Amagi Brilliant Park: Volume 7 Page 2

  Everyone knows that feeling, right? That “something is off in my neighborhood” feeling. I saw a guy who works at the local kara-age shop pass by. I guess he was doing the whole volunteer firefighter thing, because he was dressed in one of those big, heavy suits on a bicycle trolley full of hoses. I figured there must be a fire, so I quit my tweet-walking and ran a search on my neighborhood.

  Ah, there it was. Fire, fire, fire... looked like there was a fire in my neighborhood. I guess it’s a little heartless, but I actually found it pretty exciting! I mean, come on, a fire! I had to get pictures! I scrapped my tweet-rant about that annoying drunk on the train, posted “my neighborhood is on fire,” and took off running!

  So FYI, my apartment was in an old building about a ten minute walk from the station, a one-room deal on the second floor. The rent was pretty cheap and it was close to the station, plus it had fiber-optic Internet even in 2013 and a delivery box for stuff I bought online. I liked it.

  As it turned out, that was the building that was on fire. Turbo on fire! It must’ve started in the ramen shop on the first floor; the third floor and the building’s south half looked fine, and it was nice to see that everyone had made it out safe.

  But my apartment—apartment 202—was hella on fire. Even the laundry I’d left to dry on the balcony was burning. The men’s underwear I’d strung on the line to prevent theft was a flaming ball of fire, drifting through the air.

  Ahh, those undies... I’d been a little embarrassed about that whole thing; I’d gone out of my way to buy them at a convenience store one station down. (I could’ve just as easily bought them on Nyamazon too, but like hell I wanted that in my cookies.)

  “Clear the way, clear the way!” A fireman ran up and started to spray.

  “S-Stop! Stop!” Crying in distress, I charged towards the burning building, but a firefighter stopped me.

  “Miss! Do you live in the second floor apartment?!” he asked.

  “Yes.”

  “Is there anyone inside?”

  “No... I live alone!”

  “Any pets?”

  “N-No!”

  “Then you need to stay here!” he said. “I understand how you feel, but it’s dangerous in there! Don’t do anything rash!”

  “But... but...” You idiot! My PC and router and hard drive are in there! Plus my clothes, my shoes, my bags, and some accessories I just bought! Plus the cooking stuff I was getting the hang of! The dishes I kinda liked... and... and...

  “Just stay back!” he warned me, then turned the water on full blast. The spray from the fire truck was really something. He looked like a pretty strong guy, but he still had to struggle to fight the recoil.

  The last of my windows broke under the strain. Droplets that hit the walls turned to mist, which showered down on us, even at our distance. I’m telling you, the spray was incredible.

  It was sort of educational—the site of the blaze was more cold than hot, more water than fire. We were all soaking wet. I was learning a lot.

  I wanted to cry. In fact, I did cry... I might be stuck working a gig at a crummy local park, but I’m still a Spirit of Fire; a real Spirit of Fire, from a real magical realm. I’d never felt so helpless.

  I had the power to set things on fire, but I couldn’t put them out. I couldn’t save my precious hard drive or my cooking stuff. I mean, right? If I were the kind of awesome spirit who could control fire at will, I wouldn’t be stuck doing what I do.

  “Ah... ahh...” I trailed off. There was only one thing left to do, then. Surrounded by the shouting firefighters, I stood right where I was, whipped out my smartphone, and started composing.

  Despite the situation, my fingers moved swiftly and precisely. 《I got home and found my apartment on fire lololololol》 Yeah, the lol-string is a little passe these days, but, you know... it’s just what comes to mind at times like these. What can you do but laugh?

  My retweets immediately broke 5,000. I picked up a huge number of followers, too.

  Some big aggregator site ran the story, “AmaBri Spirit of Fire’s House is On Fire AF lololol.” I mean, most of the comments were things like, “deserved it lol” (from people who hated me); since nobody had died, there was nothing holding them back. It was super depressing, but I guess it served me right for saying all the things I’d said online. And anyway, some people said nice things, so I guess that helped.

  Since there was nothing else to be done, I decided to start reporting on what the firefighters were doing. Go, firefighters! Win, firefighters! You’re the ones who protect our city!

