Amagi Brilliant Park - Volume 1 - Chapter 2

2. The Mascots Are Awful With Customers 
When he opened his eyes, it was morning, and he was home. 
“Ugh...” 
Seiya sat up in his bed. He was still wearing his street clothes, including his jacket. 
When did I get here? How did I make it back from that amusement park? It was all a blank. 
He looked at the clock; it was a little after 7:00 AM. He’d missed his scheduled Sunday night game (an online RTS), but there was nothing to do about that but send an email apologizing to his opponents before dragging his way to the bathroom. For now, he needed to get ready for school. 
He could reflect on his situation rationally while he was showering off, he thought. Meeting that girl, Latifah, in that awful theme park; the bizarre request she’d made of him; the way she’d suddenly kissed him... Could that have all been a dream? 
“Ugh... What the hell is going on here?” 
After staggering his way to the bathroom door, he opened it, and— He found Sento Isuzu standing in the changing room, half-naked. Actually, as a matter of fact, she was almost entirely naked. The only thing she had on were her thigh-high stockings. Her back was to him, and she was in the middle of fitting a stripe-patterned bra over the not-quite-visible curve of her breasts. 
Strange priorities in getting dressed... That was his first thought. Before “What a beautiful alabaster ass” or “Boy, she smells nice” or “Is she really into stripes?”, that was the first thought that floated into his mind. 
She has strange priorities in getting dressed. Totally naked except stockings and a bra—what kind of person puts those on first? It’s utterly inscrutable. 
Only after all of that did it occur to him to wonder: why was she in the changing room of his house, looking fresh out of the bath? 

While Seiya wrestled with his silence, Isuzu glanced over her shoulder at him. Her gaze was surprisingly calm. 
Before she could say anything, though, he swiftly slammed the door shut, threw himself back against the wall, and started shouting. He vaguely resembled one of those evil magistrates in a samurai drama calling for the guards. 
“S-Sis! Aisu-san!” 
There was a brief silence, and then Kyubu Aisu dragged herself out from her nearby bedroom. 
“Mguh? ...What now?” she grumbled, “It’s first thing in the morning and I just got murdered by an all-nighter...” 
He called her “Sis,” but Aisu was actually his aunt. She was 26 years old with short black hair, and wore a loose-fitting T-shirt over her very ample bosom. She was an editor for some publishing company, so she lived a highly irregular lifestyle, but though she smoked and drank a lot, her skin remained surprisingly young-looking and dewy. 
“...Oh, Seiya,” she remarked. “You got yourself up, huh?” 
“Sis, what the hell is she doing here?!” He jabbed his finger repeatedly at the door to the bathroom. 
Aisu showed no sign of surprise. “She? Oh, Isuzu-chan? Did she take a bath?” 
“Just answer my question!” Seiya demanded hysterically. “What’s she doing here?!” 
“...She brought you here late last night,” Aisu told him. “She said something about you being on a date when you fell and hit your head? But it was probably just a concussion, so I thought I’d let you sleep it off. By then she’d missed the last train home, so I asked if she wanted to stay the night, and she was like, ‘sure.’” 
Knowing Aisu, that was a fairly plausible series of events—she never paid any attention to anything besides her work, after all. She was the kind of person who, if a gang of foreign thieves showed up at two in the morning, rang the doorbell and said, “We’re the maid service,” would just respond, “Seiya must have called for you; go right in,” then fall back into bed. 
But... even so... Even so, it’s transparently nonsense! Come on! How could you just swallow that whole story?! Just as Seiya’s mind was focusing its ire on her, a strange thing happened. 
«It’s about time Seiya started going on dates with girls. He’s really mellowed out, I guess... he used to be so hostile to any woman he met. I’m so happy! Speaking as his guardian, of course.» Aisu’s voice resonated in his mind. 
Her mouth had been closed. Nevertheless, he had heard her voice, as clear as day. “What?” 
Aisu, who had said nothing, responded only with a “Hmm?” 
“Sis,” he asked suspiciously, “did you just talk in a weird way?” 
“Huh?” 
“Something about me mellowing out or something...” 
Aisu started in surprise. “Wh-What? I don’t know what you’re talking about...” 
“You just said a bunch of stuff with your mouth closed...” Seiya accused her. “Like that I had mellowed out, that I’m hostile to women, something about speaking as my guardian...” 
The surprise on her face grew even more pronounced, and she clamped a hand over her mouth. “What? I didn’t say anything. You know, you’re really creeping me out right now...” 
“You’re the one creeping me out...” he told her angrily. “I don’t know if that was ventriloquism or what, but I don’t like people making fun of me.” 
“Ventriloquism?” asked Aisu, obviously confused. 
“That’s what it was, right?” Then he thought, of course, she’d never mentioned having a skill like that. 
“I don’t know what you’re talking about... Oh, I get it,” she said, realization dawning. “I’m probably half asleep. Yeah, alcohol’s not out of my system yet... Anyway, you’re awake, so that’s all behind us... I’m going back to bed now. Get yourself to school, okay? Later.” 
Aisu rambled for a little while without giving him a word in edgewise, then withdrew into her bedroom. The door closed with a clack. 
While Seiya was still staring blankly after her, the door to the bathroom opened. 
“That’s interesting,” Isuzu remarked. 
Seiya was surprised out of his stupor. “Huh?!” 
Sento Isuzu was standing there, already dressed in her school uniform. She showed no sign of being bothered that Seiya had seen her naked. 
“I overheard your conversation with your aunt,” she said. “There was only a door between us, after all.” 
“...So what?” 
“I think I know what your ‘magic’ is.”

