“To take down Armored Rikishi based on Ozeki and Yokozuna in an instant... Harasho!”
We were showered with dubious praise.
“Gocchan-desu.”
I lowered my hips and spread my arms wide before slowly rising—the Shiranui-style Ring-entering Ceremony.
Rikochi, getting caught up in the moment, raised her right hand diagonally while tucking her left under her arm—the Unryu-style Ring-entering Ceremony.
Rikochi... you didn’t realize it, but your legs were totally exposed. I could almost see your panties.
“Rikishi!”
The applause was thunderous.
It was well-received, so I decided to count it as a win.
Now then, the real question was which group sent those hitmen. I planned to go crush them before the day was out.
Having spent some time in Lepsitol, I’d come to realize this country followed the law of the jungle to the letter. If you were strong, anything was permitted; the weak had no human rights.
However, since there were limits to an individual's combat power, people formed corporations to rule through the power of the pack. They formed Yakuza organizations. Since money was required to flaunt military might, they devoted themselves to business.
It was the entrepreneurial evolution of the Yakuza. Corporations had naturally come to internalize violent organizations like the Yakuza and Ninja. It was the explosive birth of a distorted capitalism. That was why every Lepsitolian Entrepreneur was, without exception, a Yakuza.
The Galactic Empire scrupulously valued law and order. Latarnia embodied the Social Contract Theory—at least on paper, regardless of the reality. And Lepsitol was Law of the Jungle Violent Capitalism.
Hmm... the decency of the Taikyoku Nation, with its eternal traditionalism, really stood out by comparison.
Well, whatever. I was sure they’d understand if we just had a talk—using physical language, of course.
The party came to an end. I was given a mountain of leftover California rolls. I guessed they harvested a lot of those avocado-like fruits around here.
...Wait a second.
I also received a huge stash of the actual leftover avocado-like fruits. We headed back to—wait, we were moving? For some reason, we were being relocated to a detached house.
Rikochi followed me inside.
“Rikochi, don’t you need to go home?”
“This is home. I’m Leo-kun’s bodyguard, after all.”
To think we’d be under one roof! If that was the plan, they should have just assigned a guy as my guard. But... right now, I had something more important on my mind than erotic tension!
“Can I cook?”
“Go right ahead.”
Fuhahahaha!
Avocados! This meant I could reproduce the flavors of House Kamishiro!
I got to work making the thin bread—the tortillas. I whipped up some taco meat and chopped some fresh vegetables. I seasoned the avocado dips specifically for the tacos, then piled everything onto the tortillas with a side of cheese...
“House Kamishiro Tacos!”
These were the tacos of a man with money! Back when my family was broke, they were just vegetables, wild grass, or even just the tortillas alone. When we were really flush with cash, we could actually buy rice!
“Here, Rikochi, have a taste.”
“Ah, it tastes like a restaurant!”
I handed one to Rikochi, then piled the rest onto plates and brought them to the table. I placed them on a low, round chabudai table. I boiled some water and brewed some tea—specifically, Kamishiro Group Black Tea. I’d considered green tea, but I figured it wouldn’t pair well.
We sat down for dinner with the California rolls. Since we’d been on security duty, we hadn't been able to eat a thing.
“I’ve thought this for a while, but you’re a great cook, Leo-kun.”
“We have a chore rotation, so everyone can do it, right?”
“Being able to do it and being good at it are two different things. In your case, your repertoire is huge, from simmered dishes to tacos.”
However, because I was a tyrant, I only made flavors I personally wanted to eat. Though I did take requests for regional dishes occasionally to prevent a domestic rebellion!
Besides... if Wifey ever divorced me, I’d have to survive on my own skills. For now, our marriage was blissful, but there was no telling what might happen if I made a catastrophic mistake. If I honed my skills, I might be able to land a job at a restaurant.
I was the type of person who never let success get to my head.
We relaxed after the meal. Lepsitol’s broadcasts were boring; the news and dramas were nothing but Yakuza stories. The music was all pop songs that didn’t suit our tastes. Sports-wise, it seemed baseball had just been introduced. They were showing a broadcast of a newly formed pro league, though the level of play wasn't very high. I recorded a bit and sent it to Isono and Nakajima.
“I’m going to hit the bath first,” Rikochi said.
“Gotcha.”
Once the baseball ended, the news came on. I’d assumed it would be more Yakuza turf wars, but the lead story was about us.
“Armored Rikishi intruded upon the Mike & Hammer Co. party. They were swiftly dispatched by a Ninja.”
“Ho.”
I only appeared for a brief moment. The main focus of the footage was Rikochi, who was busy squeezing a massive Rikishi’s face with both hands. I suppose nobody expected a young girl to win using an Iron Claw followed by a Gassho-hineri.
It was a good thing Rikochi was in the bath. If she saw this, her efforts toward marriage hunting would likely evaporate into nothing.
“Leo-kun! I’m getting a ton of calls from Papa and Mama!”
Rikochi suddenly appeared in her underwear.
“Put some clothes on!”
“Fine~”
Rikochi returned shortly, having changed into her loungewear—an Officer Academy Tracksuit.
“So, what did your parents say?”
“Apparently, that footage of me just reached the Galactic Empire...”
Ah... what was there to say?
“D-Do your best...”
“Fueeeeeeeeeeen! My marriage is getting even further away!”
That was probably true. Currently, Rikochi was viewed as a Legendary Warrior in the Galactic Empire. In the Ogre God Nation, she was a Man Among Men. In Latarnia and the Taikyoku Nation, she was the Guardian God of the Galactic Empire. In Chronos, she was a superhero. In Parcion, she was treated as a Messenger from Hell.
At the very least, she wasn’t being treated like a woman. It was going to be tough to find a marriage partner with those labels. To begin with, she was a Count House Head guaranteed to become a Duke; she’d need a husband of at least a similar rank.
The Count and Marquis Houses that had once been so common had been decimated during the Zork War—either destroyed by Zork or abolished for siding with the Duke Association. This made it difficult for both men and women to find suitable matches. There were only so many high-ranking children in the Pro-Emperor and Neutral Factions to begin with, and Wifey loathed those who had played both sides.
“‘It’s okay now, Riko-chan... don’t push yourself anymore...’ even Mama said it!”
“Give up...”
“Fueeeeeeeeeeeeeen!”
Take Nakagawa-san, for instance—the mechanic from the former graduate student group. She’d entered a White Marriage with a Marquis twenty years her senior who already had heirs. It was a sexless contract marriage. She’d get the status, find a lover on the side, and pass her own territory to her own children later. But if I suggested that to Rikochi, she’d probably give me a Mount Punch while crying.
Besides, since I was firmly in the camp of wanting a romance with Wifey, I couldn’t exactly talk big! I also had no desire to die just yet.
And so, our awkward, embarrassing life together began.
Incidentally, my libido didn't stir in the slightest.