Night in Tokyo is a bit cool.
Especially after the biggest terror attack in nearly a decade—fewer people on the streets makes it feel even chillier.
Su Tang walks home and tightens his coat.
He isn't cold—just unsettled.
Public Safety's casualty report is being rushed overnight. This time far too many died—at least a third, conservatively.
And most were field operatives on patrol or assignments.
In an instant, Tokyo Public Safety's strength and deterrence plummeted to the bottom.
Worst of all, Miss Makima won't return until tomorrow. Division morale feels headless.
Some are afraid, some are angry, some are sunk and speechless.
Not a normal one among them.
Him included.
"Hah."
He sighs long, thinking back on his talk with Reze in the ward.
He frowns, picturing the girl's emerald eyes and flushing cheeks.
Reze's feelings toward him aren't normal… or rather, they've passed the highest level of admiration a student has for a teacher.
Put simply—infatuation.
Strictly speaking, this is only their fourth meeting—he hadn't thought much of it at first, but thinking carefully, her change of attitude began on the second meeting.
More precisely, when he gave that wrong flower by mistake.
To develop a crush because of a flower, then already be "in love" by the fourth meeting—in real life it's absurd, but…
He hasn't forgotten who Reze is: a Soviet-made weapon hybrid.
A Guinea Pig agent.
An orphan. A castaway sent across the ocean.
A spy.
Also a girl in the spring of her youth.
Layers of identity, stacks of buffs.
In someone else, it might have rotted everything—closing off the heart and sliding into extremes. But Reze hasn't. She still yearns for good.
Her hunger to study, to find a teacher, to drink in knowledge makes that plain.
Just as Denji pours all her longing for goodness into him, Reze has poured her feelings, her budding heart, into Su Tang.
It lets her soul taste a sweetness unlike her life as an agent—but it may also drive her to another extreme—obsession and delusion.
Serious—especially in someone with supernatural power.
Dangerous to her, and to the world around her.
So though he can't bear to shatter a girl's first fantasy, he still told Reze to go home and think—to cool down.
To dive into herself and ask—
—is that really love?
Dependence? Hunger? A substitute?
He remembers clearly: the moment he said it, she rushed to speak.
He set his index finger to her lips and shook his head.
"Go think it through. Time will give you the answer."
"And don't worry too much. I'm not going anywhere, am I?"
In the end, she agreed.
He told her to come back when she'd figured it out.
Mm… or stop by his clinic as a patient to see him the doctor.
Not far, anyway.
Thinking so, he lifts his eyes to the signboard.
Home.
"What are you doing here?"
He opens the door—and the first thing he sees is a shining ring.
He flips on the wall switch; the room floods with light.
"Mm, why are you back so late?" The Angel Devil lounges across the sofa, rubbing her eyes as if the sudden light bothers her. "I already took a nap."
"…"
Seeing the sofa being used as a bed, Su Tang's mouth twitches.
He goes to the desk, pours water, and asks, "When did they let you out?"
"Once I passed the review." The Angel Devil leans back and sighs. "I told them my mental state was fine, but they still interrogated me for days. So tired."
From that familiar flat tone, she seems fine.
After all, she personally cut off her own "wisdom root."
A ruthless one. Or—a ruthless devil.
Su Tang blinks, curious, and looks her over.
Small and delicate, a kittenish face, and a chest slightly fuller than before… Mm—aside from that, not much seems different.
Her voice is softer, though.
"How do you… feel?" He takes a sip, choosing his words. "I mean—now that you've lost one advantage and gained two, any new experiences? How's life different?"
"Different, huh…" The Angel Devil musters one percent of her energy to think, then sighs. "More tiring than before. Annoying."
"Have to squat to pee. Annoying."
"Can't just shake and be done. Annoying."
"Two extra taels of flesh. Annoying."
"Have to wear another piece of clothing. Annoying."
She seems especially aggrieved by the last. "That thing is the hardest to wear—you have to put your hands behind your back and fasten it. Such a hassle. I wore it once. Never again."
"Pff."
Su Tang sprays a mouthful of water.
"So you're… going commando?" he says, face odd.
Seems so.
Her Public Safety uniform is loose enough to hide it, but now that he's paying attention he can vaguely make out two little peaks.
The Angel Devil nods naturally.
Hand pressed to her shirt, she sighs, "Want to see? Forget it—undressing is tiring."
"You…"
He shakes his head, amused and helpless, sets the cup down. "I don't know how devil anatomy matches humans. But underwear is nonnegotiable. If you hate clasps, there's a 'beauty-back' style."
He gestures. "You just slip it on… I think."
