by Shouji Gatou
“Moffle’s surprisingly unpopular, ron,” Macaron said.
“Social drinking after work isn’t as trendy as it once was, mii. Especially since it doesn’t come with overtime pay,” Tiramii said.
“Well, it’s all right, fumo. What matters is that work’s over for the day. Cheers...”
Listless and haphazard, the four of them brought their mugs together. Isuzu’s glass inevitably hit that of Moffle, who was next to her, and that of Tiramii, who was right in front of her. But Macaron was across the table diagonally, so she was awkwardly unable to make contact. It wasn’t worth calling for another toast over, but she still felt a little rude about withdrawing her glass.
“......” For the first time, Isuzu had experienced the awkwardness of failing to toast with someone she wasn’t terribly close to.
The three of them drained their mugs of beer and Hoppy, then let out a deep sigh. Isuzu had oolong tea, so she just drank enough to match the mood.
“...So, Macaron? How did things go with the lawyer, mii?”
“They’re willing to give me some leeway on my daughter’s child support payments. But she sends her to a private school, so there’s a lot of expenses, ron...” Macaron whispered limply.
Moffle glared at him from the corner of his eye. “I told you not to get involved with that woman, fumo. Former idols are always extravagant spenders. Nothing good was ever going to come out of it, fumo.”
“You’ve told me over and over, ron...” There was pain in Macaron’s voice. “But when we first got married, I thought she was the most beautiful woman in the world, ron...”
“Marriage is the end of life, fumo.” Moffle declared with great authority.
Though as far as Isuzu knew, Moffle had never been married... Ahh, of course. It must be some kind of aphorism.
“Women like her know how to hide their machinations,” Moffle counseled. “Men’s inability to catch on is the sad fate of our race, fumo.”
“I agree, mii. Here’s some words of wisdom from ol’ Tiramii... ‘When you see a pretty woman, assume she’s a slut.’ It’ll save you lots of time, mii. Y’know?”
Tiramii’s thoughtless words roused Macaron to anger. “Are you calling my ex-wife a slut, ron?!”
“Well she is, mii. She already got herself a new man, didn’t she?”
“Well... I have heard that, but...” Macaron trailed off.
“And she wasn’t a virgin when you got married, mii. Moffle said you stressed out about that, for a while.”
“I-It’s true that I was shocked when she said she’d had some wild years, but... Ngh... stop it. Just stop it, ron!” Macaron clutched his head in agony. Beside him, Moffle blew out a plume of cigarette smoke.
“Well... you know. Her past partners aren’t a big deal, fumo. Rolling with life’s punches is part of a man’s training, fumo.”
“That’s a nice turn of phrase, mii.”
“You’ll go through a lot of experiences in life, fumo. Some day you might look back on this and think ‘that was rough, but it wasn’t all bad,’ fumo.”
“The lectures aren’t making me feel any better, ron!”
What would the guests think if they heard this depressing conversation? Isuzu cleared her throat loudly, as if to tell them to knock it off. “So, is this really supposed to be a kickoff celebration?” she asked. “I thought we’d be talking about something enlivening. I’m disappointed.”
The three of them looked at her disdainfully.
“Don’t be so insensitive, fumo.”
“It’s just small talk building up to the main discussion, ron.”
“You should appreciate our attempts to break the ice, mii.”
The three spoke in turn.
“And anyway, there’s not much to talk about, mii. I guess if anything, I’d want to hear more about him.”
“Yeah, that’s what I was thinking, ron.”
“Him?” Isuzu questioned.
“Kanie Seiya, ron.”
“Yeah, yeah.” Giggling, Tiramii imitated Seiya’s usual expression. All he did was turn his mouth into a sullen scowl, though, so he didn’t look much like him at all. “Give it to us straight, mii! Isuzu-chan, are you into him?”
“I don’t understand what you’re asking,” she replied pointedly.
“You spend more time with him than anyone in the park, mii. We know you’ve been especially protective of him. It’s intriguing, mii.”