It was Monday morning, so they didn’t have any time to lose. He got himself dressed, had a simple breakfast with Isuzu (Chocowa cereal and milk) and headed for school. His aunt Aisu was fast asleep in her room, so she didn’t see them off. 
“So, are you going to explain or not?” Seiya asked as they walked the road from his apartment complex to Yanokuchi Station. The rapid service train going in their direction would be arriving soon, so they ended up taking a fairly fast pace. 
“Of course I will,” Isuzu responded. “I start feeling like I’ll drop dead if I get fewer than three baths a day. That’s one every eight hours, more or less. After spending the night at your house, I was starting to reach the limit of what I could stand. So I used your bathroom—regrettably, without permission.” 
“...Um, that’s not the explanation I was looking for...” 
“I see... What did you want me to explain, then?” 
“About this magic stuff!” he exploded, “and about that Latifah girl, while you’re at it!” 
“Oh, that...” She nodded. “You lost consciousness when the princess, Latifah-sama, bestowed magic upon you. It was getting late, and we couldn’t wake you up, so I called a taxi and brought you home.” 
She was still dancing around the heart of his question. “I want you to tell me about this ‘magic,’” he tried again. 
“Latifah-sama is the queen of the magical realm Maple Land,” Isuzu explained. “The women of Maple Land’s royal family have the power to bestow magical powers on ordinary human beings via mouth-to-mouth contact.” 
“M-Mouth-to-mouth?” he spluttered. 
“It means a kiss.” 
“I know what it means...” 
So it hadn’t been a dream. You rotten woman, give back my first kiss! ...Actually, he didn’t mind that part so much. He did wish he’d had a little more time to prepare, though... perhaps a slightly greater sense of accomplishment? 
Yes, it was that same feeling of emptiness you get when you’re playing an RPG and a glitch lets you beat the final boss at level three, and then you don’t even get the ending screen. It stinks! It just stinks! 
Isuzu ignored Seiya’s quiet huffing and continued on calmly, “What kind of magic the royal family’s kiss bestows will vary based on the person receiving it. They may gain the ability to fire beams from their eyes, to grow super-strong metal claws from their fingers, or to control storms.” 
“Are those really magic?” he wanted to know. Weren’t those actually mutant powers or something? They all sounded familiar, at the very least... 
“Those are just examples,” she told him. “In your case, the magic appears to let you read people’s minds. If you gaze at a person and wish for it, you can hear what they’re thinking. There are stories about this in the old Maple Land records. However—” 
Dubiously, Seiya gazed at Isuzu and concentrated. As if realizing what he was going for, she closed her mouth and said nothing more. 
He focused. He heard a voice. It was a strange resonance in his head that felt close, and yet far away. 
Sento Isuzu’s thoughts read: «However—according to those records, you can only use the magic on a single person once, and you can only read their minds for a brief time. Does it work? If you can hear me, say something.» 
The inner voice cut off. Isuzu stared right at him, waiting for him to respond. 
“...Well,” he concluded, “It looks like it’s true. I definitely could hear your thoughts. You said I can only read each person once, and for a limited time?” 
“I’m glad that you catch on so quickly.” 
“Hmm. It seems hard to believe,” he admitted, “but I don’t think you could be faking it...” 
All this talk about magic might have seemed like nonsense, but Seiya took it relatively in stride. Given the amount of strange phenomena he’d been experiencing these last two days, he’d given up on trying to find realistic, logical bases for everything he came across. 
Magic that let him read minds, eh? 
Fine. Let’s just say the power existed and that he had it. In that case, the first thing he had to do was test that power and get a feel for its limits. 
Arguing with himself over every little thing wouldn’t get him anywhere; he had to face reality and get some information that he could use! Of course, he would have preferred magic that let him control gravity, or perfectly copy another person’s powers... but he opted not to voice those complaints. 
So, he thought, let’s test it one more time! He stared at Isuzu once again, trying to peer into her mind. But no matter how hard he concentrated, he couldn’t hear her voice again. 
“......” 
“It appears my suspicions were correct,” she said. “You can’t read my mind anymore, can you?” 
“...How can you be so sure? Maybe I’m just pretending like I can’t.” He was saying it partly out of spite, but Isuzu wasn’t fazed. 
“You’re not—” she denied confidently. 
“Oh?” 
“—because I was thinking something incredibly obscene just now.” 
“Wh... What?” Obscene? What kind of obscene?! 
“Just kidding,” Isuzu added. 
“Rrgh...” 
“But this does confirm it,” she finished thoughtfully. “You didn’t know that I was lying. In other words, you can only read each person once... That much is clear.” 
“Grrr...” 
So her tactics were impeccable; he’d have to be on his guard around her. There was their back-and-forth at the snack shop yesterday, too... He might have to keep a tight rein on his emotions around her from now on. 
There was another way in which he regretted his carelessness, though. 
He’d wasted his “one time only” magic on her already... If he’d timed it more carefully, he might have gotten some proper blackmail material. 
“...Kanie-kun. You’re feeling disappointed that you couldn’t get blackmail material on me, aren’t you?” 
“W-Wait... you don’t have that power too, do you?” 
“No. It just seemed likely, given your behavior in our previous interactions.” 
“Grr...” 
I really hate acting, Seiya thought bitterly. It’s a little late for it now, but— 
“F-Fine... Let me test it a little more.” Trying it on one person wasn’t positive proof. 
He tried the power out on a middle-aged office worker walking beside them on his way to the station. It was just a man he’d seen around from time to time—it wouldn’t be a problem to never read his mind again. 
He heard the man’s voice. «Ahh, I’m so tired. I got out of the house late, and I’ve probably missed my usual train... Which means I won’t see that pretty clerk today. She’s my one point of light in a hellish commute...» 
Whatever. He then read the mind of a middle-aged woman in a suit, who was walking behind the man. 
«...Did I program the DVR right? If I call now, maybe I can get Takeshi to check it before he goes to school. But Takeshi hates Korean dramas, which makes it so awkward to ask him... What will I do?» 
Seriously whatever. He then tried an ordinary-looking boy behind her. He was dressed in a uniform for another school, his eyes glued to a notebook as he walked— 
«...Congress of Vienna, 1914. Congress of Vienna, 1914. Congress of Vienna, 1914. Congress of Vienna, 1914...» 
Not whatever at all! The Congress of Vienna was 1814 to 1815! It was a crucial conference between the nations of Europe after the Napoleonic Wars! How could you mistake it for 1914? That’s a century off! That’s World War I! He ground his teeth, longing to object. Longing to point out the boy’s mistake... 
After choking down the urge, he tried using his “magic” once more on the same subjects—the office worker, the older woman, the student—but he couldn’t read any of their minds any more. 
“...It seems you’re correct, Sento,” he finally admitted. “I only get one try per person, and I can only read their minds for a short time.” 
“The Maple Land records speak of people in the past who had that sort of power,” she answered briefly. 
“Hmm.” If he had learned one new thing from all this, it was that the power didn’t allow him to actually see people’s names. He didn’t know the kanji behind the woman’s (probable) son, Takeshi. 
In other words, the magic didn’t let him literally “read” the person’s mind; he was just hearing their thoughts. And he only got one shot per person. With limitations like that, it would be a difficult power to abuse. 
They were getting close to Yanokuchi Station; the area around it was badly run-down, with almost no shops. There was a cleaners and a green grocer, plus a pub and a yakitori bar aimed at the local men. To the south of the station was undeveloped mountain forest. 
These were the outskirts of the Tokyo commuter town Amagi, right on the border of Kanagawa Prefecture. Although they were a mere 30 minute ride to Shinjuku, it would be a stretch to call it part of the city; It was a suburb. 
After passing through the ticket gate, Seiya spoke up again. “I still have a lot of questions. What’s this ‘Maple Land’ thing?” 
“It’s a magical realm that lies on the threshold between the sea and the land,” said Isuzu. 
“So I’ve heard,” he replied pointedly. “Now tell me the truth.” 
“That is the truth.” 
She’s apparently going to insist on this whole ‘magical realm’ line, then. Fine, whatever. 
“But all you need to worry about, for now, is coming back to Brilliant Park with me after school,” she said. “The fact that you passed out meant we weren’t able to discuss our plan of action.” 
Seiya protested her suggestion, naturally, but when he found a musket pointed at him on the station platform, he decided that agreeing with her was his safest bet.

After arriving at school, Seiya spent all day in class biting back his anger. Things were further exacerbated by the fact that someone, somehow, had leaked a rumor about him and Isuzu. He’d been eating his lunch in a lavatory stall when he overheard some students come in who were talking about it. 
The account was that a first-year girl had witnessed Kanie Seiya and Sento Isuzu meet up in front of Amagi Station and get on a bus together. The report was that the bus was the one that went to Hotel Alamo. The fact was that the next morning, the two had walked to school together, looking “awfully friendly”— 
You’ve got to be kidding me! 
He wanted to burst out of the stall and yell at them, but he was stymied by the fact that he was eating his lunch in a bathroom stall. If he wanted to preserve any scrap of his reputation, he couldn’t afford to come out now. 
You know, THE Kanie Seiya... With no friends! All alone!! In a toilet stall!! Eating curry bread!!—The thought was unacceptable. 
After a few more teeth-gritting hours, Seiya ended up at Amagi Brilliant Park once again. Isuzu had been waiting for him outside school after class, and had mercilessly pulled him along with her. 
“So?” Seiya asked after they’d passed through the cast entrance next to the gate. “Where are you dragging me off to today?” 
Rather than answering, Isuzu was wordlessly pecking at her cell phone. She seemed to be checking her email, and typing out a short reply to someone. Her style of typing was incredibly slow and clumsy. 
“Hey.” 
“......” 
“If you’re going to check your email while someone’s talking to you, you could at least say you’re sorry. Didn’t your parents teach you anything?” 
“......” 
“No response, huh? I think I’ll go home, then.” Seiya turned on his heel and was proceeding towards the exit when he felt an iron hand on his collar. “Hey!” 
“How do you create ‘emojis?’” Isuzu showed him her cellphone screen.

Re: They’re here, fumo

Understood. I’m at the first gate. 
I’m bringing Kanie-kun.

From: Moffle 
To: Sento Isuzu 
The Amagi Development guys are here, fumo. 
I’m sending them to conference room three, fumo. Get there ASAP 

It was an email that raised quite a lot of questions, Seiya thought. 
First, there was the fact that the email was from Moffle. That was the mascot he’d had the fight with the day before. Why was someone sending business emails under the mascot’s name? “Amagi Development guys” was an odd set of words, too. And that speech tic... “They’re here, fumo.” Why? 
Shelving his various questions for now, though, Seiya decided to address hers. “...I don’t really understand any of this,” he told her, “but are you trying to put an emoji after ‘I’m bringing Kanie-kun?’” 
Isuzu nodded. 
“What kind of emoji?” he asked. 
“I want one that looks like I’m smiling and waving.” 
“Okay...” he told her, “hand it over for a minute.”

I’m bringing Kanie-kun. :)

“Will that do it?” 
“Hmm... it’s passable,” she decided. 
What kind of reaction was that? Seiya wondered. What kind of emoji would be better than “passable,” then? 
But all that aside— 
“So, where are you taking me?” he wanted to know. 
“You saw the email, didn’t you? To conference room three.” 
“Why?” 
“To meet with the people from Amagi Development,” Isuzu explained. 
“And Amagi Development is...?” 
“Our enemy.”

