by Shouji Gatou
“But how delightful it is,” Latifah squealed, “just as it is!”
“Um... well.. I guess...”
“...You do not agree?”
“Well... I wouldn’t say... umm...” Seiya didn’t notice the shadow that fell over Latifah’s face. Actually, he did—but he was too consumed over what to do about the disastrous ride to give it any deeper thought.
Should I fix it? he asked himself. But so many of the parts were so old, he’d probably have to make special orders. That wouldn’t be cheap.
Wrenchy-kun, head of the facilities department, had told him, “It’s pretty bad, maybe you should close it down a while.” But it did still function, so Seiya had told him to keep it running, for now.
That was clearly the wrong decision. If I leave this thing as-is, some day, it’s going to cause an accident— And in that exact moment, the accident occurred.
There was a loud bang from the horse in front of their carriage, which had been vibrating dangerously the entire time. The metal part that fixed its pole to the ceiling had broken, causing the horse to dip down with an ear-splitting groan. The part that had broken off—a ring a little smaller than a fist—tumbled down, hit the back of the riderless horse, and then bounced.
“......!” It happened too quickly for Seiya to react. The metal part flew into the carriage, and banged Latifah on the head.
Moffle didn’t hear about it until after his live show that night. After a charismatic performance on-stage, he withdrew to the sound of applause.
While his fellow performers high-fived and congratulated each other, his assistant, Chujo Shiina, timidly approached. “Moffle-san,” she said nervously. “I need to tell you something...”
“What is it, fumo?”
“W-Well... J-J-Just before the show, you got a call... But I was worried it would distract you... so...”
“All right, just get to the point, fumo.”
“I th-think it might make you lose your mind...” she ventured.
“Hmph. Lose my mind?” he scoffed. “Who do you think I am, fumo? Just tell me.”
“Latifah-san was injured,” Shiina finally said. “She snuck onto the merry-go-round and there was an accident...”
Moffle lost his mind. He spat out the mineral water he’d just taken a drink of, then started pacing back and forth backstage in panic. He took out his smartphone and went through several failed attempts at placing a call. “A-Ambulance! Call an ambulance, fumo! What’s the number? Yes... 911! 911, fumo!”
“That’s America’s emergency number,” Shiina reminded him.
“Then 118!”
“That’s the Japan Coast Guard.”
“Er, I see, fumo... Then, um... um... 03-3238-****!”
“That’s the Fujimi Shobo editorial department. Why do you even have that on your phone? Anyway, calm down!”
“But! But! Moffu!” Shiina’s knowledge of phone numbers was even stranger than his, but Moffle was too flustered to consider that now. “R-Right, fumo. Where’s Latifah? How’s she doing? Is she conscious, fumo?!”
“She’s in her room in Maple Castle. The wound was minor, but... I haven’t heard if she was conscious or not.”
“Moffu!” Moffle rushed towards the underground passageway that would take him to Maple Castle.
“Wait, Moffle-san!” Shiina called after him. “You don’t mind me filling in for the rest of your work?!”
“Mooooffu!”
“Is that a yes or a no?! Um, um...!”
Moffle ignored her and ran down the stairs to the underground passage. He remembered hearing something earlier about the merry-go-round malfunctioning and being shut down. He hadn’t heard there was an accident, though... Could it be that Latifah was riding it then?
Exactly two minutes later, he was in Latifah’s bedroom in Maple Castle. “Latifah! Are you all right, fumo?!” he asked, kicking the door open like a member of a SWAT team. Then, he stopped in shock when what he saw was Latifah and Isuzu sitting in the parlor chairs drinking tea.
“Lord Moffle,” Isuzu greeted him.
“Uncle?” Latifah seemed perfectly at ease. She was dressed in plain clothes—the same outfit she had been wearing when she visited the House of Sweets that day— and there was a large band-aid on the right side of her forehead, but that was all.
“I... I heard you were hurt in an accident, fumo. A-Are you all right, fumo?”
