Kishibe's gaze continually shifted toward the door. For the past 20 minutes, he had been seated in the booth of this particular bar, anxiously awaiting the arrival of his guest. He had worked with Quanxi for a solid five years now.
During this time, he had accumulated a scar, a lasting reminder of his long career. His once-short hair had grown out, now reaching just above his shoulder. As he rubbed his face, he felt the small pinpricks of unshaven stubble grazing his fingers. The wait had made him restless,
"Kishibe," Quanxi declared as she arrived, placing her hand on the table and tapping it to grab the distraught man's attention.
"Quanxi," he acknowledged her.
"You need to stop doing this," she huffed, her exasperation evident. Quanxi retrieved a small envelope from her coat and dropped it lazily on the table in front of Kishibe.
"I don't see why," he responded, taking a sip from a now lukewarm mug of beer that he had put off drinking until the woman's arrival. His eyepatch-wearing comrade pulled the mug away and placed it on her side of the table.
"I live every day as if it's my last. You told me to do that. The least you could do is grant a dying man a last request," he retorted.
"Ever since you got that scar, you've been going crazy. You've been reckless," she stated. He simply stared at her, his usual emotionless expression once again masking his face.
Quanxi sighed and lifted her hand. "Tell me something at least," she requested. "Why do you keep doing this?"
"Doing what?" he inquired.
"Asking me out. I've told you 'no' every time, and it's like every time you're surprised," Quanxi remarked.
Kishibe placed his hand against the side of his face and leaned his head onto it. "Quanxi, do you remember that night at the shrine?" She waved her hand dismissively, acknowledging it was in 1972.
"I wanted to quit, but I didn't. Do you know why that is?" He continued, prompting her to pay attention. The woman just kept looking ahead, intrigued. He sighed and elaborated, "I went home that night, and I realized that I'll do everything in my power to keep you alive, Quanxi." His confession hung heavily in the air, revealing the depth of his commitment to her.
The two sat in an uncomfortable silence. Kishibe retrieved his mug of beer and drank a quarter of it in a single gulp.
"You, Quanxi. All of my comrades are dead, and all of them will die. But you... you won't change. In the half-decade I've known you, you haven't changed." A knife materialized in Kishibe's hand, and Quanxi didn't even flinch. He placed the blade's edge to his palm, digging into it and drawing blood.
"I've worked with you every day for five years. A devil appears maybe every three days if we're lucky. My entire front side is scarred and battered, yet you... I've never even seen you break a sweat." Kishibe clenched his palm, allowing a trickle of blood to fall into the mug of beer. He continued, "And still, you lost your eye in battle." He noticed small goosebumps forming on Quanxi's skin. "I think one day, you and I should be honest with each other." His suggestion hung in the air,
"Kon!" Aki exclaimed as he peered through the gap between his middle and ring finger. What had been a group of gunmen was now little more than a pile of mangled, bloody corpses. The fox devil's head, with its multitude of eyes, focused on Aki. "Can I swallow?" it inquired. Aki responded with a casual, "Do whatever you want."
"You are Aki Hayakawa." Aki turned his gaze to the roof of a nearby house. His eyes locked onto the black-tiled roof of the small dwelling, and then he noticed a pair of shoes, followed by a bright vermillion hoodie. Finally, a teenage girl with blonde hair stood there. "Tail!" she called out into the night
Amidst the destruction of houses and the approaching green entity from the east, Aki's vision played out before him, revealing the unfolding chaos. Placing Makima inside the diner and laying her against the bar, he couldn't help but feel like one of her pupils flickered toward him. Shaking his head, he recalled Himeno's words, "Some bodies make motions even after death."
He turned his attention back to the girl on the rooftop. "Akane Sawatari. International arms dealer, possessing a contract with the gun devil," Aki stated. Her gaze, devoid of emotion, remained fixed on him as Aki drew his sword.
With resolve, Aki jumped into a nearby trash can, using it as a stepping stone to reach a wall. Running across the thin concrete wall, Akane kept her hands in her hoodie pockets, her fingers fiddling with something hidden within for a brief moment. The tension between them was palpable.
"Bang."
In an instant, Aki leaped to his left, narrowly avoiding a smoking bullet hole deeply embedded in the wall where he had stood moments before. Akane stood there, her pistol's muzzle still smoldering in the night air.
"Bang."
Aki deftly hopped onto a power line pole, maintaining a precarious balance on a wooden segment. His hair stood on end from the static charge in the air.
"Bang."
As the next bullet struck, Aki promptly jumped off the pole, the collision creating a dazzling spectacle of sparks that illuminated the night. Akane covered her eyes, momentarily blinded.
With his sword raised high over his head, Aki swiftly brought it down in a single, fluid motion, targeting Akane's shoulder He thought, "One slice through her shoulder and down into her rib cage can cut her in half."
However, Aki's future vision failed to activate quickly enough, and his sword sparked as its blade collided with another.
"Akane. Chainsaw boy got the better of me and nearly killed me, but Zombie got to me, and I'm back. Zombie bit the dust, though," the katana-wielding man informed Aki, looking down at him. The blade on the hybrid's forehead was perilously close to cutting into Aki's throat, with the tip beginning to dig into his skin. In a surprising turn of events, Aki saw a tentacle wrap around the katana man's throat, hoisting him into the air, his arms and body suspended by an unseen force.
As Aki watched, Yoshida's arms were pulled taut, and the katana man was held aloft as if he were being stretched. Yoshida, unfazed, commented, "There are way too many of you freaks. I deserve to be paid more."
Yoshida nonchalantly walked off, the katana-wielding man still suspended in the air by a set of tentacles. "I'll handle this guy," he declared before vanishing into the darkness with the screaming fiend.