Dancing Flames

by Dramatic_Luser

Summary:

Liu Assoc. South Section 4 Ryōshū/Cinq Assoc. East Section 3 Don Quixote

Mix of romcom and martial arts movies

Associations rarely moves their fixers between districts, allowing any relocation only if people applied and succeeded in promotion. So, when the director mentioned a temporary transfer, Don Quixote jumped at the opportunity with delight. She was extremely lucky that the director asked her first because who would say no to the chance of travel within the City’s walls?

Not Don Quixote, definitely!

Especially with her fourth application for a promotion getting considered right now, she really needed some way to distract herself, and maybe this will be an opportunity to earn positive points in the eyes of high ranks with her stellar job execution in far-away land!

Lack of paperwork also was a pleasant surprise. But for this one, she should be thankful to the Association clerks, who made sure Fixers didn't have to trouble themselves with bureaucracy. If anyone would ask Don Quixote to name reasons to choose the Association before the independent office, it would definitely be high on the list.

It took barely a week for Don Quixote to finish all her other work and distribute duel-contracts within her office. Not all clients were pleased to learn about changes, but there was nothing a few unofficial dinners and expressive recommendations couldn't fix.

She also had to pay a bit from her own pocket. Unfortunately, most of her colleagues didn't share her rather flexible opinion about the prices of association services. She will have to wait a month longer before ordering a new limited edition Fixer figurine, but it was a small price for clear consciousness!

The South greets her with good weather, architecture that she almost forgot, and rather bland but still uniquely different from the East attires of local netizens. She marvels at everything as much as her heart desires, waiting for Cinq Fixers to pick her up.

They come to her almost running, recognizable only by the sky-blue color of their uniform. She sees hesitation in their eyes and awkward looks between them, but Don Quixote spares them a decision and goes toward them, loudly declaring, "Association Cinq South Section Fourth, I assume! 'Tis a pleasure to meet thee. Thou mayest know me as Don Quixote, fixer of the third section of Cinq Association East, sent to you as a sedulous helper!"

"Right," one of them blinks.

His companion, the woman, reacts faster, introducing both of them. "Pleasure to meet you. This is Director Sinclair, and I am Outis, a senior in the section. We will be your handlers in this cooperation." She raises her hand, cape gracefully flapping from the movement. "Please follow. We will bring you to the section office, where you will be introduced to the details of your mission."

Outis is an example of professionalism, and even if Don Quixote would prefer a friendlier approach, she can't not appreciate this. "Lead our way, Lady Outis!"

"Great," the woman nods and turns around, her cape dramatically waving in the wind.

Will they give one to Don Quixote?

She follows the woman, and the confused director joins them a second later, running just a bit to catch up with Outis, whose fast walking sets a pace for them. It isn't difficult to keep up for a trained Cinq Fixer, the only problem being that it made conversation difficult, with words messing with breath tempo.

But Don Quixote isn't just a trained Cinq Fixer. She's one of the best. So, she easily follows Outis and continues conversation. "Pray tell, for what reason doth my presence become required on thy side of the City?"

"We will discuss it in the office," the fixer repeats.

"How far doth it lie? How many fixers do thou command within thy section?"

"Only twenty minutes’ walk away. We manage to get a location close to the Nest. Almost thirty.” The woman keeps answers cold and sharp.

Don Quixote hums quietly, painting a picture of this new place in her mind. Her own office didn't have such an advantageous position despite being a tier higher, but perhaps it was a historical difference, with Cinq being born in the West and reaching Eastern districts decades later. Well, while she's pretty sure her version of Cinq Association is superior, Don Quixote is willing to learn from the roots. Perhaps even getting one of these capes.

"We're here," Outis declares, as they get under the shadow of the rather extravagant building. Don Quixote looks at bright sky-blue walls and has to admit that she's definitely enjoying their taste of design more than expected. In the H district space is rather insufficient to allow such a bold display.

"You will be provided with a room in the office dorm," Director Sinclair finally joins the conversation, to her surprise. Perhaps closeness to the main office no longer allowed him to put duties on Lady Outis’s shoulders? “It’s not far away from the main building and also has space specialized for trainings.

"Marvelous!"

She wants to look around entering the office, but Outis keeps going without lowering her speed, and Don Quixote has to match it, postponing the tour for later.

"So, what duty doth fall directly upon mine own shoulders?" She raises the question again after getting into a small office. It was painted in the same blue with silver accents matching the uniform of her hosts.

To her surprise, Outis doesn't say anything, stepping away to the side, like a professional Zwei Fixer.

"Right," Director Sinclair seems also dazed by her giving the reins of conversation back to him. "Let’s discuss your work."

"I am all ears!"

The young director walks down to his seat, waving to a chair on the other side of the table.

"We asked your office for help because of the conflict of interest with another association. We found ourselves lacking experience in brawls, especially with groups of enhanced combatants."

Don Quixote nods, remembering long and thin swords on both Fixers’ waists. They could be good in duels, but having more than one opponent, who are actively trying to close distance? Yes, she sees where it can be lacking. "Pray tell, what knavish association doth dare to conflict with thee?"

Director Sinclair sighs, and Don Quixote looks at him properly at last, noticing dark circles forming under his eyes. The problem seems to be serious enough to rob the young man of his rest. Don Quixote has half a thought to remind him that healthy sleep is mandatory for a good Fixer, but she bites her tongue.

"Have you heard about the Liu Association?" Her mind process gets cut with the next words of the director, and Don Quixote blinks, confused with a question. It would have been stranger for her not to know this Association, "Honorable one-person-armies ready to-"

"Smug bastards stealing our orders," Outis snaps back into conversation with surprisingly strong emotion slamming her hand on the desk near the documents, making the young director shiver from shock.

For a second there is silence in the room.

"Ah, I see,” Don Quixote smiles, understanding why she was summoned here.

_____

There are a lot of things that Ryoshu finds hopelessly stupid in the Liu Association, but spending the biggest part of the day eating out under the excuse of teambuilding is definitely on the top of her list.

"Come on, you can't spend all your break in the dojo," the director drawls, her hand firmly gripping the collar of Ryoshu's jacket. She knows that Rodion wouldn’t mind dragging her by it, so Ryoshu keeps up with her pace. "I let you lock yourself in the training room and do your insane trainings all week long, but enough is enough. Some of our new fixers start to forget that you exist in the section!" She exclaims dramatically as if it's a bad thing.

Ryoshu decides against entertaining Rodion's argument, silently following her lead. Other Liu Fixers ignore them, walking in front and discus what they should have for lunch today, making Ryoshu wonder how exactly they manage to stretch this conversation for such a long time. Well, at least the choice of restaurant was fast with the help of Rodion's authority. "I will E.A.G.B.," Ryoshu says coldly. "I won't wait for you to finish your feast."

The director laughs, unimpressed with the threat in her voice. "Whatever you say, Ryoshu, but don't think that I allow you to order only a glass of water. You need a proper meal!" Ryoshu does not groan, but something in her face betrays her, because Rodion sighs loudly as if she has caught a problem child.

Rodion is pleased with getting the last word and stops nagging her, leading to the doors of the tavern. To their mutual surprise, the rest of the party is not inside. Instead, Liu fixers awkwardly stand at the entrance, blocking it. Ryoshu could assume that they were politely waiting for the director and her before getting in, but she knows better. So, she finally starts walking faster and Rodion, startled with her initiative, lets go of her collar.

She has to push another Liu to enter the tavern. Ryoshu does not like to visit this place, but her belonging to the Liu still makes her a regular, so she notices a change instantly. It is usually filled with fixers of different sections, all in bright red. Now there are mostly civilians inside, with members of another section standing near to the exit, looking trashed. Ryoshu sees broken noses, bruises covering opened skin, and even burns. For a second she wonders if there was a fight between sections, but all the Lius are like one stare in the same direction. Ryoshu follows their gaze and sees a figure in black and dark blue eastern clothes devouring some meal with appetite matching Rodion's. She looks unbothered with being the center of everyone's attention, and the only thing that tells Ryoshu about what happened before is a reddish spot on the edge of her table, where blood leaked so deep into the wood that it's impossible to remove without deep cleaning.

"So, what's happening here?" She hears Rodion first, and only then does the director’s figure appear behind her back. She didn't rush here and doesn’t start now, lazily looking around. "Why is no one taking our seats?" she asks indifferently despite already noticing wounded Liu.

The assumed reason raises her head, making some beaten Liu shiver.

"Verily, I canst unearth the reason why," the woman in black answers cheerfully, "This tavern doth lack sufficient space for thy company!" She explains as if it’s the most obvious reason.

"And why is the Cinq representative telling us that?" Rodion matches this woman's attitude.

Ryoshu understands where she saw the symbol on this person's suit before. But doesn’t Cinq wear more blue? She remembers fixers in ridiculous uniforms, and none of its variations resembled the one their guest is having on her.

"Alas, 'twas I who, by misfortune, had to persuade thy friends that space didst not suffice when they didst seek a place at one of the suppers." She clarifies happily. Dark glasses make it impossible to understand where she's looking, but Ryoshu is sure it's straight into Rodion's eyes.

"Truly unfortunate," Rodion says in a light voice, and everyone from their office hold their breath.

"Yet, such doth oft transpire," Cinq Fixer shrugs her shoulders laxly.

It’s fake, Ryoshu knows. Everything from her presence in this tavern to the tone of her words to them is meant as provocation. Ryoshu isn't that interested in the politics of sections, but even she knows why.

Stolen orders, territory, and clients. The Liu section grew exponentially since the glorious return of the first section Director. A lot of Associations suffered from their growth, but while most of them could have other functions, the battle-oriented ones, like Cinq and Zwei, got the most troubles. Why do you need a person able to duel if you can have one defeating the army? Why do you need to overpay for protection if you could kill all your enemies?

Simple calculation and a bit of luck left all power in the hands of Liu while other Associations scattered underneath. Cinq already tried a lot of things to change the status quo, but such a bold challenge is something new. Ryoshu can respect it, even if the idea is rather foolish. But then she looks at the already defeated Fixers and maybe there is a reason behind this confidence.

"And to get a seat, we will need to fight you."

Cinq Fixer tilts her head playfully.

"Such is the matter, albeit I should term it a duel.” Her voice is light, just as her movements. Even with a needless dramatic flair, Ryoshu can see dangerous grace in every wave of the wrist. Cinq fixer pushes away all of her bowls. “Yet, that would imply a singular combat. Thy Association, is said to be capable of routing armies alone, but if doth harbor fear, then ye mayst assail me conjointly, of course."

The whole store freezes, and Ryoshu wonders what the hell this woman did that no one tries to leave their seats. Who are the civilians more afraid of - Liu or Cinq?

"Huh," only says Rodion, stunned with Cinq Fixer’s audacity. It feels like a miracle that she manages to keep a smile after such a bold accusation.

The woman finally rises from her spot, stretching. There is no sword in sight, and with the way she cracks her knuckles, Ryoshu is ready to bet she is a hand-to-hand combatant. Since when does Cinq have one? Ryoshu doesn’t really know or care, but the desire to test herself against the audacious challenger grows with every second. "Pray tell, which of ye shall assay first?"

"Let me think," Rodion hums. But then her gaze falls on Ryoshu, who is vibrating with anticipation. Their eyes meet and with a smile the director claps on Ryoshu's shoulder, "Try to take this one first."

"Excellent!" Cinq Fixer sounds genuinely happy when she turns her head to Ryoshu. With a smooth motion, she falls into an unfamiliar stance, beaming at her opponent with a smile. "To what point are we fighting? First blood? Knock out? Being pinned to the floor longer than a minute?"

"You’ll understand W.W.A.D.," Ryoshu says, giving her a less friendly grin, but the threat seems to fly over Cinq’s head, so Ryoshu simply takes her own stance. They both freeze in front of each other, allowing a complete silence to settle in the tavern.

"Ah, shit, you need a signal." Rodion remembers. "Start!"

Ryoshu moves on the middle of the word, crimson flame covering her palms on command.

Suddenly, black, blue, and gold flashes in front of her eyes. She raises her hand, and her whole body shakes from impact when the woman's leg connects with her forearm. Ryoshu tries to catch a limb, but her opponent retreats already and then goes for the attack, never allowing Ryoshu to calculate distance between them. It's a weird fighting style, and Ryoshu has to stay defensive for the first five moves, adjusting to it. Cinq Fixers doesn't waste them. Each hit is full of force, if not getting to her weak points, then making sure her bones are aching from all this blocking. But then Ryoshu catches a moment, and instead of blocking, throws her hand toward the woman's face.

