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“Quanxiii,” Kishibe drawled, slumping forwards onto the counter. He focused on the stone-faced woman sitting in the stool next to his, and he felt long, tangled strands of hair fall over his face, but he made no move to brush them back. He could see her through them just fine, and he couldn’t stop himself from feeling the bumps of the stitches on his cheek and tugging on his bangs, wondering if he should grow his hair out to cover them. They were still a little sore, and he winced as his fingers brushed over the scarring, but the swelling was practically gone, and in his alcohol-buzzed state he couldn’t help but feel a little self-conscious of how he looked. When her eyes met his, he quickly dropped his hands and laced them in front of him, lazily bearing the weight of his upper body onto his forearms. He smiled. “Isn’t this just like a da—”
“It’s not.” Quanxi’s expression didn’t change, but she looked away from him and into her drink. He pouted, and mumbled something that might’ve been a protest, but he was too tired to continue the bit at that moment. She was sitting ramrod straight, her face as pale as it had been at the beginning of the evening, despite her drinking as much as him. She still wore her black blazer and tie, neatly laid over a crisp white shirt. He’d tried to get her to change after work (take off the blazer, at least), but she’d stalwartly ignored him. When he pushed, she stared him straight in the face and asked, “Do you want me to join you for drinks or not?” He’d dropped it after that, realizing that his luck only went so far.
They were in a pretty nice bar. It overlooked the center of Tokyo, and large, clean windows let them gaze out at the nighttime cityscape. Tall buildings twinkled in the distance, the lights from those faraway rooms a far cry from the dim, atmospheric lighting of the place Kishibe and Quanxi were currently sitting in. Only a few other people milled about the room, despite how posh it looked. A bored-looking bartender was standing several feet down from them, half-leaning against the shelf of wine behind him. Kishibe had never been here before, so he didn’t know if this was normal for the place. Quanxi had suggested (decided on) it.
She took another sip, her movements betraying none of the vodka in her system. Kishibe thought that, maybe, he should’ve looked away, but he didn’t. His head was throbbing, and everything felt a little off-center, but Quanxi was unmovable, unmoved, beautiful. She tipped up her glass and then put it down with a fighter’s grace, even in leisure—simple, quick, efficient, a fine line between a ballerina’s elegance and a machine’s single-minded determination. But he would never call her either of those out loud. Not if he wanted to keep all his teeth. It didn’t suit her, anyway. Quanxi was Quanxi. She couldn’t be compared, especially not to anything so simple.
Absent-mindedly, Kishibe’s hand came up to his bangs again, and he tried and failed to pull his fingers through a mat of hair. The mild pain helped him concentrate. Unlike his, Quanxi’s hair looked beautiful. It was white and straight, tied into a low-hanging ponytail, which rested over the curve of her shoulder blade and dangled, delicately, over the small of her back. He wanted to run his hands through it. He wondered if that was creepy of him. Maybe. On a hard-earned second thought, he thought that he might’ve felt her hair before. Once, during a battle, when they were back to back against a few powerful devils, she’d kicked one straight in the face, and her ponytail had gone flying across Kishibe’s nape. He scrutinized that memory, and decided that it was rather unromantic. Also, it was probably pretty creepy. Again. Kishibe rubbed his eyes. The throbbing in his head was becoming unpleasant. He needed another drink.
“I need another drink,” he announced. He straightened up a little so that he could wave the bartender over, but a hand closed over his wrist before it could shoot up. The hand was cold. It was Quanxi’s.
“You’ve had enough for tonight,” she stated, her grip gentle yet firm.
He stuck her lower lip out at her, aiming for an exaggerated pout, and then hissed, as pain sparked from his stitches. Quanxi’s disapproving expression softened for a split second, concern bleeding in, but then it was gone so fast that Kishibe wondered if he’d imagined it. Then, she spoke, and he thought that his heart might burst out of his chest. “The doctor only just cleared you for drinking. Don’t overdo it.”
Kishibe blinked. His cheeks warmed, and he wondered if he was flushing even harder than before, if that was even possible. She let go over his wrist, and his skin tingled where she’d touched it. This might’ve been the most concern she’d expressed for him, ever. Even when he got injured, he’d never seen her change that time-etched stony expression of hers. Hell, she’d even hit him for his hopeless flirting, same as ever. Childishly, the memory made something in his stomach curdle, and a question burned at his throat.
