Amagi Brilliant Park - Volume 8 - Chapter 5

5: Nick of Time 

Seiya was staying in an unfamiliar bed, with an unfamiliar pillow, and he’d just had a rough night. He could usually sleep almost anywhere, but this time, he only managed to spend about three hours in a light doze. 
They had room service for breakfast, too. Isuzu munched on her toast as if nothing had happened, made full use of the jacuzzi bath she’d filled up during the meal, and then tidied up. “I’m ready,” she announced. 
“Okay.” 
“Shall we?” 
“...Sure,” Seiya agreed. He paid the final room fee and the two left the hotel. It was sunny outside; the morning light was almost blinding. At the same time, it seemed to Seiya that the sun was a little bit dimmer today. 
He watched Isuzu from behind as they walked to the closest bus stop, bathed in the still-intense light of September. His head was fuzzy from sleep deprivation, and the events of last night almost seemed like a dream. Seiya wondered if they were never going to talk about that night again... and the thought filled him with dissatisfaction. 
The bus came. They silently got on board. There were only four or five others there. Seiya took a seat in the back, and Isuzu sat in front of him. She was acting distant—no, was she lonely? He didn’t know for sure which one it was. 
The bus was nearly empty, yet something inside him told him that they couldn’t keep sitting in separate seats like this. He felt something like a premonition—difficult to put into words—that things might stay this way forever if they did. Was this one of those times when you had to fight the urge to run away? Why not just move forward instead? 
If he didn’t make any progress at all, he’d eventually lose everything, so Seiya stood up and then sat down next to Isuzu. “Scoot in,” he ordered, shoving her shoulder with a little intentional roughness. 
Though surprised, she obediently let him push her to the window seat. “There’s not much room,” she cautioned. 
“So what? We’ll be fine,” Seiya said coldly, turning away. 
“...You’re strange,” she commented. 
“Hmph,” he grumbled. Each time the bus rocked, their arms touched. It felt nice.

It took about ten minutes to reach Sanami Lake Station. It was only about 10:00 in the morning; if they got on the next train, they could make it in time for their morning conference. 
Around the time the bus entered the station, Seiya got a call from Handa-san at Kagaya Estates. He apologized about the trouble yesterday, and she did the same. This was only natural— she had basically abandoned a customer deep in the mountains, after all. “I am so sorry!” she boomed. “Did you make it out safely?!” 
“Well, yes... We made it in time for the last train out,” Seiya answered, turning down the smartphone’s volume as he got off the bus. 
“Great to hear it! The only places to stay around there are love hotels! Ahaha!” 
“I... I see,” he agreed neutrally. She really is an exhausting person... he thought. Of course, she obviously didn’t mean any harm. 
“So, how did you like the property?” Handa-san asked. “Did you get a good look around?!” 
“Well... I’ll need to bring it back to my company, then go over the conditions again. I’ll need to negotiate with the local government, too. But... personally, I don’t think I’m going to find a better offer,” Seiya admitted. 
Isuzu’s eyes went wide as she heard his words. 
“Great to hear it! Ahaha!” 
“But... there appears to be a squatter on the land,” he continued, “so I’d like you to do something about that, first.” 
“A squatter? On that land?” Handa-san repeated, confused. 
“Yes,” Seiya told her. “An old man, growing crops among the ruins. He looked like he’d been living there for years.” 
“I... I don’t think that’s really possible?” Handa-san questioned. “The maintenance company sends regular patrols, so if there were someone there, they’d have noticed right away!” 
“But I saw it,” Seiya insisted. 
“Not possible! Just not possible! Ahaha!” Handa-san said confidently. 
“Hmm...” 
“You were probably just tired! Ahaha! You should eat more vegetables! Vegetables! They’re good! Vegetables!” 
“Ah-ha...” Seiya said, unsure of how to reply in the face of such strident optimism. 
“Well, I’ll call back later! Ahaha! Gotta go now!” 
The moment he hung up, Isuzu spoke. “Have you decided to take the land?” 
“I think so...” Seiya said. “Another real estate agent sent some proposals too, but... this seems like the best we’re going to get.” 
“I see...” 
“You don’t like that?” 
“No. You’re right about everything,” Isuzu told him. “Three million attendance is impossible; moving is the only alternative.” 
“That’s right.” 
“But it still frustrates me,” she sighed. “It feels like running away.” 
“We don’t have a choice,” Seiya told her bluntly. 
“Of course,” Isuzu dutifully agreed again. 
Frustrates me—like running away. Her words lingered for a while in Seiya’s ears. Still, there was nothing else to be done. Everyone in the park had worked their hardest, and they’d already exceeded last year’s total attendance. Their growth was miraculous by any standard, but it wasn’t enough. 
No matter how he struggled, 2.5 million was the most they’d get by next March. And even that would be difficult to reach. Their projections left no doubt whatsoever. It wasn’t a question of popularity but of physics; they simply couldn’t accommodate any more guests. It was impossible. 
That’s why he’d come to his conclusion: EXODUS. They had to move. They had to run. They had to get away from Amagi City. 
“It’ll be hard at first,” Seiya told her. “But down the line, I think we’ll see the move as a positive thing.” 
“Of course...” Isuzu trailed off. 
“I’m sure everyone will understand. ‘Running away’ has a bad ring to it, but...” 
“...Evacuation?” Isuzu suggested. 
“Pretty much. There’s no point in fighting a war we can’t win. I mean...” Seiya went on. “Fight? Why should we? It’s exhausting. I’m sick of it.” 
“......” Isuzu said nothing. 
“Let’s just take it easy, take life as it comes,” he said. “I shouldn’t have to torture myself so that other people can have fun.” 
“I... suppose.” 
“I’ve had enough desperation,” Seiya finished. 
They entered the empty station and looked at the timetable; the next train looked like it would arrive in five minutes. They passed through the ticket gate and stepped onto the platform. 
Let’s go right home, he thought. I’m so exhausted... The events of the night before felt like a distant dream. How had things even turned out that way? It’s probably what happened at the ruins that caused it. I chased that tapir, met that old man... Then somehow, time leaped forward, the sun was on the horizon... we got lost and ended up staying at the love hotel... 
That old man; Seiya just couldn’t get his head around it. Handa-san had to be right. She had explained yesterday, too, that maintenance company staff came through once a month. There couldn’t be a homeless man staying there, tending crops. And two days ago, when Seiya had done research on an urban explorer site, he’d seen nothing written there about that old man, either. 
An announcement came over the platform: the inbound train had arrived. His mind still burning with questions, Seiya got on board. 
Can I really afford to go back like this? he wondered. Then he told himself, Of course you can. Let’s just go. 
No, something’s wrong... he thought. And then, Just go home, hold a meeting to announce the move, make the preparations, and go. 
But is that enough? he wondered. But afterwards, Of course it is. You have your conclusion. 
Is this really my conclusion? his thoughts insisted. I know it’s not great, but you’re tired of being tired, aren’t you? It’s time to go home. You want to take things easy from now on. You’re sick of dealing with all of this nonsense. 
Am I really? he wondered, second-guessing himself yet again. Yes, you are. Thinking and making decisions for yourself is exhausting. You want to end it already. 
Do I really? Really? 
......