It doesn't connect. Cinq fixer changes trajectory in mere seconds, her body moving as liquid out of attack’s way. But the gust of wind from her strike reaches the woman’s face and knocks down shades.

They don't hit the floor, Cinq Fixer catching them halfway, but Ryoshu has time to see unnaturally bright gold eyes before she covers them back, in the same motion throwing her foot into Ryoshu's chest.

She manages to put her hands in a block, stopping her ribs from cracking, but it still throws her back. She held back before, Ryoshu understands when numbness spreads down to her forearms and up to her shoulders.

But Ryoshu ignores this pain and pushes the limb away with her elbow, throwing the burning palm into the woman's throat. But suddenly there is a splash of blue, and she feels blocked and hot, hotter than her own flame.

It shocks her, stealing her concentration for a second, and Ryoshu regrets it immediately when her opponent swiftly changes leg position and before she can react there is pain piercing her jaw and the taste of blood filling her mouth.

This attack throws her even further, but she manages to not fall. Ryoshu smiles sharply, ignoring the metal on her tongue and the loud ringing in her ears. Cinq Fixer gracefully lowers her leg but does not make any attempt to close the distance, merely retreating to her basic stance. Ryoshu can't see her face properly, but she's sure that dare is written all over it.

So Ryoshu steps forward, and the tavern moves with her, floor and walls sliding around as if under the influence of Distortion. She waves her head around trying to catch a new enemy, but her temples get pierced with a horrible flash of pain.

Ryoshu only has time to curse silently before the floor and ceiling shift again, and she hears a loud falling.

“I assume ‘tis counts as victory?” She hears a loud, cheerful voice, but before Ryoshu can object to this insolent assumption, her mind sinks in the dark.

_____

In these two weeks, Don Quixote fought more duels than in the last two months in her home district.

And paid less than her last three official missions there.

But Don Quixote isn't complaining! When she agreed on this mission, it wasn’t out of desire for profit. It was a fun week, and in between fights she managed to enjoy this District exploring interesting places.

Mostly chasing Liu away, but she was always good at combining business with pleasure, sometimes even winning tours around streets from red-cladded fixers. Awfully short tours because there are literally lines of people wanting to fight her.

Only now did Don Quixote understand what Ivory Gauntlet meant by saying that fame is a curse.

Liu from the sixth to the fourth section challenged her every day for a week again and again, desperately trying to defeat her, if not with skills, then at least with numbers. It’s not like they aren’t good. Don Quixote is just better. Maybe if they brought someone from the third section, she would have started to have difficulties with the flow of opponents, but they were too proud to call superiors for help, or perhaps more realistic, superiors ignored the situation with Cinq as long as it didn’t touch their sphere of interest.

And of course, native Cinq Fixers from this District also helped a lot. It took Don Quixote only a few trainings to explain to them how to fight a fire-wielding brawler and not lose your weapon.

For the sake of clarity, she had to melt a few blades herself.

The director and his right-hand woman are pleased with her results, even if Don Quixote can easily tell that Outis would prefer her being more serious.

But she stays quiet, and Don Quixote casually makes all their problems go away while at the same time providing training.

Her continued win streak takes a significant chunk of client-filled territory back, but Don Quixote knows better than to be too ambitious or arrogant, so the Cinq still isn't returned to its actual numbers yet. She keeps everything safe and steady, and perhaps in the next two months Cinq will solidify its position on the market.

She just needs to hold her ground until it happens. A dozen fights a day would not kill her or stall her as they hope. If they want to actually to challenge her, they would need something more than a few typical fixers.

The fourth section is obviously the best out of all of Liu. Their captain is the only one who managed to drag Don Quixote to a tie twice, something that not all of her colleagues could do.

But Director Rodion is a careful creature, knowledgeable of politics, and tries not to antagonize Cinq herself while not stopping her fixers from trying themselves against Don Quixote. They are skilled and well-trained, but most of them become background noise of her blocks and attacks being painfully similar in their styles and habits. Of course, with a few significant exceptions.

Ishmael, the director's right-hand woman, is a person who really isn't interested in fighting Don Quixote, so whenever she sees her, she knows that it's a request from the director and she needs to show a bit more effort. Ishmael's style is fast and heavy. She uses not fists but the bone of her elbow to make her hits harsher. But she lacks motivation, so it takes only a bit of aggressive push to make her retreat.

And there is Ryoshu. The fixer fought her on the first day she started this mission, and since then, Don Quixote saw her every day, ready to take a revanche. In a way she is the second person who almost pushed Don Quixote toward a tie, her sheer resilience putting her other two colleagues to shame with her unwavering desire to win.

She is good, dangerously good. With keen instincts and fast reactions, most of the tricks Don Quixote brings to the table can’t surprise her, and the way she wields her body signals long hours of strict training and a well-learned style. The way her gaze tracks any openings in Don Quixote’s defense reminds her about veterans of her own section. But Don Quixote continues to win for one single reason. Ryoshu is used to fight with a weapon.

It's obvious when you pay attention. Every muscle in her body is sharpened to answer attacks with a weapon in her hands, and despite countless training in martial arts, it puts a hesitation in her movements, less than a second but enough to give Don Quixote an advantage, to Ryoshu's growing, like a flame, rage.

She can guess what weapon she needs from looking at the sheaths carefully hanging from behind her back, but Ryoshu never gets it out, preferring to continue trying to turn her flesh and bones into steel.

"Because I don't need it to defeat you, G.F.," Ryoshu snaps, mixing soup inside her bowl. Don Quixote does not react to her rudeness, already used to a woman's sharp... well, everything. Ryoshu did her best to turn every part of herself into a weapon, and Don Quixote could appreciate it, even if she’s endlessly curious about seeing Ryoshu with a blade in her hand. "What is this even for? Do you want to lose?"

"There existeth no proof that I shall be vanquished by thee with a blade," corrects her Don Quixote, earning another flaming gaze. "Pray tell, is it a transgression that I wish to behold thee in thine finest array?" She flashes a bright smile toward Ryoshu, but the woman simply snorts unimpressed. "Don't be like that. Ever do I strive to offer mine utmost in our colloquies, and 'twould but be just that thou dost likewise. Thinkest thou not I merit this, for all mine travail, Lady Ryoshu?"

The Liu Fixer gives her a gaze from under her eyelashes and then, to Don Quixote's confusion, leans over the table, coming so close to Don Quixote she can see each of them. For a second Ryoshu simply towers over her, perhaps trying to see her eyes through a pair of shades. "Liar," she hisses then and retreats back to her seat, stealthily stealing one of Don Quixote’s meatbuns. She generously ignores this crime, feeling glad that Ryoshu started to eat more.

"Once again, mine desire to forbear from dispatching thee to the physician's care each time we clash is not restraint, but rather sound judgment," angerlessly scolds her Don Quixote, taking another bite of her noodles. Wings, she misses the tavern in her district so, so much. "And I must conserve mine own strength! For thou canst combat me alone in a day, whilst I must vanquish no fewer than seven, and perchance as many as fifteen, each and every day." Ryoshu squints her eyes in irritation.

"I still think your Association is full of cowards for making you do it all alone."

Ryoshu is really generous with her anger, easily extending it toward the Cinq Association on Don Quixote's silent behalf the second she learned what happened.

"Careful, Lady Ryoshu," Don Quixote cues teasingly, "or I shall deem thou actually like me." She doesn't raise her gaze to catch an annoyed look concentrated on the side dishes in the middle of the table. Most of the bowls were already empty by now. This lunch luckily lasted longer than ten minutes, for the first time in days. "By the way, what think thy colleagues of thy breaking bread with a foe? Didst thou impart thy destination unto them? Or am I but a sordid secret to thee?"

Ryoshu snorts again, this time more humorously, and Don Quixote decides to count it as a win. Out of all the people she met on this journey, Ryoshu is the one she interacted with the most, and the fact that this person doesn't hold any actual malice toward Don Quixote lies warmly in her heart as flames in the hearth. It is nice to have an acquaintance in her situation, especially when most of Cinq are intimidated or bitter toward her. Don Quixote can’t blame them, though. It’s scary to put your trust in a stranger.

But her companion doesn’t seem to have these fears.

"I told them W.I.G.," confirms Ryoshu casually. She finished her meal and now is chewing on a stolen bun, without any attempt to conceal her theft. "But I don't think they believed me."

"Why not?” Don Quixote asks. 'Tis most commonplace for thee to seek a fray."

Red eyes study her movements with uncanny attention.

"They believed that I'm going to meet you," corrects her Ryoshu lazily. "But I guess the idea that we would share a meal before starting a duel was pretty wild for them."

Don Quixote chuckles, which causes her to almost choke on the last bits of her soup, having to cough loudly to clear her wrong throat.

The image of Ryoshu jumping at the table in the middle of the meal burns brightly in her consciousness. It’s so easy to imagine she can’t even blame Ryoshu’s colleagues. It’s not like she was completely sure when she pitched this idea.

"They hold no faith in thee, not a whit,” she laughs again with her hoarse throat before waving to the waiter to get their receipt paid.

Yesterday Ryoshu was annoyed that she had to wait for Don Quixote to finish three fights before she could have her turn, and Don Quixote made a proposition.

"Finally," Ryoshu says, satisfied, rising from her seat eagerly. "I already paid for our meal, so don't waste time." She leaves the table, almost running out of the tavern, with Don Quixote tailing after.

The proposition was in that they will meet during her short break for lunch in a restaurant that no one else will know Don Quixote is going to visit during her break. Then Ryoshu will wait for her to finish a meal and have a first fight in the second half of the day, after her strength is replenished. Ryoshu seems to like the idea quite a lot if she's even paid before the meal was finished.

So, she follows Ryoshu, casually stretching on the way, preparing her body to the fight. She is always adamant about keeping collateral damage as low as possible, and Ryoshu is adamant about not holding back in any situation, so they wisely searched for a place where their fight could not bring any troubles. This restaurant was chosen knowing fully well about a cute and wide alley. It takes only a few minutes to reach this place, and the second people see them, they flow to the walls, freeing a place for their sparring.

Don Quixote brightly smiles at the public, waving her hands.

Ryoshu ignores all of them, strolling forward until there's a proper distance between them. She raises her hand almost under that same angle she would have raised her blade, and Don Quixote, with a smile, shakes her hands once before locking her body in the proper stance.

She gives Ryoshu a first move, and the woman without hesitation breaks the distance, targeting her stomach.

Don Quixote puts her own palm in front, catching Ryoshu's in a handhold, at the same time throwing her foot in her chest.

It's a playful start for them, with Ryoshu sinking lower, almost hitting the floor with her knees, breaking Don Quixote’s grapple, and raising her other hand to block the attack out, shaking Don Quixote’s balance for a second. She uses push to go around Ryoshu in a short circle, blocking a new attack from behind, and once again trying to catch Ryoshu. But she's smarter than this, escaping Don Quixote’s grasp, creating a distance, only to break it herself in the next second with an offensive series of blows, forcing Don Quixote into defense. She remembers the trained harshness of Ryoshu's hands, so instead of blocking, she dodges and makes a few steps back, forcing Ryoshu to move after.

It's a fast-paced dance, and after a few unlanded attacks, Don Quixote puts her foot back, but instead of placing weight on it, she raises it immediately on the face of already moving Ryoshu.

Her dodge is beautiful, allowing Don Quixote's leg to fly over her face and promptly snapping back, with her palm directed into her shin. This attack Don Quixote cannot escape, so she lowers her elbow, blocking. It feels like getting a stab wound, but she doesn’t stop, pushing her elbow forward until it connects with Ryoshu's face with a satisfying crack.

Blood flickers beautifully in between them, but Don Quixote doesn’t have time to appreciate the sight. Ryoshu is back to her offensive flow. None of her attacks land where they were planned to, but every time Don Quixote places a block in front of them, the impact goes right through her whole skeleton. She throws her own blows but less often than Ryoshu, simply testing her defense, something that the woman was painfully lacking a week ago, allowing Don Quixote with a simple series of strikes to finish a fight. Now she avoided all trick shots, not hoping to tank whatever Don Quixote throws at her.

After a few seconds Ryoshu's hand slips through Don Quixote’s block, crushing right into the joints of the shoulder. Familiar numbness goes through her left hand, and without hesitation she grasps Ryoshu's forearm, twisting it this time without any plan to let her go. Her elbow creaks, and with a click of the tongue, the woman follows her easing tension on her joints.

