I’m Not All Rotten, Okay?
I’m Kobory, the Spirit of Earth. I work at Elementario (formerly Aquario). Do you believe in fairies? Well, of course, I guess you’d have to... Muse-san, Salama-san, Sylphie-san and I are spirits of the four basic elements, and we come from magical lands just like Moffle-senpai and his friends.
By the way, apparently there’s been a strange rumor going around in our cast lately: They say there’s a fairy in the park. I don’t really understand what they mean, of course... We’ve always had fairies here, working their fingers to the bone! The first time I heard about it, I’m sure a big question mark appeared over my head. It would be like someone at a normal company saying, “I hear there are humans working here.”
“C’mon, girlie. Don’t go looking so confused.” I was talking to the head of the maintenance department, Wrenchy-kun-san. We were on a break from work, shooting the breeze in a corner of the underground passageway.
He and I weren’t especially close, but for some reason, we tended to see a lot of each other. Whenever he needed to talk about the Elementario facilities, I was always the one he seemed to come to first, and this time, I just happened to say hello to him in the break room while he was enjoying a can of coffee.
“‘Fairy’ is just a figure of speech. What I mean is, there’s somethin’ strange goin’ on around here.” That rough Tokyo dialect was how Wrenchy-kun-san always talked. He looked like a large wrench with arms and legs, wearing a headband, and he spoke like your typical workman. He looked after all of the park’s facilities—the power, the air circulation, the water pipes, the sound system, the lighting—and he was very reliable, to the point that even Kanie-san respected him.
“What do you mean, ‘something strange’?” I wanted to know.
“I wouldn’t be callin’ it a fairy if I knew!” he insisted. “I’m just sayin’, there’s some strange things afoot that a man can’t explain.”
“Do you mean like a gremlin?” I wondered.
“The hell’s that?”
“It’s a mortal legend about imps that sabotage machinery... World War II bombers and things like that,” I explained. “Inexplicable breakdowns they suffered would be said to have been the work of gremlins.”
Wrenchy-kun-san just stared at me. “You know the strangest things, girlie.”
“Well...”
“But, fine... it’s somethin’ like that, then. The fairy plays pranks, but nothin’ bad like that. It only seems to do good things, matter of fact.”
“Ahh. Is that so?” So it’s like a reverse gremlin, I thought, A fairy that only does good things—that sounds nice.
“It happened to me once, y’see. I’m sure it was the fairy behind it, any rate.”
“Did you see it?”
“Naw, I didn’t see it,” Wrenchy-kun-san admitted. “It was... ah, back in March. You remember the stadium in the second park?”
“Yes, I do.” Of course I did. Using that stadium to host a soccer game was what had gotten us to our minimum attendance quota, allowing us to survive for another year. The land of the second park had since been sold to a mega-corporation called Malmart, but that stadium was AmaBri’s savior in a way.
“Something happened when we held the soccer game there... Something that don’t quite add up.” Wrenchy-kun-san went on to explain: Just before the soccer game, there had been a problem with the lighting. They’d spent all night working, and early in the morning, the lighting went out; it wouldn’t respond to any of their efforts to get it back on.
Naturally, Wrenchy-kun-san and the rest of the stadium staff tried desperately to find the source of the problem, but it was an old facility, and progress was grueling. While they tried one thing and another, the park opened its doors. That meant there were eight hours left until the match started.
“I do remember that...” I mused.
“Had us in a cold sweat, I tell you. Just before noon, we finally found the source of the trouble in the control room PC...” The PC was an extremely old model, which Wrenchy-kun-san explained was beyond even him. “It wasn’t even a Windows system. It was a PC-98, y’know? Ever heard of it, girlie?”
“Oh... From NEC?” I guessed.
“Oh... so ya do know it,” said Wrenchy-kun-san, sounding surprised.
Before Windows PCs became popular, such machines were used widely throughout Japan. There was even a time when the country was dominated by NEC’s PC-9800 series, but that was about 25 years ago.
“The company that made the control system folded ages ago, and nobody knew how to use PCs from that era... so what were we supposed to do?” Wrenchy-kun-san’s gaze became distant. “I went at it about thirty minutes. Then I left for a bit, and when I came back a little bit later, I found it fixed, right there.”
“Ahh...”
“I’m telling you, two or three lines of code were rewritten,” he insisted. “Seemed like it was an issue with the number of lights and their output... after testing, see, we’d swapped out about 50 old light bulbs, and that’s what was causing the problem. But there’s no way that anyone but me knew about it.”
“So, you think it was a fairy?” I asked.
“What else could it be? Stranger things’ve happened. Anyway, those’re the kind of things they’re talkin’ about.”
“I see. That is quite mysterious.” I tried to sound neutral, without a trace of sarcasm, but Wrenchy-kun-san still seemed hurt by my phrasing.
“What, girlie, you don’t believe me?”
“No, I do...”
“That’s a pretty indifferent response if ya do,” he mumbled.
“I’m sorry. This is just how I am.” I was able to smile when I was on stage, but generally speaking, I’m fairly inexpressive. My second most common expression is probably looking put out when Salama-san and Sylphie-san go too far.