  My live reporting got me even more attention. People really liked it, and I was getting the hang of it pretty fast. Since I was streaming a lot of video, I started running out of battery soon enough. I had to run to a nearby convenience store and buy a spare.

  Once the fire was out, I came back to my senses. Someone from the insurance company toured my apartment and explained a few things, but it was hard for me to focus.

  The fire plan I’d chosen with my rental contract was the cheapest one, which meant it would only replace a portion of the cost of my lost household goods. I only had a few expenses besides that, but apparently they’d only put up 30% of what I’d need for temporary lodging. (I’d receive a little more later, but that was my understanding at the time.)

  Now, the guy whose ramen shop started the fire? He had a super great insurance policy. Three months later, he opened a fancy new shop in the neighborhood. It was pretty good; he got tons of customers, and seemed to have a bright future ahead of him.

  I’d eaten at his place now and then in the past, but no way was I going there again. Flat-out boycott—I even gave him a one star review on every food site I could find. I hope it catches on fire again.

  Meanwhile, I’d lost everything. Lesson learned: Even if there’s only a one-in-ten-thousand chance that fire will strike you, even if it costs 1,000 yen a month... good insurance is important. Too bad I learned it too late!

  Master Keaton once said that insurance is basically gambling. I’d lost my bet, so now I just had to swallow it. Just... swallow it. If I was being recouped for 100% of my living costs, I’d be able to stay in a super luxury hotel in Shinjuku, but that wasn’t going to happen. I didn’t have any savings, either. And so...

  “Help me!” I begged. “Let me stay with you!”

  The first person I called was my coworker, Muse, my hard-working comrade in the world of dance and the leader of Elementario. She was really nice and cute and serious, and she had these pinchable cheeks... um, what I mean to say is, she was the closest thing to a best friend I had.

  I figured Muse would have heard about the situation, and that she’d say ‘yes’ immediately. I thought she’d say, “That’s awful, Salama! Come over right away! You know Seiseki Station? I’ll come meet you!” I thought we’d spend the night pillow to pillow, and she’d say “Salama, are you asleep yet?” and we’d stare at the ceiling and talk about our plans for the future and our love lives.

  For just a second, I forgot about how much everything sucked! I even started smiling! I’d never actually stayed at her place before, so I started thinking, maybe the fire was an okay price to pay as an excuse for the opportunity?

  So... when I realized that Muse hadn’t responded yet, it was a minor (no, a major) shock.

  “Ah, um... Salama?” Muse hesitated. “L-Look, my apartment is... it’s a little messy right now...”

  “Who cares?” I told her. “Mine’s charcoal!” If you need time to clean it, I can wait a few hours, okay? I could even help if you want it! And even if your room is messy, the irony of that is kind of fun! It’ll be a bonding moment! It’ll be our shared secret! Yeah! Restraining my nostrils from flaring, I told her again and again not to worry about it, but Muse held firm.

  “R-Right,” she said. “I... I really appreciate it, but... um, I also have a... landlord situation. I’m not really... comfortable having people stay over...”

  “Huh?” I asked.


  “N-Not like that! I don’t mean that you’re a bother, okay?” Muse tried to explain. “It’s just... bad timing, I guess? And I don’t think I can do it... without prior warning...”

  “I... I see.” I was immediately deflated. I guess I was the one being weird, though. The fire must have caused me to lose my cool. Playing the victim to force my way into her apartment... now that I thought about it, who wouldn’t get annoyed by that? After all, no matter what I might hope for, Muse was just a colleague. I didn’t have the right to use this to push for more.

  “I’m really sorry, Salama!” she apologized.

  “Ah... Y-Yeah, I get it. I get it. I’m the one who should apologize. Haha...” I said, trying desperately to keep up appearances.

  “S-Salama... I really mean it! I wish I could say, ‘come over right away!’ But... I can’t, okay? I just... have circumstances right now...”

  I couldn’t imagine what those circumstances could be. But Muse said it was impossible, so that probably meant it was.

  “Yeah. I get it, okay?” I said in my coldest voice. Typical me.

