The Adorable Thermopylae
One Friday, after classes in the usual 2-4 classroom...
“Hey, Sousuke. The flea market’s in two days. You’re free, right?” Chidori Kaname asked Sagara Sousuke.
“Flea market?” he replied curiously. “What’s that?”
“It’s like a swap meet. A bazaar. We promised to run a stall, right?”
“Hmm?” Sousuke watched her with sullen expression, tight frown, and precise motions—almost like a soldier. Well... given that he’d grown up in war-torn regions overseas and still served in a military organization, he was, in fact, exactly like a soldier. Then he said, “I thought that was in nine days.”
“Nope. Two days.”
“It’s right here.” Sousuke showed Kaname his student notebook. The Sunday a week from then was circled in red, with Kaname’s handwriting saying, Leave this date free! No missions or operations! “You wrote it so that I wouldn’t forget.”
“Huh? What? Oh, so I did... Weird, I must’ve flaked or something.” She checked the flea market flier again. It was definitely in two days. “Hmm, sorry. Guess I got mixed up. Can you come to the one in two days?”
“I have plans,” he informed her.
“Huh?! But I’m gonna be selling the fifty-issue Golgo set I bought on a whim, and Agatte Nanbo!! by Koike Kazuo, and Akagi, and all kinds of manga it’s gonna seem weird for a high school girl to be selling!” she wailed. “It’s embarrassing! I wanted to pretend they were yours!”
“I don’t entirely understand that, but you seem to only want me there for ulterior motives...” A trail of greasy sweat trickled down Sousuke’s temple.
“Hmm, that’s a problem,” said Kaname. “I know it’s my own fault, but there’s no way you can cancel?”
“Sorry. My plans that day are unbreakable.”
“More soldier work?” she asked, lowering her voice here.
“No, but... it’s very important that I be there,” Sousuke insisted. “I have an event similar to your flea market.”
“Huh?”
“It’s at the Aomi Pier Event Hall,” he continued. “The organizers invited me. It’s far too late for me to cancel.”
“I see... That’s that, then, I guess.”
Indeed, Sousuke ended up not being present at Sunday’s flea market, but Kaname headed to the park in the morning with the other friend she’d invited, Tokiwa Kyoko. They lined up all their unneeded manga and other possessions and sat down to wait. But only about an hour passed before...
“Ah... thank you very much.” To her surprise, their wares were gone in a flash. The owner of a ramen shop that Kaname knew came by and bought all her manga in one swoop. Turning to Kyoko, Kaname said, “One hour in and we’re all sold out...”
“I guess it does happen.” Kyoko, in her coke-bottle glasses and braids, stared at the bundle of thousand-yen bills in shock. “Nothing much to do now... Should we just go home?”
“Hmm... That’s not much fun,” said Kaname, looking at her watch. It was a bit after ten, and customers were only just now arriving in force. She’d left her whole day open, but now she had nothing to do.
“Sagara-kun’s in Aomi, right?”
“Yeah,” said Kaname. “He said he had a ‘similar event’... but he didn’t give me details.”
Kyoko’s eyes began to shine with curiosity. “Let’s check that out, then! I’d love to see what kind of stall he runs!”
“Hmm... It’s true that I’ve got nothing better to do, so I wouldn’t mind looking in... But it’s pretty far away, I think.”
“Hey, no problem there. Let’s go!”
They packed up their remaining items and their picnic blanket and headed for Aomi Pier on the bay.
It took a little under forty minutes by train to get from their flea market venue to Aomi Pier. They tried to call Sousuke in advance but got no response. They decided to get off at the nearest station based on memory alone, but...
“This is... kind of a weird vibe,” Kaname observed.
They were at the coastal monorail station. Even though it was a Sunday, there were few couples or families there, just lots of shady-looking passersby—crowds of men with mohawk haircuts and tattoos, studded leather jackets and ear studs, and dangerous expressions. They were the kind of people you usually only caught a glimpse of here and there in the city, but they were currently loitering around the ticket gate en masse.
