Open House Job Interview

Mutsuki wasn’t entirely sure what he was looking at.

He plucked his cellphone out of his pocket to once again check the hour, as
he had done only a few minutes ago.

9:25 a.m.

He’d decided to come a little earlier just in case he got lost or confused
on his way to the Uma Corporation’s main building.

He was not that used to riding the trains, nor did he know where all the stations
were. Still, he did not feel like walking all the way downtown and risk getting
his only suit dirty. So, if he got lost downtown, at least he would have some
time to reorient himself.

But his fears proved unfounded and he managed to easily make it there with
half an hour to spare before the interviews began.

And for that, he was greeted with the view of a line of people kilometric in
length, starting at the main entrance of the building, slithering all around the
beautiful plaza in front of it and then just started wrapping itself around
the entire, massive block that the company occupied.

He could see men and women in matching light blue vests and pants
or skirts walking all around the line like diligent worker bees or like one of
those small animals that survives by helping larger, more imposing animals
groom themselves.

They were maintaining order in the line, answering questions, offering tissues
or water bottles and in general just keeping the line in order.

“I mean… I know the economy is kinda bad right now. Still, what are these
many people even doing here?”

After the news yesterday, Mutsuki’s day grew increasingly complicated and
what had until that point just been a long, lazy afternoon suddenly contracted
on itself once he realized he had stuff to do.

Immediately after texting the Sakamoto’s daughter thanks for the heads up,
he went diving into his suitcase and fished out his black suit, tie and white shirt.
They all had that discernible smell of luggage that’s been packed for too long,
and they’d been folded for so long that the folding lines had become wrinkled
creases.

“This won’t do at all. Guess I’ll just have to spend some money here.”

He looked around in his pockets and rummaged enough change for a load
at the local coin laundry. Since he didn’t want to spend money just washing
those clothes, he also checked for any other dirty clothes to toss in as well,
putting them in a sack and running out to start getting things done.

After a brisk ten minute run, he was already loading the washing machine
and waiting for it to be done. So, he sat down and started typing
a quick resume on his phone’s free word processing app.

By his count, in the last five years he’d held 38 different jobs. He could still
keep most of them clear in his head as well as when he had started and
finished each one. He was good at remembering details like those.

Still, most of those jobs didn’t really amount to much:
Clean here, carry this, organize that, shelf this, store that.

Mutsuki would need to have a chat with his old bosses to make sure they
were okay with serving as references. Some of them would probably say no.
And for some, he wasn’t even sure if they even remembered him. Five years
was a long time, and he was just some boy who helped around. Still, better
to ask first.

By the time the clean laundry came out of the dryer, feeding another
machine with more of his valuable coins, Mutsuki had finished planning
his route as effectively as he could.

He ran all over town, going to all the old places, saying hi to the people who
still recognized him and asking around for the bosses to ask them permission
to use them as reference.

While he knew that just a simple call would do for most if not all of them,
Mutsuki felt this was something he needed to do in person. In the end, those
references would be all his resume would amount to. So he needed to do as
good a job as possible in making sure that the people who would be getting
phone calls later would be willing to give an honest opinion of him.

Still, his mad dash around town turned more complicated than he first imagined.
Some of the places had moved. Some were under new management, while
others closed. Mutsuki had to keep thinking, asking co-workers, locals or even
the new owners, or looking for his bosses’ houses and frequented spots.

A few of them he chased all over the city, only to get their approval a second later.

Some others moved away and he was left with no other choice but
surrender and call them on the phone, apologizing profusely as
he did.

Sadly, for a few others, the person he was trying to reach had passed away.
The way those polite greetings turned somber after he asked for the person
ate at him every time. He hated having to make someone bring up those
painful memories they’d lay to rest already.

So when he found out the old master at the Takahashi dojo, as well as the
grandma who ran the Kotoyama sweets shop and Old Lady Shiina who was
the head priestess at the Shiina Shrine all passed away, he gave their
families his deepest condolences, apologized for bothering them and then
left without asking anything.

Even if the families knew him and recognized him from back then, Mutsuki
felt wrong asking them for a favor. To him, it felt disrespectful to the memory
of the deceased.

So he promised to visit their graves later and kept soldiering on with his
marathon run around the city.

By the time he was finally done, dripping with sweat from head to toe,
the sun was already down, but Mutsuki had managed to get the approval
of every remaining former boss he’d had.

Mutsuki thought to himself that a list of 35 references looked pretty good.
He only hoped the interviewers at Uma thought the same.

Tired and sore, he calmly walked back to his apartment where he got changed,
then folded his clean laundry, ironed his suit and shirt using his neighbor
Mr. Miyasako’s iron, which he was happy to lend him after arguing with him
for 20-some minutes about how public transportation in Japan had been
a mistake.

By then, it was around 8 p.m. Mutsuki went out once again. This time to the
bathhouse, to get clean for his big day. He ran as fast as his tired muscles
would allow, making it there in under an hour instead of his usual hour and a half.
He paid, got naked and scrubbed himself clean before slowly dipping into the tub
letting all the stress, fatigue and sadness wash away like so much dirt and sweat.

He soaked there for a long time, having idle chats with the other patrons, then
coming out to towel himself dry, get dressed and get a banana milk to enjoy while
he leisurely walked back home.

It would take him much, much longer to get there that way, but at least he
wouldn’t get sweaty again.

He stopped by a convenience store and bought a croquette and a meat
bun, which would serve as his dinner for the night.

