by Shouji Gatou
The charm let you be perceived as “an ordinary person,” but that didn’t mean you appeared to be someone else. It didn’t change your actual appearance. Even with the charm on, Moffle was still Moffle, and Macaron was still Macaron.
If Macaron put on the charm and walked around the park with Papa Adachi, there was a chance that it would wreak havoc with Papa Adachi’s perceptions. All over the park, he’d see the supposedly “ordinary” face of Macaron plastered on signs, and people walking around in costumes based off of him.
Most people might think “that’s rather strange, but oh well,” and remain calm. Children generally had no issue; the same went for young women.
But adult men were a problem— The more skeptical they were of things like ghosts and UFOs, the worse the effects tended to be. For people like that, the sight of the face of “ordinary person” Macaron on signs and in pamphlets would cause a short-circuit in their brains. This led to convulsions in some, headaches in others, and screaming freak-outs in more—they’d been through it quite a few times.
Because of that, Lalapatch Charms weren’t recommended for use within the park itself. Tricen or Wrenchy-kun didn’t have trouble dealing with their mortal contractors that way, because they mostly conducted their business backstage, and also because they were minor characters. The three headliner mascots, though, weren’t really cut out for these client liaisons.
“...Yeah, I guess we can’t use the charm, ron. So what do we do?’
Moffle and Tiramii shared a glance. Then, for some reason, they pulled out a rope and a stun gun, respectively.
“You’re going to come with us to break room B-3, fumo.”
“...?”
“The Iron Phore arrived from Maple Land this morning, mii.”
Macaron’s face went pale.
Seiya and Isuzu were waiting in the break room under Sorcerer’s Hill, when...
“No, no, no! I won’t do it, ron!”
Moffle and Tiramii arrived, dragging with them a screaming and kicking Macaron. He was bound up in ropes from head to toe, while Adachi Eiko followed after, looking completely bewildered.
“Okay, here he is. But I have to say...” Seiya hummed skeptically as he looked up at the massive device that had been brought here earlier. It was a heavy metal casket, studded with bolts. A threatening-looking crest adorned the hinged lid.
But what really sent a chill up his spine was the inside. It was full of spikes—hundreds and thousands of spikes. The inside of the lid was also covered in spikes. Climbing inside and closing the lid would lead to incredible pain, if you didn’t die instantly.
“...It really looks like a torture device from the European Middle Ages,” he concluded. “Is this really going to make him look human?”
“It certainly will,” Isuzu reassured him. “It has the Maple Land Ministry of Health seal of approval. You see? It’s right there.”
Seiya followed her gaze to a small aluminum sticker on one corner of the casket. It was in some strange writing he couldn’t read, but he assumed she was telling the truth.
“This magical device is the fastest way to cause the change. The impacts on his health will be minor, and the transformation can be completed in as little as three minutes. Transformation usually takes a few days, so it’s quite impressive,” Isuzu explained as she flipped through the (surprisingly thin) instruction manual for the casket known as the Iron Phore. “The controls are simple, as well. Simply turn this dial to choose between the three stages: ‘Express’ ‘Normal’ and ‘Thorough.’”
“Sounds a little like a laundry machine...” Seiya observed. “Does it hurt?”
“I’m told that it hurts quite a lot. It’s similar to acupuncture and moxibustion,” Isuzu told him. “But it should be bearable.”
“This is outrageous, ron!” Macaron screamed from where he’d been thrown onto the floor, still bound up in the ropes. “The last time I tried transformation was as a test of courage in high school, ron! It really, really hurts! Once was more than enough already, and then I had to do it again to turn back! I’m not doing it, ron!”
“Yeah, during my days in officer school, the upperclassmen would do it as a hazing ritual, fumo. It was really rough.”
“I’ve never done it, mii. Too scared.”
Moffle and Tiramii both threw in their two cents.
“Sento. Have you ever used one of these?” Seiya asked curiously.
“Certainly not. I’ve never had any reason to.”
“Hmm...” He’d been surprised to learn that Moffle and the other mascots could take on human form if they needed to. Apparently the reverse could also happen, which suggested that Isuzu had her own plush form she could take on. What would Sento Isuzu’s mascot form look like? What about Latifah’s? Or Muse’s? It was an intriguing thought.