There was a squat building on the other side of the amusement park. 
Conference room three was on its third floor, and was a plain-looking room, with no distinguishing features. It housed a faded conference table, which was surrounded by folding chairs, and a dingy-looking whiteboard. 
The so-called “enemy” Isuzu mentioned had already arrived. 
There were three of them: Two unremarkable older men, with a younger man standing in between them. The attractive young man in the middle seemed to be in his mid-twenties, and was probably around the same age as Seiya’s aunt Aisu. 
All three were wearing matching, tasteful gray suits that appeared to be very expensive. They carried themselves less like businessmen, and more like a squadron of soldiers who had just deciphered their enemy’s plan. The smiles they wore were smug and imperious. 
The young man gave Seiya a glance, then introduced himself: “I’m Kurisu Takaya from Amagi Development,” he said as he held out his business card. It was a simple one. 
Unfortunately, Seiya didn’t have any business cards. He introduced himself and bowed politely. 
Kurisu’s smile remained firmly in place as he sized Seiya up. “Nice to meet you. What’s this student doing here?” 
“He’s an intern. He’s here to take the minutes,” Isuzu explained. 
“I see,” Kurisu said. “...An intern, eh? Where’s your manager, Latifah-san?” 
Isuzu was the only park representative in the room. There was no one else there. Seiya had assumed that the (guy inside of the?) high-and-mighty mascot Moffle would be there, but it seemed he wasn’t. 
Isuzu responded politely. “As I mentioned in our email, our manager is feeling ill and won’t be here today. As acting manager, I will be humbly standing in for her.” 
“I see,” Kurisu said coldly. “Very well.” 
Seiya was surprised to see Kurisu Takaya agree to this so readily—it wouldn’t have been out of line for him to complain about coming all the way out here, only to be forced to deal with the likes of Isuzu and Seiya. The other two men did seem to be thinking something along those lines, but one glance from Kurisu and they swallowed their grievances. 
Kurisu seemed to be the one in charge, and after a moment’s pause, he spoke: “...So, acting manager Isuzu-san. I believe you’re aware of the circumstances that bring us here today? If you can’t meet the attendance quota within the next two weeks, ownership of Amagi Brilliant Park will transfer to Amagi Development.” 
“...Yes,” Isuzu responded without a fragment of emotion. 
“According to the contract our interests signed back in 1982, if you have five years with a park attendance below one million, the park’s management rights transfer to Amagi Development. Accordingly—” 

Kurisu Takaya continued his explanation as he flipped through copies of the contract and business figures for the past several years. He talked on and on about commercial law and third sector regulations, and while it was quite long and boring, Seiya managed to grasp the general situation: in short, the amusement park was on the verge of closing. 
Amagi Development was a major shareholder that the city and various companies invested in. They wanted to close the “dodgy” theme park, and according to the contract, if the park’s attendance fell below a certain number, management rights would fall to them. 
The deadline was two weeks from now, and the park was 100,000 people short of the quota. 
Though they were still undecided as to whether the park was to be replaced with a golf course or housing, either way, the park was definitely getting torn down. 
100,000 people in just two weeks? It was an insurmountable task. Amagi Brilliant Park was going to close in two weeks, plain and simple, and this man, Kurisu Takaya, had come to discuss the process for making the transition a smooth one. 
“Now, as far as I can tell... you haven’t made any preparations to close the park,” Kurisu was saying. “You haven’t announced the closing and you haven’t canceled your phone, internet, and water contracts. We can’t help but wonder if you’re really acting in good faith, here... Could you please provide an explanation for this?” 
“Well...” Isuzu muttered. “...It’s because we don’t know for certain that the park won’t meet its quota, yet.” 
A strained smile appeared on Kurisu’s face. “Don’t know for certain? Surely you jest; you’re deep in the red. You’ve squandered your funding, and you’re dragging others down with you. Look... the time has come, that’s all. You should take this dying anachronism off of life support, and then focus on getting your assets in order and making up your losses in a productive way.” 
“We are... aware of the situation,” Isuzu said stiffly. 
“Are you really?” Kurisu sounded incredulous. “I know a lot about your kind—excuse me, about people like you. You think ‘accounting is boring, who cares?’ right? You think only ‘artistic’ endeavors have value. You think caring about profit is a crime in and of itself.” 
“We aren’t saying that,” she protested. 
“You effectively are. Even an amusement park is still a business, you know. Do you realize how much of a burden your business puts on people? Shall I explain it to you in no small terms? Yes, let’s take an example—” Kurisu picked up a fountain pen and started pecking at a calculator with it. 
“Let’s take an average family of four that visits your amusement park on a given Sunday. They have a yearly income of about four million yen—a totally unremarkable modern family who’s just made it to the point where they can go to an amusement park a few times a year.” 
“...So?” Isuzu scoffed. 
“That’s our basic premise. Now, based on Amagi Brilliant Park’s attendance last year, how much would this family have to spend per visit to get you in the black? Let’s have a look—” The taps of the calculator echoed through the room. 
Feeling otherwise bored, Seiya began to run the rough numbers in his head. Then, like he was watching a quiz show, he whispered his conclusion out loud: “85,000 yen.” 
Kurisu, who had only just finished his calculations, widened his eyes. The men flanking him did the same. 
“Excuse me?” he asked Seiya. 
“85,000 yen,” Seiya mused. “It’s just a rough guess.” 
Kurisu looked at Seiya with a newly penetrating gaze. “That’s just about right. 83,200 yen, specifically.” 
“Huh...” He’d gotten it surprisingly close, though if he’d known whether the park generated any of its own power, he could have come up with a more precise number. 
“Not quite on the mark, but still impressive, student,” Kurisu complimented him. “Why not give up your internship here and join us instead?” He said it in a way that made it hard to tell if he was joking or not. The men on either side of him knitted their brows, while Isuzu scowled. 
“No,” Seiya said slowly, “I think I’ll pass...” 
“That’s too bad. We could really help you make the most of your gifts.” Kurisu shrugged. “...Well, anyway, that’s the math. How much would your customers have to pay to support your little pastime? The answer is 83,200 yen per family. I think you’ll agree that it’s an absurd amount.” 
Seiya had to agree; you could take a trip overseas for that money. No family would spend 80,000 yen a day at a dodgy amusement park like this. 
“You’d have to be mad to place such a burden upon a budgeting family,” Kurisu accused. “...Now, here comes my next question—are you providing a service worthy of that kind of money?” 
The answer to that one is obvious... Seiya was about to murmur, but caught himself just in time. Sento Isuzu just fixed her eyes on the ground, seemingly unable to reply. 
“Well... if we could just... have a little more time, one last chance...” she whispered at last, haltingly. 
Seiya looked over at her and saw that her expression was its usual sour one. Her voice didn’t tremble, nor did it make an appeal to emotion. For some reason, Seiya found it reminiscent of a commander in the field being scolded by his general over and over: “Why can’t you just break the enemy ranks?” 
“...Well, if you insist,” Kurisu finally said. “The people who come here are all idiots, anyway.” 
“......!” Isuzu gasped. She seemed to want to retort fiercely, but was somehow managing to hold herself back. Instead, she just lowered her voice and turned the question back on him. “Did you say... idiots?” 
“Am I wrong?” Kurisu retorted. 
Yes, this isn’t looking good at all... Just as that thought entered Seiya’s mind, Isuzu’s hand went to her skirt; she must have been going for that strange musket of hers. Before she could draw it, Seiya gently grabbed her wrist and leaned forward. 
“I see. We definitely understand what you’re saying,” Seiya replied with an amiable smile on his face. “...You’re right to point out that we haven’t begun preparations for our closing yet. That’s because we were just about to begin them. ...Isn’t that right, Sento-san?” 
Isuzu’s expression remained blank for a moment, but she came back to herself, and barely managed to nod. 
Kurisu studied their expressions intently for a moment, then let out a small sigh. “That didn’t appear to be the case, so I just wanted to be sure. ...Well, if you’ll excuse us.” 
The three men from Amagi Development tidied up their documents, and left the conference room.