“Well... it’s my job,” she said defensively. “There’s nothing suspect about me supporting him.”
The three of them narrowed their eyes at her with deep curiosity.
“Still, we want to know if you’re into him or not, mii.”
“Just be honest, ron.”
“Let it all out. You’ll feel better, fumo.”
How can they be so insensitive? she wondered. No matter how I answer, they’ll misinterpret it. Then, if it got back to him, it could result in a terrible misunderstanding. She couldn’t have that. It would cause trouble in several respects.
“...I’m leaving,” she announced abruptly.
As Isuzu stood up, the three immediately burst into whispers.
“Oh? Avoiding the subject, are you, fumo?”
“Does that mean you’re into him? Is that how we should interpret this, ron?!”
“I heard she spent the night at his house, mii. I bet they’ve already done it, mii.”
“...You people. You deserve a taste of death.” To avoid causing trouble for the restaurant, she shot one pain bullet precisely into each of the mascots. Leaving the three writhing in agony behind her, Isuzu left the yakitori bar behind.
4: Someone Uploaded the Video of a Guest Getting Hit
It had been three days since Seiya had taken up the position of acting manager.
The morning after a sleepless night, he headed for school, eyes downcast. He’d taken too many days off already; if he didn’t start going to class once in a while, people would start getting suspicious.
With nothing else to do on the crowded train, he booted up his smartphone and checked the hits on the video. “......?” He instinctively rubbed his eyes. The hits for the “Everything 30 Yen” swimsuit video were at 8,873.
When he’d checked last night before he’d gone to bed, they had been at 218. From that to 8,873? It was hard to believe it could see a forty-fold increase in just one night. 218 hits to 8,873 hits? It made no sense.
Holding back the butterflies rising in his stomach, he checked the hits again during the gaps between each class. After second period, they were at 12,031. During lunch, they were at 21,230. After sixth period, they were over 40,000 and rising so fast that each time he refreshed the data, the number had increased by the hundreds.
“It seems a different video went viral. Most people who watched the promotion video arrived there via a recommended link...” Isuzu informed Seiya as he arrived in his office at the park. He had run straight there after school.
“A different video...?” he asked.
“It’s the video of Moffle’s fight,” she told him. “Another guest must have filmed his attack on the father, and then uploaded the video to the Internet.”
“What?!” Seiya tried accessing it with a nearby laptop. The limited information provided by his smartphone hadn’t made it clear, but now it was obvious. One of the “related videos” to Seiya’s swimsuit video had acquired over 190,000 hits. The title was “Theme Park Mascot Knocks Out Delinquent.”
He clicked it, and indeed, it was a recording of Moffle’s fight with the guest family from the day before. One of the other guests must have shot it in the confusion, left before Seiya and Isuzu came running, and then uploaded it to the video site later.
In terms of format, it was a lot like any other fight video you might see online; it started with the man shouting abuses at Moffle, who was outside the video frame. There was no explanation of what had led up to it.
The man’s threatening rant lasted about ten seconds. It was quite
an uncomfortable scene.
The audio quality was poor, so it was hard to hear anything Moffle was saying. It just sounded like he was shouting “Fumomo, fumo, fumomomo!”
Then, the man charged at Moffle. Just as tensions were at their peak, Moffle executed a precise sidestep of the man’s strike, followed by a perfect hook to his jaw. The hit took the man down, then Moffle punched the air with a swift one-two before striking a taunting pose. That was the end of the video.
“Mmgh...” Seiya groaned.
In reality, Moffle was equally at fault. But taken out of context, it looked incredibly thrilling.
Most of the comments on the video were positive.
One read, “Nice job. Really cathartic for us in service industries.”
Another: “That hook was on point. Mascot’s hella strong.”
Another: “What park is this? I gotta go see!”
Of course, there were critical comments, too. For instance: “What kind of amusement park hits their own customers?” and “This is faked, it’s stealth marketing.” But far more of the comments seemed to find the fight entertaining than not.
