Kishibe picked up the shirt Quanxi had pulled off. “Okay, what’s going on?”
“What are you talking about?”
“You know as well as I do,” Kishibe said, “That sparring match hardly rose to the level of a playground game. Where’s the woman who’d come out on top if the whole world showed up for a fistfight?”
“I wouldn’t go at a rookie with my full strength. What’s the point in tearing her to pieces on her first day?” Quanxi sighed.
Kishibe kept at it. “The way I remember it, a few years back you vaporized a rookie’s ribs with your first punch.”
“Funny, I don’t recall. My memory’s not what it used to be since I started going out drinking with you.”
“Gee, sorry.”
Minami bounced back into the room. “Sorry to keep you waiting! Thanks for your patience.”
Quanxi rubbed her shoulders. “It’s the first day. I’m breaking her in. Don’t worry—I don’t need you to remind me to turn the difficulty up.”
“You gonna try some tight holds next?” Kishibe asked.
“Why do you ask?”
“Oh, just a feeling.”
Quanxi refuted the claim. “What good would pins and locks do against a devil? You’re an idiot.”
“Sure, I’ll cop to that. Anyway, fine. No pins.” Kishibe shrugged, and Quanxi resumed the sparring match. There was no doubt in Kishibe’s mind—this was nothing like her behavior with the men she’d trained. Far from pushing Minami over the edge, she seemed almost tender toward her. The girl certainly could make a person feel protective. Kishibe had a strong suspicion that Minami was just Quanxi’s type.
Better keep an eye on things for now …
He half-watched the two women spar. The training room echoed with Minami’s sweet, girlish cries. He took a long drag on his cigarette.
Minami completed training in two weeks. On her last night, the three went out for a drink together. Kishibe sat beside Quanxi, who fixed him with a chilly look, the polar opposite of the thank-God-the-workday’s-over smiles on the faces of most of the bars’ patrons.
“Do you have to tag along?” she hissed. “Minami is my student. You’re a third wheel.”
“I’m your partner! Can’t partners get a drink together?” Kishibe scrutinized the menu on the wall before ordering a draft beer. The cold fizz and rich hops cleared his throat while the noise of the bar and the clatter of the kitchen soothed his ears. The reek of tobacco, baked into the walls, flowed through his nasal passages, and his skin was warm from the body heat of the crowd. Working in a trade where death was his one constant companion, Kishibe relied on dives like this to remind him he was still alive.
“Oops, sorry!” Minami flushed. “I invited Mr. Kishibe. It still seems presumptuous of me to go drinking one-on-one with you, Master Quanxi.”
Quanxi didn’t say a word, only let out the faintest of sighs.
“So how long have you two been partners?” Minami asked.
“You know … I’ve lost track,” Quanxi said.
“Nine years,” said Kishibe. “Wouldn’t kill you to remember it.”
Minami popped a tomato slice into her mouth. “Nine years! That’s a long time.”
“Yeah, especially in Public Safety.” Kishibe raised his glass and filled his belly with beer.
“Why do you think you’ve lasted together for so long?” Minami asked.
Quanxi shrugged. “It’s just that Kishibe refuses to die.”
“Sheesh, you sound like you want me to bite the dust.” Kishibe ordered another beer. They’d been busting each others’ chops for so long it had become second nature.
Minami grinned a little awkwardly. Then she seemed to have a thought. “Will we do it soon?” she asked, her open face clouding with trepidation.
“Do what?” Quanxi asked coolly.
“Exterminate a devil.”
“Oh, that. It won’t be long before you’re called up, I’m sure.” Kishibe snatched up two slices of red snapper sashimi and popped them into his mouth at once.
Standard operating procedure was for a rookie to be accompanied by their training officer on their first devil extermination job. Things had been unusually quiet for the last couple of weeks, but that only meant something was about to give.
“To tell the truth, I’m not sure I can fight a devil,” Minami confessed. “I can’t even handle Ms. Quanxi yet!”
“If a newbie could go toe to toe with Quanxi after two weeks, the rest of us would be out of a job,” Kishibe said.
Minami was bashful. “Well, okay … but …”
“In fact, you’re the only one who’s survived two weeks with her,” Kishibe added.
“You mean that?” Minami asked, her voice full of sunshine again.
It wasn’t a lie, but it wasn’t exactly truthful either. Quanxi’s training methods with Minami were as different from the tack she’d taken with previous rookies as heaven was from hell. No need to explain that to the kid, he told himself.
“Word of advice, though. When you’re a devil hunter, fretting about whether you can hold your own isn’t in the job description. You’re there to do one thing—kill the devil.”
“Okay …”
“If you’re really worried, get out while you still can,” Kishibe added, offering more unsolicited advice. “There’s other ways to make a living, you know.”
“I … I’m not going to quit!” Minami exclaimed, squeezing her chopsticks tightly. Heads turned at nearby tables, and she shrank back apologetically. “Er … sorry.” She hung her head in embarrassment, but only for a second. Then she snapped back into her usual chipper self. “So, um, do you have any tips? You know, for keeping your cool against a devil.”
Quanxi took a sip of water. “Hit it as hard as you can.”
Minami soberly repeated this sage advice. “Hit it! As hard! As I can!”
Kishibe barked out a laugh. “Some advice. That works for her because she hits like a pile driver. Don’t take it to heart, kid.”
“Then do you have advice, Mr. Kishibe?” Minami turned her bright gaze toward him.