Or trying to redirect her attention from another attack. Don Quixote casually raises a knee between her liver and Ryoshu's knife-like palm. Then she straightens up her leg, her foot landing directly into Ryoshu's torso, just enough for her to tug on a hand still kept in her grip.

But before the woman can fall back or find her balance, she gets pulled back sharply, getting her back into Don Quixote’s range of attack.

And with a still partly numb hand, Don Quixote carries out a series of strikes targeting her in the stomach, chest, and throat.

Two out of three hits land, but the last one is softened by Ryoshu's palm stopping its way. Her fingers dig deeper into Don Quixote's skin, and then she raises her knee, forcing her opponent to let go of her hurt hand and push it away. Don Quixote sighs and twists her fist out of the woman's grip, making a wide jump away. She falls back into her standard stance, giving Ryoshu time to brutally twist her forearm back with a disgustingly loud cracking of joints. She shakes her hand for a second, just a test of sensitivity, but Don Quixote deems that time to be enough for her and slides forward, at the last moment bending her knee and avoiding another fiery attack.

Ryoshu is fast enough to regroup and block attack from bellow and then throw right leg into her head, forcing Don Quixote to fall even lower, almost lying on the ground dodging. But not fast enough to go away when Don Quixote puts her weight on the hands and throws her feet over herself right into the half-finished block, pushing Ryoshu away with all her might.

Or at least most of it.

When she lands on her feet, Liu Fixers stands in a few meters from her, somehow managing not to fall but still clutching her hands to her chest. The ground under her feet is cracked from the impact of the slowing, and for a second Don Quixote wonders if she did too much.

But then in a wild flash of fire, Ryoshu is near her, and Don Quixote cannot afford to hesitate, moving away to not let a roaring flame make a hole in her head.

The temperature around them becomes uncomfortably hot, and Don Quixote feels how the metal frames of her shade start to heat up. Enforced glass stays the same, protecting her eyes from any harm. She dodges another attack and with a bright smile, lights up her own fists with azure. If Ryoshu wants to add a spark to their dance, Don Quixote will gladly deliver.

Two flames clash beautifully, covering their hands, and splash around in a hot rain, making the most curious of the crowd take a step away in fear. Don Quixote doesn’t like to scare the public, but this definitely gives space for them to fight more relaxed. That newfound freedom allows Don Quixote to hit heavier.

Surges of flame cover her vision, so she no longer dances around Ryoshu's strikes, settling on actual offence.

And with a gentle push away, Don Quixote suddenly grasps Ryoshu's hand with a steel grip, destroying the sleeve completely as if it’s just another flammable fabric. A palm flies at her temple, and she raises her own, stopping a blow even if sparks from it rain on her neck and hair, feeling like a hundred tiny needles piercing her skin. Before Ryoshu can do anything, she locks her fingers, and suddenly both of her hands are in Don Quixote's control.

She sees rage sparkling in Ryoshu’s eyes and smiles brightly as if throwing more fuel into the fire.

A knee in her abdomen is expected, and Don Quixote ignores the pain.

Ryoshu also seems to care less about the skin of her hands being exposed to open flame and more about the inability to attack. Cinq fixer drags these moments of helplessness, and when Ryoshu twists her own hands, she lets go.

But Ryoshu catches herself before inertia throws her off balance, and without hesitation, her wounded hand lights up with the fire, shifting for a second into an attacking stance before going directly to Don Quixote's heart.

And Don Quixote gladly uses this infinite desire to attack to raise her hand and, with brutal effectiveness, kick Ryoshu in the side right under the leading hand, sending her down. A painful impact blooms into her chest, but then her palm slides down like a match on a box, leaving a painful aftertaste as if she were cut by a sword.

Ryoshu once again sacrifices her safety for an attack and hits the floor ugly, and before she can do anything, Don Quixote lands with a knee placed directly in the middle of her chest.

"Thou should give up now," she murmurs, bringing more pressure.

Ryoshu's eyes glow with resistance. "Like hell I will."

She swings her hand, which Don Quixote parries, landing another palm on Ryoshu's throat. She slides her fingers under the collar of her coat and just hugs it, listening to the pulse.

"Thou mayest yield whilst yet thy wits remain, or I shall ensure thy ability to continue is curtailed."

The answer is wordless in another strike that Don Quixote defends herself from, and with a harsh exhale, she presses her knee deeper, knocking out the last bits of air before clenching her fingers around delicate lines of Ryoshu's throat, stopping her from inhaling. She hopes that the bruises won't stay for long.

Ryoshu resists. Of course, she resists, stubborn fool tries to throw Don Quixote or at least make her remove her hand, but she obviously doesn’t have that much experience of being pinned down, while Don Quixote brought tons of people below her. And with every erratic move, there is less and less oxygen to make her muscles listen to her commands. It's a vision to see how her movements become sluggish as fire without fuel. Don Quixote doesn’t really want to enjoy it, but alas.

At last, Ryoshu can't even come up with a proper attack, and her fingers clench into Don Quixote’s forearm, nails digging through layers of fabric.

And then they start to burn.

Don Quixote raises her head a bit higher away from hungry flames but doesn't try to get Ryoshu’s hands off, letting her hand get covered in fire, concentrating on the pulse slowing down under her touch, vaguely thinking how deep Ryoshu will manage to burn before she loses her senses. Her own augmentation and uniform protected her from most of the consequences of using flame, a necessity with her style of combat. But there is a difference between a tongue of flame sliding off her sleeve and someone digging concentrated flames into one spot.

Don Quixote guesses that she will have to get a second uniform out of her bags tomorrow.

But suddenly, instead of sliding down slowly, her barely controlled hand flies away and slams into the ground twice in a very obvious gesture. It shocks Don Quixote so much she steals another few seconds of air from Ryoshu before rapidly jumping off the woman and taking a step back. "Are thou okay?" Her question is quietly addressed only to one person, but she acts like she doesn’t hear anything.

Ryoshu coughs loudly, her trembling hands caressing her throat or covering bruises from the public surrounding them. Liu throws an annoyed glance at Don Quixote's side, and she feels a bit worried because it's a few degrees away from her actual position.

It takes a few seconds for Ryoshu to get on her feet, and it's a task for Don Quixote to force herself to stand still. In the past she would already be by her opponent’s side with her hand extended, but now she knows that Ryoshu won't appreciate any help when the wound of self-acknowledged loss is still so fresh. "I am fine," she says hoarsely, looking at Don Quixote with a strange mix of emotions. The Cinq Fixer tries to give a smile, but it makes Ryoshu’s face only become darker. "V.I.Y.," she spits then gloomily and starts to walk away, keeping her hands pressed against cracked ribs.

"Get well soon," Don Quixote murmurs to her back before turning to the viewers with a bright smile. "Thank you for thy attendance. I trust this puissant battle hath been worth thy leisure!"

Loud cheering conceals the sound of limping steps.

_____

Don Quixote stands on the floor of the dojo in a familiar but slightly different stance, actively gesturing with her hands to explain something to her partner in sparring or a new disciple. Ryoshu isn’t sure, sitting too far from them to hear conversation. The director near her stares at the Cinq fixer with a curious expression. "Is there a reason why the woman that was a pain in our section ass is standing in our office?"

She doesn't sound angry. Simply curious as if the presence of the main rival is just a surprise and not a raging audacity. Ryoshu feels almost disappointed by this lack of reaction but guesses that's it for the best. She would have hated to see another person battling against Don Quixote and not being able to join the fight. She doesn’t bother with counting what happens on the floor as anything near to battle.

"She didn't see me for more than three days and came to see what happened."

"Wasn't she the one who broke your leg?" Rodion asks after a second of hesitation, throwing a fast glance at Ryoshu's limb covered in bandages.

"That didn't S.M.B.," Ryoshu answers.

Rodion gives her an unimpressed look, as if she thinks Ryoshu is being senselessly stubborn. "Not my fault that because of your little dates you burn through your health benefits."

Ryoshu doesn't even bother with giving her any reaction, keeping her gaze on Don Quixote's back.

Don Quixote wipes the floor out with another person and finally looks back at Ryoshu.

She's without her hat and shades, gold gleaming brightly under the dim lights of the dojo. She also doesn't wear her uniform, for the first time in a month getting out of boring black.

She throws another rookie on the floor and jumps out of the arena, strolling to two people waiting in the shadows. Ryoshu looks at a white t-shirt with a bright picture on the front and thinks that if she throws her jacket over Don Quixote’s shoulders, would people confuse her with another Liu, or has she become such a menace to association that everyone has learned her looks by heart?

"Director Rodion!" She greets loudly with her definitely unforgettable voice. "My humble apologies for this intrusion, but I didst yearn to ascertain if Ryoshu fares well. 'twas folly, from the commencement, to seek an answer at her abode!" She explains herself, stopping less than a meter away from the duo, awkwardly hovering on the side.

"It's fine. it's fine." Rodion chuckles, and Ryoshu isn't sure if it's out of politeness or if she's actually amused by guest’s attitude.

Don Quixote somehow manages to look as if she were actually afraid that the director would throw her away. Part of Ryoshu thinks she would deserve it for leaving her side when her main reason for the visit was to see if she was okay. Allegedly.

"Well, you two can talk,” Rodion throws a weird gaze at Ryoshu before returning her attention back to the guest, “and I will go send another squad to win our territory back while you're busy."

"Good luck,” Don Quixote says, and Ryoshu could have believed it was sincere if not for the sharp edges in her smile. “I trained them well!"

Rodion leaves and without hesitation, Don Quixote slides to her place, but instead of standing like the director did, she squats down, getting herself closer to Ryoshu. Seeing her from this angle sends an instinct to block a low attack in Ryoshu's mind before she remembers that they are out of the battlefield.

"Did thou like the sight?" Don Quixote asks, her chin resting on a palm, gaze pointing at a sketchbook in Ryoshu’s hands.

She hums emotionlessly, shifting her head a bit. "It was just a few moves, and when they tried to repeat them, it was barely a challenge for you." Don Quixote chuckles lightly, not caring about the bite in her words.

"Well, I didst yearn that thine gaze were upon mine own self, yet 'tis plain thy colleagues are more interesting." She answers, and her eyes playfully squint in a catlike manner. "Did they alone merit the grace of thy capture, or didst thou not assay thy skill at all, scared that I'll do something to them?"

Ryoshu almost laughs out loud at the idea of herself caring about this talentless bunch but bites her tongue. "Of course," she mocks with a sharp grin, lowering the sketchbook with paper down away from a curious gaze. Don Quixote doesn’t need to know about its content. "What if you B.A.T.S. like you did with me?"

Don Quixote’s gaze immediately becomes darker and shifts to her leg. A smile still lingers on her lips, but more out of habit than any actual emotion.

Ryoshu stares at her face, concluding that if she sees any signs of guilt or pity on it, she will attack Don Quixote, no matter how hopeless that would be. But her gaze stays calm and heavy, but with no sign of regret.

"That wouldst not befall any of them," Cinq fixer says finally, voice tight, like she doesn't want it to escape.

"Why so?"

Don Quixote shrugs her shoulders and suddenly stretches her hand, fingers lying gently on the bandages, caressing the limb that they ruthlessly broke a few days ago. Ryoshu freezes in surprise but doesn’t allow any reaction to bleed out, but her knuckles pale on the edge of the cover. "As thou didst say, they scarce pose a trial for me, and such wounds I only inflict when pushed against the wall," she adds, reaching Ryoshu's bare knee.

Don Quixote's palm is calloused, scraping Ryoshu's skin gently, a sign of hours poured into training to bring her into this form. Ryoshu wants to extend her own hand and compare their condition, reading the subtle difference in their training. It's a rare sight after all to see Don Quixote’s skin not covered in black and blue from fingertips to toe. But Ryoshu doesn’t move, merely allowing her gaze to follow fingers until they slide off, as if satisfied with their assessment. Was it an assessment? Did Don Quixote try to see how much she injured Ryoshu with this shallow touch, or was there some other reason behind it? Ryoshu looks at Don Quixote’s face, but even without her glasses, it's difficult to read. The Cinq fixer catches her staring and, with an apologetic smile, pulls further away, as if suddenly understanding how much she trespassed Ryoshu’s personal space.

"So, you're telling me that you were constantly holding back that much?" She grumbles, annoyed, the memory of the thickest bone in her body shuddering from one strike still fresh in her mind. Not only because of pain, but also because of the opening in Don Quixote's defense that she forced her into and could have used if not for a block. Second between changing forms that Ryoshu noticed was an art object in its own.