“Do you want to see it?” she asked.
“See what?”
“My transformed state.”
“Well... I suppose I am curious,” Seiya admitted.
“...Pervert.”
“What?!” Was that how they took it?! Seiya just stared in confusion while Isuzu turned away, blushing.
Meanwhile, Macaron got even angrier. “Dammit! Can the youth drama and untie me, ron! There’s no chance in hell I’m gonna transfo—”
“Ah, let’s just do it and shut him up, fumo.”
“Roger that, mii!”
“Hey! Stop! R-Roooon!”
Ignoring his protests, Moffle and Tiramii tossed Macaron into the casket, then shut the lid.
“R-R-Ro—ow! Ow, ow! It hurts, ron!” He was probably in pain from the stinging spikes already. Muffled screams emanated from inside the coffin.
“Let’s cut to the chase and use the express setting, fumo. It’ll only take three minutes, fumo.” Moffle turned the dial, then pulled the activation lever. A dazzling light began to pour from various spots on the casket.
“R-Roooooooon! It hurts, it hurts! It hurts, ron! Stop! Stop! Gyaaaaaah!” Macaron screamed from within the casket.
Seiya found himself grimacing. “It sounds painful.”
“The express course is supposed to hurt the most, mii.”
“Hrm...”
“Um, everyone, if I may...!” Eiko, who had been watching from the back of the group, finally spoke up. “This seems... ah, cruel, don’t you think? Er, I’m aware that I’m the one who caused it all, but...”
“Moffu. Don’t you worry.” Moffle waved a paw dismissively. “Macaron’s a tough one, fumo. Just watch and you’ll see... Ah, there we go.”
Macaron was still screaming, in a way that suggested such intense pain that it was hard to listen to. But gradually, his screams had started to mix with dry laughter.
“Rooon! Waaagh! It hurts, it hurts, it hurts! Heh... hehehe! It hurts... hehehehehe!” Then, soon enough, it turned into shrieks of like crying laughter, mixed with aggressive provocations. “It hurts... hehe! Graaauuu?! You... hehe! You ain’t got squat! Hehehehe! Ahh... you think that hurts?! I don’t even feel it, ya bastard! Yeah, turn it up! Gimme the worst ya got! That don’t even tickle, ya dumb mitch!”
“Wow,” Seiya remarked. “He’s really fighting hard.”
“I think he’s getting into it, mii.”
“That’s our Macaron. They don’t call him ‘the delinquent king of LubDub High’ for nothing, fumo.”
“Two minutes left,” Isuzu announced.
Eiko looked flustered, while the two mascots and Isuzu appeared completely at ease.
“Screw you, asshole! Is that the best you got?! I’ll kick your ass, you metal piece of crap!” Macaron’s aggressive screams continued on for two more minutes, at last ending in a leisurely “ding.”
“Time’s up, fumo...”
Accompanied by a rumble (for some reason), the casket opened, billowing smoke.
The man who stepped out was handsome—very handsome.
He appeared to be in his thirties, although he had a youthful air about him that could put him as young a
s mid-20s. He was fair-skinned, with messy hair; slender with long arms and legs. He wore a white button-up shirt and black slacks, had finely-drawn features and a slight bad-boy manner of comportment.
“Guh... nguh...” The man collapsed onto hands and knees, looking sick to his stomach.
“Oh-ho...” Moffle said in wonder, arms folded. “In all the time I’ve known you, I’ve never seen your human form, fumo. Didn’t think you’d be so scrawny.”
“Yeah, mii! I’m disappointed! I thought you’d be swole...”
“Sh-Shut up, ron,” Macaron(?) whispered. Even his voice had changed; it was mature, yet vibrant.
Shakily, he pulled himself to his feet and wiped the sweat off his brow. He approached the mirror in the break room and peered into it. “Ugh... this is awful.” Macaron(?) clicked his tongue ruefully. “Lalapa won’t recognize me like this... I look like some obnoxious pop idol, ron. Macaronian men are supposed to be strong and dashing...” The “ron” copulas felt out of place coming from that face and voice, but they did increase the likelihood that this was really Macaron.
“Incredible...” Seiya said, dumbstruck. That sheep mascot and this man were one and the same? It made no sense! No sense at all!! “There’s no way... Is this really Macaron? Sento?”