“Yes. I was a bit startled, nothing more,” Latifah said with an awkward smile.
“A metal part from the merry-go-round happened to come loose,” Isuzu explained, “and it happened to strike the princess in the head...”
“It is fortunate that it was not one of our guests,” Latifah put in.
“How can you say that, fumo?!” Moffle had granted himself a second of relief, but he was immediately back to shouting again. “You could have been hurt! Who was with you, fumo? Isuzu! Was it you, fumo?!”
Isuzu slumped and let out a sigh. “No, it was Kanie-kun. He was wearing one of the Gulley suits, taking a day with the princess in the park.”
Now Moffle remembered. When Latifah had visited him, she had been with an unfamiliar male guest. So the man who had run off grinning while he stood there reeling from her reveal—that was Seiya, was it?
“A surprise inspection, fumo? But—”
“Not exactly,” Isuzu hedged. “It’s rather difficult to explain... I believe he wanted a change of scenery. A way to sort out his thoughts.”
“Moffu...” Isuzu’s statement made everything clear. Knowing Seiya’s personality and the offer Mackey had made yesterday, it wasn’t a stretch to imagine he was torturing himself over it. To go around the park as a guest—it was better than stewing in his office all day. And it was understandable that he’d take Latifah with him, too. “I see, fumo. All right.”
“Ah... might I ask what you meant?” Latifah inquired. “About sorting out his thoughts?”
“It’s nothing, Your Highness,” Isuzu told her. “Just a minor issue.”
“Yeah. Nothing to worry about, fumo.”
They had to choose the right time to tell Latifah about the offer. For all the disagreements those three might have, that was one matter on which they stood united.
“But today, Kanie-sama was—” Latifah seemed about to say something, then noted the atmosphere and bit back her words. “Ah. Forgive me...”
“So? Where’s Seiya now?” Moffle wanted to know.
“He went home,” Isuzu told him. “The accident must have been disheartening for him... and he looked tired as well.”
“Moffu...”
“I advised him to take a proper rest. I’m sure I can adjust his schedule tomorrow.”
It seemed best to leave such matters to Isuzu. “Understood, fumo. Latifah?”
“...Ah, yes?” Latifah seemed deep in thought about something.
“I was thinking about taking off early today, fumo. Would you like to get dinner with me after? Kobory’s family sent her a huge pack of udon. She shared some with me, so I thought I’d make some miso nikomi udon, fumo.” It occurred to him, suddenly, that with as busy as he’d been lately, he’d been neglecting Latifah. By the time his work was over, she was always in bed. As her uncle, it was his job to enjoy a leisurely meal with her now and again.
“Forgive me, Uncle. For today, I believe I should rest...” Latifah smiled her usual bright smile, but there was something depleted about it. There was no way she could enjoy miso nikomi udon in her condition.
“Ah, I... I see, fumo. Well, you’ve been walking around the park in this heat all day, after all. Sorry for being insensitive, fumo.”
“Not at all. I hope that we might share a meal very soon.”
“Yeah. Let’s make it a promise, fumo.”
“Yes,” she agreed. “Let us promise.”
Isuzu and the others had told him to rest, but Seiya was in no mood to do so. Latifah’s injury had been blessedly mild, but it easily could have been much more serious. Seiya
was so shaken and angry at himself that he ordered the cast member in charge to close the broken-down merry-go-round until further notice.
What that meant was that they’d probably tear it down. It would cost too much to repair, and in Seiya’s mind, it bore a stigma as “the attraction that hurt Latifah.” He’d told Latifah as much while her injuries were getting patched. She had seemed to want to say something else, but she’d held herself back, and simply assented. The mournful manner in which she’d done it was just another log on the fire of Seiya’s anger.
In the end, his little venture in the park hadn’t yielded a single good idea; that was usually the way when someone hit a brick wall. He’d hoped that his date with Latifah would produce yield something, a faint glimmer of hope that a way out of the tunnel was in sight—but he hadn’t been so fortunate. The only way to spark ideas now was to take action.