Once the men were gone, Isuzu spoke. “Why did you stop me?” 
“Stop you from what?” Seiya asked, though he was fairly certain he knew. 
“That man insulted our guests,” she said heatedly. “I tried to pull out my magical gun, but you stopped me.” 
“Yeah,” he retorted, “that’s common sense.” What are you even talking about? 
“Ah... I suppose I was being rash. I couldn’t think of anything but blowing the heads off those Amagi Development people.” 
“We’d be in real trouble if you had.” 
“Yes...” Isuzu sighed. “...It would have been a lot of trouble to clean the conference room of three heads’ worth of scattered skull and brain bits. I’m glad I didn’t kill them.” 
“That’s what you’re taking from this?” he asked incredulously. What is wrong with you? On top of that, it was hard to imagine what, exactly, she was so mad about. 
“All that aside,” Isuzu admitted, “you intrigue me.” 
“How so?” 
“That number you reached. 85,000 yen—it was quite precise. Did you read Kurisu Takaya’s mind?” 
“Certainly not,” Seiya smiled with a wince. Of course he hadn’t used that dubious “magic.” He’d just posited the number based off of things he’d heard earlier. 
He didn’t know the park’s attendance figure from last year, nor their running annual costs, so he’d fallen back on a method proposed by physicist Enrico Fermi; it was a thought experiment known as the “Fermi Estimate.” 
You could use it to come up with rough estimates by throwing together the numbers you did know. How many piano tuners there were in a certain metropolitan area, for instance—you couldn’t know the exact number, but you could make an educated guess. 
(We’ll leave out a detailed explanation of where he got those numbers, since it would take about eight pages to go through it all, and it would also be boring.) 
“I did a rough estimate, that’s all; it was just luck that it happened to be so close to his own calculation.” 
“...I see.” 
“Anyway, if I was going to read the mind of someone like that, I’d use it for something more important. That goes double since I can only use it once per person.” 
“I see... Of course, you’re right.” Isuzu whispered, her eyes downturned. There was something timid in her voice. 
“...So? Why did you want me to meet those guys, anyway?” Seiya asked. 
“I wanted you... to know the enemy.” 
“You’re still acting under the ridiculous assumption that I’m going to be your manager, then?” 
“Yes. That’s why I brought you here.” 
“Enough.” Seiya had hit the limits of his patience. He slammed his hand down on the conference table and stared straight into Isuzu’s eyes. She wouldn’t meet his gaze, but kept her eyes forward, staring at a random point on the wall. 
“You threaten me with that ridiculous gun, you steal my precious free time, including a whole Sunday...” he accused. “You even know what an inconvenience you’ve been to me, yet you have the nerve to ask me to help you out? Do you not realize how contemptuous that is?” 
Isuzu had nothing to say. 
“Let’s get it all out on the table, then,” he said flatly. “What happens if I say no? You’ll kill me?” 
“Well...” Her voice was low and hard to hear, but she made no sign of reaching for her weapon. 
An awkward silence hung over the conference room. Far in the distance, he could hear the clatter of the roller coaster. 
At length, Isuzu spoke. “I was never... going to kill you.” 
“Oh?” Of course she wasn’t. It would be ridiculous to kill someone over something like this. 
“I was born into a long line of Maple Land soldiers,” she said stiffly. “I’ve spent my entire life undergoing grueling training so that I could join the royal guard and protect the royal family.” 
“Oh?” 
“I don’t know how to ask a mortal like you for help.” 
“Hence the gun?” 
“Yes. Incidentally, the gun’s name is...” She reached under her skirt again and drew her musket back out. “The magical gun, Steinberger. It’s been handed down through generations in my family. It can fire magic bullets that have a variety of effects; right now, it’s loaded with rounds known as ‘Pain Bringer.’ Being hit by one will hurt about twice as much as stubbing your little toe on the dresser.” 
“So, it just hurts?” 
“Yes. Do you want to try it?” 
“No.” Seiya drew back as he found the muzzle pointed at him again. 
“It’s okay,” she encouraged him. “You won’t die.” 
“I still don’t want to be in pain!” Seiya protested. “Stubbing your little toe on the dresser hurts a lot!” 
“The point is, I was never going to kill you.” Isuzu stowed her gun again. “The park is already so desperate for competent people that they’ve been forced to employ me as a negotiator.” 
“Why can’t you hire a lawyer or a professional administrator?” He wanted to know. 
“We have, but we lost them. They all quit.” 
“Why?” 
Isuzu turned her eyes downward abruptly. “Because... I threatened them with my magical gun.” 
“Hey!” 
“I regret what I’ve done,” she admitted. “The only reason the police weren’t called in was because I used my magical bullets, ‘Forgotten Realm.’ It made them forget that I threatened them.” 
Those bullets sound useful, Seiya thought. I wish you’d erase my memories of the last few days. 
“It was Latifah-sama’s revelation that chose you, but I think you have even greater potential than she knows. Please think about it.” 
Seiya let out a long sigh, and stood up. 
“Are you leaving?” she asked. 
“Yeah,” he said bluntly. “Got a problem with that?” 
“I want your answer,” Isuzu demanded. 
“You know my answer. It’s ‘no.’” What good can I possibly do as a manager of a theme park with just two weeks left to live? Getting the books in order would be the upper limit. He left the conference room and strode down the hallway, with Isuzu in pursuit. 
“Even though I’m begging you?” she asked. 
“When did you ever beg me?” 
“We gave you magic.” 
“Which is something I never asked for,” he said acidly. “Oh, don’t worry—I won’t abuse it. I might use it to kill time on the train, at most.” 
That much he meant sincerely; he didn’t want or need that power. Maybe he couldn’t quite land that 85,000 yen figure, but even without magic, he was smart enough to get close. 
“Kanie-kun, you’re our last hope,” she begged. “Please, save us.” 
“I will not.” Seiya pressed the call button for the elevator at the end of the hall, then turned around. “Close down the park immediately. Fire the staff. Use whatever money you have left to open up a croquette shop or something with that girl. That’s your most constructive option right now.” 
The elevator arrived. 
“Wait,” she pleaded. “At least see Latifah-sama one last time before you go.” 
That smile. That beautiful, delicate girl’s smile... The fragrance of the black tea arose at the back of his mind and he felt a pang in his chest. 
“...How many times do I need to say it? No.” He tapped B2 for the underground passageway, then held the “close doors” button. 
The closing elevator doors seemed to form a wall between Seiya and Isuzu.

Turning down someone’s request like that didn’t feel great. With uncertainty still swimming in his mind, Seiya made the long walk down the park’s underground passage and arrived at the employee entrance. He handed in his visitor’s ID at the security center, slapped his signature on the sign-out sheet, then left the park. 
He had just found the bus stop that would take him towards Amagi Station when he noticed a man standing in front of the sign. It was Kurisu Takaya, one of the men he’d met in the conference room—one of the men from Amagi Development. The two older men he’d been with at the time were gone now; he must have sent them on ahead. 
The man had a cigarette in one hand and a portable ashtray in the other. His tie was pulled loose, and he seemed to be gazing at some point far in the distance. In this moment, he seemed like any ordinary businessman that you might find anywhere. 
Seiya didn’t really want to get near him, but this was the only bus stop in the area. They had already made eye contact too, so he just gave the man a small nod and then stood beside him. According to the timetable at the stop, the bus should arrive in about five minutes. 
They stood there for about a minute before Seiya realized that Kurisu was casting frequent, questioning glances in his direction. At first, he pretended not to notice, but it started getting under his skin after a while, until he finally snapped, “What?” 
“Oh, well...” Kurisu peered more closely into Seiya’s face. “It might just be my imagination, but have we met before?” 
“...No,” Seiya finally replied. “It’s definitely just your imagination.” 
“Hmm, well, maybe we haven’t met, but I do feel like I’ve seen you somewhere. ...Oh, I know! Kodama Seiya! The child performer who retired five or six years back!” 
“......” Seiya felt his stomach sink. 
He’d grown since he was a child, and his face had changed a lot. He was taller, with a different hairstyle and a nastier disposition. His voice had changed (naturally) and he’d moved from a high-class residential district to the middle-class Tokyo commuter town of Amagi. He’d even changed his surname. 
But despite all that, he was still recognized from time to time. 
Even since entering high school, he’d been through this dance two or three times. It was usually an old lady behind the fast food counter, or a checkout clerk at the supermarket, or a door-to-door missionary for a new religion... never anybody at his school; always middle-aged women. Maybe raising their own children had given them an instinct for how a boy’s face would change over the years. 
This, then, was his first time being singled out by a man like Kurisu. 
“You’re mistaken,” he said dismissively, but Kurisu shook his head. 
“No, no, I’m not mistaken. You’re Kodama Seiya. I even thought you looked familiar when we met earlier. So it is you!” 
“It’s not,” Seiya rebuffed him, but the man’s expression of certainty didn’t waver. Realizing it was ridiculous to keep up the act, Seiya decided to stop denying it. “...but assuming I was him, do you have some business with a washed-up celebrity?” 
“No, none in particular,” Kurisu admitted. “Just indulging my curiosity.” 
“Leave me alone, then.” 
“Hmm, my apologies. But... she said you were an intern, didn’t she? What are you doing here?” 
“Good question. That’s what I’d like to know,” he snapped back, but Kurisu was unfazed by his hostility. “They said they wanted me to have a look at you Amagi Development guys... They wanted me to work there, I guess, but I already turned them down. I value my privacy these days. So could you please leave me alone?” 
He wasn’t lying about feeling that way. 
He didn’t care about the ins and outs of some failing amusement park. It didn’t matter to him what happened to Latifah or Isuzu. All he wanted to do right now was to go home and immerse himself in his video games. 
The bus to Amagi Station was pulling up. 
“Well, I’m sure you have your reasons. But one point of caution, in case you get any foolish ideas—if you spend too much time with losers, you’ll become a loser. Be careful.” 
“Sure, thanks,” Seiya replied dismissively. At the same time, he couldn’t keep himself from voicing a counter-argument. “...You’d know what you’re talking about, as the guy in charge of liquidating a failed amusement park in the backends of Tokyo.” 
“Hmm, touche.” Contrary to Seiya’s expectations, Kurisu responded with a bright smile. It was unlike the polite smile he’d been wearing up to this point; a complicated smile, with a trace of self-recrimination in it. 
The bus stopped in front of them, and the door opened. Kurisu got on board, but Seiya remained where he was. 
“Kanie-kun, wasn’t it?” Kurisu asked. “Aren’t you getting on?” 
“I’ll catch the next one. I’d rather not have to look at your face any longer.” 
“Oh dear, dear. Did I hurt your feelings? Ah well, take care.” The door closed. The bus drove off, and disappeared around the gentle bends of the public road.