The hit count was almost 200,000.
On top of that, the first link in the fight’s “related videos” was the promotion video, with its thumbnail of three beautiful girls in swimsuits. Well, at least it was serving its purpose of drawing the eye.
In short, the Moffle fight video had gone viral, and it was channeling traffic to the promotion video.
“The hits are still going up,” Isuzu observed helpfully. “This is a good sign, isn’t it?”
“Hmm...” Seiya was noncommittal.
“What’s wrong?” she asked. “You don’t look happy.”
“Well, it’s good news, but...” He was hesitant to celebrate. After all—
“Moffu.” He looked up and saw Moffle, who was standing at the entrance to the office. He was leaning against the frame with an air of perfect smugness about him.
“Moffle,” Isuzu greeted him. “Your video seems to be a hit.”
“I know, fumo. I’ve been hearing about it all day. But... hah, I’m not AmaBri’s headlining mascot for nothing, fumo. I have that certain, you know... charisma?”
That bastard, Seiya thought. I just knew he’d try to rub my nose in it.
“It takes a certain star power to turn unfortunate circumstances to gold,” Moffle remarked casually. “I’m so talented, fumo, I even frighten me. I guess it goes to show... an amateur child might attempt to be clever, but he’ll always pale before real talent, fumo.” Moffle looked down his nose at Seiya, grinning nastily. ...In reality, Moffle was much shorter than him. Yet in this moment, he somehow seemed to tower over him.
“Ngh...” Seiya turned his eyes down, shoulders trembling.
Moffle continued, “So, hmmmm... Kanie-kun. How about that video of yours, fumo? The three girls in swimsuits? Hah, you put a lot of thought into that, didn’t you? You were so excited. But, too bad. Did you really think it was going to explode in popularity? The world doesn’t cater to such naivete. Heh heh heh...”
Dammit. It was annoying. Really annoying. To make it worse, he couldn’t even say that Moffle was wrong.
“It’s just a coincidence that it went over well,” Isuzu interrupted. “I don’t know who uploaded it, but you should be grateful that they edited it in such a flattering way. They could have just as easily made you out to be the villain.”
“Moffu...” Her perfectly accurate observation caused Moffle to lower his eyes shamefully.
“Now... I believe you had something to say, Kanie-kun?” she continued. “The petty competition aside.”
“...I did, actually.” Seiya took a deep breath, shaking off his embarrassment and anger. “...There are about 50,000 hits on the 30 yen promotion video. It will probably peak tonight, and then the views will die off tomorrow. We’ll be lucky if it hits 100,000.”
“Fumo...”
“On top of that, there’s the fact that the people watching the video are all over Japan. Even if people in Hokkaido and Okinawa get interested in AmaBri, there’s no way they’re going to come here on a whim. So, how many people who watch a video like that will ever come here? One in ten? No—fewer than that. We’ll be lucky to get one in fifty.”
In other words, two percent. And even that might be optimistic...
“So, for instance, if 100,000 people see the advertisement, then that translates into 2,000 visits to the park. And it will probably be even fewer than that, given the geographical difficulties I mentioned—more like 1,000, or even less. What I’m saying is that just because the video goes viral doesn’t necessarily mean we can count on more guests.”
“If that’s the case, why did you put us through that ordeal?” Isuzu asked him, her gaze understandably resentful.
“Because I’d rather have 1,001 than 1,000,” Seiya responded resolutely.
Moffle and Isuzu’s eyes went wide.
“Get every single person that we can,” he told them. “That’s what we have to do, right now.”
A brilliant scheme wasn’t just going to come out of thin air, after all. For now, they had to focus on getting every individual they could to the park. They needed to be willing to do anything to make that happen—that was the only way they stood a chance.
“......”
He hadn’t intended to express his desperation openly like this, but Moffle and Isuzu still seemed to take something from his words. “...I see what you mean, fumo,” Moffle said. He was no longer smug, nor was he smiling. “I’ll be going now. The guests are waiting, fumo.”