“Well, never you mind. ...Sorry to bother you with an old man’s shaggy dog stories.”
“It didn’t bother me,” I insisted. “It was very entertaining.”
“You don’t look so entertained to me... But, well, so long.” Wrenchy-kun-san left, sighing to himself.
I heard a similar story about the “fairy” that same day from Sento Isuzu-san, while I was taking a breather after having finished my day’s work. I’d parted ways with my colleagues, and had just ordered a baked fish lunch in the employee cafeteria when I saw her. She had already finished her meal and was enjoying a cup of tea while she fiddled with a laptop; she seemed to be working.
Normally, I’d have sat down in a seat far away from Isuzu-san and limited our interactions to casting her a smile any time our eyes met. But Wanipii-senpai was also present, sitting in his usual seat, and I wasn’t sure I wanted to talk to him today.
It’s not that I don’t get along with Wanipii-senpai... Things were just a little awkward between us. We’d been at a cast drinking party the other day; Wanipii-senpai happened to be sitting at our table, and Salama-san was teasing him, asking him which of the four girls of Elementario was his type. Wanipii-senpai was pretty drunk, and he ended up saying “If I have to name someone” and choosing me. It wasn’t anything that serious; at the time, I just laughed it off as silly small talk.
I respect Wanipii-senpai a lot. It took someone really special to stay in this kind of work for so long, and there’s a lot a reserved person like me could learn from someone like him. But as a romantic partner... well, I’m sorry to say it, but... maybe if I lowered my standards a lot, it wouldn’t be out of the question, but generally speaking, I wouldn’t go for him. After all, he was the kind of person who would spend six figures on his favorite idol, and if he found out she had an overnight partner, he’d valiantly sweep in to defend her honor. He just took it so seriously. I couldn’t take it.
Maybe it’s because I read lots of manga about beautiful characters that people get the wrong idea, but I’m not actually very superficial when it comes to real-life people. Wanipii-senpai was okay for me, looks-wise. It’s just...
I’m sorry. I know it’s the height of arrogance for a plain-looking spirit like me to act picky about men. Forgive me. I’ll watch myself in the future.
Anyway, that night in the cafeteria, I was a little hesitant to sit next to Wanipii-senpai, so I just shot him a nod and moved in Isuzu-san’s direction. I thought it would look like a very natural gesture. Wanipii-senpai would probably think, “Oh, she has to talk to Isuzu-chan? That doesn’t bother me, pii.” He actually just kept his eyes cast downward, skewering the hamburg steak on his plate again and again, but I was sure he understood.
“Kobory. Are you finished for today?” Isuzu-san asked. Her eyes were locked on her screen.
“Yes,” I said. “Are you working, Isuzu-san?”
“Yes, I’m making a want ad. But I’m afraid it’s going poorly... None of the adjustments I make to the design seem to work out,” she sighed. “I wonder why...”
“May I see?” I asked her.
“Yes,” said Isuzu, handing her laptop to me. “I’d appreciate a candid opinion.”
The laptop felt heavy. That was natural, since it was such an old model, but for some reason, Isuzu-san was able to hold it very easily... That strength must have served her well when she was pointing that bulky musket at Moffle-san and the others.
“......” I didn’t know what to say. The want ad’s design was almost completely identical to the one they had used in April. One could say it was a reliable design... One could also say it was boring. They hadn’t even adjusted the copy; ‘If you’ve got what it takes, come join us!!’ and such. It made it sound like they were hiring people for a blue collar bar. “Er, can I ask... What part were you adjusting?”
“Well...” Isuzu-san sounded less than confident “...previously, it said, ‘Come join us if you’ve got what it takes.’ I reversed it to try to make it sound more catchy, and I also added two exclamation points.”
In other words, it went from “Come join us if you’ve got what it takes” to “If you’ve got what it takes, come join us!!” And that was it.
“You... really worked hard on this, then?” I hazarded a guess.
“Yes,” she told me. “But Kanie-kun and Tricen’s reactions were less than favorable. Even though I strengthened the illustration as well...”
“You mean, this image of Mirai-kun’s face?” I asked. There was an illustration of Mirai-kun in the corner of the want ad. He was a veteran member of the fairy cast who looked like a globe with arms and legs. He was a very minor character, who I don’t think many people recognized.
“That’s right,” Isuzu agreed. “I thought about using Lord Moffle, but since this is what we used before...”
Anything but Mirai-kun, I thought. His expression in the illustration looked like he was mocking the reader, too—which was, in fact, a good reflection of his actual personality, but... it didn’t put AmaBri in a good light.
Isuzu-san seemed to be aware of this, too, and I guess that’s why she looked so depressed. She whispered, with a sigh, “I wonder if the fairy will save me again.”
“Fairy?” I asked.
“Ah. Forgive me... I’m just venting,” she admitted. “It was inappropriate.”
“I see,” I said neutrally. “Could you tell me more about that?”
“About what?”
“About the fairy,” I clarified. “Wrenchy-kun-san mentioned it, too. There are apparently rumors going around.”
“Well... it has nothing to do with the advertisement.”