"Come on, thou art wiser than to act thus," Don Quixote accuses her. "To mete one's strength to precise percentages doth prove far more arduous than to pour forth one's all in every blow.” She sounds pitiful, and Ryoshu wants to hit her just for daring to whine about being too strong. “And prithee, bear in mind that I face ten duels each day. Should I not govern my vigor, the sixth section would lay me in the grave."

And yet today she abandoned her duty, taking a long-needed break. And instead of going to fulfill all her stupid plans, she spends it with Ryoshu.

"T.H.E.." Ryoshu sighs, fingers drumming on the cover in a rapid rhythm.

"I guess so," Don Quixote chuckles, not trying to defend herself. Her gaze travels away from Ryoshu, concentrating on something invisible on the floor before she raises her voice again. "Well then, allow me to propose a deal to right this offense?"

The familiar mischievous smile grows on her face, but without shades, it doesn’t look as threatening. "What type of deal?" Still, Ryoshu asks with suspicion.

Don Quixote tilts a bit closer, lowering her voice as if sharing a secret.

"When this little conflict doth cease, and I am freed from duty's yoke, no longer bound by its charge, I shall offer thee a duel most proper, with all my strength unfettered. Last one in this district."

Ryoshu blinks, surprised to hear it. The idea of Don Quixote leaving sounds strange. This woman so quickly found her place in the life of the district, Ryoshu forgot about her real home.

"Okay," she says after a second of silence, deciding to ignore implication and concentrate on a proposition itself, “Don't you dare take your word back."

_____

Don Quixote knows that their little war is going to its peak. She still doesn't expect that Liu would sink low enough to use Sweepers as the way to get rid of her.

She thinks about Ivory Gauntlet's words once again, this time more bitter.

If she forgets about the chances of her dying, it's a brilliant move. Dirty and honorless, but undoubtedly brilliant. Don Quixote had no suspicions when they lured her out to the edge of the backstreets, nor when fights dragged slowly one after another until the sun set and she suddenly understood that monsters were coming. Her opponents didn’t even blink when the time came for the curfew, only joining together to stop her from fleeing. She definitely became a pain in their arse if they are willing to send their troops to their death. Don Quixote didn't want this, but men with some doping were desperate to keep her there.

If she didn't kill them, Don Quixote wouldn't have enough time to start running now, toward the familiar part of the district. It is difficult to find her way without any light source around, but she doesn’t dare light her fire yet. She doesn’t bother with knocking on anyone's door either, aware of how much trouble homeowners could get into when trying to help a stranger from a night street. How many syndicates used this precise image of a desperate person who lost their sense of time?

All she can do is run forward without looking behind or thinking about the ground under her feet trembling from hundreds of Sweepers roaming the streets in search of food for their endless pack. Don Quixote hopes that the corpses that she left behind would win her at least a few minutes.

It's only a matter of time before they will understand that there is living prey in their domain. Fresh blood and meat that they can turn into their vital liquid.

The pack appear flying right from another street with their scythes bared. Don Quixote crushes the head of one while dodging the blade of the other two and uses her foot to raise a wall of fire, stopping them for a second.

It slows her down still, and unfortunately, she knows that the light in the middle of the backstreet is merely a sign of a diner for Sweepers.

But Ceruan flames are her only weapon right now, so Don Quixote has to let it burn, sending awful creatures back to their ancestors.

At a certain point Don Quixote is no longer running. To turn her back on the Sweepers is a luxury she cannot afford. Instead, she forces herself into a corner and starts to fight back. One after another, she turns the waves of the Sweepers into a pile of burning bodies. Blue flames dance around her, slowly scorching her own skin, but Don Quixote keeps fighting. Fortunately, Sweepers burn better than humans.

Unfortunately, there are too many of them.

There is no way to run and no way to kill all of them, so all Don Quixote can do is stall, hoping that an hour will pass soon.

She doesn't know what it looks like from the outside and can’t help but think about how this street would look after. A dim memory from the start of her career, all the times when she was berated for collateral damage, flashes in her mind, bringing a strange sense of nostalgia. What will stay there tomorrow - walls scorched from fire, hundreds of corpses perhaps even burning until the morning?

With a crack appearing on her bracelet, Don Quixote guesses she won't be able to witness or get blamed for it.

She smiles bitterly and sends another wave of fire, making the first row of creatures in front of her shift back a bit and become visible. Their masks and blades look creepily grotesque in the light of blue fire.

And as someone hearing her thoughts, suddenly she sees a bright flash of red appearing from above.

Like a comet falling from the sky surrounded by flames, a familiar figure lands between monsters and Don Quixote and, with a fierce attack, forces them to step away.

"Ryoshu!" she tries to call, but the woman in front of her burns through the wall of enemies like a heated knife through butter.

Don Quixote doesn’t know how the hell she is there or why she is there, but she understands that they do not have time for questions. They need to survive the night. So, she simply pulls herself together and joins Ryoshu to push the Sweepers away.

It takes a second to adjust to a companion, creating enough space for them to strike and yet being able to protect their backs.

The fight feels endless but no longer aimless, with Ryoshu steadily moving in a one direction and Don Quixote following her, keeping them both in a circle of blue and red flames. Something about protecting another person pushes Don Quixote beyond her limits.

It becomes a matter of senseless continuous movement.

Suddenly she feels a tug on her collar, and before she can react, she gets thrown into the shadows hitting something with her chest. It takes her mind a second to understand that the shadow is provided by the roof and walls.

Ryoshu throws the last surge of flame and then slams the door, hiding them away from the beasts. Don Quixote barely sees her in the darkness when she turns around using what she assumes is a table as support.

Sweepers don't try to chase them, aware of what will happen if even a single brick gets displaced. Don Quixote’s adrenaline finally starts to wear off, and she feels how everything becomes darker, and a strange numbness starts to appear in her body as if she got soaked in ice water.

"Ryoshu," she calls weakly and hears how her companion turns around. She lowers herself slowly on the ground, trying not to break anything. "What is this place?"

It feels like a safe theme. Not “how are you there specifically at the time when I was put in a trap by Liu fixers” one.

"It's school," Ryoshu says short, and Don Quixote hears steps until another person's presence intervenes in her personal space. She feels a light touch to her face, and suddenly darkness becomes less pressing - Ryoshu removed her half-broken shades.

"Oh, thank you," Don Quixote murmurs now seeing way better, "and how did thou know about it?" She continues the conversation, feeling every single wound brightly. "I hope we didn't just break in?" She tries to joke, earning an annoyed glance from the woman who studies her condition.

"I S.I.F.T.," she finally confesses, and Don Quixote’s mind is too tired to try translate it, but she still feels a tender warmth filling her chest. "How the hell did you get in a situation like this?"

So, this wasn't a cooperation between all Liu, or is Lady Rodion keeping information from Ryoshu, believing that she...won't agree on such dirty tricks? But Rodion also doesn’t seem like a person ready to sink that low. And besides, Don Quixote knows most of the people from this office. "Thou might say that mine own reckoning of time didst slip away," she answers with a smile, and it's not even a lie.

"Don Quixote." Ryoshu, with her dislike of wasting words, uses only a name to show her disappointment and demand details.

And it’s enough to break Don Quixote, who honestly doesn't have any strength left for intrigues and schemes.

"Liu section lured me there and kept me until night started." Don Quixote sighs out the truth and sees how Ryoshu physically tenses.

Well, if she didn’t become a genius actor in a day, Ryoshu can be erased completely from a list of suspects, whispers a cold voice in her head, and Don Quixote tries to drown it.

Ryoshu looks both calm and fierce, and it's difficult not to think it's for Don Quixote, but she tries. “Who?"

Don Quixote gives her a perplexed look as if asking if Ryoshu seriously wants her to remember anything now, but the Liu fixer is merciless, even if in a different way from her colleagues. "Ryoshu, I fight a dozen Liu a day. For me, even most of thy section members look the same."

It’s not enough for Ryoshu.

"They tried to kill you."

Don Quixote chuckles, almost saying, "So are you," but swallows bitter words. She can't compare a fair battle to the death that Ryoshu demands from her and this hunt in which she was placed.

A bright surge of pain distracts Don Quixote from her thoughts, forcing her to almost jump from her place, but a steady hand forces her down. When she raises her gaze, she sees Ryoshu's hands in blood.

Her blood.

"Are thou trying to finish their job?" She jokes, trying to ignore the lingering aching.

"You would B.T.D. even without me," Ryoshu notices, and what is it? A hint of worry in her voice? Don Quixote instinct begs to poke into it, but a deeper inhale makes her understand how much Ryoshu’s words are true.

"Then shall stop it." She comes to the only available conclusion, using Ryoshu’s shoulders to move herself.

"Are you going to cauterize them?"

"No, Ryoshu," Don Quixote pulls herself up the wall, taking a steadier position. "Thou art to sear them. After the fray with the Sweepers, 'twill be a marvel if I may conjure a spark."

Ryoshu for a second freezes before moving closer to her.

"You will need to stay still." She says barely hiding eagerness in her tone.

"I don't think I have the strength to move."

"And you need to take off your clothes."

Don Quixote blinks in surprise, but then common sense comes back to her.

Her uniform is fireproof and closes all cuts clean. Ryoshu needs full access to Don Quixote's damaged body. With a grunt, she moves her weight and starts taking off a part of her uniform, cursing the designer for not placing a zipper for easier access. When the pull of black fabric lies on the floor, Don Quixote breathes in heavily, feeling a sudden cold.

Ryoshu looks at her naked body, red eyes keenly studying the position of the wounds. It doesn’t look that medically inclined, though. Don Quixote would assume it is a sort of appreciation of another predator’s job.

"Pants?" Ryoshu asks suddenly, her gaze shifting to the lower part of Don Quixote. She follows it and only now notices the poor condition of her pants, torn and soaked with blood.

"Can't we do it one after another?" Don Quixote sighs pitifully, allowing exhaustion to talk and not shame. Taking off half of her uniform proved to be a torturous task already, and she wishes to save scraps of strength left in her tattered body.

The annoyed gaze that Ryoshu gives her feels almost physical, and with a sigh, Don Quixote hooks her pants’ waist and drags it down to Rocinante, clenching her teeth when pieces of fabric get torn from drying cuts. She gracelessly rips them away, and after almost a minute of suffering, Don Quixote is almost fully naked in front of Ryoshu, painfully aware of the night coldness.

The first thing she feels is a touch - Ryoshu places her hand to the side, as if measuring if her palm would be enough to cover a whole cut. Her touch feels feverishly hot on Don Quixote's skin.

"Don't stall thy time." She snaps, incapable of withstanding this suspense.

"I am not," and then fire bursts without any warning, and Don Quixote breathes in through clenched teeth but stays unmoving. Ryoshu, instead of immediately ripping her palm away from the burn, uses another one to cover a ragged cut just at the start of her ribcage, repeating the same process, and pain doubles from both sides, not giving Don Quixote any space to run away, besides pressing her back to the wall until her shoulder blades hurt too.

Then she continues.

Scorching hot palms travel around her body, mercilessly and efficiently closing wounds.

And after a certain moment, Don Quixote gets used to pain that she notices how close they are, Ryoshu hovering over her, with only a small distance between their bodies.

"How much is left?"

"A.D.."

Her hands slide on Don Quixote's legs.

It sends a shiver down her spine, unsubtle enough for Ryoshu to notice, "Are you okay?"

She also stopped the flame, and now there is nothing but the sensation of her touch on Don Quixote's skin. "Fear not and proceed. I beseech thee."

"There are only a few cuts left," Ryoshu’s finger caressing the edges of the wound as if aching to close it properly.

Don Quixote swallows. "Still, please make it quick."

Ryoshu hums but obeys.

Finally, there are no wounds on Don Quixote but burns and a few small cuts.

Don Quixote thinks that they are done when suddenly she feels a touch on her face. Ryoshu palm cups her left cheek and their eyes meet, merely centimeters between their noses. They stare in each other eyes and then Don Quixote feels a scorch, jerking away from Ryoshu’s hand with startled expression.

“Cut from the glasses I guess,” Ryoshu clarifies shifting her gaze and her body away.

"I don't think I would bleed out from it." She closes her eyes giving them some rest. "Or didst thou so luxuriate therein that thou art unable to cease?" She misses the touch from the second it disappeared.

"You wanted to finish everything." Ryoshu’s voice is calm and collected.

"I think thou did a great job already." She doesn’t know why she continues this conversation. Burn mark already placed.

