Amagi Brilliant Park: Volume 1 Read online

  “I see. Let’s ride anyway.”

  With grim expressions, Seiya and Isuzu took their seats in the otherwise empty coaster, side by side. An odd fanfare played, and the car took off. The speed kept a comfortable pace from beginning to end. There wasn’t much in the way of steep hills, and even the sharpest curve didn’t offer more than just a slight tilt. For a supposed “thrill coaster,” there wasn’t much thrill to be found.

  As they got out of the coaster, Isuzu spoke up: “Did you have fun?”

  “No.”

  “I see,” she observed. “Let’s move on, then.” She promptly started walking towards a new destination.

  With nothing else to say, Seiya followed silently.

  Their next stop was an attraction called “Tiramii’s Flower Adventure.” It was a building about the size of a school gymnasium, with fairy tale flora painted on the walls. At the entrance was a statue of a mascot that looked a bit like a Pomeranian: It had round, button eyes and a rotund body that stood about three heads tall. It was a fairly cute design, all things considered. This mascot, he inferred, must be “Tiramii.”

  The attraction itself consisted of boarding a four-person car on a track, which would escort you around the fairy tale garden that Tiramii had grown. This one, too, was— “Awful.”

  The worst part of it was that the car seemed poorly attached to its track, which caused it to jostle frequently. In a way, it was more “thrilling” than the thrill coaster had been. It also made him motion sick.

  Here and there they were greeted by “talking flower” animatronics, but their drive assemblies must have broken down, because their movements were jerky and jittery. On top of that, no thought had been put into the audio mixing, so it was hard to tell what exactly the flowers were saying: they were probably supposed to be saying “Welcome to Tiramii’s Flower Adventure!” but what actually reached the ear was the far more unsettling “Eccum... eerami... ewere... enture!” More than anything, it brought the image of the maddening shriek of the deadly mandrake to Seiya’s mind.

  “How did you like it?” Isuzu asked again.

  “It took years off my life.”

  “I see. Let’s move on, then.” This time, there was something halfhearted in Isuzu’s own reply.

  “Wait,” Seiya said. “Are you going to be like this the whole time?”

  “Like what?”

  “I mean...”

  Looking drained, she picked up on the hint. “I think the music theater should be fun. Look, over there.”

  But “Macaron’s Music Theater,” whose sign offered a sheep-like mascot playing a violin, was declared “Closed Today.”

  “But it’s Sunday,” he objected incredulously. “They’re taking the day off?”

  “...He takes off whenever he’s not in the mood,” Isuzu sighed. “The Fairy of Music, Macaron, plays quite brilliantly—but unfortunately, he has an artistic temperament.”

  “Ahh...”

  “Let’s move on.”

  The next site they visited was the building diagonally-opposite the music theater, “Moffle’s House of Sweets.” Like the “Flower Adventure” from before, this was an indoor attraction. It was a bit like the gingerbread house from the Grimm fairy tale, decorated with pancakes, whipped cream, strawberries, oranges, and other sweet treats.

  “Welcome...”

  When they came inside, a glassy-eyed employee (or “cast member,” as Isuzu insisted) handed them water pistols. No, they weren’t water pistols... These were laser pointers designed to look like water pistols. You pulled the trigger, and it shot a laser.

  In the entrance hall hung a large screen, which played a video explaining how the attraction worked:

  “Welcome to the shop of Moffle, Fairy of Sweets! Unfortunately, the bakery has been overrun by naughty rats! Use your magic water pistols and teach those rats a lesson!”

  The video was followed by detailed safety instructions:

  Don’t look into the barrel of the pistol (because of the lasers).

  Don’t be rough with the pistol (because of its delicate construction).

  Please return the pistols to the box by the exit (because of the cost).

  “If you shoot a lot of rats, Moffle will take a great souvenir photo with you! Do your best, everyone!”

  Ahh, he thought. He’d grasped the gist of it: They’d be firing the laser pointers at something like those animatronics from before, competing for points. Unlike the previous attractions, this seemed like it might have some game-like appeal.

  “Okay! Start the battle!”

