[MashUp] Ch 11: Isuzu Sento

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Takuma strolled out of the mountain with his newly won "spoils of war."

That dumb green dragon had already been handled to perfection. Now, walking down the shopping street on his way back to the apartment, his mood was surprisingly good.

…

"It's him."

At the corner café, on the second floor by the window, a girl in a scarlet dress, a short black skirt, and white thigh-high stockings sat with a cup of long-cold coffee. Her chilly, aloof presence clashed with everything around her.

Through her binoculars, her gaze never left the silver-haired boy on the street below.

"Target confirmed…" Isuzu Sento muttered under her breath, reading the sparse info displayed on her magical terminal.

"Takuma, seventeen years old, unemployed freeloader. No school record. No work record. Currently living with high school teacher Mafuyu Kirisu. Relationship… possibly romantic."

Isuzu's brows furrowed.

This man was supposed to be the one—chosen by oracle itself—who could save Princess Latifah's Amagi Brilliant Park?

This kept man? This useless leech?

Absurd.

But the oracle had never been wrong.

Which meant she had to confirm with her own eyes what made him worthy.

Just then, chaos broke out on the street ahead.

Car horns blared in panic.

A massive cargo truck had tried to squeeze into a narrow side street and gotten stuck, wedged tight. It couldn't move forward or back. The whole intersection instantly jammed.

The driver was drenched in sweat, the crowd buzzing with useless advice.

"Turn it left! Hard left!"

"No, no, you'll scrape the wall!"

"Call a tow truck already, it's hopeless!"

Isuzu cast it a cold glance. Just another inefficient, stupid mess. It'd take thirty minutes at best.

But Takuma… stopped walking.

He gave the scene one lazy glance.

His eyes didn't look like someone observing an accident. More like someone annoyed at a piece of furniture placed in the wrong spot.

Then he walked forward. He knocked on the driver's window. "Listen to me."

The driver blinked at him.

"Turn the wheel left, fifteen degrees. No more, no less."

"…Okay."

The man obeyed without thinking.

"Now hit the gas, keep it at twelve hundred RPM, back up steady."

The engine growled.

"Stop."

The truck froze, aligned to within millimeters between a wall and a parked car, in a space that looked impossible to squeeze through.

The crowd collectively held its breath.

"Wheel back straight. Right thirty degrees. Go forward."

The giant truck eased forward—and to everyone's shock, it slid free in one smooth motion.

In under thirty seconds.

The street cleared.

Dead silence. Then an explosion of cheers.

"Holy shit! A miracle!"

"How the hell did he calculate that?!"

"That sense of space is inhuman!"

The grateful driver leapt out to thank him, but Takuma was already gone, vanished into the crowd with his shopping bag.

Bang!

From the café window, Isuzu's binoculars clattered onto the table.

Her brown eyes contracted in raw disbelief.

That wasn't calculation. It was instinct. A mastery of space, angles, and mechanics.

This man… he was no ordinary parasite.

The oracle was right.

She shot to her feet, watching the glowing dot representing Takuma drift away on her terminal.

"Target must be secured."

Boots silent against the floor, she slipped out of the café.

"Report: prior intel incorrect. Target possesses extraordinary knowledge. Reevaluation required."

She shadowed him down the street. And then—

…

Takuma stopped again.

He was standing at the entrance of a video game shop.

Out front, a promotional gacha machine rattled as a group of grade-schoolers groaned in despair.

"Ugh, missed again! My allowance is gone!"

"Forget it, the jackpot's rigged, it never drops!"

"Stupid greedy store!"

"My mum told me the Gacha is evil."

"..."

Takuma's eyes lingered on the machine. His gaze seemed to pierce through its plastic shell, following every gear's turn, every capsule's roll.

His LV.2 Housekeeping Template didn't just break down space—it let him read the flow of order and probability itself.

To him, the machine's mechanism was a perfect formula laid bare.

He stopped beside a boy who was about to give up and murmured casually, "Don't leave yet."

The kid blinked.

"Wait till the next person loses. Then count to three before you turn. Exactly three seconds. No more, no less."

Takuma turned away as if it was nothing.

The boy hesitated. Then someone else tried, failed, and left swearing.

The boy started counting in his head.

One.

Two.

Three!

He twisted the knob.

The machine rang out with a loud, triumphant jingle. A golden capsule dropped into the tray.

