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July 25, 2005

The Eschatologist: Terms of Financing

The market reverberated with the sounds of fishmongers and peddlers. Smells assaulted their senses. Smoke saturated the air, mixing with frying meats, carp innards and perspiration in the crowded street. Two men shoved their way through.

"Oyabun-san bade us pick the best candidate and that's what we're going to do. Got it?"

A fat, sweaty balding man in sickly yellow robes waved them over and they plunged down a hidden stair behind an apple cart. A girl stood in the basement, smiling stupidly.

"The drugs." The fat man shrugged. "On sale for 300000 Yen."

"By best, Oyabun-san meant cheapest, right?"

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