Usually, just one of the two would do, but he remembered the instruction
about fasting before the interview.

“No clue what they actually meant by that, but I guess I better not risk it.”

He ate his makeshift meal in front of the store, then continued his crawl back
home. It was past midnight once he got back, so he went to bed, afraid of not
getting enough sleep and looking tired the next day. Or sleeping through the
alarm the next day.

Each fear was perched on one of his shoulders, whispering portents of doom
and gloom the entire night, making him lay there on his futon, eyes wide open
until the sun came up and his phone’s alarm started beeping.

See?

Metaphors can hurt you sometimes.

So, Mutsuki meandered out of bed, brushed his teeth, got dressed, picked up a
handful of change hefty enough to purchase a train ticket and threw himself out
of his apartment and into the bright morning.

As for his hair, he didn’t even bother.

From birth, Mutsuki’s hair had a mind of its own, never wanting to be combed,
flattened or brushed into any shape other than the weird, abstract form it
always had and always would have until the recessive gene for male-pattern
baldness that ran in his family finally reared its ugly head.

And now he was there, standing on the neat little plaza that adorned the front
of the massive, impossibly high Uma Corporation main office building, filled to
burst with professional-looking types, all standing in line for the hope of a
work opportunity.

That many people had been enough to sober him out of the drowsy spell
he’d been for the entire train ride.

The clouds over his head finally gone, he started looking around at all the
people in line and started panicking when he couldn’t find the end of it.

“Hi! Were you in need of assistance?”

Mutsuki had to subdue the impulse to scream in surprise as a soft-spoken
voice asked that polite question right behind him without warning.

When he looked back, one of the many who were walking around the plaza
in matching uniforms was standing right there. It was a woman wearing a
light blue vest over a short-sleeved white blouse, a skirt with a milimetrically
calculated length and a rectangular piece of red plastic with a jagged side and
her smiling photograph on it, as well as the Uma Corporation’s logo and some
other stuff with font too small for him to read without getting inappropriately
close to the young lady, all hanging from a black lanyard around her neck.

A cheerful smile adorned her face which nonetheless was causing Mutsuki a
mild case of the uncanny valley, even though he hadn’t realized that’s what
it was.

“Are you here to apply to one of our positions?”

“Ah, uh… Yes… Yes, I am. I’m sorry, but did I make some mistake? I’m sure
your social media thingy said the interviews started at 10 a.m.? Did I
misunderstand that? Am I too late?”

“Not at all. You are ahead of schedule. As are the rest of the people currently
in line. Some of them came in as early as 6 a.m.! The first person in line
actually came in last night and attempted to camp right here, but security
had to escort him out. He came back at around 4 a.m. from what lobby
security has informed us.”

“I see…”

“I can’t blame them. It’s not every day an opportunity such as this comes up.
A company like the Uma Corporation opening their doors without restrictions
and accepting all applicants is unheard of in today’s corporate climate. It’s
something almost out of a children’s movie, except everybody won a magic
ticket!”

The girl smiled sweetly at Mutsuki, which weirdly activated his fight-or-flight
instinct, having to actively fight in order not to flee.

“Yeah… If you don’t mind, could you please tell me---”

“Where does the line end? Of course! You’ll find it by going around the block
in that direction,” she said while pointing as politely as she could. “Unfortunately,
the plaza filled to capacity about an hour ago. You’ll see someone holding a
sign once you reach the end. Would you like me to accompany you there?”

“No, thanks! That won’t be necessary. Thanks for offering though,” Mutsuki
replied a little more quickly than he would have liked.

“You’re very welcome. Also, if you have yet to upload your resume into our
servers, I would suggest you do so now. We have a free wi-fi net set up
which you can use.”

“Oh, you do? Man, you guys think of everything…”

“We sure do!”

“Well, uh... Thanks for the reminder. I will do that.”

“Sure! Have a nice day!”

“You too,” he said casually while walking away from her.

“Good luck!”

He stopped dead on his track and looked back at her.

She was still smiling, her hands held politely in front of her.

“Uhm.. Thanks…” he said, then started walking again, until...

“You’re very welcome!”

Mutsuki stopped for a second time and looked back, the woman still holding
the same pose and with the same gentle smile on her face.

He resisted the urge to continue in what would inevitably turn into a
self-sustaining politeness loop that would eventually succumb to its own
gravity, causing a black hole that would swallow the country, then the
Pacific Ocean, then New Zealand, and then the world, in that order, and
just walked away, never looking back.

“Do your best!”

At that, Mutsuki hastened his pace, trying to get away before he could hear
entropy calling for him.

He walked with a fast, controlled pace, trying not to appear nervous, though
he was, as well as avoiding any eye contact with the people in the line. He
was certain every person there was better qualified and more deserving of
a position at that company than him.

As a way to both pass the time, and avoid human interaction, Mutsuki
pulled out his phone and started to upload his resume.

He was surprised by the fact that his phone was already connected to their
wi-fi, which was clearly labelled “Uma Visitors Network”.

Mutsuki was sure he’d set up his phone to ask him before joining any network,
since he wasn’t very tech savvy and was always weary of public wi-fi.

Though by that point he was far from the plaza, the connection was both stable
and blindingly fast, his humble resume uploading the same second he selected
the file.

While walking, he heard glimpses of the conversations the people in line were
having.

“I’m sure they HAVE to have at least one engineering position open… Right?”