The next thing he knew, Seiya had jumped from the train back onto the platform. 
“Seiya-kun?!” Isuzu, still on board, pressed herself against the doors in surprise. 
“Isuzu!” he shouted back. “Go back without me!” 
“What?!” 
“I need to take one last look at that place!” he hollered. The train pulled away and Isuzu receded into the distance. He thought she might be mad about his impulsiveness, but it seemed she wasn’t. For some reason, her face was flushed. “What’s with her?” he wondered. The train continued its departure, and soon left his sight. 
He was just walking the steps back up to the ticket gate when his smartphone rang. It was Isuzu. “What are you doing?” she asked. 
“Just what I said,” he told her. “I need to have another look at those ruins.” 
“I’ll join you,” she said. “Wait for me at the station; I’ll turn back now.” 
“No, you should go back without me,” Seiya insisted. “Lead the project meeting.” 
“But—” 
“Don’t worry. This time, I’ll make it back by noon.” 
“...Very well,” she agreed reluctantly. “But don’t go anywhere dangerous. And... contact me when you’re in a place with reception, even if it’s just a one-word message.” 
“Sure thing,” he promised. “Okay, talk to you later.” Something was there. He had to investigate. That’s right, he told himself. Let’s get moving. Seiya hung up and then strode through the ticket gate. 
Ding-dong. The ticket gate snapped shut on him and nearly sent him tumbling forward.