“Right, but you seem to have hit a creative wall,” I pointed out. “Banging your head against it won’t bring out better ideas. You need to get your mind off of it.” To be honest, I wasn’t really very interested in the fairy. I’d just pushed the topic because it sounded like a good way to get her mind off of her problem.
“I see... I suppose you have a point. Allow me to explain.” Isuzu closed her laptop and straightened up. I hadn’t expected it to be anything that serious, but... “Do you remember when we were recruiting people in April? We received quite a few applicants then. Over thirty, starting with Adachi-san and the others. But since May, we’ve had less than ten. It was as if, in April, we had someone’s help.”
“Someone’s... help?” I asked.
“Yes. All that I did was upload the hiring information to the park’s official page and put the want ad up on several job recruitment sites. But that by itself had very little effect.” But starting a few days later, she explained, it had ended up posted to various message boards, with links and videos all over social media, which far increased the scope of the ad. “I still don’t know who did it.”
“Ahh...”
“The recruiting notice video was also redone. The copy was left intact, but the design was fixed to be prettier, easier to read, and more eye-catching... At first I thought that Kanie-kun had done it, but he appeared to be as ignorant as I was. It’s surely someone in the park, but...”
“You think that the ‘fairy’ was behind it?”
“That’s what I tentatively choose to call it,” she told me. “Since the one behind it hasn’t named themselves, I’m sure they merely did it on a whim... It’s hardly something I can count on, is it?”
“Yes... I suppose not,” I agreed.
“I’ve heard similar stories from others, and they all simply refer to it as ‘the fairy,’” Isuzu said. “Have you ever had such an experience?”
“Well. Elementario might have...” I said doubtfully. “I don’t really know.”
“I see.”
“Well... did talking about the fairy help?” I asked after a while. “Did it get your mind off of things?”
“I’m not sure...” she sighed. “It may have just made me feel even more incompetent.”
“I see... I’m sorry.”
“It isn’t your fault.”
“......” I didn’t know what else to say.
“......” Isuzu-san fell quiet and returned to work. I silently went back to my meal as well.
Things felt a little awkward.It was hard to eat dinner next to someone you weren’t that close with and couldn’t really talk to. The baked fish was my one salvation; the need to eat it all neatly, by removing the small bones and skin, helped to fill the empty space.
Isuzu-san apparently came from a highly ranked noble family in Maple Land, which made her seem unapproachable for a commonplace spirit like me (though Muse-san didn’t seem to mind much at all). Even Isuzu-san’s use of language suggested nobility; You didn’t see many women who talked the way she did, nowadays. Most women sounded a little pretentious when they used words like “merely,” or “quite,” but Sento Isuzu-san worked them into her speech very naturally. She was always completely sincere; a very rare breed.
By the way, I was born in a small magical realm known as the Elementium Republic. My family lives in a hot springs town where they’ve run a traditional-style inn for generations, and I have two older brothers and a little sister. My parents and grandparents all told me to quit this starving dancer business, come home, and find a husband, but I don’t really want to. After all, they live deep in the country, over three hours away from the nearest manga store. They don’t have fiber-optic Internet, either. And when you order things online, it takes at least three days for them to reach you.
In contrast, my current apartment is thirty minutes from Shinjuku, and fifty minutes from Akihabara or Ikebukuro. I could order something at night and have it sitting in my delivery box when I got home from work the next day. The mortal city of Amagi was really the perfect environment for me. So for as long as AmaBri stood and I was still employed there, I wasn’t going to let it go.
Sorry, I sort of got off the subject... The point is, it’s awkward for a workaday spirit like me to spend a lot of time sitting in silence, picking at baked fish, across from a celebrity like Isuzu-san.
“All right,” Isuzu-san said suddenly.
“Huh?” I asked, caught off-guard.
“I understand why I’m frustrated. It’s... 9:00 pm. It’s been over eight hours since my last bath. That simply won’t do.” She closed her laptop and stood up.
“You’re going to take a bath?”
“Yes, a bath,” Isuzu-san said, placing her damp, pre-meal hand towel on top of her head. Apparently Isuzu-san was from a family of kappa, so maybe she found this gesture soothing... at least, that’s what I assumed. “Thank you for your help, Kobory. I’m going to take a bath and then approach the design with fresh eyes.”
“Ahh...”
“If you’ll excuse me.” Isuzu-san cleaned up her work tools, bussed her teacup, then left.
Once she was gone, I noticed that Wanipii-senpai was looking at me. Oh, but he immediately looked away... What an awkward person. A person has 200 degrees of sight, so even without turning my eyes directly to him, it was easy for me to tell which way he was looking. Most women know when someone’s looking at their skirt hem or at their cleavage, by the way, so watch out for that.
I probably should have just talked to Wanipii-senpai, but my baked fish was now down to the bones, so I decided not to. I just finished off my lukewarm tea and left. “See you tomorrow,” I said to him.
Wanipii-senpai just grumbled, “Ah... pii,” with his eyes focused downward. There was something a little bit cute about the gesture. Very educational.
