“You look pretty decked out,” Seiya observed. “Where did you think we were going?”
“...?”
“We’re not heading into the city,” he clarified. “It’s the suburbs... well, actually, more like the country.”
“What do you mean?” Isuzu asked.
“We’re going to Sanami Lake,” he told her. “Didn’t I mention that?”
He hadn’t. He hadn’t said anything. Sanami Lake was in the mountains, far into Western Tokyo, on the other side of Mt. Takao. It was just on the border, in Kanagawa Prefecture. It was the kind of place that was bustling with tourists on the weekends, but nearly empty on weekdays. What would be the point of renting an apartment out in the sticks? (Apologies, but “the sticks” was the only way to put it).
“That’s two hours from here,” she said incredulously.
“More like an hour and change,” he said. “Let’s get on the train.”
“Could you explain first?”
“I’ll explain on the way.”
“......” With no other choice, Isuzu followed after Seiya.
They got on the JR Nanbu Line from Inabazutsumi Station, heading towards Tachikawa. The Nanbu Line was shaky and loud. It was known locally as the “gambling train.” There were lots of horse tracks and cycle race tracks along the line, so the Sunday passengers naturally tended towards that disposition. They were surrounded by middle-aged men glaring death at horseracing newspapers, which made talking awkward.
“Let’s see, where to start...” Seiya finally said after they changed to the Chuo Line in Tachikawa. “Do you know anything about Kagawa Real Estate?”
“A little bit. I’ve heard the name, at least,” Isuzu said, but the truth was, she had looked them up last night. There wasn’t much of use on their home page, but she’d managed to figure out that they didn’t really do residences, and generally handled land sales for corporations instead. They apparently handled the accounts of several ager—these were amusement parks, managed by magical realms—inside Japan.
“I’ve had them secretly searching for property over the last few weeks,” Seiya told her. “This isn’t something I can just casually tell people about.”
“I had no idea,” said Isuzu, feeling bewildered.
“Needs of the situation. I didn’t want anyone to know.”
“I don’t know what’s going on, but it seems awfully far away,” she pointed out.
“What?”
“If you’re renting an apartment, Sanami Lake seems too far away,” Isuzu said, trying hard to sound unconcerned.
Seiya’s brow furrowed. “Apartment? What are you talking about?”
“It’s not an apartment? A house, then?” Was he trying to get a large estate with a lot of land in the country where rent was cheap? In the age they lived in, she’d heard you could get a pretty nice summer house for only a few million yen: three bedrooms, with a yard and a hot spring.
A hot spring! Of course! He wants to enjoy a hot spring with someone? I don’t know who, but he must know how much I like hot baths. And if he’s telling me about all of this... is he testing me? Sanami Lake is famous for its secluded hot springs. Maybe he’s trying to see if the mention of a villa there would make me happy? Maybe? Yes. It would be a lie to say I have no interest at all in Sanami Lake hot springs. He must be—
“Ah, just to warn you, we’re not going to the Sanami Lake hot springs,” Seiya said bluntly.
Isuzu straightened up in shock, feeling as if he’d read her mind. “Hot springs? What do you mean?”
“I’m not really sure, but I know you,” he told her. “I assumed you were thinking I wanted to rent a house with a hot spring bath, or something.”
“Ridiculous. I wasn’t thinking of hot springs at all,” Isuzu lied, brazenly.
“Really? All right,” Seiya said with genuine indifference. “Anyway, I was looking for property. Not an apartment or a house—land.”
“Land?”
“Land,” he said firmly. “I’m looking for a big plot of land.”
“A big plot... how big?” Isuzu wanted to know.
“Let’s see... around 500,000 square meters, if I can get it.”
“But that’s...” A word flashed suddenly into the back of Isuzu’s mind. EXODUS. That was the word she’d seen typed out on Seiya’s computer screen after he passed out from exhaustion. Exodus—a great movement out of Egypt. Migration. And the 500,000 square meters Seiya mentioned was the same area as Amagi.
What did it mean? That was obvious; he was going to move the park. Seiya was going to move the entire park out of Amagi City to somewhere else.
“I see you’ve caught my meaning,” Seiya said, with tremendous nonchalance, despite the seriousness of the situation. “This is why I was searching in secret. Can you imagine what would happen if word got out?”
“Are you serious about it?” she asked.
“I haven’t made up my mind for sure yet,” he admitted. “But I’m exploring it pretty seriously.”