He got out of the taxi he’d hailed at the station. The gate to old Sanami Amusement Park stood open for him. That was as expected—they’d left it that way when they’d come out the night before. Normally he’d let Handa-san know he was going in, but knowing it would just complicate things, Seiya opted against it. There was no way she would give him the chance to just roam around, the way he needed to. 
The driver asked if he should wait, but Seiya sent him away; he’d spent enough money, and he could call another taxi to the entrance later if he needed to. There shouldn’t be any danger of running out of battery this time—he’d bought a spare battery at a convenience store at the station. A two-pack, in fact! Kanie Seiya was nothing if not prepared. 
Still, he thought, he should probably let her know... The signal in the area was weak, which was the reason they’d had such trouble yesterday. Nevertheless, he sent Isuzu a message saying, “I’m at the front gate now. I’m going in.” 
Seiya strode quickly into the ruins, after realizing it was silly to wait for a reply. Everything looked just the same as yesterday. He headed for the hall of mirrors, where they’d gotten separated before. He didn’t trust his memory, but at least the building was there—he wasn’t wearing his safety helmet now, and it seemed excessively dangerous to go in without it, so he went right around to the back. 
There was nothing there. It wasn’t like in his memory. Yesterday, he had walked straight out and come to the old man’s farm, but now there was nothing but ruins around him. 
Nothing... no signs of a makeshift lodging. No bucket of water with bugs floating in it. No room full of old books. No hamster cage. The trashed old stage where the old man had performed wasn’t there, either. 
What’s going on here? he wondered. Was it all just a dream after all? Just as Seiya was starting to doubt his senses, he caught sight of the tapir. It was right in the middle of the cracked asphalt that made up the path. It stood on its four legs, head tilted, looking straight at Seiya. 
“You came, baku,” the tapir said. 
“What the...” Seiya started to ask. 
“I was starting to think you’d leave last night without giving any more thought to yesterday’s events... but you didn’t, baku,” the tapir observed. “I’m surprised, baku.” 
“What... did you say?” It was strange to see a tapir talking, but Seiya didn’t reject the idea; he hung out with talking animals all the time. 
The tapir stood up on its two hind legs. This wasn’t too surprising either; Seiya hung out with anthropomorphic animals all the time, too. 
The tapir had a watch on its arm: a Rolex. This was surprising. How’d it get a Rolex? Seiya wondered curiously. Don’t those cost about a million yen? 
“I am the Fairy of Time, Bacross.” The fairy named Bacross bowed to him politely. “I was born in the magical realm of Polytear, baku. My special move is the Bacross Cannon. It’s a super-powered beam that pierces the bacro sky.” 
“What are you talking about?” Seiya asked. 
“It’s a joke, baku,” the tapir chuckled. “I don’t actually fire beams, baku.” 
Is everyone from the magical realms like this? While Seiya fumed quietly with his usual rhetorical question, Bacross approached him. He didn’t hesitate to sniff at Seiya as he walked around him. 
“Hey,” Seiya objected. 
“Hmm, I thought so,” the tapir observed. “You’ve got some powerful mana in you.” 
“You can tell that?” 
“Sort of,” the tapir hedged. 
Seiya had been given “royal magic” by Latifah, the princess of Maple Land. He didn’t really know how it worked, but it appeared to be very powerful. He still wasn’t quite sure what “mana” referred to, but he figured it was a bit like MP in a video game. 
“When most people come to this amusement park, I usually give them simple dreams and that’s that, baku. But you have strong mana, so I got curious, baku.” 
“A dream?” Seiya questioned. “You gave me that dream?” 
“Well, I am a tapir,” Bacross pointed out. 
“I thought tapirs ate dreams... nightmares and such,” Seiya mused. “And that’s only in folklore, anyway.” 
“Some tapirs do that, baku, though they need a first-class Dream Handler’s license. I have a Special Major Dream Handler’s license, baku.” 
“What’s the difference?” Seiya wanted to know. 