I probably would have felt better if he had asked me, “Kobory-chan, what were you talking to Isuzu-chan about, pii?!” but he didn’t. Of course, I’m just a plain Jane spirit, and it was probably awkward for him, too. I felt very apologetic about it. I’m sorry.
I had stopped by my locker in the women’s changing room and was getting ready to go home, when I got a text message from Dornell-senpai. ?Kobory-chan. Are you still in the park? There’s something I’d like to discuss with you...?
Dornell-senpai was a Fairy of Flowers. Many years ago, he’d been the host of the Flower Adventure attraction, but since then he’d spent ten years as a NEET living under the second park, and he’d only recently come back to us. Since the Flower Adventure was now hosted by Tiramii-senpai, he hardly ever appeared in front of the guests anymore, but it somehow turned out that he was a talented stage director, so he was now handling the park’s live shows. He’d helped Elementario out with our staging a few times as well, so I respected him a whole lot.
I replied right away. ?No problem. On my way now.?
Thanks a lot, nell. I’m in the central stage’s MCR, so meet me there, nell. I can’t seem to get a hold of Muse-chan, nell.?
Muse-san was our attraction’s leader, but she used a certain smartphone service which frequently put her out of range. It was fine when she was in the park, but it was impossible to get in touch with her while she was on her commute back home. That was probably why he was having trouble.
I hurried to the central stage’s MCR (Master Control Room). You can’t see it from the spectator seats, but it’s located on one of the middle floors of Maple Castle and gives a perfect view of the stage. All facets of a show can be controlled remotely from there, and we really couldn’t put on a show without it. It’s a little like the control tower at an airport.
I jogged down the underground passageway and took the Maple Castle elevator up to the MCR. I found Dornell-senpai there, apparently in the middle of a fight with some equipment, connecting and disconnecting a true spaghetti of wires.
“Dornell-senpai?” I questioned.
“Ah, there you are, nell,” he said, untangling himself from the wires. He sounded exhausted and dejected.
“What’s the matter?”
“I’m having trouble with the sound system again,” he admitted.
“Again?”
“Yeah. Just like during Golden Week...”
“Ahh...” I remembered. The park had been set to unveil a huge new live show in April, at the start of Golden Week. It had the baffling title of ‘A (AmaBri) Fight Begins! The Moffle that Fell to Earth!’ While it sounded like a ripoff of the first episode of some 90s anime, they had actually put a lot of effort into the show itself, which had been really impressive. It had all come together after days and nights of rehearsal, and we’d put our hearts into it, hoping to show everyone what the “new” AmaBri was all about.
But just before the first live performance, we’d had some trouble with the sound system... Every minute we spent forcing the guests to wait was nerve-wracking. Fortunately, thanks to part-timer Chujo Shiina-san’s beautiful voice, we’d managed to buy time to get the machinery running again... But that nightmare of a first show still hung over us all.
“After today’s performance, I ran multiple tests with the machinery... and there’s a new issue I can’t figure out,” Dornell said. “I’m still looking into it, but... at this rate, we might need to change some aspects of the new show we were planning to open next week.”
“Ah...”
“More specifically, we’ll have to cut you guys, nell.”
“What?” I couldn’t believe my ears.
“Don’t get mad, nell,” he pleaded. “Just hear me out. I’m saying...” According to Dornell-senpai, they were going to have to cut half of the speaker channels. But they couldn’t take out Moffle-senpai and the park’s other main characters, and they needed sound effects and music... and the announcer channel was important, too... Which left the scene in which we appear (in a place a little ways away from the central stage) as the one that would have to be removed.
Hmm. I understood. We could appear in the show, at least, but we couldn’t make sound. It was the kind of scene where, if we weren’t careful, the guests might hear the sound of the motors of the elevator instead.
“I’m really sorry, nell! But I’ve been thinking about the structure, and that’s the only place we can cut! Please, try to roll with it!” Dornell-senpai was practically groveling.
I quickly crouched down beside him to try to comfort him. “I understand, really. Please calm down...”
“Kobory-chan!” he wailed.
“I’ll let everyone know,” I reassured him. “Please, don’t worry.” To be honest, balancing our Elementario performances with the live shows was kind of a burden as it was. Muse-san, Salama-san, and Sylphie-san were all trying their hardest, but we were also exhausted.
We couldn’t even go out on our off days; we just laid around at home and slept. We’d talked about the four of us going somewhere to hang out, but we could never go very far. On our most recent day off, we’d had some tea at the cafe in front of Amagi Station, then immediately split up. We would have been better off staying in bed. Given all that, while it was a shame to get cut out of the live show, it was also a bit of a relief.
“Thanks a lot, nell! But it’s not for sure just yet...”
“Huh?”
“It’s just what will happen if we can’t solve the equipment issue,” Dornell said. “If we fix it, you’ll be able to perform, so don’t be disappointed just yet, nell.”
“Ahh...” What in the world... These sorts of ambiguities are the hardest things for a performer to deal with. You want people to just say ‘no!’ when it won’t work and ‘yes!’ when it will. It’s hard to get your feelings in order, otherwise.
“It’s possible it might still work out, nell. So please, nell. Make sure everyone in Elementario knows the situation, nell!”
