“Sousuke?” she checked.
“Fumoffu.” The yellow Bonta-kun puffed up and nodded several times as if to say, “That’s right.”
“Kana-chan, how could you tell?!” Kyoko asked with an emotion almost like terror.
“Oh, it’s nothing special... I just could.”
“R-Really...”
The Bonta-kun then started rooting through the sack he was carrying and pulled out two headsets. “Fumoffu.”
“Um, what?”
“He wants us to put them on, I think,” Kaname translated.
Bonta-kun nodded firmly. Kaname and Kyoko both put on their headsets.
“Chidori, Tokiwa. Can you hear me?” Sousuke’s voice came through the headset. The Bonta-kun in front of them was just waving its arms and speaking in its fumo-fumo language, but the voice of Sousuke came through the headsets so they could understand him. “What are you two doing here?”
“We sold out at the flea market before the morning was out,” Kaname explained. “We had time to kill, so we decided to stop by.”
“I see,” Sousuke responded, while the Bonta-kun in front of them nodded with a “fumo.”
“So, what is all this?” Kaname looked around the venue.
Fumoffu Market already seemed to be picking up speed, as cheers and applause rang out sporadically around them. Of course, the cheers were cheers of “fumooo!” and the applause was the squeaky collision of their padded paws, but...
“It’s just what it looks like,” he told them. “Once a year, enthusiasts from all over Japan come together to trade goods and information.”
“A character con, huh? Those don’t usually get to this size, though...” Kyoko said.
“Th-This many all gather together, just around the theme of Bonta-kun?!” Kaname asked incredulously.
“Affirmative.” As the girls looked shocked, Sousuke began leading them through the venue. “You’re aware I began selling this power suit through a Belgian arms dealer, correct?”
“Yeah, I do remember you mentioning that...”
Sousuke had once altered a Bonta-kun suit for military use, mass-produced it, and conspired with an arms dealer friend of his to try to sell it to armies and police forces, but it had been a big flop. She’d heard they’d sold about two to an eccentric police organization, and had otherwise ended up in the red.
“The other day, the organizers of this event heard about the power suit,” Sousuke explained. “They were impressed and chose to invite me.”
A nearby blue Bonta-kun passed by and greeted Sousuke’s Bonta-kun suit (henceforth Sou-Bon) with a “fumo.” Other participants seemed to react the same way. Sou-Bon seemed to be highly respected among the Bonta-kuns in the venue.
“As you can see,” he continued, “I’ve been welcomed with open arms.”
“But what even is Bonta-kun?” Kaname wanted to know. “Wasn’t he an amusement park mascot? What company holds the rights?!”
“I can explain that,” came a new voice into the headset’s feed. The girls looked up and saw a new Bonta-kun approaching. This one had fur the color of snow, with dignified silver spots. It wore a wide-brimmed hat like a French chevalier with a red feather plume, and had a fine embroidered cape on its left shoulder.
That prim fumo-ffley mouth, that dignified air—this is clearly a Bonta-kun of some status, thought Kaname. In actuality, he could’ve been the lowest rung on the whole Bonta-kun ladder for all she knew, but he certainly had the air of a big shot about him.
The white Bonta-kun (henceforth Whi-Bon) offered a dignified bow to the girls. “A pleasure, my dears. I am Fumozawa, representative of the Fumoffu Market organizers’ committee.” The speech was delivered in a man’s voice—calm, intellectual, and sonorous. But the Whi-Bon suit in front of them really was just saying, “Fuuumo, fumo fuuumo fumo. Fumo fumoffu,” like the rest of them.
“Oh, thanks. Sure thing...”
“Obviously, Fumozawa is but my pen name,” he said with a chuckle. “It’s a bit too on-the-nose for a representative of Fumo-ket, eh?”
“You really abbreviate it as ‘Fumo-ket’?”
“Now, let me tell you the history of Bonta-kun.” Ignoring Kaname’s backhanded question, Fumozawa began to explain. “Bonta-kun was a merchandise line developed by a certain toymaker fifteen years ago. The amusement park Bonta-kun you’re familiar with is but a remnant of its licensing blitz; the park itself does not own the rights.”
“So they got it on loan?” Kaname asked.
“Precisely. The toymaker also made a related children’s anime, Bonta-kun of Fumo-Fumo Valley... Have you heard of it?”
“No?”
“Understandable,” Fumozawa said with a nod. “Only eight episodes were ever produced, after all.”
“So, it wasn’t popular?”
“No, the ratings were perfectly fine. Even by today’s standards, it was of abnormally high quality. In particular, the scene in episode three where Bonta-kun dodges a missile barrage is called the ‘legendary five seconds.’ There were other similar scenes, and it’s generally regarded as a god-tier work among enthusiasts.”
“And... this was supposed to be for children?”
“But the scrupulous attention to detail ended up wrecking the production schedule and ate up all the budget,” Fumozawa told her. “The station canceled it, and the toymaker went bankrupt. The subsidiary that inherited the rights folded several years later, and the rights were then passed around until they ended up with Okawa Tofu, a Nerima tofu maker.”