The whole thing was like a scene out of some piece of post-apocalyptic fiction, like Fist of the North Star. Some even cackled while they sprayed graffiti on the wall of the stairs. Kaname almost expected to see them slaughtering innocent villagers while crying, “Purge the filth!” until a passing martial artist took them all out with one finger.
There were even more gathered in the shopping area outside the station, blasting earsplitting music and banging their heads.
“What’s with these guys?” she wondered.
“Kana-chan, don’t make eye contact!” Kyoko reminded her as they made their way through the crowd, as tense as could be.
Fortunately, these men didn’t seem connected to the event Sousuke was taking part in. As the girls got further from the station, the shady types thinned out.
“Is it some kind of cult?”
“No idea.”
They walked another ten to fifteen minutes, and ended up taking a number of detours: sometimes finding a bridge closed for construction, sometimes reading the map wrong. But at last, they found their destination. The event hall building stood on an isolated stretch of reclaimed land. Despite being a very impressive event hall, it seemed oddly small, surrounded by empty land and parking lots as it was.
“So he’s in there, right?” Kyoko asked.
“I guess so, but... I’ve been calling him, and he’s not picking up,” Kaname told her. Then she thought, What kind of event is Sousuke actually taking part in? A group of enthusiasts holding something like a flea market on a seaside pier? Kaname couldn’t imagine what shape that might take, but...
“Is it some kind of doujinshi trade show?” Kyoko whispered.
“Dunno,” said Kaname. “Probably a military geek convention. Selling scary military uniforms and knives and such.”
They passed through the unnecessarily large entrance and entered the venue, emerging into an extremely spacious hall several times the size of a school gymnasium. This was clearly the event venue. There were impressive gates set up all around, and the event name was written on the large sign: Eighth Annual Fumoffu Market. And what the girls saw next was...
Lots and lots of Bonta-kuns.
Bonta-kun was a mascot creature somewhere between a dog and a mouse. He had plush fur and large, round eyes, and wore a stylish hat and bowtie. Every step he took made a squeaking sound, and the only things he could say were variations on “fumoffu.”
There were probably over a hundred of them, here in this massive seaside event hall.
“Um... what...” Kyoko began to ask, before trailing off.
“What?” said Kaname. “What is this?”
There were rows and rows of tables, and signs and banners looming everywhere. There were a few hundred booths laid out, and the Bonta-kun participants were buying and selling goods in their fumo-riffic fashion.
A group of five Bonta-kuns had formed a band on the event stage and were playing an up-tempo song. Nearby, some bunny girl-like Bontas were dancing to the music, receiving applause and cheers for their efforts. There were tons of human participants as well, but it was the Bonta-kuns coming and going all over the venue that made the biggest impact.
In addition to the standard yellow type, there were orange ones, blue ones, green ones... Bonta-kuns of every color of the rainbow. Normally, Kaname and Kyoko would have found them all adorable, but seeing them all here at once was more unnerving than it was delightful. And seeing them all here attending some strange convention—it was curiosity alone that kept her from just turning around and walking right out the door.
“Fumoffu! Fumoffu!” A Bonta-kun selling some kind of book at a nearby booth beckoned to them.
“Huh? Wh-What?”
“Fumoffu.” This Bonta-kun was a pale pink color.
The pink Bonta held out a copy of the book, turning the pages with impressive dexterity for such big, squishy paws. It was a color photo book, showing various Bonta-kuns in cool poses.
“I-It is cute, but is there really demand for this kind of thing?” Kaname wondered aloud. Still, it was surprisingly well made. It appeared to be a fan creation, but it looked as good as a commercial work.
“Moffu.”
“You want me to buy it?”
“Moffu. Fumoffu.”
“Um... 1500 yen seems a little pricey,” Kaname observed.
“Fumo... moffuru!”
“You’ll knock it down to 1000? I’ll take it, then. Here.”
“Fumoffu!” The Bonta-kun took Kaname’s thousand-yen note and handed her the photobook with a smile.
Kyoko gazed with envy at Kaname, who was able to communicate and haggle effortlessly. “Kana-chan,” she said, “you speak their language?!”