The alcohol must’ve seriously impaired his brain, because he grabbed her wrist and leaned forwards, face burning. “Hey, Quanxi,” he blurted out, his voice more whiny than he would’ve liked, “why’d you come today, anyway?”
She raised an eyebrow. “You were the one who asked me.”
“Yeah, but you’ve always said no. Nearly every day for a year.” He hung his head. “And now that you’re here, you don’t even look like you’re having fun. Is this a pity thing?” Kishibe tried not to sound too bitter. “Because I let my guard down and paid for it?”
Quanxi thinned her lips. She didn’t immediately reply, and embarrassed, Kishibe let go of her and leaned back on the stool. “W-well,” he continued, stumbling, “I wish it wasn’t, but I’m still grateful. I know you don’t like being around me much, but I do enjoy being around you. It’s a privilege for anyone, really.” He tried for a flirty smile, but it was less effective with his swaying. “I’ll pay for drinks tonight, of course. As thanks.”
“No.”
“No?”
“To both your points.” Quanxi reached into her breast pocket and pulled out a thin leather wallet. “I’m paying for both of us tonight, and I’m not taking any arguments about that. Also, I don’t dislike being around you. I wouldn’t say that I enjoy it, but you overestimate how annoying you usually are.” While Kishibe scrambled for something to say, shocked and flustered, she continued. “Actually, make that three of your points. You didn’t make a mistake on that mission, and you shouldn’t be beating yourself up over it. There were too many devils, that’s all. It was beyond your capabilities.”
“Thanks,” Kishibe sarcastically said. He didn’t know how to respond to her uncharacteristic kindness, so he didn’t.
“It was beyond both of our capabilities,” she clarified.
“What? You did great..”
“You’re my partner,” she said, matter-of-factly. For the first time, there was a ghost of a frown over her lips. “If you got hurt, it’s because I wasn’t looking out for you well enough. You were overwhelmed, and so was I.”
“Hey, hey, hold on.” Kishibe scrunched his face up. “That’s not how it works. I’m the one who let that blade too close, and I’ve got the scar to show for it. You didn’t get anything like this.” He pointed to the long scar running across his left cheek. “In fact, you never get anything like this. I don’t think I’ve ever seen those devils even graze you.”
She was silent for a moment. “I get injured. You just don’t see them.”
“Well, then, they must not be very bad injuries, because I’m confident I’ve never seen one. I may be drunk right now, but my memory’s in-tact. Pretty sure.” He muttered the last part to himself.
“And…” Quanxi seemed to hesitate. “I won’t deny that I pitied you, and that may have played a role tonight. But it was more... more that I thought I should give you a chance.”
“A chance?” Kishibe grinned. “Does that mean—?”
“Not that way.” She shot him down as brutally as ever. “A chance to get to know each other more… as colleagues.”
“You think of us as colleagues?” Kishibe placed a hand to his chest, gasping dramatically. “I’m honored, Quanxi! Why, the way you pass me in the hallway, you’d think we were strangers.”
“Enough of that,” she chided, and knocked him in the forehead. He winced, but honestly, he’d been expecting a harder hit.
“But really, one year into our relationship and you only just take me out for drinks? Do you take this long with all your partners?” Kishibe laughed. “Surely not all of them are as patient as me.”
“It’s a work relationship.” Quanxi shrugged. Her gaze had returned to her glass, and she lifted and tilted her glass, steadily watching the last drops of her cocktail slide into one corner with her one eye. Her gaze looked a little less focused than usual. “Public Safety doesn’t mandate anything further than that, and I haven’t needed to, either.”
“So you never gave anyone else a chance?” He couldn’t help the foolish smile on his face, and his clouded mind registered a pure, sharp shot of giddiness. He propped his elbows against the cool countertop. “In all your years? What makes me so special?”
Quanxi flatly hummed. She placed the glass down. “No one else has made it to a year. So I suppose you can consider tonight a celebration, too.”