Thus, Seiya took action. The minute he got home, he made a few calls, then rode his bike back out to central Amagi City. It seemed he could still meet with the man he was after tonight.
It took him about twenty minutes to reach his destination; a golf course in the middle of a peaceful residential district. The sun had gone down by now, and the blinding white lights and the vibrant green netting stood out in sharp relief against the darkness. Even from the parking lot, he could hear the thunk of well-hit golf balls.
The lot was full of foreign cars: three Mercedes, two BMWs, an Audi, and a Volvo. Even the domestic cars there were Lexuses and the like. The practice range catered to the well-to-do, so the brick-tiled outer wall and the fountain at the entrance were all top-notch. He didn’t see a place to park his bicycle, so instead, he leaned it at the entrance and passed through the automatic door into the lounge.
“Welcome. Do you have a reservation?” the middle-aged receptionist asked him immediately. She was polite and courteous, but clearly on her guard around the unfamiliar young man.
According to Seiya’s advanced research, this place was often used by young wannabe pros in the region, but the receptionist probably knew all of them on sight. Ergo, Seiya decided to employ a different tactic. “Er... excuse me. I believe my grandfather might be here...”
“Yes, sir,” the receptionist said agreeably. “And what is his name?”
“Hojo Ichiro.”
“And could I ask for your name?”
“Um, Kazuki.”
“Could you wait just one moment?”
“S-Sure. Sorry.” Seiya’s performance of a high school student feeling out of place was perfect.
Fortunately, the receptionist bought it. With a smile meant to assuage his nervousness, she returned back behind her counter. Of course, Seiya wasn’t really nervous at all— he’d been invited by many great stars and their wives to visit snooty country clubs in his child actor days. This practice range was no different.
The secretary had a short phone conversation with someone else in the building, then spoke to Seiya again. “Go on in. Hojo-sama is at the 12th driving range.”
“R-Right,” he said shakily. “Thanks.”
“Shall I show you the way?” she asked.
“No, thanks! I... I can handle it!” He gave her a low bow, then strode off.
Once the receptionist was out of sight, Seiya immediately dropped the nervous act. If he were an assassin planning to kill Hojo Ichiro, she’d bear a great deal of responsibility for what happened next; unfortunately, this was a simple neighborhood driving range, not a home to politicians and mob bosses.
Half of the ranges were in use. Coach-like figures taught young women how to stand, hold the club, and swing. Middle-aged men muttered and seemed to project their boss’s face onto a ball before they smacked it.
The man he was after was on the last range. He was a man of about 70, but his posture was upright. He had sunken-in eyes, sagging jowls, and long, shaggy eyebrows.
This was Hojo Ichiro, the CEO of the park’s mortal enemy, Amagi Development. They’d met several times before, so Seiya knew him on sight. Hojo didn’t notice Seiya at first, but just kept swinging his driver silently and skillfully. Each hit let out a solid sound of contact, and the ball flew straight where he’d aimed it.
“Hojo-san,” Seiya greeted him politely.
“...? Aren’t you...” Hojo stopped mid-swing and furrowed his brow.
“Kanie, from Maple Real Estate.” “Maple Real Estate” was AmaBri’s corporate name; it ran off of funding from Maple Land.
“I know that,” Hojo retorted. “What are you doing here? ...You’re not a golfer, are you?”
“No, I came here to talk to you,” Seiya admitted. “Someone in your company told me you often come here on Mondays.”
“Hmm. I wonder who that might have been...” Hojo muttered grouchily, then let out another full swing. The ball flew in a beautiful arc. “Sorry, but can we do this another day? I’m off right now.”
“You’re off most days,” Seiya pointed out. “You only come into your office for a few hours twice a week to play around on your PC.”
The old man glared at him. “I knew you were an impudent child... You pushed me several times on the land sale issue, too. But this is a little beyond the pale, wouldn’t you say?”