“Well... I just sorta picked it up, yeah.”
“R-Really...”
They left the photobook booth and began to walk around again. It seemed there was more than just books here. More Bonta-kun goods were being sold at other stalls: B2-sized Bonta-kun posters, Bonta-kun mugs, Bonta-kun towels, Bonta-kun caps, Bonta-kun windbreakers, Bonta-kun undies... There were also hand-sized Bonta-kun figures, pleasant-to-the-touch microfiber plushies, ceramic sculptures, and other such crafts.
“Moffuru!” A Bonta-kun came towards the girls through the crowd. “Fumoffu, fumoffu. Fumo-moffuru!”
It was the “standard-issue” Bonta-kun, with yellow fur and brown spots, wearing a green hat and red bowtie.
“W-What the...” said Kyoko, drawing back defensively.
Meanwhile, Kaname squinted and watched the Bonta-kun carefully. The elbows and other joints showed signs of wear, because it did a lot of crawling. Its ears flopped around more than the others, due to the weight of the internally mounted high-sensitivity microphone and FM antenna. The lay of the fur on its head was unusual, because it frequently wore a helmet instead of a hat. In other words, this Bonta-kun was...
“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!”
As Kaname throttled the man, Kyoko and the surrounding Bonta-kuns tried to pull her off.
“Kana-chan, calm down!” Kyoko pleaded. “Those are just rumors!”
“Hahh... hahh... Sorry. I really lost my cool for a minute there...” Kaname eventually came back to her senses and returned to her Shikidouji-style art.
“But the fact remains that they attempted to throw Molotov cocktails. They’re clearly mad,” said Sousuke.
“That’s funny,” grumbled Kaname, “coming from the guy always throwing grenades around our school...”
“Still, it’s very strange,” he continued. “Why do they think they have the right to the facility? Fumozawa-san, you did rent the hall through the proper channels, didn’t you?” Sou-Bon asked Whi-Bon, ignoring Kaname’s comment.
“Yes, of course I went through the proper channels. However...”
“However?”
“It appears Achsheros holds their biggest concert on this day in this venue every year,” Fumozawa admitted. “Aomi Hall is considered something of a holy land in the fandom, and today is its most holy day...” He made it sound like Christmas among Christians. But recently, the fans and organizers had behaved so rudely at one of their concerts that the venue had refused to book them again.
“Just constant incidents of arson, broken windows, and violence,” he continued. “And so...”
And so, he explained, the Fumoffu Market organizers’ committee had booked the hall for that day, completely unaware of the circumstances behind the opening. They usually rented the Ariake International Hall every year, but since a massive terrorist attack in June had left it half-demolished, they’d used the Aomi Pier one instead.
“H-Huh... I-Is that... so?” Kaname nodded along with the explanation, looking uncomfortable.
Kyoko watched dubiously. “Kana-chan, you’re not looking well,” she observed. “Is something weighing on you? You’re looking like you did a year ago, when the principal gave a lecture over the PA the morning after you set the forest behind the school on fire trying to bake sweet potatoes and then ran away...”
“Th-Thanks for the really specific comparison,” Kaname groused. “But seriously, I’m fine.”
“Really?”
“May I continue?” Whi-Bon waited for them to finish before going on. “The truth is, even before the day of the convention, we had received a few threats from their fans. They’re convinced the arena’s owners only rejected them due to some plot on our end. They said that if we didn’t cancel our event today and hand over the venue, they’d resort to force...”
“What do the hall’s owners say?” Kaname asked.
“They said they don’t get involved in conflicts between clients.”
“Creeps.”
“Well, I never would’ve imagined they’d start acting like this, either. The lack of foresight is my own fault. It almost ruined our fun day...” Whi-Bon sighed and then sagged in despondency. The rest of the Bonta-kun staff around him shared in the motion.
It was here that the leader of the arsonists broke out in a cackle. He must have stolen a headset from a member of the staff at some point to listen in on the whole conversation.
“What’s so funny?”