But Ryoshu indulges her, so does it really matter?

"I don't like leaving things unfinished."

Don Quixote chuckles helplessly.

"Help put it back on," she says, finally tugging her uniform closer. Some of her muscles strained partly from the fight and partly from Ryoshu's healing, but with her help, it takes less than fifteen minutes for Don Quixote to become decent again. Bright pain transforms into slow, annoying aching, making her wish to scratch burns despite her common sense.

Ryoshu sits near her, and Don Quixote raises her gaze.

"Thou are not going to smoke?"

"It's a school."

Once again, the place of their hiding startles Don Quixote. Having a school outside of the Nest is a risky deal, but this place seems fine in the darkness, and Don Quixote doesn’t see emblems of any syndicate that could support something like this. She heard about some kind of organization that tries to make the lives of citizens of the Backstreets better, but as far as she is aware, they are not in this District yet.

"And how didst thou come to learn of this?" She repeats her question.

"I sponsored it to be built." This time Ryoshu answers fully

"Huh."

"You don't sound surprised," Ryoshu says after a few seconds of silence, tugging Don Quixote out of the pain fever.

It takes her a second to collect her thoughts.

"It's not surprising information, I guess." Don Quixote shrugs her shoulders. "I always felt that thou a good person at heart.”

She can feel the weight of the dead red gaze.

"If that helps you sleep," Ryoshu sighs, and her presence shifts enough for Don Quixote to sense warmth radiating from another person.

Don Quixote argues within her head the advantages and consequences of leaning on another person's shoulder. "So that's why thou art here tonight?" She attempts to distract herself from these thoughts.

"No," Ryoshu hesitates for a second before deciding on her words, "I.W.A.Y(I Went After You)" She cuts short, not letting any emotion bleed into her words.

Don Quixote’s heart skips a beat. She’s still to tired to comprehend Ryoshu’s language but feels that the “y” at the end connects to her.

It's fear, she assumes. The idea that Ryoshu somehow participated in this hunt is terrifying.

But it's a cruel assumption about Ryoshu's character, and Don Quixote hates to be cruel. Besides she already decided that Ryoshu wasn’t a part of the plan.

She chuckles, or at least tries, before the sound in her throat grows into a cough from horrible dryness in it. "D-did thou notice me gone?" She manages to ask out when another person’s hand settles on her back.

"Yes," Ryoshu admits easily, "I couldn't find you for a whole day, so I went to your office and asked. They also were confused about your absence."

"Nice to be cared about." She jokes, a crooked smile on her face forcing the burned flesh to twist with unpleasant tingling.

She's extremely lucky that Ryoshu cared. Cared enough not only to notice that she isn't here but also to find where she was and even save her. Not a lot of her colleagues could say they would do something like this for her. The thought brings a strange wave of heat to her face, and she starts to worry about any less visible damage to her body.

"For a second I thought you were gone," Ryoshu continues abruptly, distracting Don Quixote from concerns about her condition, "ran away from the district, bored with this little war, not caring about your promise." Her words are quiet and surprisingly full, as if she tries to leave Don Quixote no chance to misunderstand her.

She would definitely prefer not to hear this accusation.

"I think I don't like 'me' in thy head."

"I discarded this thought almost immediately."

Yet it still stings, but maybe the fact that Ryoshu is much more honest than she is stings Don Quixote more.

"Verily, as thou perceivest, the sole quarry from which I take flight are Sweepers."

"Wouldn't call it running," Ryoshu notices. "You fought them."

"Trust me, had I possessed greater swiftness, that wouldn't have happened."

"And still, you choose to die fighting, not running." Something changes in Ryoshu's tone. "What a sight it was, a mountain of corpses at your feet and everything covered in fire. I think it's the first time I've seen you fighting so brutally."

Don Quixote feels a strange fondness toward her companion. She almost died, and yet the only important thing for her is how Don Quixote fought.

"Why, I am right glad thou didst find enjoyment therein."

"I did,” Ryoshu confesses boldly and shamelessly, and Don Quixote turns her head away, trying to hide an appearing blush, but bloodied fingers catch her chin, forcing her to meet scarlet gaze. “So please make sure you won't leave anywhere before we have a chance to have a duel."

Don Quixote’s mind fights against pain, the intimacy of the touch, and her own annoyance. "I already promised-"

"I mean anywhere." Ryoshu cuts her off, voice dangerously serious.

"Oh." She stumbles, not sure how to react to Ryoshu's request. "To thy awareness, if thou wished me to stay safe thou could have worded it better." Deflection with humor is a good variant, right?

"Don Quixote, I mean it. Don't die."

"Not by my hand," Don Quixote adds in her mind and chuckles weakly. "I won't," she says firmer.

She doesn't hear Ryoshu's answer because her tired, distracted mind finally gives up.

_____

Ryoshu hears about Don Quixote returning to her position two days after the night in the Backstreets.

She helped Don Quixote get to her office during the second cursed hour that passed. She was no longer bleeding with the help of Ryoshu, but her condition was still barely good. It was almost scary how long it took Don Quixote to wake up from a nap and how much help she required to move. It was such a drastic difference between the strongest and weakest Ryoshu has ever seen. She could only hope that the fight with her would put Don Quixote through the same range.

Then for two days it was like Don Quixote wasn't found and died on the edge of backstreets, turning into Sweeper's fuel. For a moment it created a horrible suspicion that someone sent people to finish their job.

But two days later Don Quixote is in the field again.

Ryoshu hears about it in the dojo when two other Liu fixers walk in discussing a fight.

"I feel like it's not legal to make contracts in two words," one of them sighs, entering the room limping. "Like it's so easy to scam someone from both sides if the only thing that binds you is a verbal promise that you declare a contract." His friends hum something but neither agrees nor disagrees, helping him to get to the chair. "How the hell can they even stay in a business like that? Like, I can't believe that all people from their sudden duels pay diligently after."

"I think most of duels like this are an advertisement for their strength," another woman sighs, and when Ryoshu throws a glance, she looks pretty trashed too and even has signs of scorching on her uniform, catching Ryoshu's attention properly. "People on the streets just fight with each other, or some random fixers, but if they see that Cinq is strong enough, they can ask them to represent them in more important deals. Protecting from Oufi or anything else. Besides, their routes don’t change, and it’s easier to pay for help than to change place of living, fleeing the payment."

"But she isn't even from here," whines a more wounded Liu, and Ryoshu turns around sharply, startling them both. Now, face-to-face, she still has no idea who these two are. But with the way how scared they look, they know who Ryoshu is, and it’s the most important.

"W.I.S.?" Ryoshu demands without hesitation or explanation, piercing them with her gaze. They both look startled, as if not sure whom she's talking about or not believing that she’s speaking with them. Their slow reaction irritates Ryoshu, so she makes a step closer, concentrating on a girl who seems more sensible.

"We met Miss Don Quixote on the South near the Wing entrance," the girl immediately proves Ryoshu to be correct, spitting out all she knows. "There was a huge argument between Feathers and the workshop fixers so she could stay there for a few more duels." She adds rapidly, but Ryoshu isn't listening.

All the way from her section office to edge of the Nest, she runs.

It takes a bit more time to find Don Quixote there, but Ryoshu knows enough about Cinq fixer to figure out where to search. A big space far away from the busy streets so her flames wouldn't hurt anyone else, yet also public enough so viewers could join easily and she had all opportunities to show off. Ryoshu wanders around buildings until she finds a space and people surrounding something. Then she sees a blue flash and, without hesitation, jumps forward, dragging her way through civilians. When she finally sees the fight, it's already over. Don Quixote forces her opponent to the ground, keeping his hand in a bone-breaking grip that makes Ryoshu’s own forearm hurt from the sight alone, and waits for him to give up. It's honestly pathetic. Ryoshu wouldn’t get herself in a situation like this, but if it ever happened, she would have broken away easily and would not wriggle like a worm in the sight of a dozen people.

Ryoshu sighs, and suddenly Don Quixote’s head turns away from her opponent, piercing through the crowd. She's wearing shades again, a bit of a different design, but hiding her eyes just as well. Yet Ryoshu doesn't doubt that right now the golden gaze is concentrated on her. Don Quixote’s more professional expression melts into something softer, and a smile appears on her face, bright and happy, as if she’s forgetting about the fight.

Her opponent seems to notice this moment of distraction and swings his foot in an awkward hit, likely hoping to distract more than to actually harm Cinq fixer. Don Quixote blocks it effortlessly, still looking at Ryoshu, and for a second her smile becomes apologetic, as if she's saying, "You see what I have to deal with first." But then it twists back into her usual cocky expression, and she turns back to the man under her. "If thou persist, I shall be left with no recourse save to bind thy limbs together." She chirps cheerfully.

Ryoshu raises her eyebrows at this threat. She would love to see Don Quixote fulfill it. Don Quixote isn’t a liar, but she does have a tendency to exaggerate.

"Okay, I give up! I give up!" But the fixer under her seems not to be so eager to check if she was bluffing. The second his words appear in the air, Don Quixote rises and moves away, giving him enough space to get himself together. Surprisingly, she isn't offering him a hand. Ryoshu has already lost count of how many times she denied it herself before Don Quixote learned her lesson.

The man stands up, and Ryoshu can clearly see that he's not a Liu fixer. A knot that she didn’t know existed unties in her guts.

After a second a person bursts from the crowd, settling themselves on Don Quixote's shoulders with an excited screeching. It's such a familiar action, Ryoshu squints, trying to figure out if she saw this person in Don Quixote's company before.

Don Quixote smiles brightly at a person but pulls herself out of the hug, to Ryoshu's surprising amusement. The crowd starts to fall away, and Ryoshu walks toward them without any problems, picking up the end of the conversation. "That was fucking amazing! Wings, you almost beat this guy to a pulp!"

"I think I was fairly gentle with him," Don Quixote notices, and Ryoshu agrees. He went home with just a few scratches. "But should they ever vex thee hence, our office number art upon swift dial! I hope this be the genesis of prosperous fellowship! Yet I deem 'tis time I took my leave."

And then, without losing a moment, she suddenly appears in front of Ryoshu, hooking her hand and dragging her away from the street. "Shall we find somewhere more private?" She murmurs almost in Ryoshu's ear, and Liu fixes after a second of hesitation allows lead herself away.

But her patience is enough only for a few minutes of silent walking before she halts sharply and twists her hand to grip Don Quixote’s forearm too. "There is no one around, and if you C.A.M.P. you failed." She says it angerlessly.

"Caught red-handed," Don Quixote chuckles and makes a step closer, making their hands fall lower together, and it takes Ryoshu a second to understand that her grip is lessened and unclench her own. "I guess 'tis a sequestered nook, yet might one condemn my yearning for a nicer place for a talk?" Ryoshu barely listens, studying the woman in front of her, but the uniform covers every bit of skin.

"Ah, worried about silly old me?" Don Quixote notices where her attention wandered and coos teasingly. "Well, allow me to cast aside all thy cares." She hooks the bottom of her shirt and drags it up to the ribs. It looks completely fine, with no signs of Sweeper's blades or Ryoshu's fire.

Without thinking, she raises her palm to the skin, tracing a memory of a wound that she had to close.

Don Quixote inhales sharply but doesn't move away or try to remove Ryoshu’s hand.

"K Corp singularity does wonders," she says instead, her tone trembling just a bit.

Is she remembering how Ryoshu burned her skin? Is she afraid that she will do it again?

Ryoshu feels a horrible urge to put back a disappeared mark on her skin and thinks that perhaps Don Quixote isn't wrong for this suspicion.

She removes her hand at last, gently scratching Don Quixote's skin with her nails. Pale lines stayed on it until black fabric fell over, allowing Ryoshu to delude herself with them still being there.

"Pray tell, art thou inclined to have lunch with me, or shall we forthwith engage in a contest of arms?"

"What?"

"Is it strife you seek, for which you have come? 'Twas gracious of thee to tarry till I regained health."

Ryoshu blinks, suddenly understanding that she came there with no expectation but to see Don Quixote alive. It never crossed her mind to have a duel today.

"Sure, we can have lunch first," she says, dragging this thought to the back of her mind. "I'll choose a restaurant, though."

_____

A little over a month later and the balance is fixed.

The signs are rather unsubtle - number of duels Don Quixote has to fight every day falls after an unsuccessful murder attempt, and Liu starts to respect all territory won over.