“O-Okay...” I agreed shakily. But then, what should we do about the next few weeks of practice? I guessed that we’d just have to keep at it... It was really uncomfortable.
“Ahh... It’s trouble, nell...” Dornell-senpai muttered, ignoring my own concerns. “It’s times like these I wish the fairy would come again...”
“The fairy?” I questioned. This again?
“Yeah, nell. Remember that trouble we had with the first live show in April, nell?”
“Yes,” I agreed. “That was very difficult, wasn’t it?”
“There’s a theory that it was the fairy that came along and fixed it, nell. We were still struggling to figure things out when the problem just righted itself. We still don’t know how it happened, nell.”
“I thought there was a problem with one of the connections?”
“Maybe so! But I think it was the fairy who fixed it, nell! It’s the only way it could resolve itself at such a perfect moment!”
I’d never liked the idea of asking for divine intervention when things got tough. I thought people should fix technical problems themselves. But seeing the desperation in Dornell-senpai’s eyes made me hesitant to point that out.
“...Anyway, I understand the situation,” I finally said. “We’ll keep it in mind, so for now, please focus on making the new live show a success.”
“Thank you! Thank you, nell! I’ll take you to Kurobe Dam some time as thanks, nell!” I forgot to mention it, but Dornell-senpai is a dam geek. Yes, a dam... geek. I supposed that Kurobe Dam must be a pretty good dam if he was recommending it. I wasn’t sure why—maybe something to do with the amount of water it stored, or the views of the release? Dam Manga artist Inoue Yoshihisa would probably know. The Spirit of Water, Muse, would also probably get it, but as a Spirit of Earth, I was completely in the dark.
Still, it seemed like this was something I should express gratitude about. “Okay. If we can make time,” I told him.
“I promise, nell! You’ll love it, nell!” I didn’t really want him to promise, but the conversation wasn’t going to end unless I smiled and agreed. That dam must be far away, though, right? We’d probably have to stay the night, wouldn’t we? Staying in a hotel with my boss... I wasn’t really a fan of the idea.
“Um, anyway,” I said. I should be going...” I left Dornell-senpai, who was still bowing and scraping on the floor, and the MCR, behind. I wondered why I was hearing so much about “the fairy” today?
On my way home, I got a message from our head of administration, Tricen-senpai. Tricen-senpai had apparently been worrying about content for the PV that would be going out in September, and he wasn’t sure what to do with Elementario. Regarding, well, you know... The sexiness of our costumes, and whether he should push it, or play it down to make it more family-oriented... That was the dilemma he was facing.
Yeah, I’m struggling. The fairy arranged things last time in just the right way, but...? Tricen-senpai told me in his message. More about the “Fairy,” huh?
What do you mean?? I replied.
The truth is, the last PV we put out was not entirely my work. I went through a lot of trial-and-error until I hunched over and passed out.?
A normal person would refer to that as “pitched over.”
Then I uploaded the video, although I had little faith in it.?
Ahh...? I replied.
I fell asleep, woke up, and looked on the video site once more, though it took substantial courage to do so... After all, in the version that I edited, I had worked hard on Isuzu-chan’s panty shot, Salama-san’s cleavage shot, and such like.?
......? I had nothing to say to that last statement.
I was even worried that perhaps I had overdone it. ...Yes.? Tricen-senpai really was a creep. He was casually turning us into sex objects.
Um,? I typed back.
No! Please, do not get the wrong idea! I, Tricen, was forced to hunch over in indecision! That is why it was a struggle to decide if I should upload that video!?
But he had still uploaded it... Tricen-senpai’s concerns were probably more along the lines of “Will men dig these particular shots?” than any matter of taste.
Kobory-san. Are you angry??
No.? I was lying, of course. I was, in fact, a little angry with him. ?Anyway, what was that you said about a fairy??
Yes! Exactly! Let’s get back to the subject. The morning after! Trembling in fear, I watched the video I uploaded the night before... and it was fixed brilliantly!?
The PV, you mean?? I asked.
Yes! The PV’s content had been brilliantly moderated! Thanks to that, we managed to avoid blowback from the local mothers. Thinking back now, I think that was the platonic ideal form of that PV!?
Tricen-senpai was asserting that a video, tinkered with by a complete stranger without permission, was “perfect.” That seemed like a problem in and of itself, but...
I have never been witness to such a miracle before. Ashamed as I am, I find myself thinking, “I wish the fairy could visit me again...”?
I understand how you feel, but...? I responded. ?I don’t think it’s right to rely on a total stranger like that.?
Hmm. I’m forced to hunch over from the harshness of your words, Kobory-san.?
I’m sorry. But I’m really not sure what to say when people talk to me about these “fairy” things.? Maybe it’s because we were talking over text, but my tone was coming out a little more pointed than usual.
You are indeed correct, yes. So... what should we do? Should we push the sexuality, or the family appeal??
Let’s see,? I typed back. ?I think you should show restraint.?
What do you mean??