Seiya watched Kurisu Takaya’s bus leave, then checked the timetable again; ten minutes until the next bus arrived. 
Even for a failing amusement park, it’s ridiculous for buses to only run to the front gate every ten minutes, he thought. This is the Tokyo suburbs, not some isolated spot in the country. Then again—maybe it’s an appropriate pace, given their typical attendance... 
He looked around to see if there was anywhere to sit. There was nothing nearby, not even a plain old bench. He’d just have to wait for the bus while standing. Nowhere to sit for the parents and their children, tired from walking around the park all day... 
Actually— 
Quite a ways back from the stop itself, in the corner of an open area near the park gate, sat a few hand-made benches. They were over ten meters away from the bus stop. 
Ahh, I see... 
It was because the bus stop was on a public road. Even if the park wanted to put benches near the bus stop, the city probably wouldn’t allow it. That’s why the park had to put their handful of benches so far away—they had to be on their own property. 
Seiya trudged over to one of the benches. As he sat down on it, it let out a dubious squeak. Who had made these things? They looked very cheap; probably made by a hobbyist craftsman in his spare time. 
Their edges were rounded, with the corners carefully sanded down. Consideration for the children playing nearby, most likely—just in case they hit their heads. Then, perhaps to entertain the children bored from waiting, they had painted sloppy art of the mascots on the wall behind the benches. 
If you have time to make stuff like this, why can’t you keep the entry plaza clean? he wondered. 
Still, their hearts were in the right place. It was a humble bit of consideration for the people visiting the park, just like those croquettes. 
What was it that that annoying man—Kurisu Takaya—had said? Their visitors were idiots. And just minutes ago, he had said something else: If you spend too much time with losers, you’ll become a loser. 
I can’t exactly deny it... 
Yes, he couldn’t deny it. The man’s comments, regarding the business side of things, were entirely correct. Normally, Seiya would have joined him in a laugh, and that would be that. 
The people of Amagi Brilliant Park weren’t putting in the necessary effort. They were getting what they deserved. They had no right to complain about what was happening to them now. And yet... 
Why am I sitting here on this lousy handmade bench, feeling upset about the situation? Am I angry that they’re the kind of people who call visitors fools and other people losers? Am I just uncomfortable with the idea of a world where people like them can throw their weight around? 
In two weeks, this park would close. That was a natural thing. But was that really okay? Was there really nothing he could do? 
About ten minutes passed as his thoughts chased themselves around and around in circles. The next thing he knew, the bus had arrived. A few people were getting on board. He was close enough that if he started walking right now, he could catch it. 
But Seiya didn’t. He turned away from the bus, and walked back through the employee entrance he’d come out of.