He’d addressed her, but Isuzu wasn’t listening. She was looking even more shocked than Seiya was, standing stock still with her hand over her mouth. “That app... it was right.”
“App? What app?”
“Oh. Nothing...” Isuzu cleared her throat. “He clearly is Macaron, but I’ll confirm it. ...Macaron?”
“Yeah?” The handsome man turned back.
“Tell me your employee ID number.”
“Huh? Uhh... I think it was B-3126, ron. That’s just off the top of my head, though.”
“He’s right,” Isuzu said after checking her tablet.
“Guh...” Seiya felt a shiver run through him. It was like the foundations of his world were crumbling. How could that Macaron be this good-looking?
He’s almost as handsome as I am! Seiya thought. Although, if put to a vote, I’d still win because I’m younger! Yet even then, Macaron would prove a formidable foe...
“Seiya-kun, are you all right?” Isuzu asked him.
“Eh? Wh-Why do you ask?”
“You’re acting like you did when you first saw that specter.”
“Sh-Shut up!” he hissed.
“If you insist...”
There was one other person in the room who was even more shocked than Isuzu. It was, of course, Adachi Eiko. “Macaron-san... is that you?” she asked, breathless.
“Yeah, it’s me. Just don’t stare, okay, ron? This is embarrassing and completely temporary. I’m still the cool, awesome sheep you know and love, so... Hey, what’s with you?”
“Well, I... ah...” Eiko stammered, then lowered her eyes. Her face was bright red. She must have felt like she was gazing at the frog prince, post-kiss.
“...? You’re acting weird, ron.” Macaron just furrowed his brow in response.
“Hmm... Well, what matters is that it worked, fumo.” Moffle clapped his paws decisively. “Let’s open the park, fumo.”
Macaron spent the rest of the morning on light backstage work. Papa Adachi was to arrive at noon, so fifteen minutes before then, he tidied up and headed for the employee entrance.
In the underground passageway, he happened to pass the Aquario girls: Spirit of Water, Muse; Spirit of Fire, Salama; Spirit of Earth, Kobory; and Spirit of Wind, Sylphie. They had just finished their morning performance, and they were probably on their way to the employee cafeteria for lunch.
“Hey,” he said, but this simple greeting was met with suspicion. Kobory responded non-committally, while Salama openly asked, “Who’s that?”
For some reason, though, Muse seemed stunned to see him. “Huh? Ah!” she cried.
“Today’s lunch set A was better than usual, ron. You’d better hurry if you want to grab it.” Macaron didn’t have time for standing and talking, so he just walked on past after that. As he walked away, he could hear the four of them whispering to each other, followed by shrieks of surprise. What’s with them? So annoying, ron...
Waiting at the security center near the employee entrance were Kanie Seiya, Sento Isuzu, and Tricen. Tricen was wearing his Lalapatch Charm— He typically assumed the role of a vice president (without the corresponding salary increase, unfortunately) when dealing with outsiders, and they dragged him out on occasions when the teenage Seiya would be inappropriate.
“I’m here, ron.”
“Sure,” Seiya said, by way of greeting.
“Ohh... Is that you, Macaron-san? I’m compelled to hunch over!” Tricen’s eyes widened in shock.
“You hunch over for everything, ron.”
“Well, as a matter of fact, I don’t swing that way. But even so... I, Tricen, am forced into an ultra-hunch out of shock!”
“Ron...”
“Okay, here’s how we’ll handle this,” Seiya announced decisively. “Sento, Tricen and I will go out to greet him. We’ll introduce you, then we’ll head to the main office, have a little chat, and show him around backstage. We’ll also show him around onstage if he requests it.”
“Got it, ron. Leave it to me, ron.”
Seiya winced in response. “Ugh, that speech tic with that appearance... Can’t you knock it off? It’s seriously unsettling.”
“Are you mocking my Macaronian accent?!” Macaron cried angrily. “This is why you city folk disgust me! You think the way you talk is the only right way, ron! Well puff you, ron!”
“No, I’m not mocking you... Wait, it’s supposed to be an accent?”
“Yeah. Like hell I’m gonna use your froufrou Tokyo accent, ron!”