“Only specialists need to know the difference. Don’t worry about it, baku.” 
“Ahh.” It wasn’t worth pursuing every weird custom and law he heard about from the magical realms—Seiya had learned that well, over the past six months. 
“I’m a Fairy of Time. I used to run a little fortune-telling corner here at Sanami Amusement Park, baku. Bacross’s Superdimensional Fortune-Telling Hut. It was very popular. Have you heard of it, baku?” 
“Sorry,” Seiya said politely, “but no.” 
“I see...” Bacross slumped over. “It’s my job to show visitors dreams about the future, baku. Just a tiny glimpse, of course... and only the good stuff, baku.” 
“Hmm.” 
“You know, like getting a good score on an upcoming test, going on a date with a girl you like, getting a game you wanted as a present... that sort of thing, baku. I make the customers feel good, and I get animus in return, so it’s win-win, baku.” 
“I see,” Seiya said thoughtfully. “I think I get it.” 
“Hmm. You’re quick on the uptake, I see. I suppose that’s why you’re AmaBri’s manager, baku.” 
Seiya knitted his brow. “You know who I am?” 
“It’s hard to explain,” the tapir told him. “You could say I’ve always known, or that I’ll learn someday. It’s also possible that later, I’ll never have known it, baku.” 
“...?” Seiya was unsure of what to make of Bacross’s statement. 
“I’m a Fairy of Time. I perceive the future and past as one, baku,” Bacross explained. “So even though, chronologically speaking, I might not yet have learned that you’re AmaBri’s manager, I may hear about it in the future, which means I already know it, baku.” 
“Hmm...” 
“Doesn’t make sense, does it?” 
“No, I think I get it.” He wasn’t lying; Seiya really did comprehend what Bacross was saying. He had contemplated, in the past, the mysteries of future dreams and premonitions. He’d had an experience like that when he was ten, and his paternal grandfather, in Kumamoto, had died of a sudden illness. 
The day before, the grandfather had appeared in Seiya’s dream, even though they hadn’t seen each other in years, and he barely ever thought about the man. The grandfather had only said things like “Are you doing well?” and “I saw you on TV” and “Don’t push yourself too hard,” and then left. The next day, Seiya heard the news of his grandfather’s death. 
It was a fairly common story, and now he’d been through it himself. Before then, he’d always assumed such tales were just people’s minds playing tricks on them, but he’d changed his tune after that. Though of course, he still didn’t have his own explanation. 
Several years later, then, when he was reading an article about Einstein, Seiya had remembered the dream about his grandfather. The article was explaining how the passage of time was really just a human construct, so if future and past existed simultaneously... couldn’t it be possible that your consciousness in the near future could send (very important) information to yourself several hours in the past? Of course, the article didn’t go into paranormal phenomenon like he’d been through; the thought had just occurred to him as he gazed at the simple illustration of the past, present and future tied together in a loop. That experience led him to ready acceptance of Bacross’s story. 
“You really are quick on the uptake,” Bacross observed. 
“Hm. I’m a man of exceptional intelligence,” Seiya said with a cocky smile, brushing his bangs back with a slight movement of his fingers. 
“That will speed things up, baku. It means you can get your future in order right away, baku.” 
“What?” Seiya blinked. 
“You can do it, right? It’s amazing, baku.” 
“W-Wait... I don’t quite follow you there...” 
“You don’t, baku?” 
“No.” 
“Ohhh. You’re less impressive than I thought, baku.” 
“......” Holding back his irritation, Seiya forced himself to remain calm, and said to the tapir fairy: “It’s true that I can use something like magic. My brain also works faster than that of an average person. But I’m still just an ordinary mortal; I still need you to walk me through this so I can understand.” 
“Ah, I see.” Bacross clapped his hands (well, forepaws) together. “All right... so what don’t you understand?” 
“What did you mean about getting my future in order?” Seiya asked. 
“Ah. What I mean is... your exceptional mana allows me to see a lot more of your distant future, baku.” 
“...?” Seiya waited for the tapir to go on. 
“I can’t see very far into most people’s futures,” Bacross confessed. “There’s too much that can throw it off: their surroundings; spur-of-the-moment decisions; and other elements. So when I ran my fortune-telling hut, I could only show my patrons their very short-term futures.” 
“Hmm. Understandable,” Seiya commented. 
“You do catch on quick, baku... but you have a very strong will, and incredible mana, too. That means you can be very purposeful in choosing your own future.” 
“Oh?” That’s good to hear, Seiya thought. He’s saying that the future of a brilliant man like me is always ensured. “That sounds nice,” he said out loud. “Are you suggesting there’s some problem?” 
“Your appearance yesterday caused me to see a future much more distant than what I usually do. It was an exceptional circumstance, baku.” 
“Okay, but seriously,” Seiya said. “What’s the problem?” That means my future success is assured. What’s wrong with that? There can’t be any problem with it. 
Bacross let out a sigh. “We seem to be talking past each other...” 
“Are we?” 
“I think you might actually be very stupid, baku.” 
“Hey,” Seiya objected. 
The Fairy of Time, Bacross, pulled an old-fashioned pocket-watch from nowhere in particular. “Wind the hands of the watch, baku.” 
“...?” 
“It will let you see the same future I do, baku. Start by turning it just a little—bits at a time, okay? 
“Hmm...” Seiya was worried that it might be some kind of trap. But there was nothing obviously malicious in Bacross’s behavior, so he took the pocket-watch and began to turn the dial protruding from the top. The hands of the watch moved. He did as he was told, moving it slowly at first. 
And then instantly, the pathetic ruins surrounding them—“Old Sanami Amusement Park”—transformed into a shining theme park.

× × ×

Fireworks sang out against the April sunlight. A colorful banner strung across the entrance read, “Welcome to Sanami Brilliant Park!” 
At 10:00 AM an alarm sounded out, and the crowd—a huge crowd—of guests swarmed through that shining new gate. People fought to be the first one in, and TV stations came to report on it. 
The cast met the people with the exact same smiles from their Amagi City days. Moffle was there; so were Macaron and Tiramii. Elementario, too, greeted the guests with open arms. 
The guests loved all their new attractions—magnificent structures, every bit as good as the ones they’d had in Amagi City. To build a park like this in such a short time—the new AmaBri was really something! So many smiles. So much animus. The cast was overjoyed. 
The acting manager’s—i.e., Seiya’s—decision had been the correct one. Why hadn’t he just done this from the start? The plan to leave Amagi City had seemed a risky move, but this proved that he’d been right to do it! 
The Mogute Clan had worked hard to build a new Maple Castle—more whimsical, beautiful, luxurious, all-digitized, and green-integrated—for Latifah to live in luxury. The first day’s massive attendance had energized her, too. The only issue was that she couldn’t make croquettes on a gas stove anymore; the stove was induction. 
In the two weeks following, Sanami Brilliant Park hit record-setting attendance. The launch was perfect! Everyone was happy. It was a roaring success. 
The only sour note was the fact that a few people, like Kenjuro and Kobory, who had been against the move from the start, couldn’t be with them. They’d managed to solve the Kenjuro problem by having the shark Jaw fill in for the dolphin, and they hired a new dancer to replace Kobory. She had long black hair and a similar look—she was also a much better dancer than Kobory. 
Golden Week is on the way, Seiya thought. Let’s keep this train rolling! 