  “Salama...”

  “I’ll find somewhere else. Don’t worry,” I said. “There’s plenty of people I can ask. It’s not like I don’t have any friends...”

  “...Really?” Muse asked.

  “Yeah,” I told her. “See you.”

  “Sa—”

  I hung up, and let out a sigh.

  I stood in front of the convenience store (the one where I had bought the spare battery) two blocks from the site of the fire, totally at a loss.

  It was getting close to midnight. Soon the trains would stop running, too.

  Go figure, all my big talk to Muse was a lie. I didn’t really have many friends. I mean, you know me... selfish, thickheaded, sarcastic? People hate me, and I know it.

  I just find the whole “exchanging shallow pleasantries” thing a real drag, so I refuse to go through the motions. About the only people fully willing to overlook my tactlessness are my Elementario partners: Muse, Kobory, and Sylphie. Moffle and my other senpais have said some pretty crummy stuff about me; same pretty much goes for the rest of the cast.

  I thought about asking Kobory or Sylphie for crash space, but the fact that they were colleagues kind of made it harder to ask. If they both turned me down, too, I’d be crushed. And if they did let me stay, people around the park would say, “I knew it, she’s got no friends!” And that’s just... no. Not happening. I was just thinking about going to a family restaurant and leeching free refills all night, when I got a call from an unexpected source; it was Sento Isuzu-chan, head of the secretarial department.

  “It sounds like you’ve had quite an ordeal, Salama,” Isuzu-chan said. “Do you have a place to stay? If not, you could share my apartment in the women’s dorm.”

  “Um, I—”

  “Unfortunately, most other park facilities will be locked up by now. You could stay in the security center, but I doubt you want to sleep next to Okuro. So by all means, stay with me.”

  I thought it was weird how certain she sounded, but after consideration, I realized she was right. Security Chief Okuro is a good guy, but he’s also super burly, like an ex-wrestler, and even wears a mask at work. In other words, a total weirdo. I mean, he’s probably not the type to take advantage of a sleeping woman; he seems like more the gentleman type... but somehow, that seemed like it would make it all even more overbearing and enervating and exhausting... In other words, Isuzu was right; I did not want to sleep next to that guy!

  “Ah... sure,” I agreed, “I’ll take you up on that.”

  “You may take a taxi if you wish,” Isuzu told me. “I’ll compensate you.”

  “Thanks.”

  “Don’t forget to get a receipt. I’ll be waiting.” She hung up the phone.

  Isuzu-chan met me in front of the AmaBri girls’ dorm. “I’m glad you made it, Salama. Come inside.”

  “Y-Yes, ma’am,” I said. Isuzu-chan always spoke casually around me, even though she’s younger than I am. If I wasn’t careful, I usually ended up speaking respectfully to her (which Muse and the others do naturally, so it’s not weird!). I think it’s more of a personality thing than a work positions thing?

  Isuzu has strength of character, influence, and... I guess you’d call it combat prowess. Was this how people felt when they got into college two years behind schedule and ended up using formal language in their clubs with students who were a year younger but had been there longer? Yeah, probably. (Not that I’ve been through that myself; I just read about it on a blog once).

  Isuzu-chan was dressed in her around-the-house clothes. It was August, so without AC, it was pretty hot. She was dressed in shorts and a tank top. So sexy! And those tits! I can’t stand it! Plus I kind of want to touch them! Dammit!

  “...What?” she asked.

  “Oh, nothing...” I told her weakly.

  “...Your twitter commentary was quite impressive,” Isuzu commented. “It’s brought the park a great deal of visibility. I was also impressed by your professionalism; even in a situation like that, you kept your head for business.” She said she was impressed, but her monotone made it kind of hard to believe.

  Of course, I hadn’t really been trying to drum up business for the park. That kind of thing is just in my nature, because I’m a sad, attention-starved, desperate person. Please don’t make me sound better than I am! I thought. Normally, I’d throw a surly denial her way, but I was exhausted tonight, so I just said, “Ah, yeah...” which was the most noncommittal response I could manage.