First prize—brand new PlayStation 6.

The boy gaped at the shining capsule in his hands. By the time he looked up to find his silver-haired benefactor, the man was long gone.

...

"...H-How?"

On a rooftop far away, Isuzu lowered her binoculars, her breathing sharp and uneven.

If the truck had been brilliance, this was something else.

This was foresight.

No magic, no sorcery—just pure intellect that could see cause and effect, nudge destiny itself.

Now she understood why the oracle had chosen him.

For someone like this, saving a struggling amusement park… was like wielding a dragon-slaying sword to slice a loaf of bread.

Her chest rose and fell rapidly. Shock and scrutiny gave way to something fiercer—an iron resolve.

No matter the method. No matter the price.

This man had to be brought to Amagi Brilliant Park.

…

"Hmm..."

Takuma ducked into a deserted alley, shortcutting his way home. But only a few steps in, his pace slowed.

Footsteps echoed behind him. Cold, measured.

"Stop."

The voice cracked through the air like a bullet dipped in ice.

Takuma turned.

At the mouth of the alley stood a girl in a decorated uniform, her eyes filled with something tangled and heavy.

In her hands—sometime during the chase—she had drawn a strange, elegant flintlock.

Its black barrel pointed squarely at his forehead.

Takuma arched an eyebrow, amused.

His gaze drifted over her beautiful face, the magical muzzle-loader. His lips curled.

"Another one, huh? First I get dragged home against my will. Then forced into moving furniture. Then forced to draw a sword. And now…" He chuckled. "A gun in my face. You women sure are creative when you want something."

He lifted the bag in his hand. A rich, savory aroma leaked out.

"Mind moving that toy gun away? You're scaring my mushrooms."

Isuzu's brows knotted.

Toy gun? Mushrooms?

Her gaze flicked to his bag. But the word "mushroom" tripped something unfortunate in her mind—dragging her thoughts straight to a far more nasty association.

Heat raced up her pale neck to her ears. Her icy brown eyes flared with indignant fire.

This man—behind that terrifying intellect—hid the soul of a lecher!

Her evaluation updated instantly: {Target possesses extraordinary ability to save Amagi. Personality, however, is vile. A shameless degenerate.}

Her grip on the gun tightened.

Takuma caught the flicker of embarrassment in her face, the lovely flush that betrayed her composure. His smirk deepened.

He knew exactly what she was imagining. And he had no intention of correcting her. Watching the frosty beauty unravel was infinitely more entertaining.

Isuzu inhaled sharply, forcing the chaos inside her down, layering her voice in even more ice to mask the tremor.

"Takuma. From today, you are the acting manager of Amagi Brilliant Park." Her words quivered, tinged with anger. "This is an order, not a request. Now come with me."

She expected at least a flicker of seriousness, maybe even fear.

Instead, Takuma just laughed softly.

He didn't even look at her. He was busy adjusting his shopping bag, as if what was inside mattered more than her gun or her threats.

"Nahh~"

The answer was light as a breeze.

Isuzu's pupils tightened. "This isn't up for discussion."

"I know."

But his playful eyes carried no hint of fear, only a trace of pity, like he was humoring a child.

"You wouldn't understand my reason for saying no."

He lifted the bag. The aroma grew stronger.

"My mushroom can't wait. Its freshness decays by the minute. From the moment it sprouted, its life has been ticking down."

Isuzu's flawless face froze.

Mushroom… on a countdown?

He was speaking with the gravity of a priest, the reverence of a saint—about a mushroom?!

Her worldview trembled on its foundations.

Takuma watched her stunned silence and smiled deeper.

"Anything that diminishes its quality insults my principles. So don't talk to me about managers or parks. Even if a god came down and ordered me to save the world…" He paused, voice calm and matter-of-fact.

"I'd still go home and tend to my mushroom first."

Isuzu's brain short-circuited.

She had prepared for resistance. For bargaining. For excuses.

But this?

He was refusing because… his mushroom couldn't wait?

She stared at his earnest face, the devotion in his eyes. Then at her gun, powerful enough to level a building.

She felt like a villain?

"You… shameless!" she finally spat between clenched teeth.

Takuma ignored her.

He walked past with his mushroom, not sparing the gun pointed at his forehead so much as a glance.

As if it really was just a toy.

.

.

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