[TG/RC] From Mangaka to Maid - Part 2

For a few blissful moments as the sun rose, Mark thought the kitsune and her spell were just a very strange dream. Then he felt long hair falling across his face and opened his eyes to find a curtain of black; sitting bolt upright he was once again aware of the new weight on his chest. Reaching over he grabbed his bag, shuffling through it until he found his phone and wallet; every form of identification from credit cards, train passes and even his passport showed the same name; Akiko Kimura with the symbol for female prominently circled and a pretty, Japanese woman’s photo.

Lacking a mirror, he opened up his phone and turned on the camera and held up his ID in the other hand. The woman in his camera, it still felt strange to refer to her as himself, looked identical to the ID photo. A pretty, heart shaped face with sharp cheekbones, jet black hair and dark eyes with wide lashes. Mark couldn’t help but noticed one of his canines was slightly more pointed than usual, a personal touch from the kitsune no doubt. At least she had the decency to make him an attractive woman if nothing else.

Mark spent the day holed up in his room, working on his manga. If that she devil thought this would be a stumbling block to his creative process she had another thing coming. Now adding an evil Kitsune demon to the story for his protagonist to slay in order to save his fair geisha maiden. The fight scene was epic, if he did say so himself. In the evening he put on his ill-fitting clothes, earning him a few strange looks from the staff, then headed off up the mountain. It took him some time to find the path again but eventually he managed it, following the trail he marked only to find the grove empty. Flat earth was all that greeted him, not even a dip or dried up hole, nothing to hint that there had ever been a body of water there. He searched frantically, long into the night but never found a sign of the spirit. This repeated itself over the next few days; work on his manga by day, search for the fox at night. But he never found the pool again and with his bank account dwindling, he had no choice but to head back to Tokyo.

It was on that final night that he finished the first chapter; now redone with all his new inspiration, better art and the new kitsune villains. It was perfect, there was no way any magazine could reject it, surely! But, leaning back on his hands he once again became aware of his new body. He’d been trying his best to avoid thinking on it, each morning hoping to wake and find himself back to normal. But at least, this way there was no way his manga would get rejected. A small smile tugged at his pink lips, at least he’d finally be recognised for the manga artist that he was.

~

If that Kitsune expect him to fall into a pit of despair and have an existential crisis; she was bang out of luck. Mark headed back to Tokyo feeling buoyant despite his close to empty bank account; he spent what little yen he had left on a simple outfit for his new body; stockings, pencil skirt and blouse, a professional look that was sure to pair well with his straight black hair and almond eyes. With his manuscript perfected he was more than ready to submit.

With his manuscripts sent off to the usual suspects all he had to do was wait. He’d been so focused on his work since arriving in Japan he was yet to make any real friends, so nobody came knocking. It had eaten at him a little, the loneliness, but now he was thankful for it. It saved any awkward explanations as to where Mark had gone and why. Besides, he knew it was just a matter of weeks before his masterpiece was published, then he’d have his pick of industry friends as well as fans to choose from. Once he had all the riches he could dream, he’d travel back, find that damn spirit and change back. Then Akiko Kimura would become a legend; he could step forward and claim she had been a pen name all along and used her to beat the racist system that had kept his epic from the masses. He’d be beloved. It was only a matter of time.

~

“It’s just not a good fit for us.”

Mark couldn’t believe what he was hearing. When Mr. Ideyoshi had called him into his office, he was sure it was to offer Miss Akiko Kimura a contract for a full run in his magazine. Not another rejection.

“But why?” he cried, “It’s got everything a good shonen story needs-“

“There is no need for emotional outbursts.” Ideyoshi said condescendingly, “It’s just, not quite right.”

What sort of feedback was that? ‘Not quite right’, what was he supposed to take from that?

“May I suggest you try writing something more befitting your…skills.” Ideyoshi added, “Maybe try some romance, shojo manga would suit your style far more my dear.”

Mark couldn’t believe it. He was being rejected because he was a woman? The audacity of this man! The absolute audacity of that kitsune! He wasn’t even really a woman, yet here he was being looked down upon. It took all his self-control not to scream to the heavens. His hands gripped the material of his skirt, nails almost digging through the fabric as panic slowly began to build up inside him.

He only had a few thousand yen left, barely enough for food to last the next two weeks, let alone the rent on his tiny apartment. His Suica Card, used for riding the trains, was almost depleted too. He’d walked into this office so sure it was his big break, now as he left, he was on the verge of being homeless without a single yen to his name. He thought of all the naysayers back in the states, those people who’d told him moving to Japan was a stupid idea and how he’d told them all the fuck off…even if he could afford a plane ticket back to Idaho, what would be the point?