× × ×

Guests continued to flood the park during summer vacation. They didn’t have a pool now, but there were still long lines at every attraction. The only trouble was the traffic getting into the park; the roads were narrow, accessibility was bad, and they had chronic parking issues. They’d been negotiating with the city for a road expansion, but that had gotten bogged down since the election of a new mayor. Still, the congestion issues would surely relieve themselves in September. 
The mascots’ popularity was also on the rise. Moffle had finally been goaded into joining Twitter, where he’d proved surprisingly popular. He could be a little abusive sometimes, but that actually got him more attention. 
The only sour note was that Salama had quit; she wasn’t getting along with the new Kobory, apparently. But they found a replacement right away—it wasn’t an issue.

× × ×

Understandably, attendance declined in the winter. Their distance from the city center made it hard for guests to just stop by on weekdays. Of course, they held a big campaign for the Christmas season, and they pulled some good numbers from that. With a little improvisation, they managed to stay in the black—and since the new park didn’t have any arbitrary attendance requirements, it was fine for them to remain “just popular enough.” 
Starting in January, they decided to close the park for a few days a week—Tuesdays, Wednesdays, and Thursdays—just to save money. 
Latifah wasn’t feeling well, and that had Seiya worried. But when spring returned, the customers would, too—it would all turn out fine. 
Wanipii was set to quit at the end of December, but that probably wouldn’t affect things much. Seiya never heard his reason for leaving.

× × ×

The park’s one-year anniversary came! 
They had sunk a lot of money into an anniversary campaign, and now that it was spring, they had plenty of guests. They didn’t did pull the numbers they had the year before, but that was to be expected. 
The greater problem was Rubrum—the red dragon racked up a huge food bill, but his attraction’s numbers weren’t justifying it. If his poor performance continued, they’d have to send him back to his magical realm. 
Losing Sylphie was a big blow, too. She had gone to America; not as a dancer, but as a singer. Seiya found that odd, since he didn’t think she was an especially good singer... but he wished her luck, regardless.

× × ×

Summer vacation of the second year came. 
They weren’t pulling as many customers as expected—word had gotten around about the traffic congestion problem, apparently. They weren’t getting along with the local government, either, because they were getting frequent complaints from the locals. Staff members with complaints against them would just quit the minute they were filed. 
Tiramii wanted to renovate his attraction, but his request was rejected. Where were they supposed to get the money for that, just a year and a half into the park’s opening?

× × ×

Winter of the second year came. 
They worked hard for Christmas, but they only pulled in 80% of the previous year’s attendance. Their limited schedule in winter came with a reduction of cast pay, which brought in complaints of its own. Macaron came to him to say, “We’re not seasonal labor, ron!” But there was no point in opening and paying people to staff a park that no one was coming to. They just didn’t have the money for it. 
They’d used all the profits from their Amagi days on the move, and they hadn’t made their investment back yet. Austerity was key right now. They were on the defensive. Seiya was making his calculations assuming they’d pull in about 500,000 guests a year.

× × ×

The third year came. 
They didn’t bother with a second anniversary campaign; Seiya calculated that standard attendance would be enough. Their second year’s attendance had come to 480,000; it was just below their 500,000 goal. They managed, barely, to remain in the black, but he needed a way to raise their numbers. 
He’d already asked the expensive Rubrum to quit, and Muse retired, as she was getting to be too old. Apparently, her parents had been working on an arranged marriage for her behind the scenes; it was all worked out now, and they wanted to bring her home to prepare for life as a housewife.

× × ×

The fourth year came. 
Moffle suddenly fell ill, an issue caused by an overworked schedule, trying to drive enthusiasm for the park. Nobody knew when he would return. They could put fill-ins in costumes, but they knew that might cause another drop in popularity. 
The attendance for the third year came to 450,000. They’d have to work really hard in the upcoming year, or they’d fall into the red. 
Maple Land issued orders for Isuzu to return. She refused, choosing to remain once and for all in the mortal realm. The two of them had officially been dating for three years now. Her support was the one thing keeping Seiya sane. 
Latifah’s health had declined further. Seiya was worried.

× × ×

The fifth year came. 
Attendance held steady at 450,000. They continued to cope via austerity measures; they had lost a large number of their cast as well. 
Moffle never returned; he’d passed away in one of Maple Land’s hospitals. It was a major blow to everyone. Nobody told Latifah, choosing instead to let her believe that he was still in treatment, because her own condition had worsened further. She no longer felt well enough to stand. She couldn’t make her famous croquettes anymore, so they had Croquette Saigo-tei ship them in, instead. Seiya was grateful for the owner’s generosity. 
Macaron retired, too. His daughter was in college now, and he couldn’t support her with his current salary.

× × ×

The tenth year came. 
They faced their tenth anniversary in a state of ongoing decline. They worked hard on a campaign to celebrate the occasion, but it never quite got off the ground after having lost Tiramii, Tricen, and several other major players over the last five years. Isuzu remained supportive, but sometimes lashed out at him. 
Latifah was completely bedridden. She spent day after day in a state of hazy consciousness. It was hard to watch. 
Their attendance that year was 120,000. It would be hard to remain in business like this.