  The double doors in the back of the room opened automatically. It was, apparently, an attraction where the visitors had to proceed on foot. It seemed like a recipe for trouble if there was a big crowd there, he thought, but there was no need for concern in that regard—after all, even on a Sunday, the place was totally deserted.

  “Go on,” Isuzu urged him, and Seiya proceeded in.

  He found himself in a passage designed to look like a kitchen: there was a fancy wash station, an oven, grill, etc. Animatronic rats popped out randomly here and there.

  He fired.

  He turned the water gun-shaped laser pointer towards a rat and shot.

  He hit. He missed. He missed. He missed. He hit. “Faster than I expected...” Even more rats appeared, one after another.

  He missed. He missed. He missed. He missed. He finally hit...

  “They’re too fast,” Seiya criticized.

  “We’re coming to the storage room,” Isuzu said in reply. “Be on your guard.”

  “Huh?” They moved from the kitchen into the storage room, where the naughty rats started coming even faster.

  He missed. He missed. He missed. He missed. He missed.

  “Hold on a minute! This is a little too hard, don’t you think?!”

  “You’re wasting a lot of ammo.”

  “What the hell did you expe—”

  “You waste a lot of breath, too.”

  It wasn’t all animatronics; some of the rats were holograms as well. They’d appear, feint left or right, then disappear without even giving you time to take aim. It would be impossible for an ordinary human’s eyes to follow them.

  They ended up coming to the final room without racking up many points at all.

  Then came another announcement: “Too bad! You didn’t kill very many! Great try, though!”

  “W-Were we killing them?” Seiya interjected. “I thought we were ‘teaching them a lesson’!”

  Why the hell was the premise so violent? Wouldn’t hearing the word “kill” in a family-friendly atmosphere be kind of a shock to most people?

  Despite Seiya’s objections, the announcement continued. “Moffle is very grateful to you! Go get your souvenir photo taken with him in the next room!” The door in the back opened for them.

  Since just standing around wouldn’t get them anywhere, he and Isuzu walked towards it in grim silence. They dropped their guns into the return box, then proceeded down the hallway that would take them to the last room.

  “You’ll be able to have your souvenir photo taken with Moffle now,” Isuzu told him.

  “You mean that ‘Fairy of Sweets’ thing?”

  “Yes,” she replied. “He’s AmaBri’s headliner mascot.”

  “...I’m not really interested in getting a picture with some guy in a costume,” Seiya admitted.

  “Just meet him, would you? It’ll be fun,” she said, in a tone utterly bereft of such.

  With an air of resignation, Seiya followed after Isuzu.

  The corridor led them into a small photo studio. The right half of the room was set up like a bakery, stuffed with prop donuts and cakes, and there was an old-fashioned mechanical register on the counter.

  I guess it’s the backdrop for the photo with this Moffle person, he thought, but the mascot in question wasn’t anywhere to be seen. There wasn’t even a clerk present. The studio was completely uninhabited.

  “What’s going on here?
” Seiya wondered.

  “We get guests here so rarely...” Isuzu apologized. “He’s probably resting in the back.”

  “......”

  “Press the service bell next to the register. Then he’ll come.”

  Seiya did as he was told. The bell let out a pleasant ‘ding.’ He waited for a while.

  At last, from behind the counter, the mascot— Did not arrive. He tapped the bell again, this time with a little more force. Still, nobody came.

  “...I’m thinking he’s not in,” Seiya concluded. “Let’s just go.”

  “No. Let’s wait a little longer.”

  “Why should I? I’m under no obligation to wait here in this half-assed attraction for some minor mascot to grace me with his presence. I mean—” He was interrupted by a clack.

  The iron employees-only door—hidden behind the counter—opened, and the mascot in question plodded into view.

  “Moffu.” He was about 2.5 heads tall, his silhouette soft and huggable.

  Is he supposed to be a mouse? Seiya wondered. His appearance was undeniably rodentine, but his plump, rotund body was a bit more akin to that of a wombat or a guinea pig. Definitely a strange creature, either way.

