by Shouji Gatou
Maple Real Estate, working hard to keep the park alive—Amagi Development, trying to kill it.
The situation they had found themselves in now felt like an extension of that, with Amagi Development exploiting that contract stipulation to try to deal the finishing blow.
“Was there something you wanted to do here?” Isuzu asked.
“No... I just wanted to see it, for reference.”
“I see. It’s almost time for the meeting. We should head back.”
The meeting began at 9:00 sharp. It was attended by the heads of various departments, including: general affairs, accounting, maintenance, HR, food services, security, planning, and marketing, as well as the head of each park area. There were about 25 members present in all, and they ran the gamut in terms of age.
Most of them were what Isuzu and Latifah referred to as “real cast”—people from the magical realms—a fact which held true even among behind-the-scenes staff who rarely interacted with the guests. Some looked like cute anthro animals, others like fairy tale creatures; some looked like they could have walked right out of an anime.
It seemed there were ordinary humans in some of the departments too, but it was a bizarre sight nonetheless.
Moffle was there, as well. He bore the title of “cast leader” for the Sorcerer’s Hill cast, which meant he was the coordinator for the cast that interacted with visitors in that area.
The department heads must have all heard the rumors about Seiya already. Although they regarded him with deep skepticism, they still listened quietly to what he had to say—until he declared that “starting tomorrow, everything will be completely free.” This was met with a burst of objections and outrage.
Making things completely free was the best way for them to increase their attendance. No cost for anything. Admission, attractions, food and drinks—all free.
“I’m against it, fumo.” Moffle declared.
“...And why is that?” Seiya inquired.
“We’re professionals, fumo. Under no circumstances can we entertain guests for free. It would bring the whole entertainment-for-compensation system crashing down, fumo.”
“Given the standard of entertainment you provide, I wouldn’t worry about it,” Seiya shot back sarcastically, referring to their interaction on Sunday.
Moffle let out a choking sound, but glared at Seiya anew. “...I was wrong to act that way and I apologize, fumo. But the quality of the entertainment doesn’t matter. Once you make it ‘free,’ customers will never accept ‘not free’ ever again, fumo.”
“Hmm, I see.” Seiya could grasp what Moffle was getting at.
“On top of that, what about our working capital, fumo? Even at this time of year, it costs about 3 million yen a day to keep the park running. Over the course of two weeks, that adds up to 42 million. Who’s going to pay for all of it, fumo?”
“We’re in the red as it is,” Seiya told him. “We can think about that later.”
Moffle was gobsmacked by his careless dismissal. “Think about 42 million—”
“You’re already 400 million in debt if you shut down now,” Seiya scoffed. “What’s a few more millions on top of that? Don’t worry about it.”
“But—”
“If your ship goes down in a storm and you’re drowning, are you going to get picky about the plank keeping you afloat? Are you going to worry about who owns the plank?”
“Mgh...”
“This park is drowning,” Seiya announced flatly. “Our first priority is getting out of the water. We can worry about what shore we’ve washed up on later. Still...”
He could understand what Moffle was saying—that as a professional, he couldn’t tolerate the idea of working completely for free.
“But... yes, I see. If we can’t make it free, we’ll make it close to free; 30 yen for entry.”
A commotion ran through the group.
“...Why 30 yen, fumo?”
“Because next year will be the park’s 30th anniversary. It’s as good a reason as any, and it will get people talking.”
Another commotion ran through the group, marked by varieties of acceptance and skepticism.
“We need to get moving on advertising right away,” Seiya decided. “Whoever’s in charge of that, stay here; everyone else can go back to their posts. We’re done here. Dismissed.”
“I just can’t stand that boy, fumo!” Moffle was in the underground passage backstage, huffing his indignation as he headed towards the plaza just inside the park’s front gate. “30 yen! He’s saying our art is only worth 30 yen, fumo! It’s an insult! I won’t stand for it, fumo!”
“Getting mad about it won’t solve anything, mii.” Tiramii responded. He was also heading to the front plaza, having met up with Moffle on the way.