“I want one of those Obelisk Black business cards so badly. You seen them?
They have NO credit limit! None!”

“Oh, I am a shoe-in for this company sweetheart! I am a Tokyo University
graduate. Top of my class! They’ll be begging me to take their offer.”

“As long as the girls are cute and the boys wear tight pants, they can pay
me whatever they want!”

“Only 3 years of experience in your previous job? Why are you wasting
their time? There’s no way they’d hire someone as green as you!”

“Their medical plan and life insurance policies are really good…”

“I have a doctorate and even my own research. Is that enough?”

Mutsuki was desperately trying not to listen to them. Every other sentence
was just making his doubts grow bigger.

He could picture himself frantically running around inside his head, shutting
down metaphorical windows in his brain to not let any more noise in, but he
wasn’t fast enough, even though he was running so fast,the sound of quick,
solid steps against the sidewalk were echoing all over the street.

All over the street?

Not in his head?

Then those weren’t metaphorical footsteps, but someone else’s actual
footsteps.

Coming right behind him in a hurry was a group of three men, all wearing
black suits, ties and sunglasses with little wired communication earpieces,
all of them wearing blue badges like the ones the Uma employees helping
at the plaza had.

“HEY!!! What is going on here?”

Two of them had taken a man with sleek, combed back pink hair with glasses
and a grey suit out of the line, each on one side grabbing him by the arms, while
the third man in black was holding his earpiece with one finger, just like they did
in the movies.

“Yes sir, we have identified the suspect. We await further instruction.”

The people around them were all gossiping and whispering, wondering what
was going on.

“Applicant #1728. Toudo Shirogane. Correct?” asked the main man in black to
the very angry pink-haired man.

“Yes, that’s who I am! And you idiots are going to be in a world of trouble
if---”

“You uploaded your resume at roughly 8 hours, 23 minutes and 47 seconds
of today’s date. Correct?”

“Who cares at what time I uploaded my resume? Do you know who
I am?”

“You are being removed from this interview process for fraudulent claims. While

there are digital records of a Toudo Shirogane graduating from Tokyo University,

no student with that name appears on any physical records. We reached out to
them and quickly singled out your accomplice, who admitted to helping you and

even selling you an altered diploma. After that, the local authorities correctly

identified you as Yeyemura Suzutaro, a corporate thief and conman who
specializes in infiltrating enterprises to then rob them from within.”

Yeyemura could only widen his eyes in surprise, too stunned to reply.

“There is a police car already waiting for you. I suggest you do not resist or make
any sudden movements.”

Yeyemura was still in shock as he was dragged by the other men.

“It took the last company three years to even know I was there… I was just
waiting in line… How… ?”

The man in black adjusted his tie and spoke one more time, addressing
everyone.

“If there are any more people here who included fraudulent or untruthful
information in their resume, let this be a warning to you: Leave now and
save yourself the humiliation of being publicly dismissed. The legal department
is not hiring today, so the Uma Corporation has no need for liars or cheaters.”

And with that, he walked away from everyone’s sight.

Once he was completely gone, a few people quickly left the line without saying
a word and no one made any mention of it.

For his part, Mutsuki was just surprised at the speed and efficiency with which
the Uma Corporation had gone about double checking the information in those
resumes.

He found it both impressive and a little scary.

“Wait… Applicant number? Where do you see that? Oh, maybe it’s back
on that website.”

Mutsuki unlocked his phone and indeed, he noticed that on the page where
he uploaded his resume, there was now an applicant number that had been
assigned to him.

“5040???”

Feeling a sudden panic, Mutsuki ran all the way to the next corner of the
building and after turning, he was able to confirm that the line not only
continued, but it seemed to go even beyond that side of the block.

“How many people are in this line? Man, are they even going to be able to
interview us all today?”

Without much choice, Mutsuki continued lazily walking to the mythical but
yet unseen end of the line.

However, his walk was quickly interrupted again by a scene he was
not expecting to see in a line for a job interview.

A tall, lanky and menacing looking man wearing a black suit with a gold,
cheetah patterned shirt open almost to his navel and with pointy, snakeskin
boots had a poor woman practically pinned against the wall of the building. He
was leaning against it with one arm. His face was covered in unkempt stubble,
and he had a small yet prominent scar right next to his left eyebrow, and was
looking at her straight in the eyes, while the woman held her purse high in front
of her in a feeble attempt at protection.

The man was grinning profusely, showing a smile that was unrealistically sharp
and looked more like two buzzsaws colliding with each other than actual human
teeth.

Funny enough, two buzzsaws colliding is exactly how he would have described
the sound of his voice.

“You know, I gotta say babes, you are built with all the bits and pieces that I
most enjoy! All nice, filled-up curves. Like a cool motorcycle. I can tell even with
that ugly turd brown suit you’re wearing. I can always tell. Say, babes, you ever
thought of doing any modeling? You know, real modeling? The kind that puts a
lot of money in your pocket and smiles on men’s faces? Because I have some
friends in the industry that would be more than happy to have you as their model,
babes. Real happy! I can make some introductions. I’m always happy to connect
people together. I’m just that kinda guy. And all you have to do is just let me get
in line with you. Easy-peasy, right? So what’s your call, babes? Too good of an
opportunity to pass out, right?”

The man next to her in the line was just looking straight away and extremely
nervous, doing his best to pretend nothing at all was happening, while the other
person next to her had her face stuck on a book and was feigning ignorance from
behind her softcover.