Cinq, of course, would like to push further, Outis specifically having her ambitions flaring up after her last plan worked out successfully, but Don Quixote doesn't see a reason to go after it. Even if she will ignore her preference of being the one who protects rather than attacks, she kind of grew fond of most of Liu's part, which after a certain point started to see her as a test of strength more than a true challenge.

But without expanding projects, it is only a matter of time before the cost of her presence in the Nest outweighs the benefit, and the young director will summon her on the floor and, with awkward but sincere gratitude, send her back to the H Corp. And Don Quixote isn’t planning to resist getting back home, but she also doesn’t wish to speed up this process, enjoying this place in peace.

It's the first time that her journey outside of her district borders actually feels like the holiday she hoped for. Don Quixote finally has time and strength to take out her forgotten travel booklets and visit all tourist spots that aren't doubling as strategic points for conflicting Associations.

"I still think we could make a greater push." A familiar low voice breaks through her thoughts, with the tone slowly getting colored with desperation.

"My friend, please," Don Quixote sighs. “If we continue getting territory, the higher section would be in a play."

"You are from the third section."

Don Quixote laughs. When she decided to ditch her post on some other Cinq fixer and get a tour around, she didn't expect that the unofficial vice-director of her host office will join her. She knew that for Outis, the history of any other association is nothing but empty noise, and she would try to convince her of some extremely ambitious plans, but having a company during her tour sounded nice, so she agreed to take Outis with her. Now she is starting to regret it.

"And thou from forth," she mentions lazily, remembering the torturous busyness and complexity of politics inside the H district, "and if it be easier for thee to beseech the Third Section from yon side of the City than the one that doth share a station with thee, I am most assured they shall render thee no aid."

"But we could convince them."

Don Quixote throws a suspicious gaze, wondering if Outis is already planting the groundwork for her own promotion. There is too much confidence in this plan for a fourth section.

"Trust me,” she shakes her head, “when Third Section gets involved, everything will become ugly."

"Strange to hear that from you!" Don Quixote hears a loud cheerful voice and turns around.

Rodion, the familiar director of Liu, stands behind, hovering over Don Quixote, with a smile on her face. For the first few weeks after the night incident, she tried to keep her distance from her, but time passed, and Don Quixote came to the conclusion that Rodion wasn’t a part of a plan. Or at least hide it well enough that she was no longer willing to waste her nerves on suspicion.

"Rodion! What a lucky meeting!" Don Quixote sincerely greets another woman, ignoring Outis rapidly becoming paler. "We have but now discoursed on notions touching the morrow of our twain associations, and I hold it nigh certain that the current state doth serve us both most fitly. Should any strive to press beyond, dire consequence shall ensue." She easily explains everything, tagging Rodion to their table. The presence of another association fixer, especially the director, should keep Outis's ideas at bay.

The woman in red hums as if agreeing and easily sits at one of the chairs, making their little table feel a bit crowded. But it doesn't bother Don Quixote, and she merely shifts her brochure so the newcomer would be able to see its content. If it’s trouble for Outis, she stays silent about her discomfort.

This year is the ten-year anniversary of Grey Cloak, a local fixer who became a Color, and the Seven Association, an organization for which Grey Cloak worked the largest part of her fixer life, even if not the part in which she was a Color, held a big exhibition about her life, displaying the whole way from a girl who was just good at puzzles to one of the most brilliant and strong detectives that blessed this City. Don Quixote hoped to get there as soon as she got news, but the workflow made it impossible to find a proper six hours to fully enjoy her visit. So, the second Don Quixote sensed her duties weakening, she didn't hesitate to buy a ticket.

And now not only does she have a chance to finally enjoy the exhibition fully, but she also has company to share facts about the legendary fixer and solve curious puzzles together that are promised by Seven's Association. With three of them, they could have a chance to set a record of going through the museum as the fastest group, as if empty competition had any importance to Don Quixote. She only hopes to be able to memorize every single detail and fully comprehend a way to the Color.

"Oh, it's a Grey Cloacky thing?" Rodion recognizes the name immediately, to Don Quixote's delight. Outis knows next to nothing about Color. But Rodion recognizes the name and most definitely would like a lecture that Don Quixote prepared. Or at least fake interest better than Outis. "Ryoshu said that you were a fan of her." The second verse of Liu Director makes Don Quixote choke on her words and then thank Wings for having shades right now that are capable of hiding her emotions from two curious gazes. "Is there anything wrong, champ? Doesn't seem like a dirty secret you're trying to hide." But, of course, Rodion notices a second of her hesitation anyway. Outis is curious too, even if she hides it better than their newcomer.

"It's truly nothing," Don Quixote smiles weakly. "I am merely astonished that young Ryoshu hath recalled such a small remark." That's mostly true. She mentioned Grey Cloak once during one of the first matches when Ryoshu asked why she sighed after getting the last challenge.

"Aw, don't be so humble," Rodion laughs. "Ryoshu pays a lot of attention to you, more than to anyone else that I have ever seen," she continues cruelly, and Don Quixote wonders if her actions truly offended Rodion that much. Doesn’t the director understand that she merely did her job?

She swallows, fingers clenching on the paper in the dangerous way.

Memory of their last few meetings flickers in her mind, distracting her from a pamphlet in her hands. Don Quixote tried so hard not to think about Ryoshu outside of the safe borders of the duel’s musings.

"Hark, I am joyous that mine actions hath wrought a bond in so brief a span.” She finally finds words. “Perchance some amongst thee shall indite a letter or twain unto me?"

"Are you planning to go anywhere?"

"Aye, to mine abode. Verily, mine labor here is complete, and I am not the cheapest to keep in employ without cause."

"Huh, I kinda forgot that you're not from here."

She also sometimes forgot about it. Sharing a meal or a fight with Ryoshu put any thoughts about her home far, far away in her mind. It, of course, hit her later when she dared to let her desires in, reminding her of its uselessness.

"Do you think Ryoshu remembers about it?"

"I think she can't wait for my leave." Don Quixote answers honestly, earning two confused gazes. "We got distracted, Lady Rodion. Wouldst thou deign to join us in a quest?"

"Never considered you to be a runner," Rodion hums critically, but after a second brightens up in a smile. "Of course, if you're one to pay!"

_____

The news comes suddenly, in the middle of their regular sparring. When between a series of exchanged attacks, Don Quixote freezes on a spot and, while Ryoshu desperately searches for a trick, simply raises her head and asks casually as if she didn't try to break Ryoshu's skull a few seconds ago. "Are thou free in two days?"

"Yes," the answer falls easily from her mouth, before Ryoshu even properly comprehends a question, "Why?"

The smile on Don Quixote’s face shifts in an attempt to become mischievous, but Ryoshu, who has experienced the whole range of Don Quixote’s expressions, can see a weird tension in the corner of her lips.

She doesn't like this smile.

Ryoshu carefully changes her stance to a more defensive form.

Her opponent tilts her head as if surprised with Ryoshu’s concern.

"It's time to fulfill my promise," Don Quixote says, dusting her shoulder off. "I fight in my full force, so I hope thou are ready." She drops a bomb so calmly for a few seconds Ryoshu still thinks it's a trick.

But Don Quixote just stands there waiting, and Ryoshu slowly falls out of battle stance. "You aren't kidding."

"No, I am not!" Don Quixote says cheerfully. "Truly, how cruel do thou consider me to jest about this?"

It's a strange type of excitement that sets inside Ryoshu's mind. She dreamed of hearing these words from Don Quixote for weeks, and yet the idea of their fight still felt distant. It was a prize that felt half dream and half lie, and Don Quixote gives it now so easily that Ryoshu feels almost whiplash. In two days, they will fight in the right way. She will see Don Quixote’s ruthless practicality. She will feel it on herself.

"Why is it in T.D.? Not wanting to have time to rethink?" Ryoshu asks, hiding her trembling palms in her pockets. Her head is overfilled with ideas, plans, and images of how their fight will look. "Or afraid that I would figure out some trick if you give me enough time."

"I would never have thought that low of thee." Don Quixote shakes her head with faux hurt before continuing. "I simply wanted assurance that this bout shall be mine very last within this Wing."

And that hits like a nail, the second part of this promise flashing in her mind. "You're going away.” Ryoshu repeats her words as if it will force them to make more sense. “When?"

"I bought a ticket on a Warp train on Sunday."

She says it in a calm voice, almost offhandedly, and Ryoshu immediately wishes to break her legs, ruining this perfect little plan. She has to stop her own thoughts on a track trying to figure out where this aggressive resentment toward the idea of Don Quixote leaving comes from. It seemed as impossible in her mind as getting this last duel.

"You are so sure that we won't push Cinq the second you reach H Corp?"

"I have no choice but to believe in them!" Don Quixote chuckles.

She shifts her shoulders and suddenly sighs again.

"Well, I think we should stop for today. We need to prepare properly."

Ryoshu frowns.

In four days Don Quixote will go away. Is she planning not to see Ryoshu at all for half of this time? What about after? No matter how their fight ends, what will happen with the relationship that they built? Will Don Quixote discard it as easily?

Ryoshu digs nails into her palm.

"Did you choose a place?"

She doesn't object and doesn't put on bravado about not needing time to prepare. Don Quixote doesn’t want to see her until the duel? Fine, Ryoshu will respect her wishes. And then make sure that she will never forget that day.

"I think the corner on the Backstreets where thou found me is pretty nice."

Ryoshu raises her eyebrows at this idea. "Trying to put yourself in a proper mood from the beginning? What if Syndicate wouldn't like us there?"

"Well, that would be a nice warm-up, don't thou think?" This casual brutality and confidence in both of their skills sparks something warm inside Ryoshu's chest, and she returns Don Quixote a crooked grin. The Cinq Fixers' face lights up in reaction, an awfully familiar sight by now. It takes Ryoshu a moment to rediscover her anger and force herself to look at Don Quixote as an opponent.

Maybe if she wounded Don Quixote enough-

Or even killed. A sudden thrill goes down Ryoshu's spine in a sweet shiver. They could kill each other. On the peaks of their strength, it would be more difficult not to do so. Not shackled by association rules or any duties, they can do anything they want. What a great ending it would be with one of them dying! It doesn’t even matter whom. If she's the one to lose, she would no longer care about Don Quixote leaving, and if Don Quixote loses, well, who would bother with sending a corpse away?

"A duel ends in death, right?"

She's not sure if she's asking or demanding - her own voice is barely readable even for her. Don Quixote looks at her, eyes hidden behind shades. "It is a possible outcome of our battle that I am willing to accept." She says in a calm voice, choosing words carefully as if discussing a close contract.

Ryoshu snorts.

"That's barely an answer," she taunts. "Are you going to kill me?"

The distance breaks, and Ryoshu can see her eyes behind darkened glass, attentive and unblinking. "I'll fight at my best. Should it lead to thy doom, thou shalt lay the blame but upon thine own head."

"Marvelous," Ryoshu murmurs, pleased with a threat. Don Quixote is a soft person, but she isn't a liar. This duel will have their lives on the stake. In a surge of inspiration, she steps even closer, trespassing into Don Quixote’s personal space.

In the context of their conversation, this action could be, and must be, read as hostile. But Don Quixote’s shoulder shakes in laughter, and then her palm falls on Ryoshu's shoulder in a patting movement as if they discussed a job promotion and not a fight to the death. Yet it’s firm, holding her at a distance.

"See you in two days, Lady Ryoshu," Don Quixote says in farewell, before gracefully sliding away. "Please, show thy best."

Because I will, reads Ryoshu in the edges of a faux lazy smile, and her heart speeds up in excitement.

What an elegant threat.

_____

Don Quixote comes first in the place of the duel. It's empty and still bears signs of her fight weeks ago.

She wears her usual uniform, but the hat. It could be a distraction today, which she doesn't wish to happen.

There is a strange anticipation in her.

Don Quixote got used to a solemn determination that settled in her mind when she first understood that she would have to leave soon and concentrated on finishing her business and repaying her debts. She was ready to consider today’s challenge just another duty and nothing more. Something between office contact and a promise to a friend. She didn't expect to be excited.

But it shouldn't be a surprise, she thinks with strange tenderness. After all, Ryoshu is a fascinating fighter.

The idea of finally letting go of her shackles was both terrifying and tempting. The last few weeks they merely dance around each other. Ryoshu stopped trying to take her out, instead studying every move, preparing for the grand last battle. And Don Quixote would never say no to a chance to bask in her attention.

Admitting it even in her head feels weird, but with placing her life at stake, there's no room for denial.

She spent months forcing herself into it, so allowing her thoughts and emotions to exist with no restraint is one more freedom she allows herself tonight.