  He had big button eyes and plush, stubby arms, and he was wearing a white chef’s costume and hat. All fairly by-the-book signifiers of cuteness, but he had to give them credit for getting that much right.

  “...That’s the park’s headliner mascot, Moffle, the Fairy of Sweets,” said Isuzu, by way of introduction. “Height: 144 centimeters. Weight: Top secret. Top running speed: 35 km per hour. Special skills: Making cakes and playing soccer. Favorite food: Anything sweet, especially donuts. In addition to his current patisserie gear, he also has tuxedo gear for formal outings.”

  “What’s with the ‘new mobile suit’-style explanation?” Seiya asked.

  Moffle stepped up to Seiya and Isuzu, his feet squeaking as he went.

  “Moffu.”

  “I want a souvenir photo with him,” Isuzu told the rodent. “Okay?”

  “......” Moffle gave a firm nod in response to Isuzu’s question. He whipped a smartphone out from under his apron, manipulated it adroitly with his squishy paw, then held the phone up to Seiya and Isuzu and snapped the picture. He then showed them the image on the smartphone, as if to say, “There, I took it.”

  “Wait, wait... Why did you take a picture of us?!” Seiya demanded.

  “Moffu...” Moffle’s brows knitted—a pretty impressive bit of suit design.

  “Don’t glare at me! We’re your customers, you know!”

  “Calm down, Kanie-kun,” Isuzu urged him.

  “Shut up! I am calm!”

  But Seiya was sensing something from this mascot creature that was hard to put into words: something like destiny. Not the good kind of destiny, of course. It felt more like a sense of deep foreboding—like meeting your mortal enemy, or a bad penny that would keep turning up.

  “W... Well anyway,” Seiya spluttered, “I’ve had enough of this. Why would I want a souvenir photo with this minor-league, worthless, wise-ass mascot anyway? Let’s just move on already.”

  But as Seiya started heading toward the exit— “Moffu!” Suddenly, Moffle kicked him in the butt.

  “Wh-What are you doing?!” Seiya shouted as he picked himself up and whipped back around.

  But Moffle’s response was far from contrite—he actually tilted his head toward the floor and made a motion like spitting.

  Definitely a wise-ass attitude.

  “The things you said about him made him angry,” Isuzu told him.

  “Whatever I said about him, what the hell kind of mascot kicks a customer?! Look, now he’s baiting me like he’s a boxer!”

  Moffle was performing a little light footwork, hissing through his teeth while jabbing rhythmically into the air.

  “Why, you little...!”

  So some jerk in a costume wants to fight me, does he? Fine! I don’t want to get stuck with the bill for damaging the suit, but I can’t just let this stand. I can’t leave here until I lay this guy out, just once. Seiya was about to step forward to do just that when—

  “Moffu!” Moffle came running. He closed the gap between them in an instant. His paw tore through the air and hit Seiya right in the solar plexus. Ker-MOFF!

  “Hnngh!” Seiya’s breath caught in his throat.

  It was hard. It was heavy. It was one hell of a fist—rather, a paw. No simple mascot in a costume could dish a blow like this. Then again, no matter how rotten the theme park might be, maybe it meant something to be a headliner mascot...

  Seiya fell to his knees, doubled over.

  Looking down his nose at him, Moffle beckoned him with his paw.

  “Damn you...”

  But Seiya wasn’t finished yet. His dignity couldn’t bear the thought of not getting a single clean hit in against the bizarre cuddly mouse-thing. His weak point... what’s the mouse’s weak point?

  “That’s enough.” Isuzu’s musket slipped in between them. She must have pulled it out again at some point. “Any more of this could get one of you killed. I won’t let a place of hopes and dreams like the House of Sweets be stained with blood. I need you both to stop it, right now.”

  “When exactly did this place contain hopes and dreams, again?” Seiya scorned.

  “Moffu...”

  “If you insist on continuing,” warned Isuzu, “you’ll both have to deal with me.” Another musket appeared from underneath her skirt. With one in each hand, now, she thrust them mercilessly at Seiya and Moffle both.

  “Ugh...”