He bowed to Mr. Ideyoshi out of habit, walking out with his precious manuscript gripped between his trembling fingers. A cold wind cut through him as he exited out onto the street, blowing his now long black hair into wild tangles that got in his eyes and mouth. He was going to lose everything and thanks to that damn kitsune, that included his masculinity. The kitsune! She must have done this, made some sort of monkey’s paw magic so that even though he was Japanese now, and had the greatest manga manuscript of the decade, people still wouldn’t appreciate it. It was not his fault at all. But how to fix it? Even if he could afford another train ticket, he certainly couldn’t afford a hotel. If his searches before he left were any indication, it was going to take a long time to find that magic spring again. He simply didn’t have the means. He had to find some way of making money to fund the trip. But how?

Lacking any better ideas, he began wandering the streets, half heartedly looking for help wanted signs in windows. The lights and neon of Tokyo that had seemed to welcoming before suddenly felt cold; feeling dejected he slid down to the ground, sitting on the heels of his feet and wrapping his arms around his now thin legs. Even if he did find a 7/11 or restaurant hiring, what was he going to apply with? He had no references, not even any friends to put in a good word for him. There was just one thing that stopped him falling into total despair; pride. That kitsune was trying to ruin his life, well he wasn’t going to let her. He’d find a job, get back to that hot spring and he’d make her change him back. Hell, he’d make her do the spell right this time and turn him back into a man while keeping the Japanese name and appearance. Then, the world would be right.

He started with cafés and restaurants, doing his best to sound perky and cute just like all the female servers he’d had since arriving here. But after several hours he had nothing to show for it but slightly sore cheeks from fake smiling. His eyes began to burn, he hugged his manuscript to his chest, trying to ignore how squashed his breasts felt; they weren’t even supposed to be there! He hadn’t noticed his eyes were closed until a gentle hand touched his shoulder. He jumped, a young woman around his age in a large coat was looking at him with concern.

“Are you alright? Why are you crying?”

“I’m fine.” He sniffed, “It’s just been a hard few days. I’m uh, trying to find a job.”

“Oh, I see.” Her eyes dipped to the pile of papers, now half scrunched in his hands.

There was so much sympathy in her eyes and for whatever reason, Mark felt like he could trust her.

“I’m a manga author. Or, I’m trying to be.” He blushed, “But nobody wants my story because…well they don’t want it and now if I don’t find some sort of work, I won’t be able to afford rent or anything.”

His companion pursed her lips in thought before giving his shoulder a squeeze. Fingers tracing the line of his chin as she studied his face.

“Tell you what, come with me. I work at a café and we’re having try out’s today if I ask my manager nicely you could join the other applicants?”

Mark swallowed the lump threatening to form in his throat. He would take anything now, though he did have to wonder what sort of café did ‘try-outs’ instead of trial shifts, perhaps it was a quick of Japanese he was yet to learn despite his fluency?

“Thank you.”

The woman smiled, a little dimple appearing on her left cheek.

“No problem, I had it hard like you once. A little kindness would have gone a long way!” She grabbed hold of his hand, effortlessly prying his fingers from the manuscript before practically dragging him forward.

“I’m Hiromi by the way.”

“I’m Ma-Akiko.”

“Makiko? How cute!”

He didn’t correct her. If he was honest, Makiko suited him better, at least it was a little bit like his old name. He desperately hoped Hiromi’s manager could give him a few shifts, café work wasn’t exactly the best, but it was something right? If he could just earn enough money to keep the lights on, and get a ticket back to the lake he’d be all set.

“Here we are.” Hiromi announced, waving her hand in front of a brightly lit building.

Mark gaped; the girly décor, the giant neo bow above the door…this was a maid café. A sharp pinch at both his cheeks snapped him out of his daze and to his horror, he actually squeaked.

“Sorry, my manager isn’t going to give any girl a chance,” Hiromi said, “But you’re super cute, with a bit of red in those cheeks and a happy smile I am sure you can convince her to give you a trial run.”

Mark had always wanted to visit a maid café, but they were so expensive and while working on his manga, he’d just never had the time. The idea that he could work in one was never something that had crossed his mind, even in this desperate situation. Hiromi took him by the hand and lead him to the side entrance; from the corner of his eye he could see a young businessman approaching, opening the main door and being greeted by a high pitched ‘welcome home, master!’. A strange mix of arousal and nerves filled his stomach; this felt so wrong. In the back room were a number of women around his own age, most slightly younger; all of them dressed in trendy or cute outfits. Suddenly he tight pencil skirt and blouse seemed very plain. Hiromi shed her baggy coat, revealing a cute, frilly maid costume.

“I’m going to talk to Miss Sayaka,” She smiled, “Tell her another girl is here to try out.”

