Amagi Brilliant Park: Volume 2 (Premium) Read online

  The chicken curry was the worst of the lot. It was full of tough carrots and onions; the chicken wasn’t cooked all the way through; and, perhaps because they used cheap curry powder, it had a strange funk to it.

  It was honestly hard to make a curry that tasted bad, yet as if through some kind of anti-miracle, AM had achieved this terrible curry. Isuzu sometimes wondered if selling it onstage and advertising it as “Amagi Brilliant Park presents the world’s worst curry” might be a draw.

  That morning, as punishment for allowing herself to have such a stupid dream and lose her cool, Isuzu was buying a ticket for that chicken curry. (At least, that’s what she told herself—in fact, its low 240 yen price point may have played a greater role.)

  “Wow, someone’s actually buying the curry, ron.”

  As she took her 260 yen in change from the ticket machine, Isuzu heard a voice from behind her.

  It was the Fairy of Music, Macaron.

  He was a white, fluffy, adorable sheep mascot who stood 2.5 heads tall. He was a long-time member of the cast, and he ran Macaron’s Music Theater, an attraction in AmaBri’s Sorcerer’s Hill area.

  “Good morning, Macaron,” she greeted him.

  “Morning, ron. Isuzu-chan, I have to ask... are you really gonna eat the curry here, ron?”

  “...It’s cheap,” she responded. “There’s a philosophical reason behind it as well.”

  “I... I see. But be careful, ron. Wanipii ate it once and he erupted... from both ends, if you know what I mean. He ended up spending a few days in Amagi Hospital, getting his fluids through an IV.”

  Isuzu wondered: If it really had been that bad, why hadn’t the infirmary tried to trace it back to its point of origin? But instead of responding, she just walked away from the ticket machine.

  She traded her ticket for the curry in question, put it on a tray, and then moved to take a seat. It was morning, so nearly all the seats were filled, mostly by cast members who lived in the park’s dorms.

  Isuzu lived in the girls’ dorm, so she ate here twice per day, in the morning and the evening. Macaron must live in the boys’ dormitory too, then, she realized. Even though his usual compatriots, like Moffle and Tiramii, tended to rent cheap apartments outside the park.

  Everyone in the cast had their own situations, though. She saw no reason to pry into his personal affairs.

  “Can I sit here, ron?” Macaron wandered into the seat across from Isuzu. It seemed natural, given the lack of seats around them, so she nodded.

  Macaron had chosen the baked fish special, which was one of the more edible options the cafeteria offered. If it hadn’t been for that ridiculous dream this morning, she might have chosen the fish, too. Although its 480 yen price point, versus the curry’s 240 yen, was further inspiration for her to choose the latter.

  Pathetic, she thought. For a member of Magical Realm Maple Land’s elite royal guard to seriously choose between 240 yen curry and 480 yen fish...

  “This is the first time we’ve ever talked over breakfast, ron,” Macaron said.

  “I see,” said Isuzu.

  “You always eat alone. You’ve got this real aura of unapproachability, ron.”

  “Ah.”

  “Well, it was reasonable enough, given your position, ron.”

  “You may be right,” Isuzu agreed.

  Last year, Isuzu’s position at AmaBri had been something close to acting manager. Prior to that, she’d been a soldier in Maple Land’s royal guard. In a way, she was like the archetypal elite young bureaucrat taken out of the central office and dispatched to a remote outpost. She hadn’t been welcome here, and it had been difficult to get results.

  The camaraderie among AmaBri’s staff was surprisingly strong, given how lousy the park itself was, yet Isuzu had remained isolated among them.

  “Am I bothering you? Sorry if I am, ron.”

  Isuzu’s responses remained perfunctory, so Macaron stopped trying to engage and just went back to eating, scarfing down his amberjack fillet and slurping his miso soup.

  Isuzu wasn’t trying to be cold to him; she was just never sure how to respond to comments like his, or how to enrich a conversation. It had been that way in the Maple Land guard, too.

  She wasn’t trying to turn others away, but that always seemed to be the end result, regardless. A cold, inflexible, domineering woman who would gladly strong-arm others to get her way—that was how everyone seemed to see her, and the people here were no different.