I understand wanting to push sexiness, but I don’t think it’s good to have it be on screen for too long. The longer it’s out there, the greater the risk that you’ll upset the women watching the video. If you keep just a little sexiness for a small period of time, that should be okay. Just scatter cuts of one or two frames in about three locations, and that should do it.?
Ahh...? he replied.
Not so little that it feels subliminal, but if it’s just twelve frames it should be enough that fathers sick of dealing with family-oriented stuff will go snap to attention, I think.?
I see! How educational! But Kobory-san, where did you learn such things??
Oh, nowhere special. I just watch watch a lot of movies and TV shows and such.? Anime ones, of course. Sometimes, even now, when I’m exhausted from work, I search job offers in the anime industry. I’ve always sort of wanted a job as an editor. Of course, I’d never quit my current job... I think hobbies should remain hobbies. I’m not naive. The job hunt is just kind of a daydream.
Hmm. You have given me very concrete advice, but I still have very little in the way of confidence. Do you think that I, the humble Tricen, could truly be capable of such precision editing??
Well... You won’t know until you try, will you?? I asked him.
Yes. Thank you very much! I, Tricen, shall do my best, while hoping for the “fairy” to appear!? It sounded like he was still waiting for someone else to save him, but that wasn’t for me to comment on.
Well, goodbye.?
Yes! Thank you for all your help! And Kobory-san, if I may ask, in order to keep my humble morale up, could you write it like “Go!? Go!?” please??
I typed in the phrase, my actual expression completely blank. ?Go!? Go!??
Ah, I am thrilled! I, Tricen, could fight ten years on the strength of your words alone!?
If that was all it took, I could have written ten more Go!?s. But it seemed like a pain, so I decided not to. ?I’m glad to hear it. Goodbye.?
Kobory-san, may blessings of the Goddess Libra be upon you!?
Tricen-senpai seemed extremely excited about something. I just hoped he could make a proper PV.
I arrived at my local Moyori Station around 11:00 at night. The shopping street there tended to pack up early, so most everything was closed. I strolled into a nearby convenience store and did a little browsing of the manga magazines. Then I put some bread, a banana, and some milk in my basket for breakfast. I had a candy craving, too, but snacking at midnight was suicide (from a weight perspective), so I refrained and wandered away from the snack corner.
I suddenly realized that I only had 1,000 yen on hand, so I got some money out of the ATM. That’s when I noticed some customers who seemed like a couple flirting in the alcohol corner nearby.
“Huh? You can’t drink that much.”
“It’s fine. I can handle it.”
“You’re going to keep going?”
“I can handle it. I mean it.”
It was a very common, very silly conversation. If I were a more high-ranked Spirit of Earth with the kind of powerful magic that let me rot organic matter, I admit, I would have rotted the drinking snacks in the couple’s basket... maybe mixing in some E.coli bacteria. Of course, I wasn’t powerful enough to do that.
I did have the power to make food rot quicker than normal, and if I concentrated, I could move up the expiration date on the couple’s food from September 12th to September 9th. But that seemed pointless, so I didn’t bother. It would just make me kind of pathetic, and I didn’t want to acknowledge that I was jealous of the couple.
I paid at the register. The part-time worker recognized me and smiled. He was probably a student, and a plain but earnest-looking person. He’d helped me out before when I was having trouble with the copier (though I was very careful to make sure he didn’t see the drafts I was copying). It was a purely solicitous smile, of course, but it gave me a little pang in my heart.
“That will be 755 yen,” he said. As I opened my wallet and searched for a 50 yen coin and a 5 yen coin, the clerk said to me: “Working again today?”
“Huh?” I said, surprised.
“Ah... s-sorry...” he stuttered. “You always come in... at this time, so...”
“......” I didn’t answer him. I didn’t have a 5 yen coin, so all I was able to do was say “sorry,” in an apologetic, fading voice. He seemed like such a good person, but once I was offstage, I couldn’t even force a smile. It was pathetic. I paid, got 245 yen in change, then left the convenience store.
“Thank you for coming!” The part-time worker’s voice sounded louder than usual, for some reason.
On the way back home from the convenience store, I fell into dismal thoughts: the part-time worker might be interested in me. Well, I was probably just being too self-conscious, but for some reason, my heart was racing.
All kinds of fantasies ran through my mind. What if the next time I went to the convenience store, the worker got up his courage and gave me a letter? Or what if I got accosted by drunks, and he came to save me? No, even without that kind of melodrama... what if he just managed to say hello, and started up a little conversation? Of course, that wasn’t going to happen.
Either way, I was probably going to stay away from that convenience store for a while. I just felt awkward, and I could probably avoid the times when that clerk was there. I doubted I’d be able to greet him with a smile by the next time I saw him. I’d just freak out and bow repeatedly and he’d think “that girl is so weird.” Probably... no, almost certainly.
It was always that way. I’d been born an introvert, and it was hard for me to interact with people. I’d decided to work as a dancer, a job so unsuited to me, to try to fix that part of myself. Thanks to that, lately, I was no longer afraid of appearing in front of hundreds of guests. Of course, it helped that I had three friends with me, but... I’d managed to acquire a little courage.
