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There was something liberating in having your worst fear come true. You no longer had anything to worry about; the worst thing possible already happened, and now you either deal with it or die trying. Either way, it won’t be a problem soon enough.
Still, Yanagi would prefer it if it didn’t come to this.
“Do not stand in my way, Yanagi,” Miyabi said, her voice level as always, her stance relaxed, left hand resting on the sheath of Tailless. It was so bizarre to hear these words; who would dare cross paths with the absolute best? Her deputy, apparently.
“I am afraid I have to, Ms. Miyabi,” Yanagi said, lowering her head a little. The setting sun caught the lenses of her glasses, rendering them pure white.
Miyabi said nothing, only pressed her left thumb into sheath’s fingerprint lock, which was answer enough. She was never the one to back down from a challenge, and Yanagi happened to have a certain sense of duty. Unfortunate. She unfolded her naginata, wondering if she could even react to the first strike.
The wind died down, as if scared to get between them.
Miyabi’s eyes flew wide open and suddenly she was charging, sword already in hand, her heels striking an impossibly fast staccato on the pavement. Yanagi turned sideways, stepping out of the way and simultaneously raising her weapon, to block if she wasn’t quick enough to dodge. Tailless struck a glancing blow against her naginata, nearly disarming her, and Miyabi was already beyond her reach, running past her, turning, charging again, not giving her a moment to regroup. Another strike desperately deflected, on pure instinct, for no one could read Miyabi’s movements, even when she was moving at quarter speed like she did now.
“I hoped you would realize by now that this is futile,” Miyabi said, not a trace of strain in her voice, as she stood calmly with her sword sheathed.
“I realized it before you drew the blade,” Yanagi said. “It’s not about my chances. It is about my duty.”
Miyabi nodded. Skies grew dark, as if the sun itself turned away from what was about to happen. When Yanagi exhaled, she saw her breath condensing. She could feel the biting cold on her skin even from afar. The warmup was over.
She called upon the hidden strength in her veins, the oni blood that did not belong to her, and jumped out of the way of killing frost. Lightning wreathed around her as she slipped through space, snarling back with rapid thrusts, as if anything could touch her foe. Yanagi gained more and more altitude, ascending faster than she was falling, moving laterally and leaving a chain of afterimages — every trick in her sleeve just to hold on, hoping for some miracle. But Miyabi was relentless. There was no way to stop her; and Yanagi knew in her heart that the fight would be over instantly if Miyabi wasn’t measuring her. Trying to see how little of her strength she needed to take down her deputy.
Blades of ice crisscrossed the fabric of space and blew up in a myriad of cold needles; Yanagi avoided deadly cuts, but the shrapnel still chilled her to the bone. She mustered all her strength; she invoked the image of the one she was fighting for, and released it all in one all-encompassing lightning strike; a blazing white pillar plummeted on the solitary black silhouette beneath.
“Got you,” Yanagi exhaled in disbelief — and froze, as the hair on her neck stood up, sensing an overwhelming presence behind her.
There was no time to react, and there was also no pain as Yanagi folded over herself, gasping for breath, naginata falling from her hand. Dark shape was already turning after landing the first strike from behind; eyes red as blood and ears sharp as death. Time slowed down, and Yanagi could see her opponent's movements in every detail, as Miyabi flew towards her, inevitable like a monthly personnel report. She couldn’t stand up. Couldn’t raise a hand. Couldn’t even twitch a finger.
Miyabi filled her vision, and even in that final moment Yanagi could not help but marvel at the deadly elegance of her chief. She kept her eyes open as Miyabi closed the distance — and caught her gently, right before Yanagi would hit the ground.
“I had to try,” Yanagi said, looking past her into indifferent sky. “I had to.”
“I know,” Miyabi said, very seriously, her image skewed and distorted in Yanagi’s vision — her glasses nearly fell off. “Yanagi. I will take care of Soukaku.”
Yanagi’s heart skipped a bit, and her throat tightened.
“You will?”
“I promise.”
“Chief…” Yanagi blinked away the tears. Miyabi carefully fixed her glasses and helped her stand up. The darkness receded, revealing late evening in Lumina square.
“Vendor,’ Miyabi said. “As the victor in this duel, I rightfully claim the last two red bean buns.”
“That would be eight hundred dennies.”
Miyabi paid and received the baked goods in a paper bag, still smelling delightfully fresh. She took out one bun, stretched out her hand, and dropped it. Before the bun could fall a few inches, it was snatched out of the air by a streak of white and blue, as a Soukaku-shaped missile flew past.
Miyabi looked at the last red bean bun and smiled with the corners of her mouth.
“Made me go full tilt for a second,” she said quietly, and broke the bun in two. She gave half of it to Yanagi.
They enjoyed their shared snack in silence.