; he perfectly executed the class monitor’s request.”

Discipline, order, loyalty, solemnity—that was Shinji’s style. It was exactly as Rei Ayanami had expected.

”Uh, it’s just a little bit too much.”

Hyuuga Makoto walked over, scratching his head, and glanced at Rei. ”We’re going to the auditorium at 2:00 PM to rehearse as the finale act. We have some time before that; you guys are free to do as you please.”

”Yay! I want to go to the food stalls. I heard the first-years’ Kansai-yaki is pretty good.” Chihaya Rin cheered immediately, then looked at Rei. ”Rei, you should come too! I remember you took leave during last year’s festival.”

”No, I was conducting experiments. But I have the job of being the billboard girl. You guys go ahead.”

”Ohoho, I think you just want to stay with Ikari-kun, don’t you? You can invite him to go with you.” Chihaya Rin’s eyes twinkled as she added, ”Also, isn’t there a bonfire party tonight? It’s a century-old legend. The success rate for confessions at the bonfire party is second only to the fireworks festival!”

Her words were full of holes—where would Neo Tokyo-3 get a century of history?—but Rei Ayanami’s eyes were shining.

’Confession? Expressing love to a specific person at a special time and place—it is a sacred ritual.’

”I... am going to confess?”

She placed a hand over her chest, her fair face slightly flushed. This look instantly sent the girls’ hearts into a flutter.

”Uh, don’t you like Ikari-kun? Don’t be shy; go for it confidently!”

”I am not shy. I am just not certain about the ’type’ of this liking. According to the definition in books...”

”Oh, are you going to drive us crazy? Forget the books for a second! Just go stroll around with Ikari-kun, then invite him to dance at the bonfire party! Just go with your intuition when the time comes!”

’Intuition?’

That word was a critical hit, because Rei Ayanami’s changes had all begun by following her intuition. Shinji’s words—”When you don’t know what to do, let your intuition decide”—had been engraved in her mind.

”Okay, I will listen to you all.”

Rei Ayanami felt as though she had been given a push. She decided not to overthink it and would proceed according to Ibuki’s battle plan.

’Step one: Be with Ikari-kun and find an opportunity to issue an invitation.’

She lifted her foot, intending to go change her clothes, but then her pupils contracted. She saw a familiar figure step out from next door and head straight toward Shinji, who was patrolling.

A fiery red dress, black silk stockings, pursed lips, and a face feigning confidence—the Ibuki beside her suddenly grew anxious.

”Oh no! Asuka has stolen a march!”

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