× × ×

The fourteenth year came. 
They filed for bankruptcy. Sanami Brilliant Park officially closed, and most of the land was sold off. Isuzu worked hard to make sure they could keep part of the land and a building (the old Music Theater), where they took care of Latifah. 
Seiya spent his days drinking. He couldn’t find the will to do anything else. He drank, and he performed for Latifah. She didn’t respond. More drinking, more performing. 
Isuzu went out into town to work, but she didn’t say what she was doing. They hadn’t even kissed in years.

× × ×

The twentieth year came. 
Now and then, former cast members came by to see how they were doing; Seiya was grateful for the charity they brought, as well. 
One night, Isuzu fell ill and was hospitalized. They had no money. He wanted to apply for welfare, but since he owned land, he couldn’t.

× × ×

The twenty-fifth year came. 
Isuzu had been in the hospital repeatedly, and finally passed away. He didn’t even have the money to put up a gravestone. He buried her next to the Music Theater—it was probably illegal, but he didn’t care. 
While he plunged into despair, Latifah disappeared. The only thing left in her beat-up old bed was a blind hamster; it was probably the shadow of Latifah’s former self.

× × ×

The thirtieth year came. 
Seiya had been supporting himself all these years. He performed for the hamster, tilled a field, and raised crops. 
Rumors must have started about it, because young people and urban explorers would come from time to time to see. He performed for them. Sometimes they beat him, but he didn’t care. He needed animus. Animus... 
His mind was growing foggy. He couldn’t remember who he was anymore. There was a face, reflected in a pail of water with dead bugs floating in it. A grubby face with a ragged beard... almost like that old man...