With every word that he said, the sharp-toothed man’s face got closer and
closer to the woman’s face with each word. She closed her eyes and looked
away, unable or unwilling to say or do anything.

“But, you know babes… If I am going to introduce you to my buddies, I might
have to sample the wares first before that. Just a tiny, tiny peak. You're into
that, aren’t you? I can tell you’re a tease.”

The sharp-toothed man’s other hand confidently went up to the woman’s purse
and lowered it without any effort with just one finger. His eyes stopped looking
into hers and instead plunged deep into her cleavage, his hand slowly
approaching it too.

But before it could get any closer, Mutsuki grabbed his wrist and turned
the buzzsaw smile guy away from the woman.

“I don’t think the lady would like that very much.”

This immediately angered the man, who showed even more of his sharp fangs,
dropping all pretense of civility and candidness and straightening his back to
show his full height, looking down at Mutsuki.

“What’s the matter with you punk? Can’t you see I’m busy here! You looking for
trouble, boy?”

The sharp-toothed man then got straight in Mutuski’s face, his sharp nose
practically stabbing his.

Mutsuki flinched at first, then immediately held his own, as the other guy
menacingly growled at him.

“Ever heard of ‘Six Shanks’ Shiraishi, from the Yochien Gang? I’m infamous
in this city, boy. You don’t want to cross me. I will cut those pretty cheeks off
your face before they ever get the chance to grow a single hair if you don’t
get the fuck away from here right the fuck now, you hear me boy?”

“No. Never heard of you. Now stop trying to bully your way on the line and just
go to the back like everyone else.”

This was not the response “Six Shanks” Shiraishi was looking for.

He found a way to grimace wider, showing even more of those nasty, pointy
teeth, his eyebrows crossing and his eyes looking real small and manic. With a
sudden move, he grabbed Mutsuki’s tie and yanked it ever so slightly, just to
prove that he could, then raised his voice as loud as he could.

“What, you the line police or something? You think you’re some really righteous
piece of shit or something, asshole? You never heard of friends holding your
place in line, uh? That’s all it was! Babes here was just keeping my place,
right babes?”

Shiraishi looked back at the woman out of the corner of his eye.

She was still against the wall, her purse back up to chest height, her arms now
trembling from fear, but she still refused to make any sound or even acknowledge
Shiraishi.

“Babes!” he slowly called out, seething.

“I think maybe you got the wrong person, Mr. Six Shanks,” Mutsuki replied with
a smirk that looked way more confident than he felt.

Anger flaring on Shiraishi’s face, he stopped facing Mutsuki to look back at the
woman he’d been harassing a moment ago.

“Bitch! I’m talking to you!”

The woman, startled, screeched and looked away, lifting her purse to face
height to try and hide herself.

“That’s a very rude way to treat a friend, Mr. Six Shanks. No wonder she
wouldn’t keep your place in the line. But that's okay,” Mutsuki told him as he
firmly placed his hand on his shoulder, regretting it instantly as he felt the stiff,
hard-as-rock muscles that lay underneath that suit and tacky shirt. “We can go
to the end of the line together.”

Shiraishi looked with anger at the hand on his shoulder, then looked up at
Mutsuki with a less severe scowl before violently shaking his hand off of his
shoulder and walking past Mutsuki, making sure to hit him with his shoulder
when he did.

He took only two long strides, stopping beside the next person in line: the guy
who was still now looking straight ahead, sweating profusely and pretending
that nothing was happening and that everything was A-okay.

Unfortunately, everything stopped being A-okay the moment Shiraishi’s hand
grasped his shoulder, his nails digging into it like talons, as he slowly hunched
to meet him eye to eye.

“You. Skidmark. You’re my buddy, right? You’ve been saving a place for me
in line, haven’t you?”

“Hey, leave that guy alone!” Mutsuki said, extending his hand to get Shiraishi
away from his new victim.

“Y-Yeah, man! Sure! G-G-Go ahead!” the guy suddenly yelled, squirming as
he did.

With a nasty grin of satisfaction, Shiraishi turned to Mutsuki in triumph, smiling,
before turning right back to the man still in his clutches.

“Why, thanks! You’re a real pal!” he said, while squeezing his fingers into the
poor man’s shoulder one last time, then letting go.

He then fully straightened his back and took two more strides to get in line right
in front of the still squirming man.

“You don’t have to let him do that to you,” Mutsuki said to the man, his hand
reaching out, but the man squirmed once again, shrinking from his touch.

“I said it was fine! J-Just let it go! S-S-Stop making trouble for the rest of us
and g-g-g-go away!”

Mutsuki looked around him.

The woman Shiraishi had been harassing was still hiding behind her purse,
eyes closed, still refusing to say a word.

The woman behind her still had her head stuck inside her book. None of this
had anything to do with her.

And this seemed to be true for the rest of the line as well, with no one
raising even a single complaint.

Shiraishi took this opportunity to look back and flash him that buzzsaw smile
of his.

“Yeah, you heard my buddy here, boy. Get the fuck outta here! Go to the
back of the line, with the rest of the losers.”

Mutsuki sighed.

Defeated, he decided to keep on walking.

He’d already lost more than enough time and the line wasn’t getting
any shorter.

He was surprised and disheartened to find the end of the line almost met the
fourth and final corner of that fairly large building that occupied an entire, extra
large city block.

Mutsuki hastened his pace, no longer concerned with looking panicked or
desperate. He just wanted to finally get in line.

