Amagi Brilliant Park
Intermission: Suzuran Shopping District, North of Amagi Station
Amaburi’s future was indeed worrying, but for now, Moffle just wanted to have a drink and chill out. After exiting the park, he took the last bus back to the train station. The yakitori bar was located just north of Amagi Station, a minute’s journey by foot.
As Moffle strolled down the streets, not a single person took notice of his appearance. The people who walked past him thought of Moffle as nothing more than a foreigner. This was all thanks to the Lala Patch, a magical charm given to Amaburi’s cast. When worn, even the strangest of mascots would be perceived as normal people. It was thanks to this charm that the mascots were able to buy snacks at convenience stores, visit pachinko parlors and buy action figurines at Akihabara without getting into trouble.
The old lady who was preparing her tobacco shop for closure called out to Moffle, “Why, isn’t it Moffle-chan? Pretty late, don’t you think?”
“Mofu. Stuff happened, fumo.”
Moffle raised his paw and gave a slight bow.
“I see. Actually, I’ve got some leftover pickled turnips from my brother; won’t you take some with you?”
“Thank you, fumo.”
“I’ll be right back, Moffle-chan.”
She went back into her store to prepare the food. After a while, she returned with an insulated vinyl bag.
“Eat it while it’s still cold, okay?”
“I will.”
Moffle bowed in respect and walked off.
The 20-year-old yakitori bar, named ‘Savage’, was three apartments away. The aroma of fried food drifted from its ventilators, and their glass doors were covered with oil stains.
Upon entering, the part-timer, Takami, prepared a pitcher of ice-cold beer. The beer server was right beside the cash register.
“Welcome, Moffle-san,” having served customers all day, she greeted him with an exasperated tone. “Your friends are already drinking inside. Are you okay with your usual Hoppy?”
“Mofu.”
Moffle was recently instructed by his doctor to control his purine consumption after being diagnosed with gout. Because the symptoms affected his work as a mascot, he had since limited his drinking to Hoppy, a beer-flavored and almost non-alcoholic drink sold in Japan.
“By the way, Takami-chan, I got some pickled turnips. Would you like some?”
Seeing the vinyl bag that Moffle was carrying, Takami smiled wryly.
“Oh, we get those quite often from the tobacco shop nearby.”
“I see. Never mind, fumo.”
Moffle stood up from the counter and walked into the guest room. Two of Amagi Brilliant Park’s mascots, Tiramie and Macaron, were already drinking inside. It looked like there would only be the three of them today. Both of them seemed to have finished about half of their beer, savoring the negima yakitori on the table.
“Mmm, delicious, ron! This place’s negima are the best!” Macaron exclaimed.
Macaron was a fluffy white mascot that resembled a sheep. He wolfed down the yakitori while sipping on his beer. Heaving a sigh of relief, he went ahead and smoked a Marlboro, hurling abusive remarks at the government for the implementation of taxes on tobacco.
“This tastes awesome, mi! The flavor of a day’s hard work!” said Tiramie.
Tiramie was a pink, furry mascot who resembled a Pomeranian. Coupled with his flower-shaped hair clip and a yellow satchel bag, it was difficult for anyone to resist his cutesy appeal. He stirred his Umeshu while badmouthing the rude guests he played with today.
“That filthy brat! He punched me 5 times in a span of 5 minutes, mi! It really hurts too, though you’ll only understand when you get hit, mi! If it wasn’t for the law, I would’ve beaten him to a pulp!”
“Ah, I get that a lot too, ron.”
“But wait, that’s not all! That brat’s mom was another problem herself, mi!”
“Shoot.”
“That woman in her thirties looked way too hot for a cold season like this, mi! Those exposed white thighs and huge boobies, along with teary eyes as she apologized to me!”
“Was she erotic?”
“A sex bomb, I tell you, mi! Enough to get accepted into an AV group, even though she’s married! I could’ve sworn she tried to hit on me then.”
“You’d die a horrible death, ron.”
“But check out her text…look, she just said she’s okay even if I were a girl. This is my best chance at revenge against that kid, mi!”
“You’re the worst, ron.”
The two of them carried out their usual conversation consisting of matters that could never be discussed inside the park. It was then that they finally noticed Moffle’s presence.
“Oh hey, it’s Moffle, ron!”
“You’re late, mi!”
The two of them moved to make space for him.
“Mofu.”
Moffle removed his furry footwear before entering the room. (By the way, his feet were fluffy and circular in shape just like his shoes. Shoes were all designed to match the wearer’s feet, after all.) It couldn’t be helped. Those shoes were as big as a full-sized bag; there was no way they would fit in the racks.
“I told you guys not to say stuff like that here. The walls have ears and the doors have eyes; we’d all be doomed if this ends up on Twitter or something.”
He certainly didn’t want to see things like—
[Mascots from Amagi Brilliant Park Badmouth Visitors in Yakitori Bar]
—appearing in the headlines. That’d certainly cause their reputation to plunge (assuming it could plunge any further).