“Oh. Well, that makes sense.” Kishibe cringed. He’d been to the graveyard, of course. Every devil hunter had, whether to pay respects or to familiarize themselves with the reality of their situation. For Kishibe, it had been the latter, because Quanxi was his first partner and, luckily, a seemingly immortal one at that. She’d been in the organization for longer than anyone else he’d known, having outlived practically every other hunter in their division, even though she couldn’t have been older than her thirties. “In that case, I’ll drink to that.” He raised his arm again, and even faster this time, Quanxi slapped it down. “Ow!”
“You’ll be fine,” she said dismissively. She stood up, palms flat on the counter. “Let’s go. I’ll drive you back.”
“Whaaat? Already?!” Kishibe slouched over the counter, protectively curling his arms around his empty glass. “It’s... it’s…” He glanced at the clock. “It’s barely midnight! We’ve only been here for a few hours!”
“We’ve got work tomorrow, remember? Another mission.”
“Wait, seriously? I do, too?” Kishibe groaned. He pressed his cheek against the glass, chin to the counter, wishing that he could die right there, in that instant. “The injury leave here sucks . Maybe I should transfer to the civilian sector, like Kaori did… yeah, that sounds good…”
“Quit your whining, you knew what you were getting yourself into when you signed up.” Quanxi snatched his glass from his grasp and put it next to hers, then pushed them both across the counter. She impassively stared down at him.
Kishibe let out another groan, which may have sounded more like a whine to some. Then, with exaggerated reluctance, he unsteadily got to his feet and took a moment to center himself. Darkness crept over his vision and his head pounded, and he had to close his eyes for a long moment. He wasn’t sure if it was because of the alcohol or because he had been sitting for so long. By the time he opened his eyes, Quanxi was tucking her wallet back into her pocket and moving towards the exit. “I paid. Come on.”
Straightening up the best he could, Kishibe lumbered after Quanxi. Carefully, he tried to walk in a dignified manner, and he thought that he succeeded. There was a stumble here and there, but with the help of the railing, he managed to follow Quanxi down the stairs with no incident. The automated glass doors opened before them, and they emerged onto the illuminated sidewalk. Kishibe took a deep breath of the cold night air, and shivered a little. His blazer was tied around his waist. His white shirt was made of a stiff, thick fabric, but it only did so much to keep the chill out.
He thought about putting the blazer back on, but there was a beep a few cars down the road, and Kishibe recognized the sleek gray car Quanxi had driven them here in. It was the same car she usually came to work in. Kishibe picked up the pace and hurried over to the car, getting there before Quanxi. He quickly opened the door and got in, shutting it against the chilly breeze with relief.
A moment later, Quanxi opened the door to the driver’s side. She fixed him with a stare that was mildly judgmental and condescending as she got in. Kishibe thought that was a little unfair, since not everyone was as impervious to everything as her, but she broke the gaze to jam her keys into the ignition to start the engine. The inside of her car was mostly black, with a polished wood dashboard, and so clean it was intimidating. Kishibe leaned back his seat as Quanxi pulled into the street, arms at his side. He hoped that his shoes were clean.
“Where should I drop you off?” Quanxi asked. Despite it being so late, there were still other cars on the streets. City life, Kishibe supposed.
“Head towards the main office, my place is on the way. I’ll tell you when to turn.”
They drove in silence. The muffled sounds of night life and the hum of the engine were the only noises. While Kishibe could normally appreciate downtime, his alcohol-ridden mind couldn’t stop thinking about how close Quanxi was, how he was in her car, and how she had just bought drinks for him. It was closer to Quanxi than he’d ever expected to be, both physically and emotionally, and it was making him feel a little nervous, as well as a little brave. Were they friends now? Did Quanxi even have friends? A daring question flashed across his mind: maybe he was Quanxi’s closest friend? The thought made his heart skip a beat, and he tried to dismiss it, but it wasn’t… unreasonable. She was standoffish at best and had just told him that he was the longest partner she’d ever had.
He wanted to continue the conversation with her, but he didn’t know how to. The only thing he could think of that would guarantee a response were questions, but he didn’t want to turn their time together into an interrogation. Kishibe looked out the window and disattachedly took in the glowing storefronts flashing by, internally panicking. He rolled down the window some, hoping that the wind would alleviate how hot he felt.