Tiramii’s attraction, Tiramii’s Music Theater, was a theater set, which made it comparatively easy to clean. As a result, he’d also been ordered to entertain the guests denied entry to the park.
“Let’s just make the most of it, mii. It’ll be great for flirting with our fine lady guests. ‘I’ll make it cheap for you, baby. Thirty yen for life if you give me your email address.’”
“If you think any woman would fall for that, you’re a greater fool than I thought, fumo.”
“Huh? You can get some good puffs that way, you know? It’s all about opportunity and persistence, mii. You try a line on ten women; one gives you her email address. You get ten email addresses; one agrees to meet you later. And since I’m so cute, my hit rate is even higher, mii!”
“I don’t want to hear about your pick-up strategies, fumo. ...By the way, do you ever think about anything but puffing?”
Tiramii slicked back his fluffy head-fur and let out a long sigh. “That’s the trouble, mii. I just can’t imagine life without puffing, mii.”
“...Enough. Anyway, back to my dislike of that child, fumo.”
To charge 30 yen for park entry! Moffle wasn’t insisting on entrance fees because he really wanted the money; he just didn’t like having that price being put on his work. Ah, but then again, the first time he’d met Kanie Seiya, he had done the kind of work that no one would pay for... But that was because Sento Isuzu had contacted him in advance, and he’d wanted to test the boy’s reactions. He wouldn’t normally treat a customer like that.
Well, the boy did seem like a bright person, so he probably had some idea of what he’d been going for.
Even so, this treatment... It felt like pure revenge.
Even knowing that he was partly in the wrong, Moffle couldn’t restrain his anger and annoyance.
“Moffle. That guy... ah, what was his name, mii?”
“Kanie Seiya, fumo.”
“Yeah, Kanie-kun. I think he’s got some pretty good ideas, myself. We’re gonna get closed at this rate, mii, so we don’t have the luxury of our pride. We’re basically on our hands and knees, begging a woman for a pity-puff.”
“Stop bringing everything back down to the gutter, fumo.”
“But it’s worked before, mii.”
“You’re kidding,” Moffle scoffed.
“I’m not! Works for me, works for you. Puffin’ good in the neighborhood. There’s more to the world than you’d ever think, mii.”
“Hmm... Did you just say ‘world’ in italics, fumo?”
“Sure did. I was going for suggestive, mii.”
By now, they’d reached the receiving room that lay just under the front plaza. The number of the receiving room, EX-10, was written on the gray wall nearby.
“...Speaking of which, where’s Macaron, mii?”
“I don’t think he’ll come today, fumo. His ‘Flower Adventure’ needs a lot of maintenance, and I think he’s got a meeting with his lawyer in the evening, fumo.”
“Ahh... Still fighting over child support?”
“He’s failed to pay a few times since last year, fumo. Now his ex is suing him, I hear.”
“Tough times for Macaron, mii.”
Macaro
n was once-divorced, with a daughter. The daughter lived with his ex-wife in Maple Land, and he hated the fact that he hardly ever saw her.
“Macaron’s always looking at pictures of his kid and going, ‘Next time I have time off, I’m going to see her,’ in this way serious voice, mii. It’s what we call a death flag, mii.”
“He’ll be fine, fumo.”
“How do you know, mii?”
“He calls her his kid, but she’s not a small child, fumo. Even if he meets her, it’ll just be a sad experience, with her saying ‘Dad, you’re way gross’ and keeping him at arm’s length. Which means it’s not a death flag, fumo.”
“So tragic, mii.”
They passed through the receiving area and came above ground backstage. They were now at the employee door that led to the front plaza, Entrance Square.
“We’re about to go onstage, fumo. Drop the mortal talk.”
“Roger that.”
They paused for a moment and got into character.
“Moffu.”
“Mii.”
Each whispered his own standard line, then they walked “onstage”—in other words, into the area where the guests would be. Small talk was forbidden from here on out.
It was ten minutes to opening time, but there were already a small handful of guests hanging around in Entrance Square. There were three or four sets of families and couples. They all looked confused and angry in light of the “Closed Today” sign on the gate.