× × ×

The vision granted by Bacross’s watch ended there. 
“......” Seiya collapsed onto the ground. He felt nauseous. He dry-heaved a few times, then gulped. 
“Shocking, eh, baku? It made me a little sick too, baku.” 
“That was... me?” Seiya asked, horrified. 
“Seems so, baku. And this is almost completely locked in, baku.” 
“That’s ridiculous!” Seiya burst out. “That... that helplessness... I’m not that incompetent! This is ridiculous!” 
Bacross slumped over as he yelled at him. “I don’t know what you want me to say, baku. This future is yours, baku. It’s the way it is because you chose for it to be that way.” 
“That can’t be true,” Seiya protested. “If the new park’s business was that bad, I would have gotten out of there earlier.” 
“You think that now... but you don’t know what you’d think years from now,” Bacross pointed out. “Maybe there were other circumstances in play that the vision didn’t show you.” 
“It can’t be a money issue! If I put my magic on the task, I could turn around the entire Japanese economy!” That statement wasn’t just a bluff; it might really be true. Seiya knew what his powers could do: he had the power to read the thoughts of others. He could also compel replies, and do this as many times as he wanted. He could read the mind of the Minister of Finance or the president of the Bank of Japan, if he wanted to. And even without going that far, he could make a killing in the stock market; he’d planned it all out, and was ready to put it into practice if the park’s finances ever began to suffer. 
For now, though, he hadn’t used his magic to make money. It was strictly a matter of conscience and pride. Well... and one more thing. 
“I don’t know the nature of your magic, baku,” Bacross told him. “But are you sure it’ll always be available to you?” 
“I...” Seiya wasn’t sure what to say. Bacross was right; he had no guarantee that he’d be able to use his magic forever. Would it be with him all his life? Or would it be gone tomorrow? He had no way of knowing. 
Seiya had asked Isuzu about it before, but the records didn’t offer much insight. Some lost their powers in just a few weeks, while others kept them for a decade or more. There were almost no cases of such magic remaining for life, though. It might even have a set number of uses... 
That was a possibility he’d begun to consider lately. Ever since he’d learned that he could force people into responding, he’d started wondering if there might be some other price to his magic’s use. That was why he had grown more cautious about using his magic lately, and it was the other reason he wasn’t using his magic to make money. Of course, he fully intended to use it if he had to... 
“It’s true that I don’t... know how long I’ll be able to use it,” Seiya admitted with some difficulty. 
“Maybe it turns out that in the future, you can’t rely on your magic anymore, baku.” 
“Even then, I wouldn’t be that stupid! If my business was failing, I’d take better care of things!” Seiya insisted. “I wouldn’t work Moffle to death! I’d go to work myself, and make sure that at least Latifah and Isuzu could live comfortably! If I couldn’t do that out here, I’d just move back to the city! It makes no sense!” He could just rent out a storefront in the city and open a club. He’d bring in people; they’d all be happy. He’d get lots of animus that way, too. He’d need just a few staff, but they’d run shows every day and the people would love it. That should be enough to keep Latifah in good health. Seiya had always filed that plan away as a last resort. 
But Bacross spoke to Seiya with quiet eyes. “You really are a mortal, baku.” 
“What?” 
“Do you know what animus is, baku?” 
“I think so,” Seiya replied. “It’s human feelings of joy, right? You fairy-types feed on that, and it sustains you.” 
“Yes, but it’s not as simple as that, baku. There are many different kinds of animus. You know that?” 
“Yeah, I know a little...” It seemed, at least, that there were many forms of joy: the joy of watching a love story and the joy of watching a horror movie were similar, but not identical. 
“There are many kinds of animus, baku. As many kinds as there are nutritional elements like protein, carbohydrates, fat, minerals, vitamins, iron, and sodium in food, baku.” 
“That makes sense,” Seiya said. 
“Which means that there are also requirements to the animus—the nutrition, that is—which your princess needs. It’s the ager that you’ve been trying to keep in business that produces it, right? Which means...” 
“......” It was easy for Seiya to see what Bacross was getting at, and he felt a chill run up his spine. A club wouldn’t work; it had to be an amusement park. It had to be the joy of guests coming through the gate, seeing something truly wondrous, eyes going wide, crying out in joy. It had to be the kind of feeling that could make even a cynical young man—yes, a young man like Seiya—look up in awe when he entered. That’s what was needed. 
He didn’t know what that feeling was, in terms of animus. Was it protein? Carbohydrates? Well, it didn’t matter... clubs, arcades, movie theaters, batting cages—those all brought joy, but they weren’t the same. The animus that Latifah needed had to come from an amusement park. 
That’s why the old man stayed there, right? Seiya wondered. Why he stuck around, helplessly locked into that future? “No,” he denied out loud, continuing to argue. “That’s no reason why I’d spend decades just wandering aimlessly, without a plan! “I’d have tons of options! I could start another amusement park somewhere else! I’d find a way to get money, too! I’m an extremely resourceful person—” 
“You are now, baku,” Bacross said in a voice that seemed to have aged decades in an instant. “The seventeen year old Seiya. The Seiya who’s fine with only four hours of sleep. The Seiya who can easily grasp how new apps work. The Seiya who can eat convenience store meals daily with no adverse effects.” 
“......” Seiya hadn’t considered these factors. 
“The Seiya who believes that no matter what happens, tomorrow can be better than today,” Bacross went on. “The Seiya with a sound body and mind, with a world that’s always been on his side, who has never known serious injury or illness... that Seiya.” There was no mockery in Bacross’s voice, and gradually, it came to sound as though he was reading from a script. “Some day, his powers, too, will decline. You don’t know how long you’ll be able to use your magic. And in time, you’ll lose all of the allies you’ve come to rely upon, baku.” 
Seiya thought back on the “old timer” grumblings of Moffle and the others: they’d sleep all night and still wake up tired. They had a hard time memorizing a script. They couldn’t eat fatty things, like Korean barbecue, the way they used to... and other things. He’d dismissed it all as irrelevant to him assuming that they were just pathetic and inferior. But where was the guarantee that he wouldn’t end up that way, himself? 
“There’s no way...” Seiya muttered, feeling sick. His head was swimming. He took a deep breath, but it didn’t help much; his breathing was still ragged. 
Wait, wait, wait. That fairy, Bacross... could he actually be an agent of Kurisu—of the magician Idina? Seiya turned to Bacross and used his magic. “What... What are you planning?” 
“Planning? What a rude question, baku.” At the same time, Bacross’s thoughts came to him: I’m not planning anything, baku. I just don’t want to see tragedy repeat itself in the amusement park where I’ve made my home, baku. It was Seiya’s first time using his magic on Bacross, so he didn’t lose any important memories about him. 
“...Okay, I get it.” Seiya took another deep breath. He was starting to calm down a little. “Let’s assume... let’s just assume... that that was my real future. Is there any way to avoid that tragedy?” 
“I don’t know,” Bacross admitted. “That’s the trouble, baku.” 
“Now that I’ve seen the future,” Seiya asked, “can I use what I’ve learned to change it?” 
“Normally, you could. That’s why I only show people dreams of the near future, baku. But you’re different. You might be able to change a lot of little details, but it’ll still come out more or less the same, baku.” 
“What if I don’t move here? Will I avoid that future then?” 
Bacross sadly shook his head. “You’d end up with a similar fate. Even if you don’t move, your amusement park will close some day. It’s going to close even if you find a new plot of land to move it to.” 
Seiya remembered the email he’d gotten from the other real estate agent the other night; there were no other really good properties available. That dearth of options was the only reason Sanami Lake had even seemed acceptable. Taking one of the other candidates might end up driving them to an even more dismal fate. 
“So, what should I do?” Seiya wondered. 
“I’m telling you, I don’t know, baku.” 
“Then why did you show this to me?” 
“If someone was sick and didn’t realize it, you’d tell them, baku. I think your mana and my ability resonated, and caused a distant future I wouldn’t normally see to manifest, baku.” 
“Is it set in stone?” Seiya wanted to know. 
“The parts you’ve seen more or less are, baku.” 
“More or less?” 
“Yes. More or less.” 
“Is that the... ‘you can make small changes’ kind of ‘more or less’?” Seiya asked. 
“No, baku. It’s the ‘more or less’ that allows for different actions to lead to a totally different result, baku.” 
“But then how—” 
“I keep telling you, I don’t know, baku! You really are stupid, aren’t you?!” 
Seiya didn’t have the energy for anger anymore, so instead, he folded his arms and racked his brain as hard as he could. He had no proof that this future was real. If Kurisu, otherwise known as Idina, could manipulate his own memories, then couldn’t he plant fake memories in Bacross, causing him to display a fake future? 
Our enemies wouldn’t want us moving to Sanami Lake, after all, he reasoned. It wouldn’t be surprising to see them to try to stop us. On the other hand, what if this wasn’t one of Idina’s plots? That would increase the credibility of the future vision. The Seiya of six months ago—from a time before AmaBri—would dismiss it as being just a hallucination, but things were different now. 
Seiya had just used his magic to learn Bacross’s motivation. He knew that the tapir wasn’t doing this to torment him, now, which also meant that he could put a certain degree of faith in Bacross’s explanation. Was it false? True? There was no way to be sure, right now—which meant he effectively knew nothing. The future vision was no help at all. 
“You seem troubled, baku,” Bacross observed. 
“...... I am. I also had a rough night last night, so I’m just really tired, anyway.” 
“Was my aid unwelcome, baku?” 
“Yeah... no. I don’t know.” Seiya heard a bell chiming nearby; it sounded like an alarm clock. 
“Ahh. It’s time, baku.” Bacross, who had been sitting on a bench, now stood up. 
“Time?” Seiya asked in confusion. 
“Yeah. Time for my monos, baku.” 
Seiya was shocked. “What did you say?” 
“I’m part of the cast here at Sanami Amusement Park, baku. I stayed here even after it closed, baku,” Bacross explained. “I give dreams to the urban explorers and maintenance men who come here from time to time, and manage to get some animus that way, but I’m at the end of my rope, baku.” 
“But... isn’t there something we can do? Come to my park,” Seiya offered. “We can afford to hire one more person, and—” 
“Thank you, baku. But if I could do that, I’d have gotten hired elsewhere a long time ago. I can’t leave this place, baku.” 
“Why not?” 
“I’ve made too many memories with the guests,” Bacross told him. “If I leave, I’ll disappear on the spot, baku.” 
“Wait,” Seiya protested, “I don’t understand.” 
“It’s what happens when we stay in a place for a long time, baku. We ‘take root,’ as you’d say.” 
“That’s ridiculo—hey!” 
Bacross’s form began turning translucent, and sparks of light began to shed off of him. “It’s okay. I made a lot of joyful memories, and I got to be useful one last time, baku. I have no regrets.” 
“Hey! Wait! You need to—” 
“I believe you can change your future, baku. Fight,” the tapir advised him. “Don’t run.” 
“Hey!” 
“Bye-bye.” As Bacross faded away, his Rolex watch landed hard on the ground. That was the end. The amusement park was empty, and Seiya stood alone in its windswept ruins.