  So she has more than one, does she? She seems serious about this, too... Out of fear for his safety, he decided to relent.

  Seiya reluctantly stepped down. Moffle lowered his fists (well, paws) at the same time. For some reason, he didn’t seem at all surprised to see Isuzu’s weapons.

  She turned to Seiya. “Well, Kanie-kun? Did you enjoy communicating with Moffle through your fists?”

  “Uh, it felt more like he beat the crap out of me...” he confessed.

  “Do you think you can be friends now?”

  “Hold on,” he objected. “Why would I want to be friends with this homicidal rodent?”

  “Moffu.” Moffle’s vocalization suggested an equal dissatisfaction with the idea. Seiya was surprised anew by how much emotion he could convey through a costume-mounted speaker.

  “...Well, never mind that now,” Isuzu said, placating both parties. “I took your souvenir photo, so let’s go somewhere else.”

  “Souvenir photo?” said Seiya, somewhat incredulously.

  Isuzu held out her own smartphone. She had captured the moment when Moffle had slammed his paw into him. There was an afterimage blur, and it was taken from a low angle, which added to the sense of gruesome impact.

  “I’m not sure this counts as a souvenir photo...” he grumbled.

  “Let’s go.” Isuzu began walking towards the exit. Left with little other choice, Seiya followed after her.

  Moffle spat once more, then squeaked his way back behind the counter.

  What the hell?! He’s the worst mascot ever! He’s just some gangster-ass mouse dressed up like a cook! Seiya scoffed to himself, then spoke aloud. “What kind of lowlife punk did they stick inside that thing?”

  “There’s no one inside,” Isuzu said absently.

  “What?”

  “Moffle is Moffle. There’s no one inside.”

  “Huh? Oh...”

  That’s right. He’d heard of this before. To preserve the sense of wonder for children, theme parks generally wouldn’t acknowledge the existence of suit actors inside their mascot costumes. The really serious first-rate theme parks even made their suit actors adhere to strict rules of confidentiality. After all, it would be a huge problem if one of them was overheard on a train saying something like “I was in the **ck*y suit, today. Let me tell you about this one little brat I ran into...” That was probably what Isuzu meant by “there�
�s no one inside.”

  “...Sure. That’s what we’ll tell everyone.” His response was a sarcastic one, but she shook her head in response.

  “That’s not what I mean,” she insisted. “I mean there’s really no one inside.”

  “Yeah, yeah. That’s totally what we’ll tell everyone.”

  Leaving the deeply unpleasant “Moffle’s House of Sweets” behind, Seiya and Isuzu went around to several other attractions. Many of them were closed, even though it was a Sunday, and the ones that were open weren’t particularly entertaining. All-in-all, it was a miserable experience. Even the snack shop they stopped by when he started getting peckish—“Maple Kitchen,” it was called—only offered curry, yakisoba, and croquettes. When he asked for yakisoba, he was told “We can make it, but it’ll take an hour.”

  “Why an hour?” he demanded to know.

  “We’ll have to go buy the ingredients. That means a trip to the local supermarket,” responded a clerk who was clearly just there part-time.

  Overwhelmingly awful!

  His tolerance had reached its limits. Slapping the tabletop, Seiya leaned in close to Isuzu. “What the hell is this about, Sento? How long are you going to keep me on this awful date?!”

  “Are you angry?” she wanted to know.

  “You bet I am! These dodgy attractions, this dodgy snack corner... It’s got a dedication to appearance that makes the local love hotel look good, and the employees treat the customers like crap! How could anyone have fun in a place like this?!”

  He was done. Let her threaten him with the musket if she wanted.

  “This place holds the very concept of entertainment in contempt!” he continued. “It seems to think ‘Hey, they’re just kids, who cares?’ But kids aren’t stupid! You need to be utterly meticulous with them! You need to put effort into the tiniest details! You can’t do it if you don’t give a damn! You need passion and conviction, and I don’t see even a fragment of it here! If you want to make people dream, first, you need to believe in that dream! And if you can’t even convince kids, then what’s the point? I’m saying...”

  “......”

  “I’m saying... ahh...” he trailed off.