For the entirety of the ride, he sat there, quiet, in that consternated state. He only spoke to instruct Quanxi when to change lanes and turn. Under normal circumstances, he was sure he’d be more suave than this, but right now his tongue felt loose and the only things coming to mind were clumsy and transparent attempts at getting to know her better. “We’re here,” he said, as they drew near his apartment. “Stop there.”
Quanxi pulled up to the curb. She didn’t say anything as Kishibe unbuckled his seatbelt and put his hand on the door handle. Then, courage flickered through him, and he very carefully did not curl his fingers around the handle. Instead, he relaxed into the seat and looked out the front window, and with the beginnings of a smile resting on his face, began to speak. “You know, it was my second day of work, before I’d been assigned to you, that Kaori told me to meet her at the graveyard.”
From the corners of his eyes, he saw Quanxi turn her head towards him ever so slightly. “I didn’t even know where it was!” He chuckled. “There’s plenty of graveyards in Tokyo, and I’d never gone to any of them. Weird, isn’t it? You spend all your life driving past graveyards and glancing over the flowers and headstones from a distance, and you never think about the fact that you’d be in one of those plots someday.
“Or maybe some people do. I never did. I was never one to think that far.” A part of him thought that he was rambling, a little, but his voice was calm and steady, so he must’ve been fine. “Anyway, after work, she took me to the place where most Public Safety hunters are buried. It’s a creepy place, that. She told me about her previous partners and showed me their graves. Then, she told me that she was going to transfer.”
“Kaori was one of the division’s best.” Quanxi finally spoke. Her hand was still on the wheel. “She’d told me about her plans nearly a year before they finalized. She was always very meticulous about things. She said that she’d considered every option very thoroughly, and her decision was equally thorough.”
“Oh, I know,” Kishibe replied breezily. “That’s why she did so well. She never took on anything she knew was beyond her and always had backup plans for backup plans. But that’s why she was never going to last.”
“... You knew her for barely a week.”
“Sure, but it was obvious.” He shrugged. “She thought about things too much, in all the wrong ways. Of course she was going to realize that this was an awful job and ditch it. Kaori was too…”
“Too smart?” Quanxi suggested dryly.
“Maybe!” Kishibe laughed. “But you’re plenty smart too, Quanxi, and you’re still here. No, she had her head screwed on straight, and it told her to get out.”
“So you’re saying the both of us are either stupid or crazy?” There wasn’t the faintest trace of humor in her question.
Kishibe winked at her. “That’s exactly what I’m saying.”
Quanxi made a sound that might’ve been assent or dissent. The two of them sat in contemplative silence for a long moment. Then, the silence was broken by the jingle of Quanxi’s keys as she wrenched them out of the ignition. The engine went quiet, her arms fell back to her sides, and then an even deeper silence ensued.
“I visited the graves of my first three partners,” Quanxi quietly said, breaking it. “Bought flower bouquets and everything. I stopped going after the third. I think the others in the division resent me for that, a little.”
“Why’d you stop?”
“The question is, why did I go at all for the first few? I felt obligated to. I thought that it’d bring their souls peace. It never brought me any, and after I realized that, I stopped.” Quanxi talked like it was a simple thing, and Kishibe thought he understood. “Besides, it felt… gratuitous. I’d only known them for a couple months. What was I to them, beyond our work?”
“Witness to their deaths?” Kishibe suggested, even though he didn’t know the circumstances of her partners’ deaths.
“Mmm. For some.” Quanxi looked bored, but he thought there might be something rolling beneath the surface.
“I don’t know what I’d do if you died,” Kishibe said honestly. It was difficult to imagine Quanxi dead. She had survived this long because she was the strongest and he didn’t see that changing anytime soon. “Would you want me to visit your grave?”
“Would you want to?” She shot back.
Kishibe cocked his head. “Probably. I’d bring you roses and poetry and read it out loud at your funeral.” Quanxi raised her fist at him and Kishibe ducked away pre-emptively. “Kidding, kidding! Like I said, I don’t know. I’d never been to a funeral before, so I might go just for that.”
“You’ve never seen anyone dead?” Something in Quanxi’s tone told him that she didn’t believe him.
