“Moffu. ...I’m telling you, I just walked her home and then left, fumo.”
“I doubt it, pii! In that case... in that case... I’ll ask Takami-chan myself, pii!”
“Hmm,” Moffle mused. “If you ask her that, she’ll really hate you, fumo.”
“What?! But why, pii?”
“You don’t know? You really don’t know, fumo? Wanipii, you have a real problem, fumo.”
It felt like a storm was rolling in. While I was fretting about how to smooth things over, Ashe-san just shrugged and smiled. I think she was telling me, “It’ll be fine; just leave them alone.”
At last, we arrived at the yakitori bar, Savage. It was a hole-in-the-wall restaurant founded in 1992, so it was over 20 years old now. The sliding glass door was sticky with oil, and a powerful smell of sauce wafted out from the exhaust fan. The minute we got through the door, I could feel the stickiness of the tiles beneath my shoes. I would never come here with the Elementario girls, but the food was very good. The negima, in particular, was excellent.
Takami-chan, the girl we’d been talking about, wasn’t present; she must have been off today. Instead, we were welcomed by a man I didn’t recognize, who was about the same age as her.
“Moffu. Is the back open, fumo?”
“Huh?” The man asked.
“The back, fumo,” Moffle repeated himself.
“Huh? Um...” He must have been new; he seemed completely baffled by a reference that Takami-chan would understand right away.
“The tatami room in the back, fumo,” Moffle tried again. “They let us use it a lot...”
“O-Oh... I’d have to ask...”
“Sorry, Moffle-san!” the head chef, who was cutting chicken in the kitchen, called out to Moffle, as if to put the conversation out of its misery. “It’s open. Go on in.”
“Moffu. Thanks, fumo.”
“Takami-chan has a cold today,” the head chef explained. “Sorry.”
“Oh, that’s awful, fumo,” Moffle-senpai said simply, then headed into the back. Wanipii-senpai looked a little disappointed.
Meanwhile, Ashe-san and I were carefully considering how we should interpret Moffle-senpai’s reaction. Did Moffle-senpai know about her cold or not? Knowing would give us a valuable clue. If he knew, then Moffle-senpai and Takami-chan were in exclusive contact, and it would mean they had interacted today. If he didn’t, then at the very least, they weren’t quite that close—not close enough for one to let the other know when one of them was sick, at least.
Incidentally, I had Takami-chan’s info on LINE and Twitter, too. She hadn’t reported that she had a cold; in other words, it wasn’t public information.
“Ashe-san... how would you interpret that?” I whispered.
“Hmm... I’m not sure,” she hissed back. “Lord Moffle is a performer, after all.”
“I feel like he knew,” I insisted. “He seemed a little too flippant, right?”
“That’s true,” she agreed. “But that’s how he usually acts, isn’t it? I could see him making a big deal if it were Latifah-sama, of course...”
“Hmm... That is true...” While we were whispering to each other, Moffle-senpai entered the tatami room in back and beckoned us to follow.
“Over here, fumo. Come on in.”
“R-Right!” I quickly jogged through the narrow corridor, feeling that the secretive exchange had made me feel a bit closer to Ashe-san. We’d thought the same thing in the same moment, and we’d managed to exchange opinions in very few words. It was a minor thing, I guess, but it had been very satisfying.
“All right! Let’s have a toast, fumo!” Moffle-senpai called out, and we clinked our mugs together. Moffle-senpai had Hoppy Black, Ashe-san and I had draft beers, and Wanipii-senpai had a grapefruit sour.
Moffle-senpai and Ashe-san nearly chugged down their entire mugs, then each let out a big, ecstatic sigh. Meanwhile, Wanipii-senpai seemed done after a single sip.
“Ah, delicious!” Moffle-senpai sighed, before calling out to the server. “Excuse me!”
“Yes?”
“Another draft beer and Hoppy, please!” said Ashe-san, who placed Moffle’s order without asking him first.
Moffle-senpai seemed delighted by the gesture. “Oh, thanks. You can hold your liquor, Ashe-san.”
“Oh, hardly,” she responded dismissively.
“Come on. I saw you drink Ironbeard under the table, fumo,” Moffle-senpai scoffed. “Even Tiramii is terrified of you, fumo.” Ironbeard was another member of the cast, a former pirate and elephant seal mascot who loved his booze.
“I see,” she said thoughtfully. “But... I’d say Ironbeard-san is just a reckless drinker.”