The man kept laughing sinisterly. “Hah... What we did was just the start,” he informed them. “It was the signal flare for our fans to swarm the convention hall. Look outside.”
There was a large metal shutter backstage used for bringing in and taking out props. Whi-Bon nodded, and a member of the staff hit a button beside the shutter. It began to open. On the other side, across the river from the reclaimed land that housed the arena, was a massive crowd of people. It was thick, spreading out as far as the eye could see.
From the event hall, it looked like more than ten thousand people... but if they were surrounding the whole pier, there would have to be several times that many in all. Tens of thousands of people on the verge of a riot—the ones at the station had turned out to be just a fragment of the total. The massive crowd, all of them dressed similarly to the cackling leader of Achsheros, carried bats with nails in them, bike chains, and steel pipes, which they waved around as they shouted, their voices loud enough to shake the very ground at their feet.
“That’s the thirty thousand fans who come to our concert every year,” the man snickered. “They’re gonna mob the place soon. What do you think’ll happen then?”
They’d overrun the Fumoffu Market, burning their humble shops and crushing the goods they’d worked so hard on. The Bonta-kuns themselves would surely not make it out unharmed.
“Fumo...” Whi-Bon and the others trembled, but so did Kaname and Kyoko. This was going way beyond a passion for music; this was like an evil crusade motivated by religious zealotry. To think that a band this evil could attract so many followers!
“I think... maybe we should just call the cops at this point.” Kaname took out her phone and worked the dial for 110. But the call wouldn’t go through. None of the numbers she dialed went through. All the phones, both wired and wireless, were down.
“Wh-What’s going on?” Kaname asked shakily.
“Sabotage,” said Sousuke. He seemed to be using the electronic weapons mounted on Sou-Bon to scan the environment around the hall. “The base stations for cell phones and lines for landlines have all been neutralized. With that many people, they’re bound to have a specialist or two.”
“Oh, no!”
“We currently have no way to contact civilization,” Sousuke announced, and a heavy silence fell over the Bontas. There was a horde of 30,000 rioters shouting from the opposite shore, ready to fall upon the venue and rampage to their hearts’ content.
“Sh-Shall we evacuate the participants?” the staff Gree-Bon asked.
“I’m afraid we’ll have to call off Fumo-ket,” Fumozawa agreed reluctantly. “Let’s work with the fire brigade and get the participants clear—”
“We can’t evacuate,” Sou-Bon declared, pulling a map of the venue from somewhere or another and unfolding it in front of the others. The Bonta-kuns crowded around it. “This is a reclaimed island, cut off from the mainland,” he explained. “The only way out is the bridge on the north side, but they’re concentrated on the other side of the bridge. In other words, they’ve cut off our only escape route.”
There was a bridge under construction on the west side as well, but at the moment, the reclaimed island was basically Dejima—and the only way out was blocked.
“Isn’t there a ferry that goes around the bay coast?” Kaname asked. “Could we escape via sea?”
“It can only carry fifty at a time. It would take all night to get our thousands of attendees out.”
“Ergh...”
“We have no choice but to fight,” Sousuke concluded. “The committee staff must take them on.”
“Take them on?!” Gree-Bon shouted in despair (though to anyone around them it just sounded like “Fumofumoffu?!”) “Y-You saw how many of them there are, though! Tens of thousands! And there’s only thirty staff members. We can’t possibly fight them!”
“Yet we have no other choice. What shall we do, Fumozawa-san?” asked Sou-Bon, his button eyes glimmering.
The answer was obvious, but the group waited to hear Representative Fumozawa’s response.
“We really have our backs to the wall, don’t we?” Whi-Bon said in fumo-speak, eyes closed and stubby arms folded as he listened. “If we let our event get trampled on with no resistance, Fumo-ket will become the laughing stock of the mascot business!”
“There’s a mascot business?” Kaname muttered.
But the others ignored her again, and the representative said, in a dramatic whisper, “I’m scared, too. But we have a duty to protect our attendees.”
“Representative! (Fumoffu!)”