“Moffu...”
Customers, I am terribly sorry.
You have been put in an unenviable position as the result of one young man’s arbitrary decision. As a small token of our apology, in lieu of our various attractions, we hope you will enjoy a personal audience with us, the park’s star cast.
Shall we begin with a bit of simple juggling, perhaps? Watch as one ball becomes two, then two become four, and they all dance together in the air.
Now, let’s—
“Shaddap!”
“Moffu!”
A young child slammed him in the side with a flying kick. Moffle felt a sharp pain in his hip, then fell over, spilling his juggling balls across the flagstones.
“M-Moffu...”
Few people knew how much a serious blow from a young child could hurt. It was an experience limited mainly to parents, people with much younger siblings and relatives, and nursery school workers.
“I wanted to go to Digimaland! But I was good! I said okay to AmaBri! Now it’s closed! This sucks! You’re a stupid rat! I want Mackey!”
“Guh...” The child continued to pepper Moffle with kicks as he let loose his string of verbal abuse.
This hurts. This really hurts. This truly hurts. Enough, brat. Mackey, you say? I could kill you for that. He’s not even that great a mascot. He’s just money-hungry. Where the hell are your parents, anyway? Why won’t they stop this?
“Banja-kun! Banja-kun! Stop it! Stop it right now!” A woman in her mid-twenties, hair lightened with bleach, ran up to them. She was probably the child’s mother.
“M-Moffu...”
“But Mama...” the child protested.
“You don’t know where that costume has been!” the woman scolded. “It must be covered in germs! Don’t touch it, you hear me?”
“Fine...I won’t.”
The mother dragged her child off of Moffle, then turned to address him where he was laid out on the ground. “My Banja-kun better not catch anything from you, you hear? I’ll drop a lawsuit so fast it’ll make your head spin. You’d better get your legal team ready!”
“Moffu...”
Yes, dear customer. I’m so sorry for the distress I’ve caused you. We’ve been inconsiderate. Your child’s anger is well-deserved. I feel my own incompetence very keenly, and I will take this as a lesson to improve in the future.
...Ah, and his name is Banja-sama, is it? What a very original, very fine name! Any difficulties it brings your child in life will but help to shape him into a man. I, the humble Moffle, stand before you in awe.
Your concern that the precious child might catch terrible germs from my unworthy self is most appropriate. Yes, your anger is nothing if not justified. I beg your deepest pardon.
Kick me as you like. Abuse me as you like.
By all means, strike me to your heart’s content.
“...Is that what you thought I’d say, fumo?! You stupid bitch?!” As the woman got up in his face, he gave her a hard shove.
“Ouch! ...Hey, what’s wrong with this thing?” the woman wailed. “It’s acting crazy! And it’s talking now, too!”
“Moffu...”
Things immediately spun out of control. Within five seconds of hearing his wife’s shouting, the husband came running up. He was young too, with tightly curled hair. He was wearing a gold necklace and smoked sunglasses, with a selection of rings that clinked on his fingers. Basically, he was a quintessential delinquent.
“Hey, what’s goin’ on here?” he demanded.
“Did you see that, Tak-kun? He shoved me!” The woman’s victimized tone only annoyed Moffle more. “He upset Banja-kun, and when I tried to complain, he just shoved me! Isn’t it awful? Can you even stand it?!”
Seeming to accept the woman’s side without question, the man—‘Tak-kun,’ apparently—glared hard at Moffle. “Oh, yeah? You got some nerve, you little rat!”
“That’s right!” she sniffled. “They can’t just shove customers, right?”
“You bet they can’t. Ain’t that right?!” The husband had gone right into beatdown mode, cracking each of his knuckles in turn before beckoning with his fingertips. “Hey, rat! Get your ass over here! First, I want that costume off! You wanna respect the customers, you better look ’em in the eye! Yeah?!”
Moffle closed his eyes, fists trembling. “Customer. Yes, you are my customer. And as the saying goes, ‘the customer is God,’ fumo...”