“Why on earth—”
“Why do you think? There’s no way we’re getting three million people by the end of the year.” It was September now. Their best period for bringing in customers, summer vacation, was already over. It was only going to get colder from here on out. They had a lot of months left, but traffic in January and February was bound to be low; attendance during this time was typically so bad that most amusement parks could close up entirely on weekdays.
Their current attendance was 1.2 million. They’d beaten their total attendance from the past year to a degree that could almost be called a miracle. But their final attendance would still likely fall somewhere around the two million mark. No matter how optimistic your calculations, the shortfall was inescapable; there was no gutsy move, no effort from the cast that would be meaningful enough to change it.
The numbers had come clear around last month; that was why he’d tried for the bidding war between Digimaland and Cosmic Studios. But then he’d thrown that out the window, and in the rudest way possible. Isuzu was relieved to see those negotiations fall apart, but they still hadn’t solved the three million attendance problem, and neither of those two conglomerates would offer aid to AmaBri ever again. Even so, this was Seiya they were talking about—she’d known that he must have some trick up his sleeve. So this was it. “You’re running away?” she asked.
“That’s right,” Seiya said with a self-deprecating smile. “The only reason we have to deal with that absurd three million requirement is because we’re clinging to Amagi City. It’s like a landlord putting unreasonable demands on his tenants. At some point, you just have to move out.”
“Even so... this isn’t exactly like changing apartments,” Isuzu pointed out.
“I’ve spent a lot of time since then reading over various contracts,” Seiya said. “I think it’s possible.”
“But what about the money?”
“We’re not rolling in it, but I think we’ll be fine. We’re assured almost two million in attendance already, so we should have enough to pay off both Amagi Development and the city,” Seiya explained. “The money we spent on the renovations this year can be paid off over two years with the money we make from the sale of the land and facilities. Plus, interest is ultra-low right now. I did a rough estimate; have a look. See?” Seiya tore a page from his notebook and held it out to Isuzu.
Isuzu spent about a minute reading it thoroughly. They were just rough calculations, but under this plan, they probably could wring out enough money for their so-called ‘exodus.’
“The cost of land around Sanami Lake is about one third of Amagi City’s,” Seiya said. “It’s still a lot of acreage, so it won’t be cheap, for sure... but it seems like a realistic option, right?”
“Realistic? Hardly.” Isuzu replied, and furrowed her brow. “What about the cast? Most of them live in or near Amagi City, don’t they? You think they’ll all happily move out to the middle of nowhere?”
“It’s not the middle of nowhere. And it’s only about an hour by train.”
“But you still expect everyone to just go along with it? The veteran cast will rebel, and the young people will quit rather than make the commute.”
“Then we’ll make it work with whoever’s left,” Seiya said bluntly. “Besides, it’s better than losing the park entirely.”
“Well... I suppose that’s true, but...” Isuzu had no alternate plan. Of course she didn’t. Seiya had spent six months racking his brains, and this was the best he’d come up with.
“There are plenty of issues to deal with, of course,” he went on. “Backlash from the employees, like you said; what to do about the attractions; the inevitable negotiations with Maple Land when we move; etc, etc...”
“Most importantly, how will we bring in guests?” she asked. “Our regulars won’t follow us on a move this far away.”
“That’s what makes location so crucial,” he told her. “AmaBri’s been lucky in that regard.” AmaBri really did have a good location: thirty minutes from Shinjuku by train, then ten minutes by bus. There were only two or three other amusement parks so accessible from the city. “Besides, a drop in attendance won’t be fatal anyway. We’ll be able to take it easy, coasting along on decent numbers and acceptable profits. We can make our target, say... 500,000 a year? That should be more than enough to keep us in the black.” He sounded so relaxed. There was no desperation, no tension or strain, in his voice.
Isuzu finally realized why Seiya had been acting so strangely lately. “I see...” she murmured.
“Does that upset you?” he asked.
“Well...” It didn’t upset her at all. Isuzu hated the idea of placing any more burden or worry on Seiya. It’s not as if he was at fault for any of their problems. If it makes things easier on you, I’m glad—she was about to say, but then swallowed the words down. Instead, she said with calm—with forced calm: “I just see why you’ve been so low-energy lately. That’s all.”
“Hm...”
“When I look more closely, your jaw is slackened,” she mused. “Your gaze is more slovenly. Humans fall from grace so easily...”
“What the heck? I’m talking about securing a future for the park! Besides, I look at myself in the mirror every morning, and I’m still as handsome as ever! You need your eyes checked if you think I’m slacking at all!” Seiya said, openly annoyed.