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As the gray skies expel a desolate gloom, summer rain droplets pellet the train’s obfuscated windows, as a Wednesday evening’s silence falls upon the ride; running, running and running to Kyoto. There hasn’t been this much heavy rain since last summer, back when one of the incarnations of the Cockroach Devil went amok in Shinjuku.
There are no happy faces in this uneventful ride. No smiles. No exposed molars. Just regular passengers waiting until the next stop to continue with their regular lives. Their timidly cold breaths served as a reminder of their own triviality.
And yet, despite the weather signaling such negativity, this singular passenger felt at ease; way more than he has ever felt in the past years.
A man who, despite the gruesome remains of a Devil’s attack forever scarred on his face, kept his chin calm and steady on his wrist as he gazed upon the landscape, as if watching a film of serene cinematography. Atmosphere; screenplay; effects; nature’s own broadcasted simplicity has to be admired.
In this scene, as the dark clouds acted their hearts out, a muffled cry would never, ever feel sweeter than this.
…Speaking of sweets.
The man reached out to his shirt’s pocket. An spherical, unwrapped strawberry lollipop, bought from a cheap import store. Out of all 72 he bought before taking this train, this was the only one left.
Somehow, he felt that this lollipop could be lonely without its brothers. Maybe the man could’ve also been a brother to it; but that silly train of thought quickly ceased. He was hungry. A little more fratricide wouldn’t be a problem.
As soon as he reached his hand to the wrapping…
“If ya like sweets so much, how about goin’ out to eat shit for once, huh, Madoka?”
…It’s still here. That Devil he contracted with; the one with the crude attitude, constantly flapping its gums in a raspy voice filled with child-like mischievousness. Always extending the “ka” in Madoka’s name, it loved to announce itself to the only person willing to listen to it for more than one second.
“Good afternoon. It’s been a while.”
“Havin’ fun there, ain’t ya? Just came by to see how’ve ya been!”
Despite not hearing its voice for weeks since his resignation from Public Safety, Madoka reacted like normal, as if the Devil never left.
Madoka had the tendency to aim his eyes towards his right ring finger whenever he communicated with it, but his focus was on the rotund, saliva-inducing sweet wrapped on his index. The Devil was a natural attention-seeker; seeing that, he naturally rewrote Madoka’s consciousness to perceive an eyeball instead of a lollipop.
“Keh heh heh heh!” Prizing himself over the realism of that bloodshot eyeball, the snarky creature echoed a chuckle through his contractee’s ears. “Don’t look so tasty now, does it?!”
Exerting an exceeding level of indifference to this situation, Madoka glanced at what was in front of him. His sweet last lollipop turned into an eyeball.
He sighed.
Unwrapped the plastic.
And jammed the candy into his mouth, licking it to oblivion.
“Hey hey hey hey HEEEEEEEEEEEEEEY!! Cut that shit out, ya CREEP!!”
Hearing that plea for help, the man slowly removed the eyeball from his mouth; soon, he wrapped its stick into a napkin, and then held the object between his index and thumb. Crossing his leg over the other, he rested his arm on them, aiming his eyes towards the little Devil’s manifestation with the exact same expression as always.
“You slimy dipshit”, the Devil roared, “, did ya like being kissed by that one-eyed chick so much that you developed an eye fetish?!”
“No. I thought that was your way to greet me after so long, so I wanted to greet you back in equal terms.”
“Hell no! How the fuck can ya say that with a straight face?! Ya licked an eyeball, dammit!”, said the creature, despite being fully aware they’re both communicating mentally.
“Last I remember, I licked a lollipop.”
“Ugh, whatever! Same thing! Fuck you!”
“So you’re not happy to see me?” Slightly tilting his head, Madoka asked a frankly outrageous question while still maintaining the usual poker face. “I was just about to call you a sweetheart for that. Guess I was wrong.”
“Damn right you are!”
The angry little eyeball almost felt like it could jump the serious man; unfortunately, it couldn’t. Madoka just kept rubbing salt on its wound; poor soul.
Yet, a Devil is a Devil. Insensibility is at its core.
“Too bad that shitty sense of humor of yours couldn’t save your pals, huh? Serves ya right!”