  She was always wishing she could handle things a little better, but things never seemed to improve.

  Silently, she brought a spoonful of curry to her mouth. As expected, it was undercooked, it had an aftertaste, and it was all-around awful.

  “Isuzu-chan,” Macaron said. “If it’s gross, you should say that, ron. Honesty is good for the soul.”

  She should have just admitted it, but instead, with her expression firmly locked in indifference, she simply whispered: “Perhaps.”

  “There you go again, ron.” Macaron let out a low, thoughtful bleat. “I used to think you were being distant because you were our acting manager... is it a communication disorder? Do you have a communication disorder, ron?”

  She was startled by the personal nature of his question. Before she could respond, though, he thrust his hoof forward to stop her.

  “I suspect you’re the type who thinks so much that you end up forgetting to talk, ron. You should really work on that, ron.”

  “......” Isuzu waffled over whether or not to tell him to mind his own business; his advice was sensible enough, but it wasn’t something she wanted to hear first thing in the morning.

  She and Macaron were not especially close, either. On the other hand, she pondered, maybe he’s just trying to be considerate? It would hardly be wise to shoot down his kindness and further deplete her work relationships. Then again, if she permitted this now, would that just give him license to presume upon her even more?

  For lack of any better response, she just ended up saying: “I suppose so.”

  Macaron seemed openly disappointed with yet another perfunctory reaction. “That’s not nice, ron. I’m just saying this because I’m worried about you. ...Hey, it’s Kanie-kun.”

  “......?” Prompted by his words, Isuzu looked in the direction of the cafeteria door. No one was there; it was just some anonymous cast member on his way out.

  She turned back to Macaron. For some reason, he was sitting up very straight, looking off in the distance, whistling innocently. “My mistake, ron.”

  “...I see.” Though dubious about his strange behavior, she brought another spoonful of disgusting curry to her mouth. Her teeth crunched down on something hard, but assuming it must just be some dried-out rice, she decided to swallow it down. She followed it up with a drink of water, then resumed her ordeal under Macaron’s careful watch.

  What she couldn’t see was that, under the table, Macaron had clenched his hoof in triumph as he mouthed a very soft “yes!”

  It was a weekday, so Isuzu’s next stop was Amagi High School, in the city. She’d originally transferred to the school to recruit Kanie Seiya, so presumably, her task was now over. But her lady, Latifah Fleuranza, the manager of AmaBri, had told her this:

  “Kanie Seiya-sama is our savior. It is our duty to see that he wants for nothing, even in his education. From now on, you must remain by his side for as much of the day as you can.”

  Latifah had lost her memory at the end of the school year, so she couldn’t have personally known about the struggles that Seiya had been through in March. But when the princess of Maple Land told her to do something, Isuzu could hardly refuse. Thus, she had reluctantly resumed attendance at Amagi High School, this time as a second-year student.

  The strangeness first began when a girl from her class addressed her in the hallway: “Morning, Sento-san. You’re looking pretty down.”

  Isuzu had talked to this person a few times since the new term started. She was a bit of a leading f
igure among the girls, and even looked after the students who didn’t really fit in. Her greeting Isuzu was an extension of that role.

  Normally, Isuzu would just say “I don’t think I am,” and end the conversation. But this morning, her reply came immediately: “Yes, I am down. I had a bad dream, I ate awful curry, and I had to endure a co-worker’s unsolicited advice. Nothing at work is going well, the cast is all slacking off, and I can’t stop worrying that we won’t meet our attendance quota this year.” She got that far, then forced her mouth shut.

  The girl stared in disbelief at Isuzu’s sudden, involuntary logorrhea. “Oh... I see. That sounds rough.”

  “It is rough. My successor, Kanie-kun, is a brilliant person for better or worse. I’m not jealous of his abilities, of course, but I’m in a position where I’m supposed to be supporting him, and I’m not sure I’m doing what’s expected of me. I also have no faith in myself. So—” Isuzu clamped her hands over her mouth to force an end to the stream of words spilling from it.

