Kishibe heaved a sigh and wiped the sweat from his brow.
“But … how?” The voice came from a louse-like creature pinched between Quanxi’s finger and thumb. On closer inspection, it looked like a tiny, battered doll lashed together from black feathers. The devil’s true form. “How … you find … me?”
“I didn’t look. I simply killed everything else,” Quanxi stated.
“Cannot … believe,” said the devil.
“You’d better,” Kishibe said. “That’s how my partner rolls.” He stretched, bones cracking, then looked at the knife in his hand. A jagged crack ran through the blade. It had held just long enough to deflect her attack.
He’d known Quanxi would try to kill him. Nine years had taught him so. From the moment her switch flipped, there was nothing he could do but try to protect himself.
“If that was enough to kill you, you wouldn’t have lasted nine years with me,” said Quanxi, the detachment in her voice softening for a moment. She crushed the devil between her fingers. Its death rattle was no louder than a mosquito’s. The battle concluded with a long, empty silence.
“Can you stand, Minami?” Quanxi asked. Minami was still crouched on the floor, not making a sound. Quanxi reached down to help her up, but her fingers grasped empty air. She let her hand fall back to her side. “Kishibe, get Minami to a hospital.”
“Sure thing.”
“And buy her a new lock for her door.”
“Wasn’t me who broke the first one. ” Kishibe helped Minami to her feet and leaned her against his shoulder.
Minami started to stammer an apology. “Uh … I …” “It’s just a little blood loss. It won’t kill you. Gotta get you to an ER, though.” Kishibe spotted the slim silhouette of his partner making a silent exit. “Hey, Quanxi.”
“What is it?” she asked.
“You knew which one was the real me, didn’t you?” Kishibe said.
Quanxi didn’t answer right away. Kishibe waited. He knew she’d meant to kill every Kishibe in the room, but he couldn’t shake the sense that she’d gone just a tiny bit easy on him. He’d been ready to lose an arm, but he’d walked away with only a cracked knife.
Finally she spared him a contemptuous glance. “When that devil comes back from Hell, tell it that if it wants to pass itself off as you, it needs to get that stink of alcohol on its breath.”
Then, step by weary step, Quanxi slowly disappeared into the darkness outside.
“So … she knew?” Minami said.
“Yeah,” Kishibe nodded. “And she still nearly murdered me.” She was the craziest partner a guy could have, by a long shot. Maybe she’d had to let out her frustration after learning that her pet student was more attached to Kishibe. Made sense to him.
“I’ll never live up to her.” Minami sounded pained from more than just her injuries.
“Hardly anyone can, kid. She’s a stone-cold killer.”
“That’s not what I’m talking about.” Her hand wasn’t on her wounded abdomen, but her chest. “I was fooled by one mannequin that looked like you. But Quanxi … she picked the real you out of hundreds.”
This time it was Kishibe’s turn to be silent. Minami’s admission of this small defeat drifted away into the moonlight, and then it was gone.
“Minami quit Public Safety,” Quanxi said quietly. It was three days later, and they were back at the swanky hotel bar.
Kishibe gazed at the night spread before them outside the window. “Smart choice. She would’ve been dead in a hurry. And I don’t need any more reasons to drink.”
Quanxi fondled the stem of her wine glass before speaking. “Minami was interested in you. Weren’t you tempted to pursue that?”
“Not when I’ve already got you in my heart— Whoa! No hitting,” Kishibe saw the punch coming.
Quanxi reluctantly lowered her fist. “Can’t believe you’re still deploying those stale lines after all these years.”
“Neither can I.”
“Why me?” Quanxi wanted to know.
“Love at first sight. That’s why,” Kishibe stated simply.
For once, Quanxi didn’t have an answer. Kishibe let his eyes drift down to his whiskey glass. “And because … you won’t die on me so easily.”
His partner turned her one eye toward him. He swirled the glass of twelve-year Macallan, the sweet aroma of whiskey aged in cherrywood drifting to his nostrils.
“You spend enough time with someone, you start to feel close to them,” he said. “It’s a human thing. People in our line of work, though, they can just … evaporate. Poof, they’re gone. You had one partner beside you yesterday, today it’s someone else. And each time, I drink a little more. So sue me for being reluctant to get close to new people.”
Quanxi remained silent.
“You don’t die, Quanxi. You don’t change. I feel like it’s safe to be close to you.”
There was a beat before Quanxi finally answered. “That’s the stupidest reason I’ve ever heard.”
“At least we’re stupid together.” The alcohol was really hitting him tonight. He leaned on the counter and fixed his partner with his most passionate gaze. “I love you.”
It was the first time he’d actually said the words to her. Nine years together, nine years seasoned with blood and misery, and he was still trying to pick this girl up. Well, why not try? For now, they were still alive.
“I realized something recently,” Quanxi began hesitantly. After a moment’s silence she continued, her expression as impassive as ever. “I think … I might like women.”
Kishibe couldn’t help but smile even as he sighed. He let the glittering amber liquid slide down his throat. “Yeah. I know.”
Even now, even after facing death together all those times, their bond wasn’t too rich; it wasn’t too deep. But it wasn’t too sweet either. After nine years, it had the same dry flavor.
There was some comfort in that.