After closing that day, an announcement over business channels said, “Real cast, meet up in the rooftop garden.” ‘Real cast’ referred to residents of Maple Land (and other magical lands) who were working here in the mortal realm. Moffle was one of them, as were Macaron, Tiramii, and Sento Isuzu. Employees from the mortal realm were simply referred to as ‘cast.’ 
So the time’s finally come, Moffle thought as he tidied up his attraction. 
Latifah and Isuzu had an important announcement for the real cast? It was sure to be bad news. 
On his way to Maple Castle, he ran into Macaron, the woolly sheep-like mascot, who was Moffle’s longest acquaintance in the park. 
“Hello there, ‘Fairy of Sweets,’” Macaron teased. 
“Shut your mouth. You’re the ‘Fairy of Music,’ fumo,” Moffle shot back. 
It’s a pathetic thing to still be doing at your age, they both seemed to be saying. 
“Fairy of Sweets” though he may be, Moffle had no real fondness for sweet things. If pressed, he’d say he liked salami and such—at which point he’d be told that that wasn’t a sweet, it was a drinking snack. 
Macaron styled himself the “Fairy of Music,” but he had no interest in children’s songs. His favorite genres were funk and rap—particularly American gangsta rap, with its graphic descriptions of sex and violence. “I popped a 9mm cap in a rival gang leader with my Glock 19,” or “Let me tell you about this hottie with big tits,” and the like. 
“You got pretty wasted last night. Everything okay, ron?” 
“Hardly. It’s all a blank after the second bar, fumo...” 
Last night, he, Macaron, and another of their associates—the “Fairy of Flowers,” Tiramii—had gotten drunk off their asses at an after-work party. They’d started out the night with inconsequential gossip, but the subject had soon turned to the future of the park, and then the mood had turned bleak. 
Moffle had blacked out shortly after, only to awaken the next morning in his kitchen at home. For some reason, he’d been lying flat on the floor, covered in cold spaghetti. Fighting back the headache and the nausea, he’d washed himself off and was about to head for work when he’d found an empty package of ready-made carbonara sauce in his mailbox. Where’d the sauce go? he’d wondered. Into my own stomach, he’d figured. It had been a long time since he’d gotten plastered that badly. 
“Moffle, you did nothing but talk about Latifah, ron.” 
“Did I, fumo?” 
“Part of it was about the curse, but then some stuff about her kissing the kid chosen by her revelation... you just went on and on and on... You were in tears by the end of it, ron.” 
“Moffu,” he swore. “Was I?” 
“You were,” Macaron said sympathetically. 
“Well... I’m sorry I caused you so much trouble. I hope you can forget whatever I said, fumo...” 
Macaron patted Moffle lightly on the back. “Moffle. We don’t mind it when you get drunk, because you never speak badly of people. When you’re drunk, you only speak well of everyone.” 
“Do I, fumo?” 
“You even said the kid had guts, ron.” 
“I doubt that. I’d never compliment that little wimp, fumo.” 
“Well, feel free to think that, ron.” His wool quivering with squeaky laughs, Macaron boarded the elevator to the rooftop garden, and Moffle followed him. Five or six other members of the real cast ran to catch it, and soon, the elevator was packed. 
“Um... Moffle-san...” a girl with butterfly wings on her back addressed him hesitantly. 
This girl, who wore a very revealing dress, was the fairy, Muse. She did a musical act in Sorcerer’s Hill, the same area where Moffle worked. She was a very hard worker, despite her youth. 
“Yes, fumo?” 
“They don’t usually call us all out together like this. Do you think... it’s bad news?” 
The elevator fell deathly silent. Everyone was watching Moffle’s expression closely. Moffle was a veteran, related to Latifah, and had connections to the Maple Land royal family. His response would determine the mood of the rest of the real cast. 
He glanced at Macaron, but his friend—who at once seemed to have intuited this, but also didn’t want to be bothered about it—just nodded back as if to say, “It’s up to you.” 
“...I haven’t heard anything, fumo,” Moffle finally said. 
“R-Really? But...” 
“Well, it’s probably just what you’re expecting, fumo.” Those were his last words on the subject. When the elevator arrived at the top floor, the people on board filed out into the rooftop garden. 
Once the anxious-looking Muse and the others had moved far enough away, Macaron whispered to Moffle, “Moffle. You could have handled that better, ron.” 
“You’re one to talk, fumo. You shouldn’t have put it all on me.” 
“I know... but the young people are counting on you. You can’t be so cavalier, ron.” 
“Sugar-coating the situation won’t change the park’s future, fumo.” 
“Maybe not, but...” 
The two proceeded into the rooftop garden. 
Maple Castle’s rooftop garden was as beautiful as it had ever been. Most of the real cast had assembled by now, and nervous whispers could be heard here and there. It wasn’t all people born in the fairy tale-like Maple Land. Some had come here on transfer from other magical realms. 
Moffle and Macaron staked out a corner of the garden and waited for the conference to start. Tiramii, the lecherous Pomeranian mascot, arrived soon afterward, and sat down next to them. He said, “Hey, good to see you guys, mii. You think tonight’s the night we throw in the towel, mii?” 
“Probably. Well, 30 years isn’t a bad run for a failing amusement park, ron.” 
“Not 30 years. It’s 29 years, fumo,” Moffle said in a strained voice. 
This park, founded on the abundant wealth of the bubble economy of the 80s, would have been thirty years old next year. That would never happen, now. 
“Attention! Attention!” A feminine voice echoed through the garden. 
Sento Isuzu, dressed in the park’s uniform, was shouting down at them from a terrace one floor up. She was looking down on the cast in the garden like an actor on a stage. 
“Attention, cast of the glorious Amagi Brilliant Park! First Princess of Maple Land, descendant of our nation’s founder, Slim, Priestess of the Revelation, and our esteemed manager, Latifah Fleuranza, will now speak! You will give her your full attention!” Her voice was penetrating, yet stately. Had the audience been members of the Maple Land military, they likely would have straightened their uniforms and stood at attention. 
But the real cast around Moffle was unimpressed. 
(She thinks she’s so hot...) 
(Is now really the time for pomp and circumstance?) 
(She’s just going to announce that we’re closing...) 
There were a variety of reactions: some whispered, some grumbled, and some spoke up unashamedly. The brunt of their quiet antipathy was directed at Sento Isuzu. 
Of course, that stood to reason. 
Sento Isuzu had been dispatched here one year ago by the king to serve as Latifah’s adviser and executor, yet the fact that they were now in this situation made it clear that she hadn’t done one lick of good. “Elite member of the royal guard” was a grand title, but at the end of the day she was a soldier, and nothing more. There was no way someone with her background could understand the business of running a theme park, or the ins and outs of the entertainment industry. 
It wasn’t that Isuzu wasn’t trying. But with the tyrannical way she’d ordered everyone around, it hadn’t taken long before she’d lost the support of the cast. She interacted with guests while standing at attention, threatened slacking cast members with her gun, and made no excuses to the investors. She was an excellent officer, to be sure, but those qualities weren’t what made a park function. 
All people had their strengths and weaknesses. Isuzu wasn’t cut out for this kind of work, but in a job where barking orders was called for, she’d surely have been quite at home. 
“In the name of all the spirits—Your Highness! We await your words!” Sento Isuzu’s ceremonious manner was quite unlike her usual indifference. 
Of course, that’s a soldier for you, Moffle thought, being a former soldier himself. 
Latifah appeared from the back of the terrace. Her body was so frail, it was painful to see. Her beautiful dress and her closed eyes— Moffle suddenly felt the urge to take her place, to explain the situation to the crowd himself. 
Latifah borrowed Isuzu’s hand at first, then placed her fingertips on the rail of the terrace. Then, after managing to hold herself up under her own power, she spoke. 
“Thank you for coming, everyone,” Latifah said in a cheerful voice. 
They all knew what was coming. She was just trying to tell them in her own way, with a smile, to spare their feelings. 
“I fear that the tidings I have to offer are sad ones. Two weeks from now, Amagi Brilliant Park will be torn down...” 
The response was a collective sigh from every corner of the garden. 
“The reason for this is that we failed to meet our guest attendance quota this year. Our contract states that if we fail to meet this quota five years in a row, we must give up administration of the park, and transfer control over the facilities and land to the property management company, Amagi Development.” 
A painful silence hung over the garden. Everyone knew the story. 
“The time limit is nearly upon us. I have determined that, in the park’s current condition, and with only two weeks remaining, it will be impossible to achieve the attendance we need. That is why... everyone...” Latifah hesitated for a moment. “...We must say goodbye to this park at once. I shall do what I can to find employment for you beginning in April. I know that this will be a trying time, but...” 
“Trying? Trying, pii?!” a member of the real cast squealed from the crowd. All eyes fell on the speaker of the protest. 
It had come from a lizard-like mascot named Wanipii. He was a character who worked in Wild Valley, the area next to Sorcerer’s Hill. He wasn’t “cuddly” like Moffle and his friends; he had sunken features, and a big mouth that had a long tongue dangling from it. He had a comical, so-ugly-it’s-cute appearance, and he was mainly popular with foreign park-goers. 
“Latifah-sama! Don’t you know how hard it’s gonna be for me, pii?! I got almost no name recognition! There’s no way I’ll get popular somewhere else, pii!” 
“You cannot know that for certain,” she replied earnestly. “If you would apply yourself—” 
“Applying myself won’t do squat, pii!” Wanipii’s voice was close to a shriek. “I’ll get stuck handing out tissue packs at some station somewhere, pii! People will forget me, I’ll run out of animus... and then I’ll disappear, pii! It’s monos, pii!” 
A stir ran through the cast. It seemed the others shared Wanipii’s fear. Mascots who lost their popularity in the mortal world couldn’t return to the magical one; they just disappeared. It was a phenomenon they referred to as monos. 
“It’s not just me, pii! We’re all going to disappear! What’re we gonna do, pii? Someday, I thought that I’d get to go home for a comfortable retirement, and now... Now it’s over... it’s all over, pii!” 
“Shut your mouth, Wanipii.” Moffle said, sharply. 
“Moffle! But—” 
“How many years have you been here, fumo?” 
“T-Twelve years, pii...” 
“Then you’ve had your chance, fumo. So-ugly-it’s-cute was popular for a time, but did you ever work on improving your art? No, you got lazy, and let the park carry you instead of securing regular customers when you could. Don’t go losing your head about it now, fumo.” 
“But, but...!” 
“Now, calm down, fumo. I’ll hand out tissues with you. We’ve done a few bits on stage together, haven’t we? If we can recapture that energy, we’ll find some popularity with the local kids, and that’ll be more than enough to get by.” He shook Wanipii gently by the shoulders. 
But Wanipii, his eyes pointing down, spat out his retort: “...You can only say that because you’re a first-stringer, pii.” 
“What was that?” Moffle demanded. 
“You can only say that because you’re Moffle, pii! Because you’re part of the top cast! You could easily get a job at some other amusement park if you wanted, pii!” 
“Stop that right now, Wanipii. I—” 
“Everybody knows it! You’re friends with Mackey, the big star of Urayasu Digimaland! You’re good friends, pii! He’d get you a job if you wanted one, pii!” 
Mackey was a top-shelf mascot who worked at Digimaland. There was no one in the world who didn’t know his name. In mortal human terms, he’d be like an Oscar-winning Hollywood actor. 
“I told you to lay off, fumo!” Biting back a few other things he wanted to say, Moffle grabbed Wanipii by the collar. Wanipii let out a choking sound. “You listen to me. He and I aren’t friends. We’re old acquaintances, that’s all. There’s no way I’ll ever ask him for help, fumo. The next time you insult me like that... I’ll pluck your scales off one by one! You’ll wish you’d never manifested in the mortal realm, fumo!” 
“I’ve been wishing that for a long time... ow! Hey, that hurts, pii! I’m sorry! I’m sorry, pii!” 
“Both of you, stop it, ron!” 
With Moffle threatening, and Wanipii crying and screaming, Macaron tore them apart from each other. 
“Latifah-sama’s right there, ron! She’s the one who’s gonna suffer the most here! You know that, ron!” 
Those words snapped Moffle back to his senses. Latifah stood stock still on the terrace, face turned down wordlessly. 
Indeed, she would surely be the one hurt most by witnessing the cast fighting amongst itself. Moffle had known that, and yet, he had let his anger get the best of him in front of a large crowd of people. 
“...I’m sorry, fumo.” 
“Not at all...” Latifah gave him a sad smile, and signaled Isuzu to lower her rifle. She had probably been intending to shoot Moffle and Wanipii with her magic bullets before things came to blows. 
“But there’s one thing I don’t get, mii...” the previously silent Tiramii said. “Why did you decide to tell us all of this today?” 
Latifah’s shoulders stiffened at Tiramii’s question. “Ah, you see... the candidate I saw in my revelation officially refused us today.” 
“Candidate... you mean, to be manager?” 
“Yes. We entreated him as earnestly as we could, but...” 
“It’s my fault,” Isuzu interrupted. “I’m sure you can imagine how it went. He was an ordinary mortal, and I acted like a member of the royal guard around him. I’m sorry.” 
The cast was silent in the face of this apology. 
“I was too overbearing, I suppose,” she continued. “He grew enraged with my manner, and left.” 
Recognition immediately dawned on everyone, Moffle included. They knew what kind of person Isuzu was. But even if he was chosen by the revelation, the man was still just a mortal. Of course he wasn’t going to go out of his way to save some run-down old theme park. 
“We don’t know if things might have worked out under him or not, but the man from the revelation was our last hope. Now that he’s refused us, our options are exhausted. That was my judgment, and that’s why we gathered you all here.” Isuzu hung her head, and let out a small sigh. “That’s why things have turned out this way. Everyone... I’m sorry.” 
It was unusual to see Isuzu acting so humble. But at the same time, the mascots were all thinking, Asking some mortal for help was never going to solve things this late in the game. Rumors had already gone around as to what kind of mortal had been chosen by the revelation. 
He had just been some ordinary high school student. He had no particular business education; he hadn’t even held a managerial position in his past part-time jobs. 
“I recognize how hard this is for all of you...” Latifah continued for Isuzu. “But as long as we are living in the mortal realm, we cannot avoid being bound by financial concerns. I am truly sorry, everyone. I wish that I could apologize more...” 
This time, nobody voiced any objections, and a heavy atmosphere of silence hung over the night-shrouded garden. Everyone just stood in place, limply, working to accept the sad truth before them. Some turned their eyes to the ground, some to heaven; some held back tears... 
“Everyone, I am sorry...” Latifah repeated. “I am truly sorry.” 
And that was that. No matter how they lamented it, no matter how they cursed it, the park’s fate would not change. They seemed to come to that conclusion all at once, and were just about to disperse— 
When suddenly, a new male voice spoke up. “It’s a little early to be apologizing, don’t you think?” 
The speaker was Kanie Seiya, who was standing at the entrance to the garden. 

