The Days That Must Happen

ARC I-ACT II

The sound of loud knocking against hard wood was what woke you up - not your alarm (set to 1pm the latest) and not your darling neighbour with her emotionally loud child. It started out normal and then got louder and louder, causing you to groan and lift your head slowly, painfully, from your work desk.

You had fallen asleep on the desk again which only made your back ache more than it already had the night before.

With half open eyes, you groaned at the sound of the knocking again. "I'm coming!" Finally silent, you got time to recollect your memories and reach for your phone to check the time. That however was useless when your eyes caught sight of the crumbled pieces of paper on the table - ink stained and smudged due to you falling asleep on top, pages folded and creased.

A loud gasp left your lips as you picked up the pages, frantically trying to save your work.

On the other side of the door stood a confused teen, turning and giving her friend a head tilt, her friend equally as confused as they listened to hushed - yet comically loud - cussing and clatters. Finally, the door swing open as you stood in all your disheveled glory - hair messy and in disarray with a stack of unorganised pages in your hand.

You panted, staring at them with wide eyes. "Yes? How can I help you?" They seemed young, at least it's what your guessing by the school uniform that hugged their figures. High schoolers, maybe? There was a school down the road from your apartment so it wouldn't come as a surprise.

"Hello! Our deepest apologies for bothering you and showing up unannounced." The girl bowed slightly, in her hand clutching a black microphone as her partner held up a small, yet professional and expensive looking camera. You eyed them both suspiciously as the girl straightened up and cleared her throat. "You see, our school gave us an assignment to interview someone we look up to, and who better than the author and artist of Kimetsu No Yaiba!"

"Oh god... not this again." You sighed. It wasn't the first time one of those kids found your address - as a matter of fact, you had them visiting you at least once a week for different causes. Charities, fundraisers, events, projects. Sometimes they wanted to interview you for your view on the economy and sometimes because you lived around the area and wanted your opinion on the living conditions. Then, more often than you'd like, they'd find your address and come to try and get a private interview with you for your manga.

But one interview would lead to another, and then another and another, and all of that was bound to have your address leaked even more than it already had been. It was a miracle none of these kids seemed to be famous enough to have a big enough internet presence to share your personal information with.

With a sigh, you leaned on the doorway, holding open the door with the heel of your foot. "Listen, I don't really have much time on my hands right now, I'm kind of busy so if you could come another time? Or I know, email my boss and request a personal, private, interview with me through her. I'll write down her email address for you, hold on."

"Ah, no, that won't be necessary." The girl chuckled. "We only have a few questions, won't even take an hour!"

An hour was long though - it was sixty, more or less, minutes you could have spent catching up on your already scarce sleeping time or trying to fix the smudged face of Zenitsu on the creased page you slept on. And though you were about to decline - a hard, stern no resting on the tip of your tongue - they pushed their way in. Probably mistaking your silence as confirmation. You, once again, bit back a groan as you followed after them into your messy apartment.

Both teens stood in the middle of your wrecked living room looking around all four corners, eyes lingering on the piles of trash that littered your floors and furnitures.

"Sorry about the mess. You can probably guess I haven't been able to clean up lately." You sighed. Placing the pages down onto the only bare surface of your kitchen counter, you rushed over to the couch, picking up empty water bottles, old newspapers and discarded character sketches - shoving them away. "You can sit here, it's clean, just a little messy." At least you hoped it was clean.

"That's alright! It's our fault for showing up unannounced." The girl laughed, both their smiles too carefree to be standing in the middle of, quite frankly, a landfill of a home.

You clapped your hands together awkwardly, biting the inside of your cheek. Honestly, you hadn't done an interview in ages. "So? What are the questions you wish to ask?"

"Right, so!" The girl turned to her friend, the camera turning to her briefly before turning back to you. "We'll start off with introductions if you don't mind."

With a sigh, you smiled tiredly to the camera. "Hello, I'm known as Gotouge, the author and artist for the manga; Kimetsu No Yaiba, Demon Slayer."

The girl nodded, bringing up her mic to her mouth. "So we know that Gotogue is just a pen name but that's what we'll be referring to you today." You nodded and she quickly continued on to her first questions.

For the majority of the interview, she asked pretty normal questions, the most daring ones being personal quizzes like if any of your characters were inspired by anyone you knew or if any of the morals and beliefs mentioned in the series were anything you believed in, such as demons.

Finally, she sighed. "Well, before we finish off, I'd like to ask one final set of questions on my own account. If you don't mind that is." You nodded again, wishing for nothing more than for this period of time to just end and your house to return to its former glory of silence and lonesome tranquility. "You see, I'm curious about what you wanted to do once you finish the series. Any plans? Vacation? Break? Retirement?"

Retirement? Your brows furrowed. "Well I don't think retirement is really on the table yet since I'm not even twenty yet."

She giggled, and the guy holding the camera couldn't help but crack a smile.

"Well," she spoke. "it's not impossible. I've seen people retire at the age of seventeen."

She was weird, you noted, either weird or maybe you just weren't caught up with the jokes of today's youth. "Like who? I think it would be very hard to quit when you're still in school and can't handle a full time job that would fund for a retirement." Were teens even allowed to have jobs these days while in school?

The girl smiled, lips pulling further silently. "Well, that should be correct, shouldn't it? Thank you for giving us your time today, we'll get going now. Take care." And as fast as they barged in, they walked out. Door shutting behind them as cars honking and busy store owners flooded the outside world with noise - noise muffled by your walls.

Behind, the kids left an aura of discomfort. Cold air rushing down your spine which caused you to visibly shiver. But that's how teens were; uncomfortable, annoying and loud.

You turned and looked out your living room window, cold 12pm sun giving light to your home.