Planning the soccer event turned out to be a massive undertaking.
The scale was leagues beyond anything a typical school festival executive committee could handle.
Soccer was proving to be a colossal hit. Since this was a test event, I thought we’d be lucky to get twenty people to show up, but the tickets sold out the very day reservations opened. We were expecting a capacity crowd.
I decided to capitalize on the hype by setting up giant displays outside for the overflow, along with designated areas where people could enjoy food and drinks while watching the game.
Initially, I’d planned to ask Claire to introduce me to an event management firm, but then a high-ranking executive from a Trading Company contacted me and practically begged for the job.
“We need a track record for hosting events in outer space! We don’t care if we lose money on it! Please, I’m begging you!” he cried.
It was true that we’d be doing business with them from here on out, like it or not. I decided to give them the green light.
A squad of fearless corporate drones brought in supplies and workers, throwing together a literal village of food stalls. I wondered if the salarymen were going to run the booths themselves, but then an equally suicidal group of Kitchen Car Operators arrived. Apparently, applications to participate in the event had been flooded.
I’d had a premonition that this was going to spiral beyond my personal authority, so I was glad I’d already gone crying to Wifey for backup.
Diplomacy had become a mere formality since the United Human Government took over. We were now liberally spending a budget that had been pooled and hoarded for years just to justify administrative posts. Apparently, the officials had been sitting on it as if it were their own personal savings.
But this actually qualified as diplomacy. We were going to acquire a massive amount of foreign currency, so I was told that even a huge deficit was permissible. The parliament seemed to have given its blessing as well.
In the worst-case scenario, I’d been prepared for them to take advantage of us with terrible exchange rates, or for them to force us into contracts involving low-price supply sales or business monopolies. We managed to dodge all of that.
Everything we did ended up being surprisingly cheap. It was a stroke of incredible luck that the first people we dealt with were from the Battle Dome, as they actually understood how business worked. It would be better for the citizens' mental health if the headlines started with ‘Diplomacy Successful,’ anyway.
Uniforms were manufactured in record time. I divided the teams by their home regions. Since most of the Battle Dome employees were people from the Ogre God Nation, I sorted them by their respective provinces.
Those from the Ogre God Nation were naturally gifted athletes. With just a bit of coaching, they were already playing better than what you’d see in a normal high school PE class. In fact, since almost everyone in the Ogre God Nation underwent rigorous training to become a warrior, their physical stats alone were at a national competitive level.
The Imperial citizens were just spoiled by high-quality entertainment; even a local grass league or a regional high school tournament wasn't exactly boring for them. For a debut tournament, I thought it was decent.
We also had volunteers from the Officer Academy soccer club, including some serious players who had entered the University Division on soccer recommendations. As for me, my only experience was from gym class, so I passed on playing and focused entirely on management.
Then Isono, Nakajima, and the rest of the Officer Academy Baseball Club showed up. Along with members from the University Division Baseball Club, they threw themselves at my feet, shouting, “We want baseball too, pleeeease!”
“No. Like I said, the rules are too complex for people to understand at a glance, the matches take too long, and we don't have the space or the equipment...”
“We’re begging you! (Tears of blood) We’ll do dogeza! We’ll stay on our hands and knees for as long as it takes!”
“Listen to me, you idiots!”
There was no reasoning with baseball fanatics. When I consulted Saria, he just said, “Next time, perhaps,” and left it at that. Good, I successfully shifted the responsibility to him.
Next, the Karate Club came to do dogeza. Give me a break!
They refused to budge an inch unless I let them do a demonstration. Fine! I’ll put it in the program! Once the rumor spread that the Karate Club was in, the Judo Club, Sumo Club, and Wrestling Club all followed suit.
While I was nursing a headache over the schedule, Claire arrived. “What? A presentation by the Pro-wrestling Research Club? In collaboration with the University Division?” I sighed. “Alright, fine. But no stupid stunts like the Kotatsu Driver, okay? It’s too advanced for the locals to understand!”
While I pushed the baseball team to the next tournament, I figured martial arts demonstrations would be a good fit. Then Katori-sensei showed up, acting as if it were the most natural thing in the world. “You’re including a demonstration of Imperial Swordsmanship, I assume?”
Alright, everyone! Let’s practice so we don’t get pulverized by Sensei!
Eddie, I’m leaving the rest to you!
Once the athletic side was settled, the cultural clubs started knocking. The exhibitions were fine; I’d already cleared those with the Trading Company. But then the Brass Band Club and the Light Music Research Club said they wanted to perform live.
The university group, in particular, was a collection of semi-pros aiming for the Military Music Department. On the other hand, the Light Music group was just a standard hobbyist circle. Light Music guys... you’ve got some nerve trying to share a stage with the brass band. Apparently, the university brass band could even perform Gagaku.
Just as I finished those arrangements, the Great King himself arrived.
Wifey, Thomas, and I went out to greet him, along with Saria and that old Muscle Daruma. The Great King was exactly as I’d imagined—an old man who looked like his entire diet consisted of nothing but protein powder.
“In Great King Hibiya of the Ogre God Nation,” he announced.
His attire seemed designed specifically to flaunt his musculature. While Saria and the others looked like they might share a common ancestor with humans, this old man was... overwhelmingly intense. Massive horns towered from his head.
“And I am Veronica, Emperor of the Galactic Empire,” Wifey replied, shaking his hand.
I really did feel like our races shared a common origin. Then, his eyes met mine. Please, don’t look at me.
“Heh.”
The moment he let that out, an immense wave of bloodlust was directed at me. I remained unfazed, though. It wasn’t like the pressure Katori-sensei gave off—that “move now or you’re dead” feeling.
“To shrug off my bloodlust so easily... Heh, fuhahahahahaha! Interesting! Truly interesting!”
Wifey had a cold sweat on her brow. We made eye contact. I silently asked, Can I hit him back?
Wifey's eyes replied: Go. For. It!
Alright then.
I released my own killing intent. It’s not like I understood the theory behind it; I just dropped into a combat stance with the mindset of ‘I’m going to end you.’
“Wh-what?! This much?!”
Now the old man was the one breaking into a sweat. Honestly, it wasn’t that big of a deal. Katori-sensei usually paired her bloodlust with a binary choice between dodging or guarding.
“In Gahahaha! I like you!” he bellowed, slapping me repeatedly on the back. He was a stiflingly boisterous old man. “In I’m looking forward to this ‘sports’ thing. Hahaha!”
I suppose that was a good enough start. There were no real diplomatic negotiations yet, mostly because we hadn’t proven ourselves.
Finally, the soccer match began. The first game was a clash between Ogre God Race teams. They lacked the technical finesse of a high school regional qualifier, but their physical specs made it a monstrously entertaining match. The crowd was having a blast, drinking and cheering. Although, whenever someone missed a goal, the spectators started throwing their paper beer cups onto the field. I guess that’s just how it goes at first.
Once the match ended, the martial arts demonstrations took over. I was glad I’d left it to them. Claire and the others were scheduled to have their exhibition during the second-half halftime.
However, in the middle of this festive atmosphere, some people who clearly couldn’t read the room showed up.
“Warning! Warning! It’s a Ghoul Ship!” Saria’s voice blared over the alerts.
They chose this timing?!
Please, stop! Claire has a look on her face I’ve never seen before, and she looks absolutely livid!