“This place is safe, mi. We even have our Lala Patches on.”
“I don’t think there’s even any reception here in the first place, ron.”
Macaron unlocked his phone. Both 3G and Wi-fi were unavailable.
“Even then—”
“What’re the chances that our guests are here, anyway? In case you don’t know, I only have 128 followers on Twitter, ron.”
“…”
128 followers. No matter how unpopular Amaburi was, that number was just too small. Moffle recalled hearing about people un-following him after losing interest in his persistent preaching.
“How about you, Tiramie?”
“I forgot, mi. About 200, I’d say. For some reason, I keep getting blocked by people.”
Tiramie had a knack for dirty jokes. Even though he knew most of his followers were female, he continued making inappropriate posts. As such, they all ended up un-following him as well.
“How’s yours going, Moffle?”
“I don’t use Twitter, fumo.”
Moffle had tried using Twitter back when his friends first introduced it to him. However, he ended up quitting a month later, leaving his profile page stagnant. His feed overflowed with Macaron’s random ‘inspirational quotes’ and Tiramie’s attempts at picking up girls.
Also, just looking at all the other posts made him cringe. The ecosystem of Twitter was filled with tweets about people’s daily lives, and the more he read, the more uninteresting he felt his own life had become. Especially when it came to the posts of successful and influential people. Their publicized achievements and events further accentuated his sense of inferiority. After all, he rarely got to take part in anything special. Everything seemed to contrast with the boring and repetitive lifestyle he led. To top it off, there weren’t many things that Moffle could tweet about to contest them.
“Today, I met an awesome guest!”
“And I had a great time.”
“I’ll be sure to work even harder to make my guests happy!”
—Definitely not going to work.
“Life sucks. And Mondays are the worst. Someone please kill me. The trains should just get bombed, and our park should just swallow a meteorite. In fact, everybody should just die.”
Can I even post such things in the first place? Of course not…
Moffle couldn’t bear to post such nasty comments. In the end, he could only watch everything in silence.
It was then that Takami entered the room with a jug of beer.
“Here it is, Moffle-san. Your usual Black Hoppy.”
“…Mofu.”
“Can I get you anything to eat?”
“I’ll have some chilled tomatoes and tofu. Also, get me some yakitori; I’ll leave the rest to you.”
“Roger~”
Tiramie watched intently as Takami walked away, smirking to himself, “Nice ass you’ve got there, Takami-chan.”
“What the hell’s wrong with you, you idiot dog!”
“You’re always saying such things, fumo!” Macaron and Moffle yelled, voicing their unhappiness throughout the room.
“Didn’t you just get us banned from the other shop a while back, ron!?”
“I was just saying it for fun, mi! Please don’t be so agitated, mi!!!”
Chapter 6: Volume 1 - CH 1.5
Amaburi’s future was indeed worrying, but for now, Moffle just wanted to have a drink and chill out. After exiting the park, he took the last bus back to the train station. The yakitori bar was located just north of Amagi Station, a minute’s journey by foot.
As Moffle strolled down the streets, not a single person took notice of his appearance. The people who walked past him thought of Moffle as nothing more than a foreigner. This was all thanks to the Lala Patch, a magical charm given to Amaburi’s cast. When worn, even the strangest of mascots would be perceived as normal people. It was thanks to this charm that the mascots were able to buy snacks at convenience stores, visit pachinko parlors and buy action figurines at Akihabara without getting into trouble.
The old lady who was preparing her tobacco shop for closure called out to Moffle, “Why, isn’t it Moffle-chan? Pretty late, don’t you think?”
“Mofu. Stuff happened, fumo.”
Moffle raised his paw and gave a slight bow.
“I see. Actually, I’ve got some leftover pickled turnips from my brother; won’t you take some with you?”
“Thank you, fumo.”
“I’ll be right back, Moffle-chan.”
She went back into her store to prepare the food. After a while, she returned with an insulated vinyl bag.
“Eat it while it’s still cold, okay?”
“I will.”
Moffle bowed in respect and walked off.
The 20-year-old yakitori bar, named ‘Savage’, was three apartments away. The aroma of fried food drifted from its ventilators, and their glass doors were covered with oil stains.
Upon entering, the part-timer, Takami, prepared a pitcher of ice-cold beer. The beer server was right beside the cash register.
“Welcome, Moffle-san,” having served customers all day, she greeted him with an exasperated tone. “Your friends are already drinking inside. Are you okay with your usual Hoppy?”
“Mofu.”
Moffle was recently instructed by his doctor to control his purine consumption after being diagnosed with gout. Because the symptoms affected his work as a mascot, he had since limited his drinking to Hoppy, a beer-flavored and almost non-alcoholic drink sold in Japan.
“By the way, Takami-chan, I got some pickled turnips. Would you like some?”
Seeing the vinyl bag that Moffle was carrying, Takami smiled wryly.
“I see. Never mind, fumo.”