Mark just swallowed; this was humiliating but…he needed the money and everybody knew how well café maids could get paid if they impressed the right clients. All he had to do was smile and pretend to like a bunch of men, it wasn’t like he had to sleep with them or anything or even let them touch him. As much as men in the West wanted to think otherwise, these maids were not whores, it was just being a waitress with extra steps, right? He wished he had time to research what maid cafés looked for in their hires; other than beauty which fortunately he now had in spades.

Still, as his eyes glanced over the other women waiting in the back room, he couldn’t help but feel threatened. Their make up and hair was impeccable, their outfits perfectly tailored to show off their best assets without being too overt; and here he was half soaked by rain without even a hairbrush. Feeling panicked he ran his fingers through his long straight hair, trying to undo the tangles caused by the wind when the sound of a door slamming made him and the rest of the women jump.

Hiromi, now in full maid regalia was demurring walking behind an older woman. She couldn’t be older than thirty but she looked stunning, almost resplendent in her rose red maid costume with golden trim.

“Welcome. I am  Miss Sayako.” She said seriously, her eyes narrowed at the group, Mark was sure she was not impressed by what she saw.

“Here at the Rose Bow have exceptionally high standards, our clientele even more so. We do not take just any young lady under our wing.” Her voice was hard, Mark was sure she could give grown businessmen a run for their authority.

“Many girls come here thinking this job will be a fun use for their pretty face.” She sneered, “I say, a pretty face is just the beginning. Here hard work is repaid and slacking off, in any capacity, is not tolerated. Are we clear?”

“Yes miss!” The group all answered together.

She clapped her hands and indicated they all line up in the middle of the room. Hiromi gave him a small smile of encouragement but Mark could feel his heart beating against his chest. Now the comparison between him and these pretty young women felt even more stark.

“That being said,” Miss Sayako drawled, “Beauty, real natural beauty, is not something that I can teach you and no amount of cheap makeup-“

She pointed a finger at the girl with bright pink eyeshadow.

“Can hide.”

The girl curled in on herself; Mark began to sweat, there was no way he was getting this job. Then his only option really was going to be selling this new body on the street like a common whore.

“You.” Miss Sayako stopped in front of a girl with ribbons braided into her hair, “How many years experience in the service industry?”

“Five miss!”

“Oh?” Her eyes looked the girl up and down, “And how old are you?”

“Twenty, miss.” The woman beamed in pride for her youth but the smirk on Miss Sayako’s face soon took care of that.

“So, you started work when you were fifteen? Is that not against the rules of most high schools?”

“Um, well-“

“I have no place for rule breakers in my establishment.” Miss Sayako kept walking; you could cut the tension in the room with a knife.

She stopped in front of Mark, he held his breath.

“You are not wearing any make up.” She said simple, he shook his head. “Your hair has not been styled and your clothing is plain.”

Oh, what the hell, it was worth a shot.

“I decided to let my natural features do the talking, no need for…what do the westerns say? Bells and whistles?”

For a few moments he was sure she would berate him but instead she smiled.

“A good answer, my dear and if I may say so, you have a wonderful foundation for us to work with. How many years experience in the service industry?”

He could lie, but look what that got the other girl.

“None, miss.” He admitted before hastily adding, “I am a ball of clay ready for moulding.”

Hiromi gave him a little thumbs up.

“You certainly have a talent for metaphor.”

“I am an author.” He responded, feeling bolder, “but I can be a lot of things.”

Miss Sayako nodded and continued on the line but for the first time Mark felt he had done something right. When she dismissed all but himself and one other girl with wide, pale grey eyes he felt victorious.

“We shall accept you both on a trial basis.” Miss Sayako nodded, “Names?”

“Akiko,” Mark responded, “My friends call me Makiko.”

“Aya.” The other woman responded.

“Very well, Hiromi will take you out back to get uniforms, then you are to report to me for inspection and reading material. Tomorrow will be your first trial run so I expect you to study up tonight, understand.”

They both nodded vigorously, eyes sliding to one another. Mark got the very real impression that at the end of this trial only one of them would be kept; he needed to be on his A game. Miss Sayako departed leaving the women alone and Hiromi grinned.

“I knew she’d like you; she hates how fake everybody is in job interviews.” She giggled, “Alright, let’s get you both a uniform!”

Reality crashed into him like a wave as Hiromi took his hand and led he and Aya into the back room. Racks of clothing lined the walls; lace, aprons, frills, and bows as far as the eye can see. He had been so focused on getting the job he had forgotten what it would mean to succeed.

He was about to become a maid.

~

Anybody who knows about Maid cafes in Japan knows that getting a job in one is so much more complicated and difficult than in this story but I think you’ll forgive me for speeding things up a bit. Also it goes without saying that this particular maid café may be a bit more…adult than any professional one in Japan would be.

How do I know so much about the inner workings of maid cafes? Well, who knows…

~

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