Don Quixote smiles to herself, carefully warming up her joints and muscles. Usually out, she needs to notice the well-deserved confidence; she misses a few steps, but tonight she goes through the stretching routine diligently. Being at her best is the most perfect farewell gift for Ryoshu she could come up with.

But Don Quixote can't say that this desire to give all herself came to her only out of sheer altruism.

Ryoshu loves battles. Cracking of bones and tension of muscles and a mix of red, blue, and purple on the skin. The elegance and brutality of each strike and the range that the human body is capable of crossing.

Don Quixote is certain that the level of skill she will show today will be enough to immortalize her in Ryoshu's memory. It’s an egotistical desire to become the best opponent this woman ever had.

Familiar steps drag her from thoughts.

"P.E.T.," she hears a lazy voice, and turns around with a smile.

"I wished not to tarry thy time!" She says instead of greeting.

She wears her usual uniform, as if it is a regular day and they would have a sparring before going to a café. The only sign of today’s meeting being special is bandages covering Ryoshu's hands, a sign of the harsh training that she endured in the last forty-eight hours. And the way she solemnly takes a sword from her back. For a second Don Quixote wonders if she will see it out.

But then she places it carefully near the wall, away from their battlefield, and raises a solemn gaze at her opponent. "If I die, bury it with me," Ryoshu demands, and after getting a short nod, continues, "Any wishes from you?"

Don Quixote laughs. Ryoshu seems to have no doubt about this evening’s ending. Well, at least she’s not so sure about the winner yet.

"My will was updated four months ago, so everything is fine," or at least supposed to be. This procedure always felt a bit needless, so Don Quixote didn’t pay it proper attention, “and about the body...burn it to ashes and throw them from the roofs."

Ryoshu tilts her head, and for an ignorant viewer it could be simply a gesture of curiosity, but Don Quixote knows how her muscles warm up with such a simple action. "All of it? That would be pretty wasteful. Can't I keep some as a trophy?"

Don Quixote’s lip corner twists into a grin. "If thou wish so, but only a bit."

Finally, with a twirl of her wrist, Ryoshu finishes preparing, effortlessly sliding into the fighting stance. No signs, no taunting, merely an invitation to start. Don Quixote breathes out and moves, placing her legs in a position that seems to be written in her bones by now, and puts one palm in front and one behind. For a second they stand there as two statues frozen like animals before pouncing.

They move at the same time.

But Don Quixote is faster. Faster than she ever showed before. In a flash, she crosses the distance between them and greets Ryoshu with a hard kick in the stomach. It feels almost nostalgic to catch Ryoshu off guard like this. In their first battle she underestimated Don Quixote, and now she repeats this mistake again. It's the first time in weeks that she was able to land such a clear blow on her opponent.

But Ryoshu doesn't allow pain or demonstration of speed to discourage her, and trying to use her unstable position throws her palm into Don Quixote’s temple. She twirls on one foot, feeling a surge of air gliding near to her face, and puts both her feet back in a proper position, getting ready to start another attack.

Don Quixote moves her right hand, trying to trick Ryoshu with a fake swing while her left hand falls, but her opponent takes a sharp step back.

Then she sends elbow right into Don Quixote’s face, forcing her once attacking palm to stop the sharp bone from trashing her nose.

She grips it and tugs on herself, raising a knee right into Ryoshu's body.

But almost like fire, Ryoshu moves around, avoiding attack, and without hesitation strikes from the side into Don Quixote’s ankle.

She manages to twist her leg to meet a blow with a bone and not soft meat, and before Ryoshu can start another attack, hammers into her with her whole body, pushing her to the wall.

Ryoshu doesn't let herself get locked and moves, but Don Quixote is faster and decides to add something new and, with a blue flash, strikes right into Ryoshu's shoulder.

Ryoshu's leg rises upward in a bright orange arc, forcing Don Quixote to tilt away.

But the second it starts to go down, Don Quixote springs back, hammering an elbow right in the middle of Ryoshu's chest, hard enough to crack bones if not break them. She was close enough to feel a desperate exhale of air being pushed out from her lungs, hot air scorching Don Quixote’s face and distracting her.

She pays for this opening with almost pierced shoulders.

Don Quixote hisses from pain and takes a step back, ready to get revenge.

But as if sensing it, Ryoshu dodges and, without breaking the flow of movement, throws her leg into Don Quixote’s liver, returning the first blow in the fight with percents.

Don Quixote laughs, swallowing bile.

She grabs Ryoshu's shoulder and uses her as a lever, trying to hammer her face into her knee.

But Ryoshu blocks.

Her left hand strikes down, colliding with Don Quixote’s thigh and forcing her leg to fall down, and suddenly she finds herself fully open. The Liu Fixer does not hesitate and, without grace or any technique, hits right into her stomach with a knee, taking everything from a few seconds of readjustment. It forces Don Quixote to let go. Ryoshu’s hands try to grip Don Quixote's hand to stop her from escaping, but she shakes them away and, not to lose momentum, turns on her leading foot, raising another.

It's less an attack and more a distraction, placing a curtain of flames between them, but it fails as both. While Ryoshu dodges the limb, she dives into the fire without hesitation, locking her hands on the back of Don Quixote's neck. Her palms are hot and wet; bondages soaked in blood leave a stained pattern on Don Quixote’s skin.

Ryoshu tugs hard, and instead of resisting, Don Quixote allows herself to be driven down and just shifts her head just for a few millimeters so that a flaming knee targeting her nose just slides off her cheek.

Don Quixote dives a bit lower in an almost ninety-degree bow and with one hand snaps Ryoshu's grip from herself.

The other one she turns in an opposite direction and strikes Ryoshu’s thigh hard, mirroring her knife-palm trick.

Skin breaks and skin burns.

Don Quixote savors the sensation of blood on her fingers and shifts away.

Ryoshu looks both bad and good. Her clothes covered in scorch marks and her pose uneasy, the effects of Don Quixote’s strikes lingering on her flesh. Yet her eyes, her eyes are gleaming with such a sheer delight that Don Quixote can’t help but hold her breath.

Wings, what would she do for a gaze like that? It's a good thing that Ryoshu asks nothing of Don Quixote but her best. A momentary break halts with Ryoshu moving, but Don Quixote is already raising her palm, targeting the woman's already wounded shoulder, but Ryoshu dodges it, which is an impressive deed with her leg condition. Her strike reaches the wall, and the brick crumbles.

Ryoshu breaks the distance again.

Without thinking, Don Quixote covers her stomach and precisely strike cuts down her elbow, leaving a long wound.

She raises her other hand and hits Ryoshu's torso, and the woman, to her surprise, doesn't dodge or block, taking a hit with her chest. For a second Don Quixote is afraid that she broke through Ryoshu's bones, and if she tugs her hand back, it will be covered in blood and pieces of lungs.

But Ryoshu is tougher than that and without hesitation throws her leg low right into her opponent’s shin, throwing Don Quixote off balance. She tries to catch herself mid-air, but Ryoshu grabs fabric on her chest and pushes with her whole body, forcing them both to fall gracelessly.

Don Quixote tries to strike Ryoshu in the stomach and throw her off immediately, but her hand gets caught and locked in a mockery of handholding before getting pressed to the ground. Then another hand flies upward and collars Don Quixote’s throat with both heat and pressure.

Ryoshu's ruthlessness is painful, but Don Quixote can't help but smile at this brutal assault and then swings her free elbow, forcing the hand away from her neck.

With a shift of her torso, she throws the woman away from herself.

Her throat is in agony, not allowing her even to laugh.

So instead, she catches Ryoshu's attacking hand and in a rapid movement breaks it, almost tearing the forearm away, not pulling away any punches. no longer even capable of doing so with death flashing so close.

She raises her hand for another attack, shifting her weight.

And Ryoshu launches forward.

Sharp pieces of broken bones sink straight into Don Quixote's chest, scraping her ribs, and suddenly Ryoshu is so close, Don Quixote can count her eyelashes. Her gaze is mad and excited, drunk and focused, and Don Quixote is sure her own is the same.

Instead of pulling away, she strikes Ryoshu's hand again, breaking bones in her ribs, forcing parts of Ryoshu to get stuck in her body. But loss of a working limb doesn't stop Ryoshu from cutting her other palm in a wide arc from Don Quixote's hip to shoulder, leaving a half-burn, half-cut that not even her uniform could protect her from.

Don Quixote ignores the pain, launching another swift strike, hand covered in flame from fingertips to elbow. It clashes with Ryoshu's raised palm, sparks of their flame flying right into their faces. She pushes it away and throws another punch, but Ryoshu bends, protecting her torso with the rest of her wounded limb.

Then Ryoshu dives with her leg, smashing it into the side of Don Quixote’s ribcage. Pain is sharp, but Don Quixote, with a wide grin, drives her elbow down in the middle of the shin.

This time bone doesn't break, and they unclench from the brawl, but Ryoshu doesn't allow Don Quixote time to act, sharp bones this time flying into her throat.

It only scrapes her when she tilts lower, but then immediately Ryoshu's strike reaches her head as if only waiting for that.

She feels skin snapping, a painful ring running down her skull, and blood filling her mouth only to leak from a new wound.

She doesn't resist gravitation, letting herself be dragged down, and places her weight on her hands and pushes, throwing herself away from the place where another strike hits. Ryoshu stands there surrounded by flames and smoke as a demon from hell, and Don Quixote’s heart aches from beauty. Then she moves, and Don Quixote meets her strike with her own basking walls in waves of light. Ryoshu finally matches her speed fully, as if her hand were some sort of weight holding her back.

With every second they forget more and more about clean katas and proper stances, an aggressive blur of strikes forcing both to discard handbooks. Don Quixote has to forget about the theatricality that clients loved so much, and Ryoshu about the wide pushing blows that allow her to fight freer in battle against many opponents.

With each second their strikes become more and more similar, deadly, bone-crashing attacks, the most pragmatic and violent choices.

The only difference is the colors of their flames, but in such proximity, it is impossible to distinguish whose is whose anymore for anyone from outside.

Don Quixote no longer comprehends difference herself. Her body and augmentation slowly but steadily come close to the limit, and for the first time, flames wound her, leaving a pattern of burn marks on her forearms that match Ryoshu’s, whose limits were crossed ages ago.

She throws another punch, and Ryoshu dodges it. The scenario became familiar by tonight, but Don Quixote frowns anyway. Ryoshu’s feet moved dangerously slowly, bringing Don Quixote the feeling that the attack shouldn’t have missed. It makes her wonder if it's actually Ryoshu matching her speed or if she's slowing down.

It doesn't matter, Don Quixote thinks when another precise strike throws shades off her face, baring her eyes to heat, light, and smoke to damage. It takes a big part of her will to keep them open, the only part of her body that seems to keep working properly, catching all Ryoshu’s movement, not caring if her body will be able to keep up with this information or not.

She expects another hit, but Ryoshu hesitates, looking almost startled. She stares at Don Quixote’s face with a strange expression that she doesn't have the brain energy to analyze, only caring about her hands hovering at the chest level instead of attacking. This hesitation is momentary.

But it's enough for Don Quixote to land another hit, burning away the last pieces of the association coat. This damage uncasts the spell that Ryoshu seems to fall under, and she throws another wave of attacks, and Don Quixote rapidly blocks all of them but the last, merely tilting her head away from charred bones.

She sees how understanding of miscalculated distance sparks anger in Ryoshu's eyes and, with a grin, throws another blow.

Only to catch another strike in her chest right in the middle of the cut, blowing part of the melted wound open. Don Quixote breathes in sharply and turns her head, and suddenly lightning goes through her skull, and before Don Quixote can understand anything, her back hits the floor. The weight immediately lands on her with knees on her chest.

She's not sure if she can hear the crack of her ribs or if this is a hallucination, but every breath becomes a significant task that doesn't allow her to concentrate on escaping. So, she merely struggles under another woman, mostly on the instinct.

Vision finally comes back, and the first thing Don Quixote sees is Ryoshu hovering over her, covered in blood and cinders. Then the ringing in her ears quiets down, and she hears her heavy breathing. Ryoshu stares at Don Quixote’s face as if waiting for something, and Wings knows she tries to muster strength to resist this capture, but all her limbs feel so heavy, and half of her bones feel brittle enough to snap from a mere thought of moving. So, Don Quixote stays still, waiting for Ryoshu's finishing blow.

And yet nothing comes. Ryoshu doesn't move either, only piercing Don Quixote with her red eyes.

Silence becomes uncomfortably long.