“Yeah, so?” the husband snarled, “I told you to get your ass over here!”
“Yes, the customer is God, fumo. But... is it not man’s nature to fight back against tyrannical gods? Like Captain Kratos of Sparta, in the days of the ancient Greeks—though mortal, he took up divine arms and destroyed the God of War, Ares...”
“What the hell are you talking about?!”
“I’m saying that there are some things that cannot be tolerated, even if the customer is God. I’m rebelling against the gods, fumo. Strike me down with lightning if you wish.”
“Oh, yeah? You need me to beat the point into you, ’zat it? Fine, just stay where you are! One move and you’re dead!” “Tak-kun” pulled back his fist and charged straight at Moffle.
“Moffle! Don’t do it, mii!” Tiramii ran up, but was unable to stop him in time—Moffle’s right hook cracked the gentleman in the jaw.
Actually, “cracked” wouldn’t be quite accurate. It was a meticulous strike designed to graze just the tip of the man’s jaw. It applied short, sharp torque to his skull, which rattled his brain inside his cranium.
Tak-kun collapsed like a puppet with strings cut. “Uhhh...” he groaned.
“I would never fall to scum like you, fumo,” Moffle sneered at his opponent, who was now immobilized and barely conscious. “Now, you lie there and watch, helpless, as I exact a gruesome penance from your wife and child, fumo.”
The mother, who had fallen on her backside in terror, watched as he picked up one of the rubber balls on the ground. Regardless of what he could actually do with the ball, he still looked like an interrogator picking up an implement of torture.
“Ah... ahh...” the man moaned helplessly.
“Your cries won’t save you, fumo. You’re about to see what happens when you make an enemy of Amagi Brilliant Park.”
The man shrieked.
“Now... get ready, fumo. ‘Customer!’” Moffle held the rubber ball high over his head.
“Give it a rest, rat.” Kanie Seiya appeared out of nowhere, and sent Moffle flying with a kick.
He didn’
t think the mascot was this stupid, but apparently he was the type to fly off the handle when he was angry. Honestly, it’s a good thing I came to watch just in case...
Seiya extended a courteous apology to the outraged family. Naturally, they refused it, and started shouting about suing them and shaming them on social media.
He had no recourse but to have Isuzu use her magical gun—that “Forgotten Realm” bullet she’d mentioned before. The family immediately forgot the argument and walked away from the park. They were still grumbling, but showed no sign of remembering exactly what had happened to them.
It seemed a few other guests had witnessed the incident, but they’d all disappeared during the commotion. All Seiya could do was pray that the rumors didn’t spread far.
“So you treat your ordinary guests this way too?!” After everything was settled, they withdrew backstage, where Seiya gave Moffle a dressing down.
“......... That was an exceptionally rare case, fumo.”
“‘Exceptionally rare?’ Does that mean it’s happened before?”
“It has,” Isuzu responded bluntly.
Tiramii, who had come backstage with them, chimed in: “Only once a year, if that. He tolerates the vast majority of the guests’ outrage, so please forgive him, mii.”
“For heaven’s sake...” Seiya’s head hurt.
An amusement park where the mascots sometimes hit customers? How on earth had they stayed in business this long? Why hadn’t the police gotten involved?
“The only reason this isn’t a catastrophe is because of Sento’s magical gun. Forget about picking up attendance; we’d have been dead on the spot!”
“Was I just supposed to let him hit me, then? Even mascots have their pride, fumo!”
“You can take that pride and shove it! Especially if you call yourself a professional!”
Surprisingly, Moffle didn’t get any angrier. Instead, his expression was a mix of emotions. It seemed pitying, sad... and also disgusted. It was impressive that he could convey all that with just the button eyes and moffley mouth on that plushy face of his.
“What?” Seiya demanded. “Am I wrong in any way?”
“No, you’re not wrong, fumo,” Moffle said, then sighed. “If I’m going to call myself a pro, I have to be professional with the customers, no matter what they say to me. That’s fundamental, fumo. It’s the iron law of customer service. ...Now of course, you’re not wrong. But...”