“...Exactly what kind of place is Macaronia, anyway?” Seiya asked.
“Hmm... if we’re comparing it to Japan, it’s a bit like Kumamoto, I guess?”
He was trying to give a relatable example, but it didn’t seem to sink in for Seiya. “Yeah, I don’t get it,” he confirmed. “But never mind. Anyway, we really need you to make a good impression, so talk normally. Got it?”
“......Got it, ron.”
“Lose the ‘ron,’” Seiya ordered.
“Got it,” Macaron said, adding a rebellious “ron” only in his mind.
They waited. Just before 12:00, Isuzu’s smartphone vibrated. She walked to the corner of the room, had a brief exchange, then hung up. “That was Mr. Adachi. His conference is running long, so he won’t be able to get here until 1:00...”
“What? Hmm... Ah, well, it is what it is. I’m going to grab some lunch.” Seiya, tension deflated, just stretched lightly and left the security center.
“What’s the matter, Macaron?” Isuzu asked.
“I have a bad feeling about this, ron...” He’s going to be an hour late... Even though Lalapa is coming at 3:00!
In fact, Adachi Eizo ended up being an hour and a half late. By the time he arrived, Macaron’s irritation had reached boiling point. If not for Isuzu and Tricen’s repeated urging for him to calm down, he might have started kicking folding chairs.
“Hello, there! I’m sorry for the wait!” Papa Adachi said as he arrived in the employee parking lot. He was around 50 years old, with salt-and-pepper hair, and cut a slim figure in the suit that he wore. “I just couldn’t get out of that conference! I’d assumed it would be brief, but all these niggling little details kept coming up... Anyway, I truly am sorry.”
His manner was surprisingly humble. He didn’t have an assistant or a chauffeur with him, either. He’d driven himself there in a BMW SUV; an expensive car, but not egregiously so. One could say it was a rather modest choice given his status, in fact.
That just makes him more intimidating, though, ron... Macaron thought.
Papa Adachi’s suit looked expensive, too, but he wore it without a tie, perhaps trying to strike a casual air for his visit to an amusement park— Though of course, he was s
till wearing a million yen watch. All in all, he radiated confidence and professionalism.
It sticks in my craw, Macaron thought. I can’t believe Seiya managed to hash out a deal with this crafty old bastard...
Seiya and Tricen greeted Papa Adachi first, and Tricen bowed to him repeatedly. What Macaron could overhear sounded like “We’re terribly sorry for the trouble our employee has caused...”
Papa Adachi seemed to laugh off Tricen’s solicitousness with a phrase like, “Oh, it’s no problem.”
Seiya then beckoned to Macaron. Before he joined them, Isuzu whispered to him, “We’re counting on you, Macaron.”
“......Fine, ron.”
“No ‘ron,’” she reminded him.
“Fine,” he repeated, once again adding the ‘ron’ in his mind. He’d just have to go back to his army days and think of the man like an officer. Macaron marched up to Papa Adachi, and then bowed to him respectfully. “My name is Magiwa. I’m terribly sorry the recent trouble,” he said, adding another mental “ron.”
Magiwa—full name Magiwa Ichiro—was Macaron’s “mortal world” name, in the same way that Tricen’s was Toride, and Yisuzulch Sentolucia’s was Sento Isuzu.
“Ah, so you’re the infamous Magiwa. I’m Adachi. I appreciate everything you’ve done for my daughter,” Papa Adachi said, in a thoroughly genial tone. He didn’t acknowledge the apology, however. Outwardly, he seemed perfectly cheerful, without the slightest hint of lurking malice.
Oh, come on... Macaron thought. What a liar. I bet he’s really thinking, “You’re the man who put his hands on my daughter!” That’s what I’d be thinking, at least. Ahh, I don’t like this, ron! Everything would have been easier if the man had come here spoiling for a fight, wearing his hostility on his sleeve.
“Well, then, I propose that we head for the conference room,” Seiya suggested.
The move to the general affairs building and the ensuing small talk cost them thirty minutes in total. It was pure niceties; Papa Adachi spoke self-deprecatingly about the stresses of running a hospital, and Tricen did the same about the stresses of running a theme park. One would speak a while, then the other would say “Yes, that sounds hard,” over and over again.