He could already see the hand held up high holding the sign that read
“End of the Line Here!”

He was so focused on it, that when he stretched his hand to grab it, he did
not see the other hand that was also reaching for it until both hands met in
a sort of weird, kind of grab, kind of hold.

Mutsuki’s eyes followed the unknown hand along its slender arm, meeting in
the end with a perfectly round and almost symmetric face framed by long,
arched bangs held in place by colorful barrettes that contrasted with a more
conservative blouse, long skirt and cardigan sweater.

The hand, arm, and face were attached to a tall, slender young woman who
had also looked in his direction when his hand appeared out of nowhere,
making their eyes meet.

He noticed her eyes were beautiful. The color some impossible hue, the kind
only anime heroines had, and they sparkled like a fantasy night sky populated
with countless stars and constellations.

What he wasn’t noticing was how quickly and deeply her entire face was
blushing, as Mutsuki had yet to stop kinda sorta holding her hand and just
continued to look deep into her eyes.

“Uhm… Excuse me? May I have my hand back? Please?”

With each new word, the volume of her voice got lower and lower until that
last “please” was barely an audible squeak. She was also forced to flinch and
look away from him to break eye contact.

Still, that was more than enough to bring Mutsuki right back into reality, where
he realized he had been holding the hand of this young lady he didn't know for
an awkwardly long time while saying absolutely nothing and just staring straight
into her eyes like a young man that never made time during high school for
fraternizing with girls and then never really learned how to ask a girl out.

Or a complete lunatic.

The line between the two was so thin as to be nonexistent in most cases.

So ashamed that he immediately started to panic, Mutsuki let go the young
lady’s hand, instead grasping the “End of Line” sign like a drowning man catching
driftwood.

His face beet-red, he lowered his gaze, took a step back and used his other
hand to signal to the end of the line.

“I am very sorry for that. That was wrong of me to do. Please, go right ahead.
I’ll go at the end of the line.”

He bowed apologetically and waited for the young woman to move, keeping
his gaze below her waistline.

There, he could see that she was nervously fumbling her purse from hand
to hand.

“Uhm… Thank you. But… You don’t need to apologize. I’m not mad. It just
took me by surprise, is all… The hand holding…”

Her voice was still going down in volume the longer she talked. Her last
words were more like itty bitty whispers.

Mutsuki noticed she spoke calmly and slowly, picking her words with care
before saying them.

Mutsuki tentatively looked up from his still bowing position and saw the
young woman’s face was redder than before. She was looking at him while
talking and their eyes met once again, which made them both flinch and
give a step back.

“Excuse me, is this the end of the line?” asked an annoyed-sounding man
who had just arrived there and already had enough of them.

“Yes! This is it!” Mutsuki replied nervously, walking frantically to take his place
in line and hand the man the sign he hadn’t even bothered to hold up once.

“We’re so sorry!” the young woman also said, just as nervously getting in line
right in front of Mutsuki and gripping her purse with both hands as if it was one
of those stress-relieving balls.

They stood in line awkwardly for a few minutes, both in complete silence and
looking at either their feet or purse respectively, still embarrassed from their
hands touching as well as from causing a scene at the end of the line.

However, after some time passed and the color had run down their cheeks,
it was the young woman who suddenly turned to look at Mutsuki, giving him a
polite bow.

“I’m sorry for making a scene. I should not have been as taken aback from just
our hands touching. I am not a high school girl anymore. And that probably
made you think that I was feeling offended by that. So, I apologize for making
you feel uncomfortable.”

“No, I was in the wrong. There’s no need to apologize.”

The young woman smiled at Mutsuki, easing the grip on her purse.

“I’m Momoshiro Nanoka. It is a pleasure to meet you.”

“Oh, I’m Mutsuki Arata. Pleasure to meet you too.”

Mutsuki smiled back at Momoshiro and both of them stood there for a moment,
just smiling.

“Ahem! Could you please move? The line is already moving!” said once again
the person in line right behind them, clearly annoyed at having to call them out
once again.

“I’m sorry! We’re both sorry!” she said, panicking and blushing.

“We’re moving right now, sorry!” he said, blushing and panicking.

Mutsuki took his phone out of his pocket again.

The time was 10:00 a.m. sharp.

How was the line already moving even though there were that many people
in it?

The next time Mutsuki checked his phone again, it was 10:31 a.m., and he
was now standing right in front of the giant automatic glass doors of the
Uma Corporation’s main building lobby.

They had been letting people enter in groups of five and the cut for the next
group had come right after Momoshiro.

She looked back at him before entering and smiled one last time.

“Well… Good luck!”

“Thanks. Same to you.”

And with that she went into the building and Mutsuki had to wait maybe five
or ten seconds until the doors opened again and he was let in with the next
four people right behind him.

Once he crossed the glass doors, he saw that the main lobby was massive in
size. He truly had no frame of reference to describe it, as he had never stood
in a room that spacious before.

Not only that, it was a sleek and well designed space, with hundreds of people
in those light blue uniforms either running left and right while followed by their
group of interviewees or huddled with them, giving them instructions.

There were some very comfortable-looking sofas and stylish coffee tables set
aside for quick meetings, and there was even a small refreshments stand he
could see farther away with tea, coffee, water and juice, as well as what
seemed to be an assortment of packaged snacks.

While he was looking all around completely taken aback, Mutsuki was handed
a numbered yellow badge with a striped black and white hazard marker on the
side by the nice, smiling woman in a long white blouse, light blue vest and
medium-length skirt who looked exactly like the girl outside who had helped
him before and also absolutely nothing alike, which only made him feel even
more weirded out by them.