  What on earth am I talking about? she wondered. Babbling on about my work troubles to someone I barely even know... I’ve never done anything like this before.

  “Um, I don’t really know what you’re talking about, but...”

  “You’re a mortal, of course, so it’s none of your business. Please, forget everything I said. If you don’t, I’ll have to use my magical gun Steinberger to—mmph!” Isuzu seized her out-of-control jaw in both hands and held it forcibly shut.

  “U-Um? Sento-san?” the girl ventured.

  “Mm... ah. Sorry,” Isuzu managed to squeeze out, then did an about-face and ran away.

  ●

  “By the way, Macaron,” Tiramii said, as they took a break from morning dance practice. “How are things going with those druth nuts I gave you, mii?”

  They were backstage in the No. 2 Building. This was a three-story structure mainly used for parade and show dance rehearsals. The room in which they were practicing now was about the size of a school classroom, and it had one wall covered in mirrors.

  Tiramii and Macaron were taking a short break, while Moffle gave performance tips to the male and female background dancers they’d hired from a local theater company.

  “One, two! One, two! Okay, now turn, fumo!” Moffle was clapping his paws as he barked out instructions to the dancers. “One, two! One, two! You, there! You’re late again! Why are you always late? You’re gonna let down the audience, fumo!”

  Not enough people and not enough funding. As a result of these troubles, Moffle had been pulling double duty as AmaBri’s choreographer and stage producer for a while now. It was the kind of situation that would usually lead to a quick crash and burn, but Moffle had proven himself surprisingly capable at this particular job.

  “Got it, fumo?! When one comes, you need to already be getting ready for two. Let’s do it slow. One... now, two... You get it now? Let’s try it one more time, fumo. Turn back... okay, one! Now on the ground... now, two!”

  The dancers moved awkwardly, but in unison.

  “Yes, yes, yes! Much better, fumo! Now, let’s speed it up, bit by bit. Okay, one, two... Yes, okay! One, two! ...Yes, great, fumo!”

  Watching Moffle and the practicing dancers from afar, Tiramii and Macaron chuckled.

  “Has Moffle... changed, mii?”

  “Well... he does seem a bit kinder in his teachings than before, ron.”

  In the past, he’d been much less sociable. “Why can’t you get it right, fumo?! You’re all hacks, fumo!” he would shout, heaping the hired dancers with abuse and bringing down the whole mood of the theater.

  But now that the park’s life had been extended by another year, he could probably relax and afford to be kinder to the dancers.

  “Anyway, back to the subject, mii. Macaron, what did you do with the druth nuts, mii?” Tiramii asked again.

  Macaron gave a thoughtful bleat, gazing into the distance. “Ahh, the druth nuts? I tried one out this morning, ron.”

  “Oh-ho...” Tiramii chortled.

  “I was afraid to try them myself,” Macaron admitted, “so I slipped one into Isuzu-chan’s curry.”

  “How devilish of you, mii.” Tiramii grinned. He knew very well what it did.

  Druth nuts were a mysterious, magical breed of nut that grew in the mountains behind Tiramii’s childhood home. They caused those who ate them to immediately answer any question with the complete, unvarnished truth. How long the effect lasted would vary by individual, but it could range from a few hours to half a day. Incidentally, they had a very distinct flavor, and could be delicious when simmered with chicken, onions, sugar, and soy sauce (though it wasn’t recommended that you eat the dish with people you don’t get along with).

  “No need to worry, ron. Druth nuts are legal.”

  “...Macaron. I gave you those nuts so that you could learn how your ex and your daughter really feel about you, mii. I didn’t give them to you to play mean pranks on Isuzu-chan, mii.”

  “I know! I just wanted to test its effectiveness, ron. Unfortunately, Isuzu-chan ended up going to school instead...”

  “That’s too bad, mii. I’d have asked her how many times she jasterboots a week.”

  “Jasterboot” was a Maple Land term for a certain act. We won’t go into details here, but it wasn’t anything you would discuss in polite company. It was related to a certain Maple Land insult—“go puff yourself!”—but we’ll leave out the details of exactly what that means, as well.

