The Interview

Word of the interview spread around the complex. Moments later, several beautiful young women appeared and seductively sat on a large couch beside the friends. Their whispers and overly sexualized laughs were almost as off-putting to Kureha as the arrival of a half-dozen other large, tattooed men. As Kureha sifted through her purse to assemble her camera, her previous interviewee approached her from the side.

“I hate that I agreed with your sentiment yesterday. You seemed so sincere, and you spoke of being honest, all the while you’re a monster,” she replied.

“I was good at finance in school, and I grew up nearby. One day, when you are twenty-two, if a group of yakuza show up at your door and demand you become their accountant, tell me how you would handle the situation,” he snarled.

“Well, I won’t see twenty-two, so that won’t be a problem,” Kureha growled back as she snapped the lens into place.

The doctor arrived and began to examine the boys. All the while, the prostitutes ran their fingers along Shiona and Rin’s necks and arms, complimenting them and telling them how handsome their male companions were. The two of them did their best to not become overwhelmed or enraged and instead kept their eyes on Kureha. The man, who Kureha put together was the family head and head of whatever syndicate this was, had already sat back in his chair and was silently waiting for Kureha to return. She was given a chair across from him, and as she approached, she apologized for not having a formal microphone.

“I’m sure this will be just fine,” he said in a very normal, calm tone.

Kureha sat across from him and looked back at her friends. Even though they were only feet away, Kureha found herself feeling as though she was trapped alone in a cage with a very hungry bear. Feeling his eyes never leave her as she situated herself only made things worse. Her fingers were still cold and numb as she tried to steady herself.

“Bring us some water,” the man replied.

Moments later, a pitcher of water and two glasses were presented. Kureha soothed her throat and inhaled slowly to focus. She turned her camera on and activated her phone’s audio recorder.

“Okay, I’m ready,” she replied.

The man sat up and faced her with his full attention.

“As am I,” he smiled.

With that, Kureha pressed record on her camera. Behind them, her friends and the other various audience members leaned forward to listen.

“You… you are yakuza, aren’t you?” Kureha asked to start.

The man grinned to himself.

“If that’s what you wish to call us, yes. Police called us bōryokudan. We call ourselves Ninkyo Dantai. ‘Organizations of chivalry,’ he replied.

“You told me you trafficked young girls for sexual exploitation. That doesn’t sound chivalrous,” Kureha countered.

She dared to keep his gaze in challenge.

“I did. My organization, as well as many others, trafficked for sex, for work, for organs. All of it. The reason we are chivalrous is because you never see it. The world is full of vile, wicked, hateful moments. And in so many other countries around the world, it is out there for everyone to see. Bloody streets filled with the feces of depraved, addicted wastes. Slaves working in mines beside fancy neighborhoods. Children being passed between office buildings like supplies. That is the world we make sure you never have to see,” he said.

“You and your friends got a microdose of the truth and the real brutality of existence, and the six of you are almost comatose from shock. Imagine if you had to see the full extent of the world’s wickedness. I keep that at bay. I absorb all of that so that you and your friends, and all the rest of society, can exist in your peaceful aesthetics and sleep calmly in your quiet little houses. So yes, I do think we are chivalrous.”

Kureha felt he had a point and found herself struggling to counter anymore. She was still too intoxicated and traumatized to coherently fight.

“But, if people like you didn’t facilitate and enable that wickedness, it might evaporate,” she posited.

“A noble, naive sentiment. But I fear there will always be a demand for someone like me. Even here in the face of the end, there are still millions around the world who are letting their morality fall to the wayside and seek out the services of all of the people like me who live in the shadows.”

“Are you afraid of the afterlife? Are you afraid of being held accountable for everything people like you have done?” Kureha asked.

“Will there even be an afterlife if all of existence, all of time, and thought, is erased? If no one or nothing is left to remember us or mourn us, if time is destroyed, will we have ever existed to begin with?” he asked.

“That sounds like nihilism,” Kureha responded.

The man shrugged.

“Call it indifferent acceptance. But to answer your question, no, I do not fear death. I was merely a tool for the yin of the universe. In as much as there were yang and light that helped bring peace and progress, I was the balance of the natural order. Merely a tool created to keep harmony.”

His answers were almost the ramblings of a madman, but as Kureha listened, she realized he spoke with full calmness and clear-mindedness. That made him all the more horrifying. As she reflected on his answer, he looked at his watch once more.

“You keep looking at your watch,” Kureha stated.

In a moment of horrifying confusion, his wicked eyes softened. Melancholy acceptance washed over his face and he looked to Kureha with a tired smile. His rough hand scraped against his stubble once more as he mulled over a complex thought in his mind until he finally reached a decision that caused his shoulders to tense and pull upwards ever so slightly.

“Why are you in Tokyo, young girl?” he asked as though he already knew the answer.

“We’re from Asahikawa. We were making our way to Fukuoka. To see the epicenter of The Calamity. I know we’ll see it well before then, but we wanted to go to where it all started.”

He laughed a wicked laugh to himself and shook his head.

“Oh, you will certainly be seeing it before then…” he said in a sinister, mocking tone as his eyes cut into Kureha’s mind.

Something about his face and his statement unsettled her more than anything else that had come before. Behind her, Rin and Shiona leaned forward. Kai paused the doctor’s hands who were currently bandaging his head. All of them leaned forward with intent. Around them, the workers, guards, interviewee, and prostitutes all froze and went silent.

“What do you mean?” asked Kureha.

He blinked and looked back to the sky.

“...When The Collapse began, I saw the governments of the world failing and falling. When the people’s unified alliance formed to try and create some semblance of peace for the end, I offered my services. Free of charge. I had boats, manpower, networks, and seedy connections if needed. I became involved in logistics and the transport of rice, flour, that sort of stuff. Through that, I helped make sure no one hoarded more than needed. If a private citizen or an army or a preacher or anyone tried to take more than they should, people like me made sure they never woke again…”

Kureha was still unsure what he meant with his original answer.

“Through it all, I became respected well enough that I started to be debriefed on certain very crucial scientific announcements so that the quasi-governments and people like me could help prepare for any changes. We just had one such announcement this morning.”

Arata’s phone began to ring again. The man continued.

“You know what they told us today? What the world media is about to broadcast around the globe in about thirteen minutes? Why all my staff seems sooooo scared and rushed?...” he asked.

Kureha paused as she processed the context and felt a familiar sense of life-ending dread pull into her once more.

“The scientists’ predictions were wrong. It’s accelerating. Far faster than they planned. Every day it seems to be compounding at about one to two percent. In the beginning, it was too small to register. But now…” the man said with a dead-eyed smile.

“Oh, god. Oh shit,” whispered Riku.

“Oh gods, no,” said Arata as he did the math.

“What?!” Rin asked.

The man looked out at the friends.

“I’m saying that we do not have nearly the time we thought we did. In thirteen minutes, the entire world will be told that we do not have until March. We may reach September if we are lucky.”