Moffle stood up from the counter and walked into the guest room. Two of Amagi Brilliant Park’s mascots, Tiramie and Macaron, were already drinking inside. It looked like there would only be the three of them today. Both of them seemed to have finished about half of their beer, savoring the negima yakitori on the table.
“Mmm, delicious, ron! This place’s negima are the best!” Macaron exclaimed.
Macaron was a fluffy white mascot that resembled a sheep. He wolfed down the yakitori while sipping on his beer. Heaving a sigh of relief, he went ahead and smoked a Marlboro, hurling abusive remarks at the government for the implementation of taxes on tobacco.
“This tastes awesome, mi! The flavor of a day’s hard work!” said Tiramie.
Tiramie was a pink, furry mascot who resembled a Pomeranian. Coupled with his flower-shaped hair clip and a yellow satchel bag, it was difficult for anyone to resist his cutesy appeal. He stirred his Umeshu while badmouthing the rude guests he played with today.
“That filthy brat! He punched me 5 times in a span of 5 minutes, mi! It really hurts too, though you’ll only understand when you get hit, mi! If it wasn’t for the law, I would’ve beaten him to a pulp!”
“Ah, I get that a lot too, ron.”
“But wait, that’s not all! That brat’s mom was another problem herself, mi!”
“Shoot.”
“That woman in her thirties looked way too hot for a cold season like this, mi! Those exposed white thighs and huge boobies, along with teary eyes as she apologized to me!”
“Was she erotic?”
“A sex bomb, I tell you, mi! Enough to get accepted into an AV group, even though she’s married! I could’ve sworn she tried to hit on me then.”
“You’d die a horrible death, ron.”
“But check out her text…look, she just said she’s okay even if I were a girl. This is my best chance at revenge against that kid, mi!”
“You’re the worst, ron.”
The two of them carried out their usual conversation consisting of matters that could never be discussed inside the park. It was then that they finally noticed Moffle’s presence.
“Oh hey, it’s Moffle, ron!”
“You’re late, mi!”
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“Mofu.”
Moffle removed his furry footwear before entering the room. (By the way, his feet were fluffy and circular in shape just like his shoes. Shoes were all designed to match the wearer’s feet, after all.) It couldn’t be helped. Those shoes were as big as a full-sized bag; there was no way they would fit in the racks.
“I told you guys not to say stuff like that here. The walls have ears and the doors have eyes; we’d all be doomed if this ends up on Twitter or something.”
He certainly didn’t want to see things like—
[Mascots from Amagi Brilliant Park Badmouth Visitors in Yakitori Bar]
—appearing in the headlines. That’d certainly cause their reputation to plunge (assuming it could plunge any further).
“This place is safe, mi. We even have our Lala Patches on.”
“I don’t think there’s even any reception here in the first place, ron.”
Macaron unlocked his phone. Both 3G and Wi-fi were unavailable.
“Even then—”
“What’re the chances that our guests are here, anyway? In case you don’t know, I only have 128 followers on Twitter, ron.”
“…”
128 followers. No matter how unpopular Amaburi was, that number was just too small. Moffle recalled hearing about people un-following him after losing interest in his persistent preaching.
“How about you, Tiramie?”
“I forgot, mi. About 200, I’d say. For some reason, I keep getting blocked by people.”
Tiramie had a knack for dirty jokes. Even though he knew most of his followers were female, he continued making inappropriate posts. As such, they all ended up un-following him as well.
“How’s yours going, Moffle?”
“I don’t use Twitter, fumo.”
Moffle had tried using Twitter back when his friends first introduced it to him. However, he ended up quitting a month later, leaving his profile page stagnant. His feed overflowed with Macaron’s random ‘inspirational quotes’ and Tiramie’s attempts at picking up girls.
“Today, I met an awesome guest!”
“And I had a great time.”
“I’ll be sure to work even harder to make my guests happy!”
—Definitely not going to work.
“Life sucks. And Mondays are the worst. Someone please kill me. The trains should just get bombed, and our park should just swallow a meteorite. In fact, everybody should just die.”
Can I even post such things in the first place? Of course not…
Moffle couldn’t bear to post such nasty comments. In the end, he could only watch everything in silence.
It was then that Takami entered the room with a jug of beer.
“Here it is, Moffle-san. Your usual Black Hoppy.”
“…Mofu.”
“Can I get you anything to eat?”
“I’ll have some chilled tomatoes and tofu. Also, get me some yakitori; I’ll leave the rest to you.”
“Roger~”
Tiramie watched intently as Takami walked away, smirking to himself, “Nice ass you’ve got there, Takami-chan.”
“What the hell’s wrong with you, you idiot dog!”
“You’re always saying such things, fumo!” Macaron and Moffle yelled, voicing their unhappiness throughout the room.
“Didn’t you just get us banned from the other shop a while back, ron!?”
“I was just saying it for fun, mi! Please don’t be so agitated, mi!!!”
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