“I didn’t say that, I said that I’d never been to a funeral before. That’s not so unbelievable, is it?” Kishibe put his arms behind his head and leaned back. His heart was becoming light with amusement. His head was also light with alcohol, but it was starting to settle, and his earlier discomfort was practically gone. “Hey, do you still think about your previous partners sometimes?”
“I’ve outlived a lot of people,” Quanxi said carefully. There was an unreadable tension in her words. “And with my extra time, I think… that I can spare some for those who ran out. It’s the least I can do, since I don’t go to their graves...”
Kishibe’s smile widened. He discreetly tried to peer at her face, wondering if the alcohol had taken to her more than initially seemed, but it was impossible to tell from a glance. He wanted to prod Quanxi for secretly being a softie, but he knew that if he did she’d instantly shut down and likely deck him, injury be damned. “And you’d remember me, too, huh? Despite everything?”
Kishibe thought that Quanxi would take the opportunity to tear into him a little, but she surprised him by saying, “A month ago, I thought I’d have to.” A month ago, he’d been completely bedridden in the hospital. The gash on his face had gotten infected, and it got to the point that Kishibe heard, afterwards, that his superiors had been readying the lawyers and funeral services. Once he’d recovered enough to receive visitors, he’d never seen Quanxi visit him, though nearly every other member of their division had. The first time he’d seen Quanxi after the battle where he got the injury was when he’d been released, and Quanxi had accepted his offer to get a drink. That had been today. “It would’ve been an unfortunate way to go out. I always thought that you’d die in action, at the very least.”
“I still might,” Kishibe jested. “Oppositely, I’ve never thought that you’d die in action."
“Really.”
“Really,” Kishibe echoed, shrugging. “I can’t imagine anyone or anything besting you in a fight. If you went out, it’d be by something ridiculous, like tripping over a rock, or old age, or the flu. It’d have to be something crazy, is what I’m saying. And don’t worry about me. This is the closest I’ll ever get to death again.”
Quanxi hummed. “And how are you so sure of that?”
“Because now I have to outlive you!” He declared emphatically. Quanxi failed to look impressed. “Mark my words. I’m many things, but I’m not an oath-breaker. For important things,” he added hurriedly, when Quanxi opened her mouth, no doubt to remind him of the many little, insignificant, and broken oaths he had made to coworkers about paying them back and showing up to things on time.
“That’s not much of a promise. If you transferred to private, you could do that without trading more of yourself to your contracts.” Quanxi spoke without hidden meaning. And that’s what made her fundamentally different from Kaori, Kishibe mused, that’s what made her stay, unlike Kaori. Kaori brought Kishibe to the graveyard on the second day in hopes of scaring him off the team, so that she could save his life. If Kaori said what Quanxi did, it’d bely a suggestion. But for Quanxi, it was only the fact. They both knew the other wouldn’t quit until they were dead. That made conversations easier. He’d never show it, but hopes and expectations, especially when they came from a place of kindness, made him antsy. It made him feel responsible for himself and he never knew how to respond.
“But then you’d miss me, wouldn’t you?” Kishibe sang.
“I wouldn’t.” Her harsh reply was expected and taken in stride.
“But seriously, Quanxi, I think I could do it. I’m pretty strong. Stronger than the other partners you’ve had. Who knows?”
“Mmm.” Quanxi looked like she might actually be considering it. Then, she said, “Alright, get out.”
Kishibe made a strangled noise of protest. “You’re kicking me out?!”
“It’s late and you were supposed to leave the car twenty six minutes ago.” To emphasize her point, she started up the engine again.
He was a bit disappointed, but not hurt. He'd already gotten more out of tonight than he'd expected. “Alright, alright,” he laughed, throwing open the door. He got out and closed the door behind him, but turned around and peered through the open window. “Don’t worry. If my drunken ramblings don’t convince you, I’ll show you in the field. I’m your favorite partner, after all. I can’t let you down.”
Quanxi’s eyes flickered to meet his. “I know.” Then, without clarifying which part she was responding to with that, she rolled up the window and pulled into the street. Kishibe stood on the curb, watching her car drive away and get swallowed by the dark. Then, he smiled and pivoted sharply, heading up the path to his apartment with a cheerful hum. Today was good, but today was a start. Tomorrow, he’d invite her again.