Despite his promise, Seiya hadn’t contacted Isuzu all day. By the time the sun was going down, she gave in, explained things privately to Moffle, and asked him to drive her out after the park closed. Even in one of the park’s company cars, they could make it to the site in a little over an hour. 
As they drove down the Chuo Expressway at night, Moffle said, “We’re moving... to Sanami Lake, fumo?” 
“Yes,” she sighed. “I’m sure you’ll be against it.” 
“Well, actually... it might just be what we need, fumo.” Moffle’s response surprised her. “If that’s what he wants to do, I’ll go along with it, fumo. Not much else we can do, is there?” 
“Yes... I agree with you,” Isuzu said. 
“For now, we need to make sure Seiya’s okay, fumo. He still hasn’t contacted you?” 
“No... Even though I told him to be careful. I’m worried...” 
I really should have turned back and gone with him, Isuzu thought. If anything happened to him, I’ll regret it for the rest of my life. She hadn’t told Moffle about the previous night’s events. She’d fudged the timeline to say they made it back on the last train last night, and that Seiya had headed back for Sanami Lake that morning. She wasn’t sure if Moffle believed her lie or not; she had carelessly told Latifah they were spending the night there, after all. If Latifah had mentioned that fact to Moffle, Isuzu’s timeline would be proven false. A careless mistake, Isuzu thought mournfully. 
“Moffu. That reminds me. Last night...” 
Isuzu began to tremble. “Wh-What?” 
“...? What’s wrong, fumo?” 
“Nothing...” she told him awkwardly. “What about last night?” 
“Right,” said Moffle. “Last night, I went to a mahjong parlor with Macaron, Tiramii, and Kodain, fumo.” 
“I... I see.” 
“Kodain’s a real hustler, see. You wouldn’t believe it. He cleaned us all out, fumo.” 
Isuzu couldn’t imagine the statue-like Kodain even playing mahjong. “I was unaware that you played mahjong, Lord Moffle.” 
“Just a little, fumo. Macaron’s awful at it. He’s awful, but he loves it, fumo. Tiramii is the type to step on land mines.” 
“It’s still hard to imagine,” Isuzu said. 
“Want to play with us next time? I’ll teach you, fumo.” 
“No, thank you.” 
“Thought not,” Moffle snickered. 
Just then, Isuzu’s smartphone vibrated; it was a message from Seiya. ?I’m at the entrance to the ruins. Sorry to worry you,? came the brief reply.