“Why a tofu maker?” Kaname asked, sweat streaming from her brow.
Whi-Bon continued his fumo-tastic explanation. “That was the end result of prolonged and complicated court battles. But Okawa Tofu insisted that they ‘didn’t want to obstruct the activities of those who love Bonta-kun,’ and so Fumo-ket was born.” Whi-Bon pointed his paw at a corner of the venue, where a tofu vendor was set up. It seemed to just be a big man selling normal tofu, but there was a long line leading to his shop. “Buying silken tofu from Okawa-san at this event is tremendously important to Bonta-kun enthusiasts,” he told them.
“Um, maybe we should go now,” said Kaname.
But as the girls tried to turn around and leave, Whi-Bon and Sou-Bon grabbed their hands in unison. “Don’t be like that,” he pleaded, “stay a while.”
“He’s right, Chidori,” Sousuke chided. “You’re being rude to Fumozawa.”
“Guhhh...”
Whi-Bon quickly waved his hands. “No, Sagara-san, they’re not rude. I simply wanted the girls to know the true history of Bonta-kun.”
“You’re a generous man, Fumozawa-san.”
“Not at all,” Fumozawa denied. “It’s nothing compared to what you’ve done, illuminating the world’s militaries and police forces about Bonta-kun. I’m truly glad I invited you today.”
“The pleasure was all mine.”
There was something surreal about seeing the two Bonta-kuns going “fumo, fumo” and bowing to each other. Kaname and Kyoko were rendered speechless by the true depths of geekery they were witnessing. And then...
“Fumo fumo, fumoffu!” A green Bonta-kun with a staff armband came running up to them. Whi-Bon must have changed his headset transmitter channel, because they suddenly couldn’t hear Fumozawa’s voice.
“Fumo?”
“Fumoffu, fumoffu. Fumo-moffu. Moffu fumo-fumo, fumo-moffuru!”
“Fumo? Fumoffu!”
Upon hearing the staff Gree-Bon’s report, Whi-Bon nodded seriously.
“Moffu.” With a nod, Whi-Bon and Gree-Bon went squeaking off together.
“Did something happen?” they asked Sou-Bon.
“Yes,” Sousuke affirmed. “There appears to have been an incident. Arson of some sort...”
“Arson?!” Kyoko cried out.
“I’m worried,” he told them. “We should investigate, as well.”
“What’s all this ‘we’ stuff? Kyoko and I aren’t part of— Ow, h-hey!”
Sou-Bon grabbed the arms of Kyoko and Kaname before they could object and took off after the staff.
They headed behind the event stage in a corner of the hall where a mass of fumo-nity had gathered (had they been people, it would have been a mass of humanity, but given that they were all Bonta-kuns, “fumo-nity” is more appropriate.) It looked like they’d already caught the ruffians.
There were four men emanating a combative aura, which generally felt like the polar opposite of the fumo-ffable one that otherwise filled the venue. These were wicked men decked out in wicked makeup, with mohawks, tattoos, and studded leather belts.
“What, ya wanna fight? Eh?!” one said.
“That hurts, dammit! Lay offa me!” said another.
“I’ll (bleep) every one of ya! Got it?!”
“We’ll burn every one of ya bastards!”
“Hey, Kana-chan, aren’t they...” Kyoko whispered to Kaname.
“Yeah. Just like the guys from the station,” Kaname whispered back.
“Hey, lemme go! I’ll turn you all into fireballs!” The man with the silver mohawk who appeared to be their leader screamed at them all.
“Fumo...” The Bonta-kuns present all wore staff armbands. Some of them wore imposing expressions, but most of them looked like weak-willed Bonta-kuns, appearing flustered and unsure of what to do.
“Fumozawa-san. What happened here?” Sou-Bon asked Whi-Bon, who’d heard the report from the staff.
“They attempted to throw Molotov cocktails onto the event stage,” Fumozawa replied. “They insist they have the right to use the venue...”
He then explained that the ruffians had revealed themselves to be members of the fairly famous indie band Achsheros.
“Ach... what?” asked Kaname. “I’ve never heard of that band...”
“That’s because you only listen to 70s funk musicians like JB,” Kyoko told her. “I’ve heard of them.”
“Oh?”
“They have a really extreme performance style,” Kyoko went on. “Their fans are known for being really violent, too. They’re on another level from even death metal and stuff.”
“They’re that bad?”
“Yeah. They burn dogs to death on stage, eat hamsters whole, set fire to their venues, then rape the firefighters who come to put it out. At least, that’s what the rumors say...”
“What the hell?!” Even without getting into the firefighter thing... Kaname loved dogs. She had a hamster, as well. The thought of them hurting innocent animals like that... “Monsters!” Suddenly drawn in the art style of Hiramatsu Shinji, Kaname lunged at the band’s leader.
“Guh! What are you— Hrk!” he choked.
“I’ll murder assholes like you!” she howled. “Go to hell!”