“It was the only way I knew to get a meeting with you.”
“I’m talking about your attitude,” Hojo told him coldly. “You’re being very aggressive.”
“And I think you know why,” Seiya replied. When they were working on making the sale of the second park a reality, Seiya and Hojo had gone through several rounds of negotiations, in which Seiya had always maintained a respectful attitude.
Now, things were different. He’d openly come to pick a fight with this old man, who had been the one to hand him the three million attendance quota just before the final Malmart negotiations began. It had felt like a stab in the back. It was the kind of thing he would normally reject out of hand, even if it meant scrapping the agreement. But because it had been the only way to guarantee the park’s financial future, he’d been forced to accept.
Hojo averted his eyes. It was just like during negotiations; the face of a man who felt it wasn’t his problem. “You know, those were informal discussions with a rank-and-file member of the company. I wouldn’t usually do that... once we got to the real negotiation among proper adults... you should know, it’s only natural that other conditions would come out.”
“But before that negotiation,” Seiya retorted, “you told me the conditions were fine as they were.”
“Did I?” Hojo hedged. “Well, maybe that was true at the time...”
“Proper adults” my eye, Seiya thought. Hojo had no compunctions about reversing himself on things he’d said before, or trying to worm his way out of this. Seiya had seen more than his fill of such people. And they always referred to themselves that way—“adults.”
As far as Seiya had seen, real adults didn’t have to refer to themselves that way. Well, they might use that phrasing under certain circumstances, but they weren’t bragging about it. Loath as Seiya was to admit this, Moffle was a prime example; the man was an adult. He could lose his temper, he could get carried away, he could develop childish fixations... but he was an adult.
Meanwhile, this old man... He felt an urge to snatch up a golf club and break it over his head, but of course, he held back. If he was going to bust this man’s head open, he would have done it in the meeting three months ago. What Seiya wanted was information. His anger was partly feigned, too. “Then what changed?” he insisted. “Who was it that fed you that three million figure?”
“Nobody did,” Hojo said huffily. “I just decided, in the moment, that it was appropriate.”
Let’s go, Seiya thought, right before trying his magic. This was his second time using his mind-reading magic on Hojo. He had used it during the land sale to find points of compromise on the second park’s value; that’s why he’d given up on the possibility of ever finding out what the old coot really thought. Until yesterday, that is.
But would Seiya really be able to use it on him multiple times, the way he had during his exchange with Isuzu?
It was time to find out. Seiya focused, and Hojo’s thoughts revealed themselves. <
Seiya did a mental catalog of what he knew about Hojo: Hojo Ichiro, CEO of Amagi Development. A graduate of Tohto University’s engineering department, he’d spent 30 years in the Ministry of Construction and MLIT. He’d been appointed to the board of Amagi Development 13 years ago, and had been its CEO for six. Hobbies: golf and mahjong. His wife’s name: Sadako. His children’s names: Kazufumi and Mieko. His grandson’s name— His grandson’s name— What was his grandson’s name?
That sense of wrongness confirmed it for Seiya. That’s it. I forgot his grandson’s name. He’d used the grandson’s name just minutes ago in the lounge, but that information was now completely wiped from his memory.
Still, it was a small price to pay. Losing memories of Isuzu and Latifah and his other friends from the park was a chilling thought, but Seiya had no regrets about losing memories of this old man. He’d uploaded information about the man’s personal life and past as cloud data, and he could access it on his smartphone at any time.
This will work, he told himself. I came here hoping to get a hint about resolving this mess, but it looks like I might get more than that. This will work. Let’s push it. As he continued, Seiya took out his smartphone in order to have Hojo’s profile at hand. Mackey was right that Cosmic Studios was behind this. Which meant that the next information he needed was—
“I see. Kurayama-san must have offered you a pretty good deal.” The mention seemed to come completely out of the blue, causing the old man’s shaggy brows to shoot up in surprise.