“Please wear your temporary badges around your neck at all times. Otherwise,
the Uma Corporation is not responsible for your physical or mental safety.”

Okay.

That sounded a bit extreme.

Still, Mutsuki looked around and the rest of the group only proceeded to lazily
hang their badges around their necks, so he did the same and assumed he
had misheard their guide.

“Now, please follow me and do not split away from our group, as you will be
entering Uma Corporation’s production areas and you may be liable to make
contact with confidential information and/or beings. Also, we cannot guarantee
all spaces within our main offices are 100% compatible with a human biosphere.
I will be guiding you inside the main offices to take you to our One-on-One
meeting spaces, where you will be assigned your interviewer.”

And without saying anything else, the lady took the badge hanging from her
neck and used it as a key on the door right in front of them, which opened into
a long hall with windows that looked into the office space inside, where they saw
people in office attire sitting at cubicles, typing in their keyboards, staring blankly
at monitors and then typing some more.

They then took a staircase up that brought them to a giant floor to ceiling
window that looked down to the lobby.

The view from the top made the room look even larger than it looked while
standing in it. Almost like a diorama.

They then walked through twisting and winding corridors, going up and down
staircases, crossing hallway after hallway until, finally, they made it to a small
waiting room with some nice, comfy two-seater sofas and a total of five doors.

There was also one of those square buckets with wheels and a mop in it that
some janitor must have left in there for some reason.

The nice lady touched his elbow and Mutsuki almost jumped both from regular
nervousness and whatever weird feeling those light blue clad ladies made him
feel.

“You can go into Room 3 and wait for your interviewer. After the interview is
done, please wait for me to come pick you and the rest of the group back to
the lobby. We don’t want you walking around on your own.”

“I won’t. Thanks.”

“You’re very welcome! Good luck.”

Mutsuki opened the small door to Room 3 and was very surprised to find out
that the room was even smaller than his half-room apartment.

Not only that, it was made even smaller by the large round table in the middle
of it, with two chairs standing on opposite sides of it and finally, in one of the
corners of the room, there was also a small filing cabinet with a coffee maker
atop of it.

The machine was turned on and was currently brewing a fresh pot of joe.

Mutsuki gave it some consideration and finally decided to sit on the side
opposite to the file cabinet and the coffee maker, then patiently waited for his
interviewer to arrive.

It was a slow, tortuous process that made him feel like the room was slowly
running out of air.

All the horrible memories of past job interviews came flooding into his head.
Questions about previous experiences, or where he had gone to college, what
his major had been, his extracurricular activities in high school, what he thought
were his strong points or why he thought they should hire him.

Why did they always ask him that?

Mutsuki’s immediate thought was that they shouldn’t hire him.

They really shouldn’t.

He had no skills, no experience, no studies and nothing to offer them and
they knew that.

They knew that and that is why they loved asking him that question.

It wasn’t enough that he’d never be good enough, smart enough, learned
enough or experienced enough.

They had to make him say it. They had to coerce him until he admitted it
openly, to them and to himself.

They had to punch him down. Back to his level, where he belonged.

They had to make him suffer.

“No, I assure you, I am more than well stocked. No need to panic on my
behalf. And you let Mr. Sawamushi know that I said that! And I'm telling
you as well: I can do this. I can!”

The door to Room 3 opened and a hunched man entered at a slow,
measured pace.

He had a noticeably uneven gait, as if one of his legs was longer than the
other and his left arm hung at a weird angle in front of him, close to his
chest in a shape similar to a T-Rex’s claw. The arm still looked functional
though, as the man was carrying both a handful of manilla folders underneath
it as well as a large mug in his hand. In his right hand, he was holding a
cellphone against his ear.

“In any case, I have to go now. I’m beginning my next interview. Mhm. Yes,
I will be fine! Will you stop worrying over nothing, please? We will talk again
at lunch time. Yes, I love you too. Later.”

The man placed the phone in his pocket while putting down the folders with
some effort. Once that arm was free, he raised the mug to his lips and took
a long sip from it.

He then noticed the coffee maker atop the filing cabinet, took the pot out of it,
poured maybe a fifth of it inside his cup and then, finally, sat down, which took
some effort.

He never dropped the mug during the entire process, not even once, and
even drank from it again a couple times.

Mutsuki started to get up to help, but with a quick hand gesture, the man
stopped him.

“Don’t worry. I have this.”

When he was seated, he noticed the man had a very pronounced scar that
went from his right cheekbone all the way to his skull, even getting into his
receding hair, creating a sort of road within it. The scar even went across his
eye, which looked grey and dull. The man also had another scar going down
the left corner of his mouth and he seemed to be missing a piece of his left
ear too.

“I am very sorry about my delay Mr. Mutsuki,” the man said in between sips from
his mug. “I just came back from some leave time due to injury and my superiors
are treating me with kid gloves. But that isn't any excuse to be talking on the
phone during business hours. I hope you’ll excuse me. My name is
Kamimura Doumu and I will be conducting your interview today.”

He extended his hand and Mutsuki shook it.

“A pleasure, Mr. Kamimura. I hope you are feeling better.”