  My attention right now was on something else: a bathtub enshrined in the dining room. Yeah, I said a bathtub. In the dining room.

  The AmaBri girls’ dorms weren’t exactly extravagant; the building was over 20 years old, and they were all one-bedroom/dining room/kitchen deals. In other words, they were your typical cheapo apartments, and they didn’t have the full bathroom that came standard in newer ones. If you wanted to take a bath, you probably had to use the shared facilities. In Isuzu’s apartment, though, a space that’d usually be used for a cupboard and a table had been cleared to make way for a tub. There was a hose linking it to the kitchen’s water heater, which was filling it with hot water even at this moment.

  “You must be tired,” she said. “You can go in first.”

  “Huh?” I said, surprised.

  “The bath. You can go in now.”

  “Um, but...” I did want to take a bath! But... what on earth was going on? “Uh, are you sure?”

  “In what regard?” Isuzu asked.

  “Well... the floor,” I said. “It’s wood, right? And we’re on the second floor...” One liter of water weighed one kilogram; if it was a 200 liter bathtub, the whole thing probably weighed about 250 in all, right?!

  “It’s reinforced,” Isuzu explained. “I use it all the time and I’ve never had any problems.”

  “What about the humidity?!”

  “It’s drying,” she said. “Don’t worry.”

  I looked and saw five air circulators on the window sills, running at full blast. Nothing to worry about, then, right?!

  “Anyway, get in.” Her tone, once again, left no room for argument. With no other choice, I deferred to her generosity(?), and got into the bath. I really would have liked a proper soak to let all my tensions out, but that wasn’t exactly possible in this situation. So I kept my bath short, and when I got out, I found a fluffy Tiramii bath towel and an XL-sized Tiramii T-shirt laid out for me—park merch. They were nice to dry off with and wear, but having Tiramii-senpai’s face printed on them made things a little bit awkward.

  “Um... Is this okay?” I asked.

  “Is what okay?” Isuzu answered from the living room.

  “The Tiramii-senpai merch,” I replied. “I mean, I feel a little like he’s ogling me...”

  “......” Isuzu-chan remained silent for a significant length of time. “I didn’t even consider that. Would you burn the towel an
d T-shirt when you’re done with them, then?”

  “Ah, right...” I agreed.

  “Don’t even leave ashes behind,” she said solemnly. “Please.”

  “Right...”

  “Now, let’s get some rest,” she told me. “I have an early morning tomorrow, as do you.” There was a sleeping bag laid out on the living room-slash-bedroom floor. Assuming that was for me, I was about to get in, but Isuzu-chan did it before I could. “I can’t allow my guest to sleep on the floor,” she insisted.

  “But—”

  “You take the bed. Now, good night.” She promptly closed her eyes.

  Hesitantly, but with few other choices, I lay down in Isuzu-chan’s bed. An unfamiliar pillow. Unfamiliar sheets... It was hard to relax, and I couldn’t sleep right away, so I started messing with my smartphone while I settled in.

  “Salama,” Isuzu-chan said suddenly. “Don’t play around on your smartphone before bed.”

  “Huh?” I protested. “But I can’t sleep...”

  “It’s bad for your eyes,” she insisted, “and the backlight will end up making you more restless.”

  “Fine...” I grumbled.

  “Even if you can’t sleep, lying down with your eyes closed will provide some recuperation,” Isuzu advised me. “Try to rest with that in mind.”

  But I couldn’t rest. I wanted to chat a little longer. Sleeping with Isuzu-chan felt like sleeping in a military barracks.

  “Just put away the smartphone,” she told me sternly. “Understood?”

  “A-All right.”

  “This conversation is over. Now, rest.” Apparently it wasn’t up for debate.

  With no other choice, I turned off my smartphone and closed my eyes in the dark. I endured that for an hour, but I still couldn’t sleep. I couldn’t even lie still. I had to know how many views my fire commentary videos had gotten!

  Isuzu-chan already seemed to be asleep. She was breathing slowly and deeply (and a little cutely). I started thinking, If she’s asleep anyway, maybe I can afford to turn on my smartphone? I was just moving my finger toward the button when...