Still, I had a long way to go. No matter how hard I worked, I couldn’t really say “I did that!” Likewise, “that’s my accomplishment!” was something I absolutely couldn’t say. That was why today had been so hard for me. I don’t like to lie, but while worming my way around it, I guess that’s what I’d ended up doing...
That’s right. The “fairy” was me, Kobory. The one who fixed the lighting program in the second park stadium that Wrenchy-kun-san mentioned—that was me. I happened to be there at the time, carrying in some unrelated equipment. I saw Wrenchy-kun-san leave his seat in a panic, and while he was gone, I played with it a little bit. We’d used an old Epson machine in our family inn... and I’d been the one in charge of it. That was back when I was in elementary school.
We used a lot of electronics at home, too, and we had a large open-air bath, so I’d recognized the output problem immediately. I just messed with a few numbers, and soon enough... Thankfully, it was apparently useful, and the stadium was able to function properly. But I couldn’t say “I’m the one who did that.”
I’m also the person who helped Isuzu-san with the want ad she was so worried about. Her want ad—it made it seem like such a boring government job. No one in the wider world was hearing about it. I was worried as well, so I’d ended up posting the link here and there, hoping to see it get spread all over. The design also wasn’t great, so I just messed with the image data a little bit. And while I had a real internal debate about this, I also ended up posting it on various message boards anonymously. (Of course, I never do that for my own doujinshi!)
Thanks to that, the want ad had ended up spread far and wide. Applications had started to fall in May, though... I felt really bad about that. If I’d been more careful to follow up, Isuzu-san wouldn’t have had to worry so much. I didn’t tell her that I’d helped with that, either. I probably should have, but I was afraid she might get mad at me...
As for the sound system on the central stage that Dornell-senpai was having trouble with... That fix was also me. The root of the problem at the live show was the same as the trouble at the stadium: the issue was that the catalog data for the park’s equipment was very old. The output of the amps on the stage was a little less than stated, and they couldn’t get the numbers you’d expect from new speakers. There was an average of four speakers at each point around the stage, so if you shut off one speaker in each point, the problem went away.
Sorry. I’m getting a little technical. The point is, I just went to each location and unplugged one, and that had solved the problem. Whenever I notice trouble like that (and I don’t have anything else to do), I like to walk around solving problems. I could have just told Dornell-senpai, “This is the problem!” but my lack of self-confidence held me back. That’s why they’re still having sound problems.
And as for Tricen-senpai’s PV... The truth is, Tricen-senpai sometimes asks me for help and gives me access to the park’s servers. You know, he says, “What do you think of this video? The password is amaburi,” and things like that. I think he forgot we had that exchange (which is also a huge problem in its way...).
But thanks(?) to that, I was given a chance to view the (as yet unreleased) PV he had made. It really was pretty bad. And so, even knowing that it was against company rules, I made a few modifications. I salvaged the earlier video data that Tricen-senpai had saved, and edited it myself.
I knew it wasn’t a good thing to do, but I also thought it was necessary. Of course, that meant I couldn’t tell anyone. It was just another thing I pretended to know nothing about, and I feel really bad about it.
So with one thing and another, at some point, rumors about a “fairy” had started spreading around the park... After that, there was no turning back. I just had to hide it and try to ride it out. I’m sorry.
Despite my decision, I couldn’t go to sleep right away that night. There was something else I had to do. I booted up the PC that I had just finished putting together this year. I didn’t have a lot of money to spare, but I’d gotten a good Intel i7 (I used to be an AMD stan, but I eventually had to give up on it). I’d also splurged for a 16GB memory, and had two pretty expensive SSDs running in RAID 0. Thanks to that, it booted up very quickly. ...Well, not that I was running a complicated physics engine or anything; I was just connecting to the Internet.
First, I had to solve Dornell-senpai’s problem. I looked up information on the sound system’s manufacturer, and the company of the already-folded speaker maker. The Japanese site gave a 404, but there were quite a few of their foreign branches still around. Wow, Russian. I can’t read that... I doubted even a translation site would help. But I spent about an hour and finally found the PDF I was looking for. This one was only in English. I’m not great with English, either, but with a little effort, I can read it.
I found some evidence of the same problem we were having happening overseas. It had apparently come to lawsuits that still hadn’t been settled, and of course, both sides told very different stories. That meant I had no idea which was right. Political concerns were blocking me from finding the root of the problem, when what I wanted was a neutral specialist opinion. It was tricky.
Despite my doubts, though, I felt like I had gotten a general idea of how to solve the problem. I wrote down a brief explanation of the issue, hammered out some replacement code (it was just changing a part of it, so it just took me ten minutes), got myself a throwaway email address, and sent it to Dornell-senpai. I couldn’t be bothered to think of a proper email address, so I just set it as “fairy0301” (the numbers represented the time of night it was). After everything that happened, I had a feeling he’d know it was me, but I could probably make it through as long as I feigned ignorance.
I hesitated over whether or not to write “This should solve your sound problems,” but it seemed like it would make it even more obvious it was me, so I decided not to. Oh, forget it. It was up to Dornell-senpai if he wanted to use it or not. Helping him out with this probably meant we would have to take part in the live show after all, though, so I could probably hold off on telling the others about the issue for a little while longer. As for Isuzu-san and Tricen-san’s problems... well, I probably didn’t have to do those tonight. I’d time it just right and figure out something within the week.
