Beastars: A Steep Fall From Light

Chapter 47: Two Worlds in the Calm of a Storms Eye

The breeze was nice on the bluffs. Razor pulled his hood down and let the wind whip through his fur, even though he couldn't really feel it. He shivered at a chill that was nonexistent to him and sneezed at sea spray going up his nose, which he couldn't smell. His tongue flicked out, trying to taste even a hint of water, but nothing.

"It's all loaded up sir," the crocodile said, stepping out of the bus. The other members had gone back to the club. He stepped up to join his boss looking out over the sea.

"Just a question sir," he said. "If I may? Why all these public stunts? Why not keep it quiet and on the down low."

"I want everyone to know we mean business," he said. "I think that's the reasoning. Even I don't understand myself sometimes, but have you had fish?"

"Yes," the reptile said. "Meat is so much better."

"Right?" the hybrid agreed. "And you've been to Club Blood. You've seen the herbivores, willing to give their blood and flesh. It makes no sense to me. If a herbivore wants to give themselves to a carnivore, who in turn wants meat. Let it happen."

"Still. Why all the public displays?"

"The world's been burning for a while," Razor said. "I'm just stoking the flames."

"I got word from my inside man," the reptile said. "The city council is most definitely going to cancel the festival tomorrow. It seems unavoidable."

"That's what you think," the hybrid smirked. "I have it under control, don't worry."

"But who's going to go anyway?" he asked. "Everyone's most likely terrified."

"Oh there's people who'll go," Razor butted in. "Especially when the police department will be there in full force. They won't cancel a holiday, especially when the mayor candidates are announced."

The crocodile nodded.

"What does it feel like?" the crocodile asked. "Being that sensory deprived?"

Razor looked at him with a raised, quizzical eyebrow.

"Just curious," the crocodilian said, treading carefully.

Razor inhaled deeply before exhaling in a huff.

"You have to monitor everything," he said. "You have to have a schedule of when to eat. You have to take your temperature, check your blood pressure, and inspect everything for all kinds of symptoms. You need to have a set volume of water to drink everyday. A doctor visit is suggested every month; I use an anonymous online service to keep me hidden. Then there's the basics: take away the three senses of smell, taste, and touch. I've been told I'll lose my eyesight and hearing sooner than most. Emotions are odd to me as well. I feel them, but the physical change one usually associates with joy or heartbreak I can't feel."

The silence filled the air to the point it was tangible.

"No one's perfect," Razor said. "Everyone is screwed up in some way or another. The brain is very complicated, it's pointless to try and understand how it works. Just enjoy the experience, I say. It's a wondrous thing to exist. Life, however fleeting, is a rare gift. The odds are against us, so any existence is better than no existence at all."

"You say that," the crocodile chose his words carefully. "And yet you've killed more people than all the old yakuza's combined."

"I celebrate my victims' lives," he said. "Even my old contracts, you'll find they were all missing their hearts."

"I've always wondered about that," the reptile remarked. "You sold the livestock kills' hearts on the online auctions instead of eating them yourself, like your hits."