The truth was that Seiya had been hesitating the whole way to the garden. What can you possibly accomplish? he’d kept telling himself. This is insane. Stop being a fool, and go right home. 
But despite all that, he eventually made it to the garden, where he’d stood behind a tree, hearing everything that Latifah, Isuzu, and the large crowd of cast members had to say. He could have just left and forgotten that he’d heard anything. No one had even known he was there, after all. 
And yet, Seiya came out. He came out in front of all of those heartbroken people. Even knowing that it would likely accomplish nothing more than taking that girl’s absurdly heavy burden for himself, he stepped out. 
He had no reason, save one, which was that he couldn’t bear to watch her stand in front of that crowd, holding back tears, any longer. That was his one... his one and only reason. 
This isn’t like you at all, idiot, he thought to himself. 
Nevertheless, Seiya raised his voice. “You people are pathetic! Before you go around moaning and feeling sorry for yourselves, at least do absolutely everything you can first!” It was very clear that what he said had struck a nerve. 
There were a large variety of people there: some were covered in voluminous fur, some in scales; some had wings, and some had forbidding fangs. Some even looked entirely human, aside from the gaudy costumes they wore. And they all had their eyes fixed hard on Seiya. 
“Kanie-kun?” Isuzu looked down at him from the terrace, eyes wide. 
Latifah, standing silently in place, let out a small sigh. The expression that appeared on her face was one of gentle relief. 
“Who’s that? What’s an ordinary mortal doing here, mii?” asked a Pomeranian-like mascot—Fairy of Flowers, Tiramii. 
“Is he the one chosen by that revelation she mentioned? He left, didn’t he? What’s going on here, ron?” asked a sheep-like mascot—Fairy of Music, Macaron. 
Seiya had read through the pamphlet, so he was more or less aware of the names and appearances of the mascots who worked in the park. 
These cast members really were from a magical realm, so he had also more or less accepted that the mascots weren’t just people in suits. Given all the extraordinary things he’d experienced the last few days, it would feel a bit silly to keep insisting that “they’re just costumes.” 
When Isuzu had said “there’s no one inside,” she had meant exactly that; there really wasn’t anybody inside these mascots. They were real fairies, from a magical land. Of course, the details of these extraordinary phenomena didn’t matter at the moment—he was here now, so he had to do what he had come to do. 
As Seiya strode toward the terrace where Latifah and Isuzu were standing, someone blocked the way. It was the Fairy of Sweets, Moffle, the mascot with whom he’d fought before. His button eyes glared at Seiya with open suspicion. Somehow, it felt reminiscent of a sheriff in a Hollywood western. 
“All right, boy,” the mascot snarled. “You’d better tell me what you’re here for, fumo.” 
So he can talk, too? When I met him before, all he’d said was “moffu”... 
“Get out of my way,” Seiya demanded. “I want to talk to her.” 
“She doesn’t have anything to say to you. Turn around and go home, fumo.” 
“I can’t do that. I’ve made up my mind to help, so that’s what I’m going to do.” 
Moffle let out a snort, and narrowed his eyes threateningly. “We don’t need some mortal’s help, fumo. This problem is ours to solve.” 
“And what a brilliant job you’ve been doing of it,” Seiya replied sarcastically. 
“What did you say?” 
Seiya cast his eyes theatrically across the crowd gathered in the garden. “Look at you, standing around, helpless! You can’t attract customers, you can’t make money, and now you’re about to have your workplace snatched away. Yes, you’ve done a brilliant job of solving the problem yourselves, haven’t you? And now you’re going to pretend that you’re not incompetent?! That you don’t need my help?! ...You know, the man from that Amagi Development place said something funny to me today. You want to hear it?” He cleared his throat. “‘Anyone who comes to this park is an idiot!’” 
The air among the cast members stretched taut in an instant. 
“Because they could be doing anything, yet they come to this lousy, boring, worthless amusement park! They spend their hard-earned money to bring themselves an absolutely miserable time! By God, it’s a sound argument! I couldn’t think of any way he was wrong!” 
He could feel a silent anger filling the garden—a silent, but powerful, anger. 
“And what are you doing about it? Nothing! You’re just standing around, having yourselves a pity party! It all makes sense now! They’d really have to be idiots, to give money to people like you!” 
“Why, you...” Moffle’s voice trembled. “You shut your mouth, mortal. What would you know about this park, fumo?!” 
“Everything!” Seiya raged. “I spent a day walking around here, and it’s clear to me that you’re all incompetent losers!” 
“You bastard! I’ll shut that smart mouth of—” 
Moffle reached for him, but Latifah stopped him with a penetrating cry. “Enough.” 
The round, plush paw halted in mid-strike. “Moffu...” 
“Moffle-san,” she lectured him, “it was I who invited Kanie Seiya-sama here. He has chosen to return to my garden, despite the offense that Isuzu-san has given him. Do you now seek to deepen our disgrace?” 
“I... well...” Grudgingly, Moffle yielded the way. “Fine, fumo. ...Go on then, mortal.” 
Though stunned for a moment by Latifah’s steel, Seiya passed by Moffle and headed for the stairs to the terrace. He could hear Macaron behind him, chiding Moffle in a whisper, “You’re always stuffing your face in the station’s street shops. What’s with the high-and-mighty ‘mortal’ stuff now, ron?” 
Sullenly, Moffle replied, “Shut up, fumo.” 
“Kanie-sama, I apologize on behalf of everyone here. Please forgive us,” Latifah said to Seiya when he reached the terrace. 
“Oh, well...” he trailed off, unsure of what to say. 
“I... I was sure that you would come.” There was a hint of warmth in her lovely voice. 
“Ah, um... Well...” Seiya flapped his mouth uselessly, suddenly at a loss for words. Though usually capable of maintaining his pompous and superior air around anyone, he always seemed to lose his cool whenever he was near her. 
“Kanie-kun. Can we assume from this that you’ve had a change of heart?” Isuzu asked. 
“Well... I...” he started, then steeled himself again. No, no. I came out here picking a fight. If I vacillate now, that all goes to waste... 
“I don’t believe I’ve introduced myself yet. I’m Kanie Seiya!” he proclaimed to the crowd gathered around the terrace. Then he cupped a hand to his ear, making a theatrical show of listening to them. 
“Hmmm... I think I can hear what’s going through your minds,” he mocked. “The first thing I hear is... yes, you all hate me!” 
He hadn’t used that “power” of his. That much was patently obvious, given the way most of the cast was glaring at him right now. 
“Ah, but there’s more than just hate. I’m getting a few other things... ‘This impudent brat.’ ‘Who the hell does he think he is?’ ‘Are we just supposed to leave the park in his hands?’ ‘What difference can he make in just two weeks?’ ...I believe that just about covers it. No, wait, there’s one more thing; I’m making out a bit of ‘Our idol Latifah-sama chose this guy? Argh, I can’t stand it!’” Seiya smiled down at them defiantly. 
Nobody laughed. 
“Don’t like that, do you?” he jeered. “Hitting a nerve, am I? ...That’s good, because I’m not here to ask politely for anything. I’m here to rule you with an iron fist!” He slammed a fist of his own down upon the terrace railing. “Starting now, you’ll all do exactly as I say! One word of backtalk, and you’re gone! If this lousy park is getting closed either way, then I’m free to run you ragged in the time we have left! But... I can also tell you one thing. In two weeks’ time, this impudent brat you hate so much is going to make a miracle happen! That’s right, I’m going to bring 100,000 people to this park!” 
A brief silence hung over the garden, and then a commotion began. Most of it sounded like grumbling, criticism, and mockery, but there seemed to be a few, who, taken aback by his blustering words, had begun to show a hesitant interest. 
Okay, come on. Any one of you. Say it to me, hurry up! Those words that I’m longing to hear, yes— 
“Er... what makes you so sure that you can do it?” 
There we go! 
The one who had asked Seiya the question he’d been waiting to hear was a girl in a whimsical fairy tale dress. Seiya racked his memory, and remembered she was the Fairy of Water, Muse, who was part of the musical show. 
“The revelation, my secret plan, and unwavering confidence,” he told her. “Why, I could bring in 500,000 people if I had to! We’ll need to get busy, though, so get ready to work your tails off!” 
The commotion grew louder. The voices still seemed more critical of Seiya than otherwise, but a few words stood out from among the conversations: “The revelation...” “Maybe...” “Do you think...” 
He’d gotten what he needed, for now. None of the rest of it mattered. 
“I’ll send out more detailed instructions later,” he finished. “For now, report tomorrow for your regular shifts, and you’d better be on time! Got it?” 
He cast a glance at Isuzu. 
She had been staring at him, dumbstruck, but came back to her senses to shout, “Dismissed!” 
Once the cast had filed out, Seiya, Isuzu, and Latifah were left alone in the garden. Moffle had left immediately with the other mascots—the tacit implication was that he had nothing more to say to Seiya. 
“What are we going to do with Moffle?” Isuzu whispered. 
“Is that rat always like that?” Seiya questioned her. 
“No. Normally, he’s the one who keeps the cast in line, a bit like a senior NCO in your mortal militaries. He’s popular, too,” she added. 
“I see,” Seiya frowned. “So he’s our hard-nosed drill sergeant, is that it?” 
“That’s why I wanted to introduce you to him on Sunday,” Isuzu explained. 
It was sounding like he’d need to solve the Moffle problem right away if he wanted to get anything done here. It was the “on-site leader” types who held the real power in organizations like these—the head nurse at a hospital, the site foreman at a construction site, the shift manager in a restaurant... 
“Uncle... er, Moffle-san is a proud man,” Latifah said weakly. “Despite my revelation, he may still feel that it is wrong to ask a mortal for help.” 
“Well, it’s understandable,” Seiya sympathized. “He was just humiliated by a total outsider, after all.” 
“It’s almost like you realize you were doing it...” There seemed to be an extra layer of meaning in Isuzu’s words. 
Latifah seemed to realize something too, and spoke up again, hesitantly. “Ah... Kanie-sama, the things you said were quite difficult for us to hear. Is it possible that...” 
“Yeah,” he admitted, “it was a performance. I was trying to make them mad.” 
“You were... trying to?” Latifah sounded bewildered. 
Seiya rubbed the back of his head, feeling a little awkward. “I told them that their visitors were idiots to test them. If that line had gotten an apathetic response, it really would have been hopeless; they really would have been losers, and I would have walked right out, then. ...But they didn’t. They got really angry.” 
“...Which means...?” Latifah prompted him. 
“It means that I can work with them.” 
“Ahh...” 
“There are a lot of industries that are about bringing people joy, right? Singing, acting, writing, drawing comics, cooking... Professionals in those fields can stand being insulted—well, some can’t, but the ones who last a long time are the ones who can—but there’s one kind of insult that they absolutely can’t stand,” Seiya explained. “Do you know what it is?” 
“Insulting... their patrons?” she guessed. 
“Exactly. They can shrug off criticisms of their own shortcomings, but if you mock the people who love their work... that hits a nerve. They’ll get as angry as if you had mocked their family or friends. It’s a strange psychological trick.” 
“......” 
“Anyway, if they get mad because I insult their visitors, that means they’re still serious about their jobs. And that means there might still be hope.” 
“I see... How very educational,” Latifah said, a smile in her voice. 
Does she really understand the situation? Seiya wondered. 
“You will help us, then?” Isuzu asked, cautiously. 
The realities of “A theme park run by mascots from a magical realm is facing financial troubles” and “I, a mere high school student, am going to be their manager” hadn’t fully sunk in yet, but— Well, after making such an imperious showing in front of that meeting of monsters, he couldn’t exactly say “No, I’m out” at this point. 
“I will take the job,” he finally said. “But only for two weeks.” 
“Two weeks?” 
“I’m still a high school student,” he explained. “I need to focus on my studies.” 
My video games, too. I’m not losing my precious gaming time to some stupid job. Finals are coming up, followed by spring break, and what kind of idiot spends their spring break working? I want to play video games from morning ’til night. 
“Your studies, hmm?” 
Seiya brushed off Isuzu’s skeptical gaze, then continued, “You just need to get over this immediate hurdle, right? The park’s destiny will be decided in two weeks. So whichever way it goes, my job ends there. Agreed?” 
“...Yes,” Latifah smiled. “Still, you have my deepest gratitude.” 
“...Don’t thank me just yet.” Seiya let out a deep sigh, then sank down into a nearby garden chair. For some reason, he was feeling extremely tired right now. 
He wrestled briefly over whether or not to reveal his thoughts to Latifah and Isuzu. Then at last, he spoke. “I think I should be straight with you. ...I’m an ace student. I’m brilliant. I’m also extremely handsome and omni-talented.” 
“Did you just start bragging about yourself for no reason?” Isuzu’s brow furrowed. 
“Shut up and listen. ...So between that revelation of yours and that weird power you gave me, there’s a certain sense of destiny hanging over my being here. It might seem like someone with talents like mine really could make a miracle happen, but—and I’m sorry to say this—getting 100,000 people in two weeks is all but impossible.” 
Seiya had been able to do a rough estimate of their attendance yesterday based on what he had seen; it was probably between 2,500 and 3,500. That was on Sunday, so it was probably the highest they could expect during this time of year, early in March. Weekdays, then, would be a fraction of that. 
Assuming an average of 1,500 visitors per day, it would add up to a total of 21,000 over two weeks. They had a target of 100,000, but they were on track to get about 20,000 and change. No wonder the cast was so desperate. 
“So?” Isuzu asked. 
“I’ll do all I can,” he told them, “but it probably won’t change how things turn out. I just want you to be ready for that.” 
“Then what you said to them before...” 
“It was a lie, of course. I don’t have any secret plan.” A self-recriminatory smile came over Seiya’s face. 
“......” 
“I just had to say that to them,” he admitted, “because I need them to have hope if I want them to give it everything they have.” 
Isuzu turned her eyes to the floor despondently. But Latifah was gazing into the distance, still smiling. “I see... But Kanie-sama, I do still believe that you will make a miracle happen.” 
Seiya was dumbfounded. She obviously was in full possession of her faculties, so... Did she somehow not understand the situation she was in? 
“Oh?” he asked curiously. “Is that what that revelation of yours told you?” 
“No,” Latifah told him. “My revelation merely told me which path to take. Nobody can know what will happen next.” 
“Then how can you be so sure?” Seiya wanted to know. 
“It is simply a feeling that I have. When you came in here earlier... I thought, ‘this is a man who will make a miracle happen.’” 
Utter nonsense, he scoffed inwardly. I’m not the kind of fool who hopes for miracles... Feeling pure contempt for Latifah’s words, Seiya wanted to lay into her. But he didn’t. As to why he didn’t... not even he knew for sure.