“Representative! (Fumoffu!)”
Whi-Bon’s eyes snapped open. “We must prepare for battle. Let us recruit volunteers.”
An announcement played throughout the venue. “All suit attendees, please come to the event stage at once. I repeat: we have important fire safety measures to explain, so all suit attendees, please come to the event stage at once. This includes non-staff participants...”
“What are ‘suit attendees’?” Kyoko asked Sousuke.
“You’ll see soon enough.”
Soon, all the present “suit attendees” arrived at the stage—three hundred Bonta-kuns.
Every single Bonta-kun at the event was now here, a mass of button eyes gazing up at Whi-Bon on the stage. Red, blue, black, emerald, sapphire, gold. Halloween-style, Santa-style, kimono-style, camouflage-style—they were Bonta-kuns of all colors and types.
“Th-There’s so many...” Kaname said, her mouth agape. “You beat all those yakuza with just seven of these guys, so this might be enough, right?”
“Well, they’re all non-combat mascots. They’re just wearing normal suits,” Sousuke clarified, “not the enhanced kind.”
“I’m not sure how I feel about there being combat mascots...” muttered Kyoko.
The Bonta-kun suit that Sousuke wore was a kind of power suit, mounted with an array of electronic weaponry. It had a power assist function, along with bullet and blade resistance. Without going into how Sousuke came to have such a suit, suffice it to say that the other Bonta-kuns present were pure hobbyists.
Ignoring their conversation, Whi-Bon AKA Representative Fumozawa explained the situation to the suit participants. “Fumoffu, fumoffu,” Whi-Bon said. “Fumo fumo fumoffu. Fumo moffuru. Moffu fumo-fumo, fumofumoma...”
Upon hearing those words, the three hundred Bonta-kuns fell into a panic.
“Fumo fumoffu!” a Bonta-kun said accusingly.
“Fumo fumo...” Whi-Bon said, admitting his fault. Then he went on to passionately explain, “Fumoffu. Moffuru moffuru, fumo moffu. Fumo, fumo fumo, mofurufumo? Moffu! Fumo fumo fumoffu, fumo fumo!”
The three hundred were taken aback by his grim determination, but stoically nodded to each other with exclamations of, “Fumoffu! Fumoffu! Fumoffu!”
Whi-Bon explained even more fervently. “Fumoffu, fumo fumo? Moffu, fumo!”
Yes, it was true...
“Fumo, fumoffu!”
He was right, but...
“Moffu! Fumoffu! Fumoffuru!”
These words resonated deeply within them:
Behold us here, heaven and earth. We gather together with paws bound. This we swear: bring freedom to the fumos! We will fight. We will put our lives on the line so that this day will be known throughout history as a second Thermopylae!
Well... that might not have been exactly what Fumozawa was saying. But nevertheless, his words still inspired the three hundred Bonta-kuns, and they all raised their stubby arms before letting out a dramatic war cry that shook the event hall.
“Fumoooooo!”
Taking directions from the staff, the three hundred began preparations to meet the attack.
With help from the regular attendees, trash can lids and mops were gathered from all over the venue in order to arm the Bonta-kuns—trash can lids as shields, and mops as spears. Due to the unexpected nature of the engagement, this Bonta-kun brigade didn’t have any firearms. The battle would be fought entirely in melee. Sousuke, who’d been appointed special advisor to the Fumoffu Market Organizers’ Committee Special Forces Division, had set the site of the battle at Terumo Bridge, which connected the pier to the mainland.
The regular attendees watched in agony as the three hundred marched off to the site with a grim air about them. Some of the Bonta-kuns embraced their wives or children and seemed hesitant to leave. (This raised the question of what kind of person would engage in a hobby like this while married with children, but it was still a tear-jerking scene.)
“No, no, no freaking way!” Kaname shouted at Sou-Bon as the three hundred marched. “Three hundred of us and thirty thousand of them? That’s a hundred for each of you... It’s impossible!”
“So the math would dictate, yes,” Sou-Bon agreed, nodding fumo-ically. “But with proper strategy, such odds can be overcome.”