“Oh! You came out and said it, fumo!”
“Maybe he visits too many hostess clubs?” Ashe-san shrugged. “He really should just drink at a normal pace.”
“Still, if you were pouring for me, I’d have no choice but to chug, fumo.”
“And what do you mean by that?”
“You’d be scary if I refused, fumo.”
“How mean!” Ashe-san pouted. “Why would you call me scary?”
Moffle-senpai and Ashe-san shared a laugh while I gritted my teeth in a smile. Wanipii-senpai remained silent with a vague smile on his face. What on earth was going on here?
Moffle-senpai and Ashe-san’s exchange had really rattled me. After all, the two had never seemed particularly close... As Moffle-senpai had said, Ashe-san was the head of the finance department, which meant she controlled the park’s budget. She held the purse strings in an iron grip, and her main job was to make sure the rest of us kept our spending responsible.
Meanwhile, Moffle-senpai was the leader of the performer cast; he had to be our advocate, begging for funding to finance what we needed. It was only natural, given their positions. Destiny had pitted them against each other. Now, after just one drink—before they were even drunk—they were already playfully needling each other. I have very little experience in the larger world, but even I could see what was going on there.
“You are scary, fumo. You’re especially scary when you go quiet,” Moffle-senpai opined. “Isuzu’s punishments can’t compare.”
“Oh? That’s your own faults, by the way,” Ashe-san pointed out. “You tease Isuzu-chan too much just because you think it’s cute.” She said, swiftly changing the subject.
Great tactics, Ashe-san! I thought with admiration.
“Moffu. Do we?”
“Yes, you do. It’s cruel.”
“Well, she just makes it too easy,” Moffle-senpai protested. “I’ve asked the others to tone it down.”
“But they don’t listen, do they?”
“Hmm, I see,” he grumbled. “I’ll think about it, fumo.”
“Please do. I mean it.” While they were talking, the new part-timer brought another mug of Hoppy and one of beer. “Speaking of Isuzu-chan,” Ashe-san said once the part-timer was gone again, “how are things going for her lately?”
“Going? Same as ever, fumo. You know her type. Secretarial work is a cinch for her. You’ve seen her, haven’t you?”
“I don’t mean that,” Ashe-san denied. “I mean with Kanie-san.”
“Oh. Ohh!” Moffle-senpai clapped his paws together as if catching her drift. “You mean that, fumo.”
“Yes, that.”
“Let’s see...” he said thoughtfully. “I guess I’d say no progress, fumo. There’s no sexual tension between the two at all, fumo.”
“I see. Well, that’s more or less what I’d assumed...” The two gulped down their mugs and laughed cheerfully. “Isuzu-chan is quite a late bloomer, isn’t she?”
“So is Seiya, fumo.”
“You think so?” Ashe-san asked.
“Of course, fumo! Isn’t it obvious? He’s stiff as a board! Total square. A real ‘gentleman.’ He’d never make a pass at a co-worker, fumo.”
Ashe-san tilted her head, a thin smile appearing on her face. “Oh? Are you sure?”
“Oh, please. Are you not?” Moffle-senpai scoffed.
“I can’t say that I am,” she said. “I think the real playboys keep their cards close to the chest...” Looking back, I don’t think Ashe-san’s argument probably was how she really felt; I think she was just playing Devil’s advocate to liven up the conversation.
Her response caused Moffle-senpai to fold his arms, harrumph, and hold off his response. It was a lengthy consideration, as if they were playing shogi. Wanipii-senpai turned his eyes downward and stayed silent. In the end, I was the one who took the bait.
“I d-don’t think Kanie-san is that sort of person!” I said, loudly enough that you could probably hear me outside the tatami room—maybe even outside the bar itself.
“Ohh?” Moffle-senpai and Ashe-san said at once. They both looked extremely interested.
“What makes you say that, fumo?”
“Why don’t you tell ‘big sister’ a little more about it?”
There was a sadistic gleam in both of their eyes. I could immediately tell that I’d stepped on a land mine.
“Huh?” I fumbled. “Um, um...”
“I’m curious, fumo...”
“I’m curious, too...”
I finally understood: They hadn’t really been arguing at all. They’d just been doing a little double act for me and Wanipii-senpai! It hadn’t started that way... but in the process they’d achieved a tacit understanding and brought things around in that direction. They knew they’d end up in a fight if they talked about work, so they thought they might as well have a little fun!