Seiya got to work that very night. He decided not to bother going home; he just called his aunt Aisu to let her know he’d be staying out tonight, and that was that. 
Isuzu prepared him an office on the fourth floor of an old administrative building, backstage. It was a bare-bones room with little more than a basic office desk, a folding chair, and several bookcases; it looked less like an office, and more like an interrogation room from a police drama. 
“These are all the documents you asked for,” Isuzu said, as she dropped a thick stack of papers on top of his desk. Seiya, his nose already buried in the financial documents, answered, “Sure,” and nothing more. 
“Is there anything else you need?” she asked. 
“No.” 
“If you’d like to take a nap—” 
“There’s a sofa in the hallway, right? Leave me a blanket or something, too,” he said distractedly, and silently turned a page. 
He wanted to get a solid grasp of the park’s circumstances—its financial situation, its facilities, its attractions, its cast performance—before tomorrow morning. Then, somehow, he had to come up with a plan. 
The park attendance was more or less in line with what Seiya had expected. During this season—early March, when it was still too cold to properly be called spring—the average daily attendance was 1,400. He compared that data against the yearly average, and it seemed that no matter how hard they worked, the most they’d be able to get in two weeks was about 25,000. 
And yet, they needed 100,000! 
No ideas were coming to him. Surely, though, there had to be a way through somewhere... He felt like a man trapped in a collapsed tunnel, searching for a hole where fresh air was coming through. 
Before Isuzu left the room, she spoke again. “Kanie-kun.” 
“Yeah?” 
“...Thank you.” 
“Sure,” he responded absently. He was so absorbed in his reading that he didn’t even look at her face.

[Today’s park attendance: 1,332. (98,789 from goal) / 13 days left.]

A family restaurant along Fujo Road 
Moffle, Macaron, and Tiramii had come to the family restaurant, “Goonies,” in the city. Naturally, after a meeting like that, no one was in a mood to hit up the yakitori bar for drinks. Instead, they ate their crab cream croquettes, keema curry, and meat doria respectively, drank free refills of some pretty lousy coffee, and discussed their situation with gloomy expressions. 
“...Hmm. There don’t seem to be a lot of good prospects, mii...” Tiramii whispered as he tapped and swiped on his smartphone. The little Pomeranian mascot had been browsing fervently through “Plush Navi,” a job hunting site for mascots, for some time. 
“You’re only searching in the city, right? Try the whole country, ron,” sheep mascot Macaron chimed in. 
“But I want to stay in the city, mii... I don’t want to move too far away.” 
“By which you mean, you don’t want to leave the woman whose email you just got, ron?” 
“Certainly not! Okay, it’s true, mii...” 
Tiramii’s womanizing tendencies were hardwired into him. It was the only reason Macaron could imagine for why he’d want to stay in the city. 
“There are a lot of nice amusement parks out there if you look, ron. They rent old expo sites for next to nothing, slip a little under the table to the local governments, and basically end up rolling in dough.” 
“Really? Wow, Macaron, you’re so smart about money, mii.” 
“Just a sample of the sickness that permeates the Japanese economy, ron.” 
“It does sound very cutthroat, mii!” 
Macaron cast a glance at Moffle. 
Moffle had barely said two words since the incident in the garden—since his argument with Kanie Seiya—and was now just staring silently out the window. He seemed sullen and listless. Even after receiving those croquettes, his favorite food, he had only eaten about half of the meal before shoving the plate away. 
Macaron wanted to say something to him, but nothing clever was coming to mind. So, with no other choice, he resumed his vapid exchanges with Tiramii. 
“...Anyway,” he advised Tiramii, “forget that woman already and seek out new frontiers.” 
“Hmm... but I don’t want to lose Takami’s sweet booty, either...” Tiramii protested. 
“When exactly did Takami’s ass become yours, ron?” 
“I mean, in a future aspirations kind of way... I wanna puff with her someday, mii...” 
“Puff” was a Maple Land word that referred to a certain act. We won’t reveal the details here, but suffice it to say, it was nothing you’d do in polite company. 
“...Oh! I’m also a Melody fan, mii... So I really want to stay in the area.” 
By “Melody” he meant “Melody Shibazaki,” a soccer team based in a city next to Amagi. They’d gotten pretty far in the playoffs last year, so they were quite popular. 
“That’s right, the opening game is soon, ron... Tiramii, if I got tickets, how much would you pay for them?” 
“Macaron, you always do this, mii. You also sold AK47 tickets to Wanipii at a price that would make a scalper blush.” 
“That’s a handling charge. Legitimate compensation for my efforts, ron.” 
Just then, Moffle stood up. “...I’m going home, fumo.” 
“Oh? But Moffle, are you okay, mii?” 
“Am I okay? I don’t really know, fumo...” Moffle left his payment on the table, then left the family restaurant by himself.