“R-Really?”
“Hannibal at Cannae, Philip II at Chaeronea, Napoleon at Austerlitz—this battle could end up joining those in the textbooks, and you will have been a witness to history.”
“Yeah,” Kaname mumbled, “I don’t think that’s gonna happen...”
“I’ve also prepared an ace in the hole,” he told her calmly.
“You’re not allowed to kill them all with napalm grenades.”
“Very well. I’ll scrap that plan.”
“So you really were thinking about it, huh?”
“Now, I must take command. I will return.” Sou-Bon squeaked away.
“It’s nice to have confidence, but can you please try not to get yourselves hurt?!” she called after his retreating yellow form.
As he marched into the distance with his mascot army, Sou-Bon just raised his stubby fumo-fful arm back at her.
The armies stood facing each other across the Terumo Bridge, which was about the size of a basketball court, with two lanes of traffic traveling each way. Enemies swarmed the opposite bank as far as the eye could see. The thugs of the Achsheros fandom jeered at them, waving their dangerous weapons around.
“You wanna fight?”
“Goin’ ‘fumo, fumo’ at us all the damn time!”
“We ain’t gonna back off just ’cause you’re cute!”
Meanwhile, the three hundred Bonta-kuns just formed ranks and stared down the opposing army.
A man who looked like a commander stepped out from the enemy’s masses. “Fools of the Fumoffu Market!” he shouted from the other side of the bridge. “Behold our massive force! Resistance is useless! Drop your weapons now and clear a path at once! If you do, we might just spare your lives!”
“Fumoffu,” Whi-Bon said at the head of their ranks.
“You won’t back off, eh? Excessive courage can be bad for your health!”
“Fumo, fumoffu.”
“Foolish Fumoffu Market!” the commander bellowed scornfully. “That was your last chance to earn mercy. Henceforth, we shall slaughter your entire— Hrk!” The commander suddenly reeled back and collapsed.
Sou-Bon, standing beside Whi-Bon, had thrown a 350 ml can of Afternoon Tea he’d bought from a vending machine in the venue. It had hit the man square in the brow.
“Fumoffu, fumoffu.”
The thirty thousand grew agitated and glared at the three hundred.
“You... You damned mascots!”
“Get ’em!”
No more talk was necessary. The enemy army raised their deadly weapons and charged, unleashing a cry. The sound alone seemed to shake the earth below and sent crackles of electricity through the air.
On the other side of the bridge, the three hundred awaited their orders.
“Moffu! Fumo, fumo!” At Whi-Bon’s order, the Bonta-kuns raised their shields in unison and thrust out their mop spears in front of them.
“Fumoffuru!”
The enemy charged while the three hundred dug in. Within moments, they collided. The Bonta-kun phalanx had spread to cover the width of the bridge, intending to fully deny entrance to the front line of the enemy army. At the point of impact, their fumo-ffully legs braced against the asphalt, but they were still forced back two meters.
Ah, and yet, their line did not break! The mascots held fast against the tidal wave, blocking attacks with trash can lids and counterattacking fiercely with their mop spears. Strikes to the face, chest, solar plexus or privates sent the first line of enemies into retreat.
“Fumoffu!” Blocking the enemy’s strikes with their shields, they vanquished one foe after another. There were Bonta-kuns who couldn’t fully dodge swings from the hooligans’ nail bats, but their thick, sturdy fur minimized the damage they took.
This revealed why Sousuke had only asked for the three hundred suit mascots: even if these Bonta-kun suits didn’t come with military-grade bullet resistance and power assist, they still made for rather sturdy armor. Against hooligans wielding primitive weaponry, it was more than enough defensive power.
Block! Resist! Hold strong!
“Moffuuuu!”
“Erk...”
Knock down the flinching enemy before you, strike them, step forward...
Whi-Bon’s spear broke in two. But Whi-Bon remained calm, unfurled his red cape and jabbed the broken end of the mop into the enemy soldier’s behind. “Hah!”