“I appreciate the sentiment, young man, but niceties will get you nowhere
with me,” Mr. Kamimura said in a jokingly stern tone as he adjusted his
glasses, sipped some more coffee and opened the top folder in front of him.
“Now let’s see here… Mutsuki Arata. Eldest son. Family of four. No. Three.
My condolences. A very admirable academic record in junior high and most of
high school. Shame about that last year, though it is understandable given the
circumstances. And, from what your resume suggests, you immediately joined
the workforce after high school?”

“That is correct.” Mutsuki answered, dreadding the follow up question he
knew would follow.

“I see… Now, while walking at night you encounter a kappa. You push it to
the ground. Water from its bowl spills everywhere. The kappa lies there,
weakened and dying, trying to get back up to refill his bowl. But you are
not helping it. Why are you not helping the kappa?”

Mutsuki sighed heavily and looked up in a feeble attempt to collect his
thoughts before answering.

“Well… It’s complicated… You see, after everything that happened in
high school and not having enough time to prepare for my entrance exams,
not to mention my emotional state at the time, I--- I’m sorry, what? A kappa?
What?”

“Yes, Mr. Mutsuki. A kappa.” Mr. Kamimura said calmly. “You know kappas:
Green. Scaly. Love cucumbers. A kappa. Why are you not helping him?”

This was definitely not the question he had been waiting for, so Mutsuki
stumbled for an answer.

“Well… That is weird. I mean… Why would I push a kappa? I don’t think
I would, though the question implies that I already pushed the kappa, so
that makes my correction moot... I guess the actual question is what
reasons could I have to push a kappa? Maybe it startled me. Maybe
I misunderstood its intentions and thought it was attacking me. Maybe we
were doing a manzai routine and I pushed him too hard? No, that makes no
sense. That’s stupid. Okay… Okay! If I had to give you an answer, I would say
I pushed the kappa because I felt threatened by it in some capacity, then ran
away which is why I was not present to help it back up.”

Mr. Kamimura sipped from his mug, then took down some notes.

“I see. Now, what was the most amount of jobs you’ve held? Concurrently,
of course.”

Mutsuki relaxed a bit after getting a more normal question.

“I think… Maybe 9?” Mutsuki replied, trying to remember. “Of course,
I never worked full shifts and never worked full weeks, so it was easy to
slot so many different tasks throughout the week.”

“And you were able to keep them all separate in your head?”

“Yes. They were mostly manual labor. There wasn’t much to keep separate.”

“Indeed. However, we’re talking about 9 different jobs, in 9 different physical
locations, at different times of day, on different days of the week. Did you
also work weekends?”

“Yes, if it was available. Every little bit helps.”

“And yet, you still managed to keep your schedule in your head? Never made
a single mistake, or went to the wrong job by mistake?”

“No, I don’t think so. I could be wrong. I could get pretty beat by the end of
the week back then.”

“I can imagine,” Mr. Kamimura said, tipping his mug so far back he had to
arch his head back. He then grabbed the pot and dumped more coffee into
it to grab another sip. “Now, please react to this: A raw oyster gives you
a dog wallet. You decide to give it to your mother.”

Mutsuki stared at Mr. Kamimura uncomfortably for a few seconds, with only
the sound of his slurping filling the room.

“I’m sorry, but how is the question relevant to---”

“Please just answer the question, Mr. Mutsuki.”

“Okay. Okay. Fine. Uhm… When you say ‘dog wallet’, you mean a wallet
for dogs? A wallet with a dog motif? Hopefully, not a wallet made from a dog,
I wish?”

Mr. Kamimura stared at him, drinking from his mug.

“Alright, fine! I won’t dig any deeper. I guess my reaction is… Positive? Is it
positive? I mean, clearly I think my mom would make better use of this wallet,
so now she has a wallet she didn't use to have. And that is good! So, yes.
Positive.”

“Could you please elaborate?”

“Happiness. Contentment from doing something good for someone else.
A warm, rewarding feeling of being useful and helpful.”

Mr. Kamimura wrote down on his pad.

“That’s more than enough, thank you Mr. Mutsuki. Now, why did you
confront Shiraishi Rokutaro?”

Mutsuki was shocked and a tad upset to hear Mr. Kamimura mention that
buzzsaw-toothed jerk.

“You saw that?”

“It happened within our property, Mr. Mutsuki. We were very aware of it.”

“Then why didn’t you do something to stop him? You had no trouble sending
your people to deal with cheaters and liars, but a gang member starts making
trouble and you wait it out?”

“Why did you do something to stop it? No one else bothered to.
Why should we?”

“Because it's not right! Because you should stand up to people when they do
something wrong!”

“Is that something your father taught you?”

The question almost made him choke.

“... Yes…”

“And what if Mr. Shiraishi had been carrying a weapon? Perhaps a switchblade,
precisely like the one we confiscated from him when he passed through our
metal detectors in the lobby?”

Mr. Kamimura took a printed photograph out of the folder, placing it in front of
him. It was a picture of a spring-loaded switchblades, like the ones yakuza and
chinpira brandished in movies.

“... I don’t remember any metal detectors in the lobby.”

“Why would we make them obvious? Now, back to the question Mr. Mutsuki,
what would you have done if Mr. Shiraishi had attacked you with this knife he
had on his person? Did it ever occured to you that this clearly volatile and
dangerous man could be carrying a weapon?”

“Well… No. Not really. It didn’t occur to me at first…”

“And yet, you intervened on behalf of someone you didn’t even know?”

“Yes.”

“I see…”

Mr. Kamimura took down some notes, then a long sip of his mug, letting out
a very small sigh of satisfaction after finishing. He went to the pot to refill his
mug but noticed the pot was now empty.

