Imamimi Notanobu - XVII

“Ow. Is that any way to treat your partner, Zhang-san?”

“Yeah, I’d say it is. Especially if they survived a hit like that. Any normal human would be out cold by now.”

Yanghua gets up and brushes grey debris off his clothing. His tail is wagging.

“Get away from him, Nobu. He's the one who killed all those people!”

“He already knows that.”

“Oh yeah?” asks Zhang.

Yanghua nods. “Now tell me: Where is Stillwater?”

The two stare at one another. Despite Zhang’s clear anger, the boy doesn’t seem particularly angry. Happy, even. As if he’s satisfied to see that Zhang’s here.

“We laid Stillwater out!” Mad Dog smacks her hands together. “Peng!”

Zhang takes a step forward. “Don't worry. We're not sick fucks like you. He's still alive, anyhow.”

“Even if I am a ‘sick fuck’, it stands to reason that an associate of his would share some of the blame.”

Zhang has a death-glare. “I didn't kill any of them.”

“True. You just helped participate in the removal and ritualisation of their body. And never once did you hesitate or regret what you did. Never once until your own brother became involved. Am I mistaken, Zhang Jiuyuan?”

His brother?

But.

I thought he didn't know where he was?

I watch Zhang’s expression change. A small twitch at his lower lip.

“Think about it, Nobu-san! What spawned this sudden change of heart? There were others who had investigated. Others whom he'd scared off! Do you think this hooligan would alter his twisted worldview from a momentary epiphany?! That he saved you from the good grace of his heart?!”

Yanghua’s expression is pure indignation. It's the expression of one convinced of his own truth—now proved by the world itself.

“Shut up!”

“The reason Zhang helped you is because his brother was the eighth and final victim! Because there was nothing he could do then but lash at the world!”

Silence. No one says a word. My heart is filled with strange feelings. Then a memory.

The moment I mentioned the eighth victim—Li Zezhang, I saw a flicker of sadness on his face. After all, if Zhang’s job was to decorate the murder scenes afterwards and wipe up any bits of blood, it'd make sense if he didn't know it was his brother who died.

Is that why he bought the lie about us working with the National Magic Agency of China, too? Because he'd know we could help him get revenge?

Everything starts to add up. Everything begins to make sense.

Mad Dog steps in. “Hey,” she says, and points at Yanghua. “What does it matter? Zhang was naughty boy, ok. But you killed eight people because you think they bad. You think that is a good thing?”

“Zhang may possess a great many defects, but his piety for his brother was not one of them,” Yanghua says. “My killing was righteous and indiscriminate. Li Zezhang abandoned his old, dying parents to escape overseas. Wong Zelin was a crooked judge who, on conviction of corruption, sought to escape the very justice he undermined. The reasons are without end.”

Zhang smirks. A bitter smile with angered eyes. “And yet you still chose to stick around. Weird, isn’t it? If killing all those people was all it took, you would’ve tucked tail and gone back to China already. We saw the cameras in the other place. So you must have an endgame you're still looking forward to. One your underling doesn't want to see fulfilled.”

He pulls a cleaver from his jacket. The moonlight from a window catches onto it, making its shape all the more pronounced. I don’t need to guess what it’s for. Zhang wants revenge. Pure, and simple revenge, and killing Yanghua and denying him his pleasure is just the cherry on top.

“What do you think, Mad Dog? Three to one are pretty good odds, aren't they?

“Hmm.” She looks me up and down. “I'd say so.”

Looking at Yanghua’s expression, I notice a glimmer of anxiety for the first time. The two charge. Weapons in hand, they blur into vague shapes in the dimness and come at him with all they’ve got.

At the same time, the boy’s body begins to burn with a great intensity. Flickering white flame dances along his body and covers his forearms like bracers. Coming at him with cleaver and key, the sound of clashing metal echoes, and sparks of orange dance in the darkness.

I see the boy go on the defensive. Every time Zhang strikes, and he blocks or sidesteps, Mad Dog follows, exploiting the window of opportunity to do her own attack. Their attack is unending.

Moreover.

Bit by bit.

Attack by attack.