Then the hesitation breaks, and with a heavy sigh Ryoshu lowers herself, wet forehead smashing into Don Quixote’s shoulder. "I won," she croaks, barely audible, and Don Quixote thinks that her hallucinations continue.

Her own voice requires a minute of preparing cough to appear. "I feel like ‘tis a bit anticlimactic," she hoarsely notices. "Do not consider that I condone brutality, but I expected a bloodier declaration of victory."

And who could blame her? Ryoshu was so sure on the idea of a duel ending in death, Don Quixote started to believe that it was inevitable.

Don Quixote hears a weak murmur, and after a second of confused silence, Ryoshu turns her head away from her shoulder to speak more clearly, and Don Quixote can feel a hot, shaky breath following her words. "I can't feel my hands."

"Huh," Don Quixote thanks her own exhaustion for the inability to react to this. "What a coincidence," she laughs weakly, "I don't think that I can move either.” Even her own tongue feels heavy, but she forces herself to continue speaking. “But my dear friend, are thou truly willing to allow the rebellion of thine body to stop thou from claiming a victory?"

Ryoshu ignores her.

So, Don Quixote bucks a bit, faking readiness to continue their battle, and regrets it immediately when movement reminds her about all the wounds she got. Her taunting earns her another exhale, this time more annoyed in its nature, and Ryoshu shifts a bit until the breath that Don Quixote felt on her throat becomes constant, showing how close Ryoshu’s mouth is to her jugular right now. She swallows, preparing herself to feel teeth sinking into her flesh, the last weapon in Ryoshu's possession, a perfect ending to their fight that discarded everything they valued in martial arts for wild animalistic instincts and impulses.

"Go on." Don Quixote turns her own head on the side and tilts it back, forcing skin on her throat to stretch thinly, making a bluish line on her side bared to the cold air, and catches the dark-haired napper in her sight.

As if waiting for these words, Ryoshu's mouth presses against Don Quixote's throat, but to her confusion, the touch is soft, only lips and not a hint of teeth. She opens her mouth, ready to speak, and suddenly feels a long, wet motion across her skin. Ryoshu savors her blood or just licks her cuts clean, Don Quixote isn't sure, feeling too distracted by the sudden softness of sensation.

And as if it was not enough, Ryoshu moves her mouth higher from the wounds, right under the bottom angle of her skull, and starts to do something that, to her shock, Don Quixote recognizes as kissing.

That forces a shiver that not even exhaustion can stop, and when Ryoshu sucks on her skin, still painfully tender, Don Quixote chokes on her cry, and the hand that felt unmovable jumps up on Ryoshu's back with surprising speed. She claws into it helplessly, but that doesn't stop the woman from her sweet torture, Ryoshu lazily drawing wet patterns on her skin with her tongue and lips.

It feels like a fever dream that Don Quixote is both scared of and doesn't want to stop ever. She cranes her head up, providing more space for Ryoshu's plans, and her skull is once again struck with white lightning of pain that makes her think more about hallucinations. They could be tactile, correct? Especially with the amount Don Quixote imagined this scenario.

And as if feeling Don Quixote’s mind drifting somewhere away, Ryoshu tugs herself up and presses her lips against the cut on Don Quixote's face right where it starts under her eye and uses her tongue to pry the edges of skin open and caress her bones. The mix of tenderness and pain hooks Don Quixote’s conciseness, not allowing her to pay attention to anything but Ryoshu, who with painful slowness works her way down the wound. She feels a broken bone pressed against her shoulder but doesn’t care, leaning into the touch.

When Ryoshu’s tongue flicks over Don Quixote’s clenched teeth, she shivers the second time, grasping a dirty fabric on Ryoshu's back with the desperation of a drowning person, merely trying to ground herself. But Ryoshu considers it a silent command and slowly shifts her pose. Finally, they can see each other's faces again.

There is a bright, deep satisfaction in the scarlet pools of Ryoshu's eyes that makes her look truly victorious. There are spots of coal around her face, but the most attention is demanded by the seductive redness of her smile.

The understanding that her own blood gave Ryoshu this look makes Don Quixote’s heartbeat pick up a speed.

"So that makes you shut up," she whispers directly in Don Quixote's lips. "Good to know."

And then crosses the distance.

_____

Ryoshu has to use her three-month paycheck to recover from all the wounds that these duels left on her, and there are scars still. A ragged pale bracelet covering her left forearm is the most noticeable. She doesn't mind, even treasures them. They and memories from the last fight are the only things that Don Quixote left to her. She couldn't even see her last time on the Warp station shackled to the bed. Rodion told her that Don Quixote visited when Ryoshu was still unconscious, but it felt like a weak solace with her waking up in a world without Don Quixote. It feels weird to miss a person so much, especially a person you barely knew for two months, yet Ryoshu does. Tracing her last gift whenever she is staying still or allowing memory of her moves haunts Ryoshu's training and fights.

Her absence is so obvious and painful that Ryoshu doesn't bother to pretend it's not there, simply learning to live with a Don Quixote-shaped hole in her life.

The most annoying thing is how easily everyone else seems to be adjusting to the new reality.

Cinq and Liu, after a few fights, fall back into the usual City standard of ignoring each other’s existence, pretending that no association tried to push each other out of the district just a few months ago. The peace is stable and horribly boring, and Ryoshu takes more and more missions using her medical debt as an excuse.

But with the way Rodion looks at her with a strange understanding, it makes it obvious that Ryoshu isn't fooling her. Well, it doesn't matter, no number of opponents is enough to place the same burden on her shoulders.

Sometimes she wonders if it would be easier to let her go without these few tender moments after her victory. It wasn’t a lot, barely a few kisses before they lost consciousness. At the moment it felt irresistible - last chance to fulfill this desire, the right that she won in the fight.

Maybe it would be easier if Don Quixote pushed her away.

But she answered just as willingly, just as desperately; the memory of another person's hands tugging her closer and crying under her touch stays bright in Ryoshu's mind. She only hopes that Don Quixote is haunted in the same way.

That's the only actual solace for her. The idea that as she carries Don Quixote’s marks on her, Cinq Fixer can’t get rid of her. That district away, in another duel, with another person, there is a glimpse in her memory of Ryoshu's red flames. That there are scars that not even K-corp singularity could erase.

At least she can dream about it.

"Hey, Ryoshu?" She gets a call after another training puppet breaks under her strike and gets prepared to hear another half-hearted berating. The director, for some reason, became rather dismissive of her misdeeds. "Would you mind doing some errands for your deeply beloved and kind director?" Rodion asks cheerfully, waving a small envelope with her personal seal burning bright red on it.

Ryoshu looks at another woman with suspicion, her intuition telling her that there is something deeper under this request, but the smile on the director’s face is sincere and unreadable, reminding Ryoshu about her second favorite way to spend time outside the job. She doesn’t like the idea of part-timing as some messenger while they have an office full of rookies capable of doing this job. But staying inside and turning training material into trash feels too much like a waste of time, so she comes closer.

Ryoshu grabs an envelope out of Rodion's hand.

"Thanks, Ryoshu, you are a life-saver! There is an address on the other side." The director coos happily, putting her hands behind her head.

Ryoshu looks over, and it's not that far, barely, and a minute sprint, which earns Rodion an annoyed look. "You already agreed!"

Ryoshu doesn't bother with reacting and moves out, gripping a letter in her hands. At least it would be a good reason to go outside. Maybe she finds some trouble on the way.

It's an unfortunately easy travel and peaceful day, backstreets being uncharacteristically calm. The place that Rodion sent her to looks old and abandoned, she can see a few closed doors and windows, but one is open with crystal-clear glass as if someone is trying to make it look better. Ryoshu hums and enters the building, and as she expected, the flat is the same with the open window.

She knocks on the door impatiently, in a fast rhythm, and hears someone behind it. It opens wide, and Ryoshu freezes just as a person appears in front of her. Don Quixote looks different, her hair is freshly cut, and instead of her familiar black uniform or her outgoing look, she wears an old t-shirt stained with paint. For a few seconds, Ryoshu doesn't believe her eyes. "Oh, hey," then she hears a familiar voice and sees a familiar smile. "I thought I would make a surprise out of it, yet thou art of swifter pace."

She's here, Ryoshu repeats inside her head, searching her face for any signs of fakeness, but instead notices a scar at the lip corner that makes her already bright smile playfully crooked. Her own mark unremoved is the last drop, and Ryoshu launches forward into Don Quixote with a mix of hug and attack.

Familiar hand catches her immediately, reading her movements in seconds.

"Ryoshu, I am covered in paint," Don Quixote screeches as if it's important. Ryoshu slides her hand on the hot neck and tugs Don Quixote closer by it, pressing a kiss right at her forever mark. Skin under her lips warms up, Ryoshu notices with a bubbly delight. She can’t keep her face straight, and her mouth breaks into a wide smile.

"You're here," Ryoshu exhales happily into her skin before slightly loosening up her grip on Don Quixote’s neck to look at her face properly. "For how long?"

"As long as possible if I am lucky!"

Ryoshu blinks and then looks around, still keeping her hands on Don Quixote, and the room is full of boxes and signs of new life coming in. She can see an entire row of Fixer stuff marked by date, full of Don Quixote’s life.

"I know it doesn't look good, but I moved just two days ago." She explains seeming to give up on the idea of tearing Ryoshu off.

There is a spark of annoyance among her happiness at the idea that Don Quixote has returned for two days and she just knows about it.

The sudden understanding hits, "So Rodion knows?" She looks at Don Quixote annoyed, the grip on her shoulders becoming tighter, but instead of wincing in pain, Don Quixote tilts to it as if she's been missing the harshness of Ryoshu's touch. "She is the one who sent me here. To give you this." She takes out the letter and holds it to Don Quixote, whose eyes brighten up.

"Oh my recommendation, marvelous!" She says cheerfully, placing it on the table, "Please mention my thousands of thanks to her when we meet next time, it would definitely make opening the office way easier.

"Office?" Ryoshu squints her eyes with suspicion. "You're opening the office and not returning to the Cinq?"

"Well, not to offend them,” Don Quixote starts in a horribly offending tone, “but I am kinda higher than the fourth section, and the third seems to be full of not-that-good people, so becoming independent felt natural."

"Besides," she smiles brighter, "if you think about it, most of the Colors at a certain point in their careers quit the Association, and if I am following this path, it's only natural for me to do so."

Ryoshu snorts amused.

"How ambitious."

"Wasn't I always the one?" Don Quixote hums before placing her hands on Ryoshu’s shoulders in a steadier way. "So, are we going to stay there, or will thou let me change so we can go out as usual?"

“I can help you change,” Ryoshu murmurs, pressing her weight against Don Quixote’s resisting limbs. “I have an experience with it.”

Don Quixote laughs louder but still pushes Ryoshu away. At least until she notices a scar on her forearm and catches it, pulling closer to her face. Ryoshu doesn’t resist, with a smirk looking at Don Quixote’s almost haunted expression. A thumb brushes over ragged skin following a circling pattern with tender fascination. Ryoshu wants to ask her about thoughts, but shuts her mouth when Don Quixote repeats her action and kisses the scar.

It's innocent. Merely a touch of lips, both Ryoshu feels her pulse becoming excitedly faster, and Don Quixote close to her veins feels it too. Golden gaze rises up meeting Ryoshu’s and Wings, she missed it.

“Is there anything else left?” She asks quietly eyes fixed on her.

“Do you want to check?” Ryoshu jokes but with the way Don Quixote’s eyes spark it seems like she hit a bullseye. “We can push lunch a little later, don’t you think?”

"Sounds like a plan.”

Notes:

Thank you for reading! I hope you enjoyed it. If you find any mistakes, please inform me!

It can be rather chaotic but I felt like if I don't post it now I won't post it ever and it keep growing breaking my computer down. Can you believe I wrote that much text? I can't

 

S.A.N.G.R.I.A. Glossary

E.A.G.B. - Eat And Go Back
W.W.A.D. - When We Are Done
G.F. - Gluttonous Freak
W.I.G. - Where I Going
V.I.Y. - Victory is yours
S.M.B. - Stop Me Before
B.A.T.S. - Break Them Apart Sadistically
T.H.E. - That’s Horrible Excuse
S.I.F.T. - Support It Financially Thickhead
B.T.D. - Bleed To Death
A.D. - Almost Done
W.I.S. - Where Is She?
C.A.M.P. - Cunningly Trying Mislead Path
T.D. - Two Days
P.E.T. - Pretty Early Today