His eyes widened.

“Oh my...”

“Is there something wrong?”

“No. No, nothing at all.” Mr. Kamimura said, getting up as fast as his legs would
allow it, right next to the cabinet with the coffee maker, putting the pot back
underneath the dripper and opening the cabinet to search through it, finding a
small packet of coffee grounds and a one liter bottle of water. “If you’ll just
excuse me for a moment. In the meantime, why don’t you tell me what position
you are applying for?”

“Oh, I was hoping to get a position as part of the maintenance team.”

“Maintenance team?” Mr. Kamimura replied while hurriedly opening the
coffee maker's lid and removing the used filter.

“Yes. You know… A janitor.”

Mr. Kamimura, who at that moment was filling the coffee maker with fresh
water, looked back at him with bewilderment in his eyes. Some of the water
spilled over.

“A janitor?”

“Yes. I could be an asset to your current team: I’m young, hard-working,
motivated, self-directed. All of those fancy words you recruiters love.”

Now, Mr. Kamimura was battling with using his mismatched arms in unison
to open the small packet of coffee grounds. The cellophane wrapping was not
helping, but he was clearly afraid that, if he used too much force, the packet
would burst and the precious ground beans would spill all over the floor.

“Why, yes Mr. Mutsuki. We do love to hear those descriptors being used,
accurately I might add, by our interviewees to refer to themselves. However,
I don’t think I’ve ever heard a young man use them as leverage to get a job
as a janitor. Don’t you think that position is… A bit of a… Ugh… Waste…”

“Mr. Kamimura, are you… Feeling well?”

He kept fighting with the coffee packet, feeling the wrapping give way a little,
but afraid to use any more strength than he was already using. He had begun
to sweat profusely, the drops condensing all over his face and even fogging his
glasses, which made it even harder to keep opening the packet. As he kept
talking, his tone of voice turned deeper and rougher, and he began pronouncing
every syllable much slower, losing most of his previous eloquence.

“Waste… Not… Good… Ja… Ni… Tore... Not… You… Bad… Ko… Fee… Now!”

Mutsuki suddenly felt very claustrophobic, as if the room was rapidly shrinking
and the walls were closing in on him. However, this turned out not to be the
case, as it was in fact Mr. Kamimura who had begun to grow all out of
proportion, ripping his nice business suit and showing the Picasso-esque
patchwork of disparate pieces held together by surgical scars that composed
his body. The packet of coffee exploded all over the room, ground coffee beans
raining down everywhere as the muscles in his right arm inflated and became
ripped and veiny, his other arm growing only in length without gaining much
mass.

His skin began taking a yellow/green hue and his once grey, dull eye
suddenly turned bloodshot and almost popped right out of his socket.

It wasn’t until Mr. Kamimura’s frame became so big that his shoulders were
trapped between the walls and ceiling of the building that Mutsuki thought to
himself that perhaps the interview had gone belly up.

“Run. Lil Man Run. Run. Run. Run. Lil Man. Hehehe.”

He wanted to flee, but Mutsuki had found himself trapped, pinned between
the wall and the table, which had been pushed against him by Mr. Kamimura’s
aggressive expansion.

As best he could, Mutsuki slid his way around the table while still being
pinned by it, until he got right in front of the room’s door, looking frantically
for the handle and turning it, opening the door and falling back on his way
to freedom.

He remembered the warnings of the smiling lady that brought them there
before looking right back into Room 3 to see Mr. Kamimura seething like a
wild bull trapped and decided to throw caution to the wind and, taking the mop
with him for some reason, he opened the door to the waiting area and began
running down the hallway.

Not five steps later, Mr. Kamimura exploded from that wall and into the hallway
and began running behind him, using all four disparate limbs to move, like a
beast on the prowl.

Though Mutsuki considered himself a fast runner, and he had a small head
start, he knew that with his larger frame and strength, it was only a matter of
time before Mr. Kamimura caught up with him.

And the time was now!

Just as he was opening the door to the stairs, he felt Mr. Kamimura’s longest
arm reach out to him and grab him by his jacket’s collar.

Panicking, Mutsuki kept running and threw his arms back, letting the jacket slide
effortlessly from his body.

Just that once, he was thankful he had still, after five long years, not grown
into it like his mother told him he would.

Looking to win as much time as he could, he threw himself down the stairs
instead of simply running them down, tucking and rolling as best he could in
the minimal space available to not get injured, then immediately getting up
and doing the same with the next set of stairs, which was the moment,
Mr. Kamimura ripped the door and half of the wall in order to keep following
him.

He was no longer trying to talk, not even in monotones. He was howling and
growling like a wild beast, and even sometimes roaring like a kaiju from a
70’s movie.

Mutsuki just kept running, mop in hand, trying to get as much distance
between him and Mr. Kamimura as he could while also avoiding all the
populated areas and workspaces he’d seen on the way in. For the most part,
he could keep the road they’d taken straight in his head and thought that his
best option was to make it back to the lobby, where hopefully those men in
black who were guarding the entrance could help in restraining Mr. Kamimura.

Unfortunately, it seemed like, even in his current altered state, Mr. Kamimura
knew the building’s layout much better than he did, as the giant man exploded
right out of the wall next to him, the force of the impact pushing him through the
other wall and with such force as to bounce off the floor a couple of times and
only stopping after he crashed with a cubicle wall.

And then everything went black.