They force Yanghua on the backstep, meaning that before long, he’d be up against the wall nearby. I briefly consider joining the fray, gripping Jingji, and readying to throw him. It’s only after a second passes that I realise I wouldn’t know who I’d throw it at.

And more than that.

Every time Yanghua winces or gets hurt, a slight pain seizes my muscles and mind. A slight cut on my heart that makes it hard to keep watch.

I'm not stupid enough to mistake this feeling.

I know what it is.

And I know what it entails.

I…

I don’t want Yanghua to die. Not like this. I don’t know why either. I think deep down—or maybe, on the surface level, I like him. It’s an insane thought to have. He’s a serial killer. A gruesome, unrepetant murderer who tears apart his enemy for some twisted code of ethics.

And I know that!

I do.

But I can’t muster the same anger Zhang has. I don’t have a personal connection to any of the murdered. I’m just a degenerate who wanted to cover the case and satisfy my ego by covering it, and delving deeper than I should have.

At the same time.

I can't muster the feeling in me to stop them from fighting. I might not hate Yanghua, but I don't think Zhang and even Mad Dog’s desires are stupid either.

The mere fact that I spent time with them. Learned about them. And associated them with brief, if not intense memories, makes me wish they come out of his satisfied.

The boy runs up a pillar and leaps to the floor above. Zhang throws fulu and summons ghostly arms in his general direction. They miss. And the duo runs up the stairs to give chase.

I get left alone. I stand there like an idiot in the darkness, watching a second drag in what seems like an eternity. My hand clenches, and my fingers dig in to the feeling of warm, sharp pain.

Then, I hear it. Something faint. Coming from outside. Like a strong gust of something not quite compréhensible to me yet.

A second passes. It grows louder, turning into the bassy hum of a woodwind.

“What?”

I recognise that sound. I run outside at once. Across the street is Yuura, beating what I think is a tin can as a makeshift drum.

I get it!

She must've used her magic to track Zhang’s fulu and chased him here.

“Yuura!” I call out. Waving my arms and jumping. “Yuura!”

She sees me at once and runs across the street. I notice her heavy breathing and the sweat on her half-scaled neck.

“Why are you here?”

She hits me on the shoulder. “To save your stupid, suicidal self, obviously!”

Yuura takes my hand and pulls. I ground my feet in place, and she turns to look at me.

“Look.” She reaches into her jacket’s inner pocket and pulls out a folder of papers. “I have all the information on the Tearer right here. So you'll have something to stroke your ego with, okay?”

“I—well—how'd you manage that?”

“We infiltrated his apartment and found a bunch of stuff lying around.”

“Lying around?”

“Yeah.”

Just lying around? It’s crazy to think about, but it does add up. If he’s been trying to get attention all this time, him leaving it in such a conspicuous position is just part of his motto.

“That's incredible…” I say, thinking about how exactly to explain the very stupid thing I'm about to do. “But I'm not done here.”

“Do you need to pee?”

“No. I uh, need to stop Zhang and Mad Dog from killing the Tearer?”

“Do you want to turn him in to the police?”

I didn't even think about that option. To be honest, I didn't much think about how it'd end up going. But, it seems wrong for a person like me who has no great morals to turn a killer in to the police.

No.

What I really want is an idyllic, and rather stupid thing. For everyone in that building—for those people I'd shared brief, but interesting moments with, to come out satisfied.

I think about back-pedalling out of my previous statement but decide to make a verbal ‘correction’.

“Sorry, I meant I need to stop the Tearer from killing Mad Dog and Zhang. He's going to rip them apart if I don't go.”

Yuura has an incredulous look. She turns her head towards the building's second floor. Where they're currently fighting. I’m aware that what I said came out as very stilted and bordering on the line of unbelievability. The question then is whether Yuura will care enough.

“Fine. But if you get hurt, I'm not going to feel all that bad.”

She tugs my hand and pulls me inside the building. I can’t see them from this angle, so I imagine they must’ve gone deeper inside. I ascend the side staircase and get to the second floor. The sound of movement and groans and all the accompanying things that goes with fights rings from within.

We rush through the hallway.