“Fumoffu!” Sou-Bon, beside him, didn’t flinch either. Pulling out a high-voltage stun baton, he employed dazzling footwork to mow down the enemies before him.
The three hundred had annihilated the first wave of enemies.
However, stepping over their bodies, the second wave soon surged upon them. The front line of Bonta-kuns withdrew and the healthy second line waiting behind them took over. Using their line of shields as a wall, they repelled the enemy’s attacks and continued to counterattack with determination.
The bridge was the only way for the Achsheros Army to advance, and it served as a bottleneck. No matter how large the armies involved were, they could only send the same number of forces to meet at any one time. Even if there were thirty thousand of them...
“Moffu! Fumoffu!” The Bonta-kuns grew bloodthirsty as they waved their spears, clearing out the second wave of attackers and kicking them over the bridge’s railings. The intimidated enemy let out cries of regret as they plunged into the cold sea below.
“Fumo!”
Next! It seemed all three hundred of them cried the same word as the third wave of enemies charged. The third line of Bonta-kuns swapped in and raised their spears and shields in unison.
“Amazing,” Kyoko breathed in disbelief as she watched the battle of the Terumo Bridge from afar. “They’re holding the line.”
A fourth wave. A fifth. A sixth. The three hundred Bonta-kun army tore through the surging enemy ranks, refusing to give up an inch. The tiniest ray of hope had appeared. Was it possible? Those watching the fight began to grow excited for the allied victory.
“Yeah. They’re doing their best, but...” Kaname whispered. But they haven’t even cut the enemy force down by one tenth. Meanwhile, the same three hundred have been fighting all this time. No matter how determined they might be, how long can they really hold out?
While Kaname worried, the three hundred kept fighting.
The infuriated enemy army attempted to drive a truck onto the bridge. Sou-Bon, who only had a few grenades, used one now to blow up the vehicle before it reached the bridge, throwing the enemies around it into panic.
The enemy then dispatched a strange masked force of elites. The three hundred piled up the enemy soldiers they’d beaten, then knocked them over to bury the elite force beneath.
A three-meter-tall monster of a man appeared and attacked Whi-Bon. Whi-Bon had a tough fight against him, but prevailed.
“M... M... Moffuru!” Ally morale was skyrocketing. The Bonta-kuns were meeting everything thrown at them. Yet they couldn’t hide their exhaustion, and more and more Bonta-kuns were being carried to the back lines, injured by the enemy’s nail bats.
A ninth wave came. A tenth. An eleventh. And although they continued bravely repelling the enemy attacks, the Bonta-kun troops were slowly growing tired. And just after ninety minutes into the battle...
“Enough! Surrender!” the enemy commander shouted. It was the man who’d initially been knocked out from Sou-Bon’s Afternoon Tea can, who must have gotten back up at some point. The delinquents currently engaged in battle on Terumo Bridge ceased their fighting at the man’s order as well. “We acknowledge your strength,” he shouted again, “but you must see that you have no path to victory!”
Kaname and the others had to agree.
“F-Fumo...” The Bonta-kuns still capable of fighting were down to maybe a hundred, just thirty percent of their initial number. Their other allies were exhausted, resting limply on the back lines or devouring the yakisoba and takoyaki they’d bought at the stalls.
Meanwhile Achsheros, though greatly depleted, still had an overwhelming force of twenty thousand remaining.
“Fall to your knees and yield to me,” their commander demanded. “If you surrender, we won’t hurt you. We won’t kill your families, either. We’ll rule this pier together. We’ll even give you a portion of the proceeds from Achsheros’s new album!”
The Fumo-ket organizers’ committee surely found this a tempting offer. If they just gave in now, the safety of the participants behind them would be assured, and they’d be free to use Aomi Hall any time next year except for this day.
However... No matter how it was phrased, they’d still effectively be reduced to the other fandom’s slaves.
“Mofu...” Whi-Bon glanced at Sou-Bon.
Sou-Bon fell into deep thought, then shook his head with a faint “Fumo.” It was as if he was saying, “It’s up to you.”