  “If you asked her that, she’d definitely kill you later, ron.”

  “No need to worry,” came a voice. “I’ll kill you right now.”

  They turned around to see Isuzu standing there. She was dressed in her Amagi High School uniform, with her usual musket in hand. Her expression looked blank, at first, but her eyes were burning bright with rage.

  “Ohh...” they both wailed.

  She started firing. Both were assailed, again and again, with a pain four times as bad as stubbing your little toe on a dresser.

  Kanie Seiya hadn’t gone to school that day, so he’d been in his AmaBri office since that morning.

  He was having a disheartening meeting with Ashe, the head of the accounting department. He had heard an acerbic run-down on their dry (yet despair-inducing) numbers and he was now patiently engaging in discussion with her about how to balance the accounts from now on.

  “In summary... sir,” Ashe said.

  Other than her pointed ears, horns, brown skin, and slightly demonic features, she looked like an ordinary girl in her twenties, with ample curves held rigidly in place beneath a rather ordinary suit. Seiya had heard that she came from a magical realm besides Maple Land, but that was all he knew about her—that, and the fact that she’d nearly killed Tiramii after he sexually harassed her (in an incident that convinced even that incorrigible mascot to finally lay off).

  He also knew that she’d been in charge of AmaBri’s accounts for many years. The fact that the place had remained afloat all this time made it clear that she was one of the park’s secret heroes.

  “The 30 yen campaign last month was a bad blow,” she continued. “We managed to get past the attendance issue, but our budget is in bad shape. If nothing changes, we’re going to start having trouble with our cash flow.”

  “Well... that figures,” Seiya murmured blackly.

  “We’re on the verge of bouncing checks,” she admitted. “The only way to survive would be to free up funding with major lay-offs.”

  “Not possible,” Seiya sighed. “We’re short-handed as it is. Could we get Maple Bank to bail us out?”

  Maple Bank was the bank of the magical realm of Maple Land. It was one of the organizations in favor of keeping the park open—naturally enough, since the survival of their princess, Latifah, depended on the park’s continued existence...

  “No, they can’t,” Ashe sighed.

  “Why not?”

  “The effects of Japan’s monetary easing strategy, politically mo
tivated personnel reforms in the Maple Land court, the American Federal Reserve’s new policies clamping down on magical realm banks... it’s quite complicated, shall I continue?”

  “No, you’ll bore the readers.”

  “Very well. The point is, we can’t ask the bank.”

  “Okay.” Seiya took her at her word. “Anyway, try to get us through this month, at least. I’m cooking up a last resort method for raising funds.”

  “Are you going to rob a bank this time?” she inquired.

  Seiya shot Ashe a sharp glance at that. She’s a smart person, he realized. She must have figured out what caused that fire at Kajinomoto Stadium last month; the fact that she’d said “this time” is evidence of that.

  “I don’t mean this as a criticism,” she said, as if choosing her words carefully. “I want to keep this park in business as much as you do. But I don’t want you to do anything too reckless.”

  “...I appreciate the sentiment,” Seiya said at last, “but I can’t make any promises. Though bank robbery is off the table, at least.”

  “I’m glad to hear it,” Ashe told him.

  Just then, the phone on his desk rang. Seiya picked it up; it was their head of security, Okuro. “What’s wrong?” Seiya asked.

  “Oh, Kanie-san,” said Okuro. “Er, the truth is, well... in the No. 2 Building just now, Sento-san, Macaron-san, and Tiramii-san got into a huge fight...”

  “The three of them?”

  “Well, it’s more that Macaron and Tiramii are running in terror while Sento-san tries to kill them,” Okuro admitted. “Do you think you could come put a stop to it?”

  Seiya ran to the No. 2 Building, but the chaos was all wrapped up by the time he arrived.

  Macaron and Tiramii were dead.

  Well, they weren’t actually dead, but they looked close enough to it: Macaron was motionless, radial fractures emanating out from the place where his head had gone through the mirror. Tiramii lay prone on the ground, having written “the killer was a titty monster” in blood on the floor beside him.