A bit unsure, he scratches his head. "This is my knowledge blind spot. I remember Denji has a few like that. Ask her tomorrow. She's probably asleep."
"Oh." The Angel Devil answers vaguely, rubs her face, and sighs. "Forget it, finding someone is tiring. Just buy it for me. Take it out of my salary card."
She flicks a card to him.
He catches it by reflex—the Public Safety special card with the emblem.
He has the same. So does Denji. Power does not.
By that measure, the Angel's standing in Division 4 is higher than Power's. Not easy for a devil.
"Me, buy it…?"
He's about to refuse, but the Angel is already sprawled again, a picture of not wanting to move.
He sighs. "Fine. I'll have Denji pick one up for you tomorrow. Size? Measured?"
"No. Such a pain." The Angel Devil's lazy voice drifts. "Just buy whatever."
"'Whatever,' huh."
If he buys a D, it won't fit.
He pockets the card and says, "Then I'll get Denji's size. You two are probably close."
"Mm."
She answers at random, then unfurls her wings and drapes them over herself like a blanket.
"So, anything else?"
He glances at the clock. "It's ten-thirty."
Subtext: time to go.
She gets it.
"But I'm security, right? I'm on night duty."
"Oh—forgot to tell you. You've been removed."
He delivers the blow at body temperature: "Miss Makima says you did a completely subpar job last time. Now that you're out, you're back on patrol."
The Angel Devil stares, slack.
She can't accept it.
"Wait, wait… I didn't earn credit, but I worked hard."
She makes a last appeal. "Makima listens to you, Su Tang. Could you talk to her again…? I was very dedicated as security."
He spreads his hands.
"Why is it like this…" She pictures early mornings, all-day patrols, and possible fights—and wilts. "Back to hell."
"My clinic's security that good?" He can't help a laugh. "You're exaggerating."
"You don't understand." She shakes her head. "Since you opened, nothing's happened. It's obviously a blessed place."
She grumbles, then rallies: "How about this—you get me the security job, I pay you. I'll forge you a weapon. I noticed you fight bare-handed."
His brow lifts.
He doesn't need a weapon—his dragon claws aren't worse than steel. But that line earlier hit home.
Who says his clinic is like Raven's island estate?! That incident was the night before opening—doesn't count!
Since opening, business has been peaceful. No accidents.
A truly auspicious site!
Smiling now, he nods. "All right. I'll talk to Miss Makima. Whether it passes is up to her."
"Okay."
Her wings flutter—happy.
The halo brightens. "Then we have a deal. I'll give you the weapon now."
"Eh, that needs a deal?"
He winces as a long sword, red as flame, drops out of the halo.
"Ow. That hurt." Bonked by the hilt, the Angel Devil rubs her nose, wan. "You seem Chinese—and you use fire. So I made you a sword. It's called Chixiao. Hope you like it."
"Even if you don't—I've done my part. So tired…"
Su Tang blinks at the sword in her hands.
A Han-style jian, three chi long.
A red blade, a bronze hilt carved with the seal script for "Chixiao."
Huh.
Same name as that famed blade in history.
He takes it. The look and the heft are pleasing.
He doesn't know forms and won't use it in a fight, but it'll look good on the wall—and might even ward off evil.
He gives it a few test swings and grins. "All right—since it's part of our deal, I'll accept it. I'll get your matter done."
"Mm…" She murmurs, then her head tips and she falls asleep on the sofa.
Seeing how spent she is, he fetches a blanket and tucks it over her.
So tired… Who knows how many years of life it cost to make this sword.
He shakes his head, gets a few nails, and hangs Chixiao on the wall.
"Mm…"
Late at night, Su Tang sits at his desk.
Upstairs, Denji and Power are already asleep—no surprise after a morning of battle and an afternoon by his hospital bed.
He doesn't wake them. He cooks himself some noodles for dinner.
Then he starts his research.
—those incantations.
To be honest, "research" is guesswork.
He has no idea what those crabbed runes mean. He can only trace the characters in his head, copying them like drawings.
From eleven to three.
Wastepaper piles under the desk. From a few strokes at first to near-perfect matches by the end.
Using the fine control he learned with telekinesis, he keeps micro-adjusting the strokes and forms.
It's tedious—but he's content. He can feel it… he's close.
This last sheet!
Stifling his excitement, he finishes the line with a steady hand.
"Hoo."
He blows lightly and waits.
One second. Two…
The paper lies there, quiet. Nothing happens.
He sighs.
Of course magic wouldn't be that simple.
He shakes his head and is about to put it away—then freezes.
Because he remembers something.
—fire chi!
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