Beastars: A Symphony of Life

Chapter 80: A Damn Good Article

"That's a good article," Pina said. "That is a damn good article. Why is it everytime I try to submit something you have an issue with it?"

"It's too long," the mongoose said calmly.

"Long and good," the reporter said.

"Doesn't matter how good it is," his boss said. "It's too long."

"Then tell me where to edit it," he suggested. "I can take constructive criticism."

"No you can't," she said. "You suck at it."

"Says who?" he asked.

"Says Atsumori Saza," she said. "Our most recent story editor to quit. Says Kan Tsukiyama before that. Says Takahashi Junnosuke, Tanifuji Shungyosai, Matsubara Kiichi-should I go on?"

"No," the sheep said, holding up his hand and resting his head in the other.

"Your last article almost got The Yowler in a shit ton of legal trouble," she reminded him. "I promised we'd do a better job at monitoring proper content for this paper and I'm sticking to my word."

"I'm just doing my job as a journalist," he said, palms together.

The mongoose raised an eyebrow over the rim of her glasses.

"What?" he asked.

"This is The Daily Yowler," she said. "A small, local paper. We're not trying to change the world or disrupt the system or bring down a government. We're just giving them something interesting to read while they're on break, or waiting for the bus."

"Then just print my fucking article," he said, spreading his hands.

"It's about the entire incident with Razor," she said. "The murders, the missing persons, the terrorist attacks, and the massacre. Do you seriously think I can print all of that?"

"Why do I get the feeling you have issues with the content and not the length?" he asked.

"You've got good stuff here," she said. "But it's too much."

"Is there even a point in cutting it down?" he asked. "Or should I scrap the entire article and work on something completely different and mundane?"

"Just ease up on the gung-ho attitude," she said. "And edit it down a little."

The sheep stood from his chair and calmly stormed from the room. He walked back to his small desk and sat down with a heaving sigh, staring at the screen in front of him. The document was opened and the three full pages of single spaced text filled the screen. How was he going to cut anything? He scrolled to the top and rested his chin in his hand. He crossed his legs and started to just scan the article. His concentration was thrown off by the sound of the receptionist giving some lip to someone at the entrance to the small building.

"I'm not asking much," they said, keeping their cool. "I'm just asking for who I talk to in order to get an ad in the next paper, as soon as possible."

"Do you have an appointment?" the rat asked. "No. You don't. So turn around, and take yourself back out the door. Bye-bye!"

"How big of an ad?" Pina asked.

"Do not overstep your boundaries, columnist!" the rat shouted. "That is not your department!"

"No," he said back. "But ads don't have a set person in charge of them. Besides, everything goes by Usagi beforehand. I'll see about the ad, let him by."

The rat scowled as the animal walked past him, the two glaring at each other as he did.

Pina minimized the document and left the computer screen blank as the hybrid took a seat. The sheep could tell it was a hybrid as he looked like a hyena, but his longer tail and blue eyes were distinctly canine. His height was also much taller than the normal hyena. He sat down in a chair that the sheep motioned too.

"So," he said, pulling out a few pieces of paper. "What sized ad do you want?"

"What are the options?" they asked, letting the black backpack fall off his shoulder to the ground.

"The normal three," he said. "Small ads run you about five hundred yen per week, mediums are ten-fifty, and larges are fifteen hundred."

"I'll take the small one," he said. "Make that two."

The sheep discarded two of the papers and handed him the remaining one to fill out on a clipboard. He went for a pen next, but they had a blue one in their pocket and had already started writing. When the animal was finished he handed the clipboard back to the sheep. He looked it over to make sure all the paperwork was filled out properly, which it was.

"And the payment?" the hybrid asked, rubbing his eye.

"Payment up at the front desk," he said, pointing to the rat.

"Thank you," the hybrid smiled. They stood with their bag and moved to the front desk. They began filing with the secretary and Pina looked over the paper. An ad asking for help cleaning up an apartment at 184 SE. Hilldale Street. Pina typed in the address on Zoozle maps and the name of an attorney's office came up. Pina looked at the number to call, glancing at the hybrid, still filling out the paperwork to pay for the ad. He did a reverse lookup and the number came up as a hotel. Strange.

"What is this?" his boss asked from behind him.

"Research," he lied. "For another article."

"Have you finished the one that needs to be filed by the end of today?" she asked.

Pina shook his head.

"Then get to that instead," she said. "Quit looking up phony law firms."

"Phony?" he asked.

"Look up that office name on ToothTube," she said. "You'll see what I mean. But seriously, get that article done."

Pina opened up the document and looked it over. He was surprisingly good at lying. He even surprised himself sometimes.

"Where's Katanao?" she asked.

"He's at reception," Pina said. "Sorting out payment with someone wanting to run an ad. Speaking of which-"

The sheep pulled the paper and handed it to the mongoose, who waved the paper away.

"An ad is an ad and money is money," she dismissed. "Run it."

Pina watched as the mongoose walked up to the receptionist desk. The rat was nowhere to be seen. Neither was the hybrid.

"At least he didn't run off with the money," she said, picking up the cash. "Damn that rodent. He needs to tell me when he's starting his breaks."

~~~

Shoon held the limp body with the snapped neck in his hand. Smaller animals were easier for him to hide in his hands and pockets, and their bones were much more brittle. He slipped down an alleyway and made his way toward his next destination. He couldn't sleep on the streets, he'd be caught. He had a few places in mind, but he needed somewhere private. The fake teeth and contact were killing him, and his back was itching. He hoped the quills wouldn't grow out too much too quickly.

He glanced behind him. Seeing he was alone and no one was paying attention to him. He opened his jaws, stuck out his forked tongue and lowered the paralysed rat into his mouth. He snapped his teeth shut and swallowed them whole, the tail slipping through his lips, as it slid down his throat, which acted very much like a snake's in order for him to do so. He was hungry, and the secretary had been awfully rude to him.