I sent the email. Then I went right to sleep. I was so tired, I even forgot to turn off my PC.
The next morning, I dragged my sleep-deprived self to work, where I found Muse and the others making a ruckus in the Elementario greenroom. “Good morning... Um, what’s going on?” They didn’t even notice me; I guess I’m just that invisible.
“Salute the fairy!” Sylphie shouted. She was standing at attention for some reason, her fingers snapped to her forehead like an American marine.
There was a model of a stylized fighter jet hanging in one of the greenroom’s empty lockers. It looked like a science fiction-y spaceship with twin ramjet engines. Ah, Battle Fairy, right? The Yukikaze. I remember ALTER sold them once upon a time... I hear they’ll be putting out a robot called the Savage soon, too. Thank you very much! (Not sure why I’m thinking that.)
A small cup of sake and a smoldering incense stick sat in front of the model, in the manner of a Buddhist altar. There were snack foods placed there, too, like little offerings of some kind.
“Salute complete!” Sylphie-san seemed to be the only one saluting seriously, but Muse-san and Salama-san were basically playing along. “Now, hands together! Heart Sutra! Recite!” She began the chant, then rapped on a wood block. She seemed to be the only one enthusiastic about reciting the sutra, but Muse-san and Salama-san patiently joined in. All I could tell was that it was a ritual of some sort, so I remained, cowed, in a corner of the room. After the recitation finished, Sylphie-san finished off with a prayer in Latin that I couldn’t understand, then shouted, “Prayer complete! Let’s give it our all again today!”
In response, the other two shouted:
“Yeah!”
“Fairy-san! Please continue to help the park!”
“Help the park!”
“Okay! Let’s gooo!” Sylphie-san ran out of the greenroom, looking very fired up. Muse-san and Salama-san both looked a little embarrassed.
“Um... what’s going on?” I asked.
“Oh, morning, Kobory,” Muse-san said, noticing me at last. Her smile was a little awkward. “It’s... a little hard to explain. It’s a little like a prayer before we go onstage... You know, like how Michael Jackson did it.”
“Ahh...” I said. Michael Jackson used to gather all his dancers together before they went on stage to pray; apparently, this was a similar ritual.
“And so, y’know... we figured we’d try praying to that mysterious fairy that’s been helping the park,” Salama-san added, while playing with her smartphone as usual.
“The fairy, huh?” I commented.
“Oh, Kobory, you have heard, haven’t you?” Muse-san asked. “There’s been this mysterious fairy... and we started wondering... what would happen if we prayed to it?”
“With a science-fiction fighter jet and the Heart Sutra?” I checked.
“Yeah. Sylphie arranged most of it. We were hoping the fairy might help out our attraction, too... you know?”
“I see. I think I understand.” I turned my eyes down and started trembling in a combination of shame and embarrassment.
Muse-san must have misinterpreted that reaction, because she quickly waved at me with both hands. “Um! I mean, obviously, you’re free to follow any religion here you like! You don’t have to go along with it if you don’t want to! Really! Just do whatever you like!”
“It’s not for freedom of religion reasons, but I still think I’ll pass,” I told them. Praying to myself would just be pathetic, and calling that ‘ritual’ a religion would be an insult to real believers.
“Ah, okay... Well, Sylphie will probably get tired of it eventually,” Muse told me. “Don’t worry too much, okay?”
“Nah, it’s definitely worrying,” Salama-san put in.
“Huh?” Muse protested. “But I had a lot of fun!”
“You’re the only one who did.”
“Was I?”
Muse-san and Salama-san left the greenroom, still verbally sparring.
Left on my own, I changed swiftly into my stage costume and checked myself out in the mirror. I think it’s kind of what people call “purity fetish”—it’s a cute, frilly costume of green and white, but it splits open in the front so you can see my panties, as well as my belly button and thighs. But I was used to it, enough that I no longer felt ashamed... I was a little shocked by my own adaptability in that regard. Fortunately, because I’d resisted the allure of snacks last night, my stomach was nice and flat. I was proud of myself for working so hard... though I guess that’s a bit shameless of me.
Then there was an in-building announcement to the attraction staff: “The first performance starts in ten minutes. Current attendance is 80%. All cast, please take your places.”
I was in a panic. They would do a roll call at five minutes till, and if the main cast weren’t all in place, the performance would be canceled.
I was about to run to my position, but then I stopped. That empty locker... treats had been left out for the mystery fairy. One of them was some Consomme Double Punch chips.
I looked around a few times. No one else was in the room. “......” I reached out, snagged one, and ate it. Just one—a single potato chip. But it was delicious, and the flavor filled me from head to toe.
After all, the offerings were meant for me, right? So what was wrong with me eating them? Sylphie-san had said it, too: “Fairy, please keep helping the park.”
Okay, I’ll help. I’ll do my best. I swear.
The potato chip’s flavor remained with me long after.
[The End]
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