Ogawa raised the cigarette to his lips, taking a long drag and making the interviewer wait awkwardly until he was finished; intentionally so, if the deliberate eye contact was anything to go by. He exhaled, blowing a plume of smoke into the air above the table and watching as it slowly dispersed around the room. It was only the sense of anticipation between them, the feeling that an answer was coming, albeit slowly, that prevented the interviewer was asking again or moving to a different question. The pause felt thoughtful, rather than negligent.

“I don’t know.”

More silence followed and Ogawa took the time to take another drag, shorter this time, before stubbing out his cigarette in his ashtray. “Well, I have an idea. Bullet to the back of the head I assume.”

There was another pause, then the interviewer put pen to paper and the sound of the nib scratching across the notepad broke the quiet at last. “I was out on a job; nothing too serious, normal day-to-day stuff. Normal if you’re a Yakuza anyway. I had a couple of our guys with me, younger faces, practically kids, but I knew them; I’d worked with them before. Next thing I know I’m waking up here; just as sudden as that. Didn’t hear or feel a damn thing.”

Folding one leg over the other, Ogawa leaned back in his seat. “Pretty sure it was one of them; the guys with me I mean. It could have been someone else, another family or something. but we were in our own territory, weren’t on bad terms with any other groups beyond the usual and I didn’t see anyone coming; trust me, I’m pretty vigilant about that sort of thing.” The Yakuza-turned-reaper let out a sigh. “I would have seen an enemy coming. The fact that I didn’t probably means it was my own family that took me out and I don’t have any idea why. It also means they used some kid to do the hit, which pisses me off almost as much as the killing itself. Use a damn professional if you’re gonna take me out.”

The reaper let out a sigh, but it sounded more tired than angry; it was an old annoyance at this point.

“I guess that’s why I stuck around; wanting to find out why I was killed. That’s also why I became a Reaper as well; to have a better chance of finding answers, in between the work we do. Besides, being a Reaper isn’t that much different from being a Yakuza; you’ve just gotta follow orders and pay your respects up the ladder, and not worry about getting your hands dirty every now and then. It’s good work and I’d say I was good at that sort of thing but… you know.” Ogawa raised a hand to the side of his head and placed a finger against his temple to mime a gun, then rocked his head to the side as if mimicking being shot. “Had to have been a reason, right?”

The jeers and screams rang in Catherine’s ears as she knelt on the ground before the Mother Superior. Her heart beat like a rabbit’s in her chest, her hands bound with rope before her. Was this really happening? She raised her head to meet those of the older woman before her, trying her best not to sob. She would go to her death composed, as she was only moments away from meeting God. She kissed the little statue the older woman was holding. “Mother,” she said. “May I die?”

“Permission granted,” she said, and Catherine found herself rising, climbing the scaffolding towards the guillotine. Her sisters held onto her arms as she climbed, pushing her up, up, up, but all she felt was a spreading numbness. Her breath hitched. She felt the urge to adjust her habit, an awful nervous habit of hers, but her hands were tied before her and she could not raise them. To keep herself from crying, she began to pray, a quiet litany. Then, the executioner’s hands were upon her, gently pushing her onto the board. The crowd below had gone quiet. She knew they would be cheering soon.

The executioner said something- some apology, she supposed- slid her in, and then… she was calm, as she stared up at the sky and the blade. This would be alright. It wouldn’t hurt. She was the first of them to die, a mercy, and she would meet God with her sisters in moments. It would be alright.

The blade fell.

---

She opened her eyes in a place very much unlike where she had been before.

Catherine was standing atop a hill, underneath a beautiful arch, before a spring. A city unfolded beyond the hill. Her blue-gray eyes settled upon it for a moment, thoughtless but for a small smile spreading across her face. Heaven. This was heaven. It didn’t look much like she had thought heaven would, but mortals could so rarely predict the whims of the Lord. He had seen it fit to bless her with eternity in paradise. Overcome, Catherine dropped to her knees, chanting out prayers in Latin. “Oh, Glory be to God…” She murmured for perhaps a full minute, finally opening her eyes when she realized no one was there with her. It was silent. Her sisters had not arrived yet.

Puzzled, she approached the arch, watching. Waiting. Was there not supposed to be someone here, she thought? To count her sins, to admit her to heaven? After a few more minutes of waiting, Catherine determined with some measure of confusion that they were not coming. Why were they not here? With a wide-eyed look on her face, she took a seat on a bench, smoothing out the skirts of her habit. Someone would come.

An hour later, someone did. A person came walking up the hill, and Catherine rose to greet them. This must be the saint. Perhaps he was… late. It was bizarre to think of a saint as being late, but she’d accept it. “Bonjour,” she said, and the man looked at her in confusion. “Are you… are you God?” she asked, tentatively.

The man raised a brow. “I wish I was God,” he remarked. “Then I wouldn’t have to fucking go down there and do this shit all the time. Goddamn.”

Catherine blinked, confused. “Where-where is God?”

“That’s a hell of a theological question, honey.”

“Well, I’m in heaven. Where is He?”

It took the man- disheveled, in his mid-40s- a moment to process. “Ohhh. You’re new. Honey, welcome to Decibitus. Not heaven,” he said, snorting, and then walked away towards the gate.

Decibitus. Catherine spoke enough Latin to know that word. It meant deceived. She stood there dumbly, not understanding. Where else would she be if not in heaven?

… What was this place?