Whi-Bon nodded and looked up to the sky. His button eyes sparkled with sadness, as if looking back on good old days which would never come again. With his battered army behind him, Whi-Bon strode forward alone. As tens of thousands watched on, he came to the center of the bridge and stood there for some time.
It was over. No one could claim that the organizers’ committee hadn’t fought well.
“Ahh...” Kaname breathed, impressed. Fumozawa-san loved this event so much, and yet... It was so sad to see it end like this.
Whi-Bon sank to his knees in despair, showing submission to the enemy. The twenty thousand strong enemy army jeered at him, weapons clanging.
But...
“Fumoffu.” He then stood up silently and slung his arm in the man’s direction.
“Eh? What are you... Ah!” Whi-Bon had thrown a can of Dr. Pepper at the opposition’s commander, which hit him in the forehead and knocked him out again.
“Moffu, fumoffu. Fumoruffu,” Whi-Bon said boldly, slowly straightening up.
Sou-Bon also rushed to his side and beckoned, his paw squeaking. Come at us, villains. We’ll drive you back each time! he seemed to be saying.
“K-Kill ’em!”
Naturally, this enraged the enemy. They charged again with even greater fury than before.
“Ahh!!!” Kaname groaned, while Kyoko covered her eyes.
The enemy covered the entire road. The Bonta-kun army no longer had the strength to stop them. Would their allies simply be trampled? Would they simply let the tens of thousands of hooligans pass and fall on the venue?
“Fumo...” Sou-Bon and Whi-Bon drew back, and began to run. When they reached the end of the Terumo Bridge, they stopped and turned back.
By now, the enemy had reached the center of the bridge, screaming in rage.
“Moffuru,” Sou-Bon said, and handed something to Whi-Bon.
“Fumo,” Whi-Bon said. He’d been handed a detonator, the safety already removed.
“Wait, is that—” The moment Kaname recognized it was the same moment Whi-Bon pressed the button.
“Moffu.” There was a short, sharp explosion, and Terumo Bridge split right down the middle. The remote control had detonated the plastic explosives that had been set at its halfway point.
The explosion itself was a small one, but it caused a mathematically perfect collapse of the bridge’s pontoons and girders, forcing the bridge down under its own weight.
“Gah... ahhhh!”
The bridge began slowly to collapse into the ocean below, sending up large splashes. And as the hundreds of attackers cried out in desperation...
“Fumoffu,” Sou-Bon whispered, eyes closed. He almost seemed to be saying, “I wish there had been another way.”
“That’s too far!” Kaname yelled, bringing out her fan for the first time in a while to smack Sousuke on the back of his head.
The hundreds of enemy soldiers who had fallen into the sea swam to the island’s shore, crying pitifully for aid, but the Bonta-kuns poked at them with their mops and forced them back into the water.
With the destruction of their one invasion route, the Achsheros Army couldn’t keep up the attack. They remained close to twenty thousand strong, but cowed by the tragic sight they’d just witnessed, they fell into a frightened silence... and eventually, one by one, they dispersed.
The battle of Terumo Bridge had concluded in victory for the Fumoffu Market Organizers’ Committee. Many staff members called it a miracle, but the greater miracle was that everyone involved had survived. The next day, the incident was glossed over with a police report that the collapse had been caused by the weight of the fans swarming the bridge, which had overtaxed a structural weakness.
It was rumored that someone among the Fumo-ket staff had connections in the police department, but Kaname didn’t feel like digging into it any further.
And so, Fumoffu Market and its participants were safe once more. But...
“Isn’t it supposed to end with you all wiped out and spoken of in legend?” The night after the battle, partly because the bridge had been destroyed, the Bonta-kuns had remained on the pier to hold a victory party. It was there that Kaname whispered those words to Sou-Bon, who was celebrating amidst their fumo-brational toasts.
“I don’t understand what you mean, but it’s no issue,” Sousuke said through his headset. “The bonds between paws are greater than any.”
And with that, the Bonta-kuns toasted together with a cheer of “fumo, fumo.”
[The End]
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