Moffle left, leaving Seiya and Isuzu together in the office.
“...I think Moffle just realized that you’re serious,” she finally said.
“Did he?”
“Yes. And more than that, I think he thinks you won this round.”
“Won?” That’s a strange thing to say, Seiya thought. I was just describing my approach to the problem.
“You’re trying to get every single guest you can,” Isuzu explained. “Meanwhile, Moffle slipped away from his onstage post to mock you... Remembering his duty likely sobered him up.”
“Ahh... I see.” It seemed the rat had more than his share of pride in his work. He probably couldn’t bear to just stand around here after hearing something like that.
Isuzu stuck her face out the office door into the hallway to make sure that no one was there. Then she turned around, closed the door behind her, and walked right up to Seiya. “Kanie-kun.”
“Wh-What?” Her face was close. Her large eyes were peering straight into his. Seiya turned away instinctively.
“I won’t complain anymore,” she told him. “If you ask me to go out in a swimsuit again, I will. If you ask me to strip naked, I will.”
“W-Well...” he stuttered, “I don’t think I’d ever ask you to strip naked...”
“...I see,” she said, after a pause. “Then we’ll take the nakedness off the table. Anyway, you’re a good commander. That’s all I was trying to say.”
“Ahh...” he stammered idiotically, as he felt her words permeate straight through his heart.
A good commander. Was he, really? It was hard for Seiya to agree. It was still far more likely that this was all going to end in tragedy.
Isuzu turned away sharply, as if to convey that she had nothing left to say. “I’m going to go onstage, too,” she said. “Perhaps I can impress the guests with my sharpshooting prowess.”
“Don’t accidentally kill anyone, okay?” he suggested dryly.
“I’ll try not to.” Pulling out her usual musket, Isuzu left the office.
Afterwards, Seiya went about his duties: reading reports from various departments, giving out instructions, consulting with staff. He checked in on how maintenance was going, gave final decisions on advertising copy, straightened out inefficiencies, and more. Once he’d reached a stopping place, Seiya decided to see how things were looking on stage.
“Let’s see...”
He slipped on his park uniform, which was a tailored dark blue suit with gold aiguillettes and an arm band that read “acting manager.” He thought he looked rather ridiculous in it, but it had long been the rule that the park’s manager should wear it when he went onstage.
He left the general affairs building and headed for the passage to the front plaza. It had gotten quite dark; close to closing time. Most of the guests were probably gone by now.
“......?” When he came to the front plaza, Entrance Square, he found that things were surprisingly lively.
It was far from packed, of course. Given the season and the time of day, it was unsurprising that visitors were rather sparse, but the guests who were there had stopped on their way to the gate to enjoy the performances of the cast.
“Moffu! Moffu!” Moffle was juggling. Four balls became five, five became six. He kept them all in the air with great skill, adding in a spin here and there. That he was doing it with those stubby little arms of his made it all the more impressive. As he finished, four or five guests clapped, and Moffle responded with a low bow.
“Ron! Ron!” Macaron was dancing. Early 2000’s hip-hop blasted from an old, musty CD player as he leapt and bounded furiously around on the street. Official park copy stated that Macaron specialized in ballroom dancing, but what he was performing now was hardcore break-dancing. He spun around and around on his head to the rhythm of an old Run-DMC song, prompting cheers from a handful of guests.
“Mii! Mii!” Tiramii was doing a performance on stilts. Far from being a child’s toy, the stilts were about three meters tall. Since Tiramii was a conspicuously small mascot, this led to an especially disproportionate and precarious visual. Despite the impossible-seeming posture, Tiramii ran lightly all over the square, first skipping, then hopping on one foot, then even walking backwards. The guests walking along the road cheered him on.
“......” Isuzu was there, too. She was wearing a blindfold and neatly sniping balloons from the mouths of nervous-looking mascots—including Wanipii and Tricen—with her musket. Each time she hit her target, the five or six guests watching applauded.