“Oh.” Slightly arching an eyebrow, Madoka glances at his contractor. “So you were present when the terrorists attacked us. I thought you just let me borrow some of your power and went to do something else.”
“C’mon, are you kidding me? I’m stuck in a dirty-ass jail cell thanks to those Public Safety dipshits. Had nothin’ better to do other than check on the sleazeballs I’m contracted with. The whole thing goin’ on with ya was so cool that I had to focus on the action!”
“I see. Makes sense. No wonder you were so quiet.”
A brief silence echoed in the running train.
The clouds cried harder, and the droplets fell with glee.
The creature glanced to both sides. Everything was peaceful in this train. Too peaceful. Devils are chaotic in nature, that much is true, but…
…It just didn’t feel right, because…
“...You ain’t curious about what was goin’ on with those guys?”
“No.”
“Uh… Ya sure? What about those guns? Ya ain’t curious about where they got ‘em?”
“Not at all.”
“Shit, not even a lil’ bit?”
Madoka sighed. A microscopic tinge of discomfort expressed in his brow.
“If you were paying attention to my unfortunate circumstances the whole time, then you heard Ms. Makima. I’m a civilian now. Anything about those terrorist acts isn’t my business anymore.
“Huh. So ya just decided to pussy out just cuz’ things were about to get spicy, is that it?”
His grip on the lollipop tightened, if only a little.
“Try putting yourself in my place.” Madoka’s eyes felt as distant as the ever-so-echoing thunder; even if he declared something entirely absurd to, of all things, an effectively immortal being, he didn’t hesitate in stating his mind. “When you’re gifted with the burden of mortality, away from the Devil’s samsara, the most precious thing to any human is the intrinsic confidence to say that you’ll wake up tomorrow.”
“Is that so?”
“Whenever we’re reminded of our fragility, our lives tend to flash before our eyes. When my colleague got shot, her grey matter splashed grossly on my shirt and tie. At that moment, I remembered the taste of the first parfait I’ve ever eaten. Chocolate Raspberry. My first mentor in Public Safety bought one for me. I’ll never forget that cold, oddly syrupy taste. I remember thinking to myself, ‘’I wouldn’t mind getting thousands of cavities if I could eat this forever’’. In retrospect, the taste wasn’t anything remarkable; but at that moment, day, hour, minute, it felt like heaven. When that memory resurfaced, with those guns pointed to my head, my body set itself ablaze in self-preservation. Clawing against their silver bullets, tearing through their attacks, I could only think about that very average parfait and how much I was willing to kill those men just to taste another spoonful.”
The little Devil listened attentively to its thoughts; rather much, in fact, that he seemed to be pondering what to say for the next brief seconds. It soon proceeds, somewhat pretentiously squinting its “eyelids” to the scarred man:
“...From the way I see it, that’s just a roundabout way to tell me you’re afraid of dyin’. Am I right or am I right?”
“...”
He looked outside once more. More rain falling from the ash-flavored clouds.
A barren street with businessmen running home with open umbrellas; a pair of schoolgirls casually talking under a café’s outdoor awning; a little boy pulling his puppy by the collar so they can rush back home.
People blessed by the sweetness of ignorance.
“Yes. You are.”
“...”
The eye accompanied the contractee’s emotionlessly empty gaze.
Normally, a Devil would be satisfied to outright be admitted that a human is fueling him with fear.
Still…
“You’d give up all this just for some ice cream? Even if the paycheck is some of the best in the country?”
“I supposed I always wanted to. All this was just my breaking point.”
“...But ya already noticed that somethin’ fishy was going on with that Makima chick! If ya digged a bit more, maybe ya could’a found some hard evidence. I mean, sure, she’s the big boss of Special Division 4 now, but you’re a smart fella! Ya can do somethin’, ya just didn’t realize yet!”
“Even if I could, it’s one against the higher-ups. There’s only so much I could do before suddenly going “missing in action”.”
“Dammit, Madokaaaa!” The eyeball angrily shouts, it’s childish intonation trying to catch the serious man’s attention. “Can’t ya have some backbone for once?!”
“...You know”, the man initiates, his brow slightly arching in curiosity towards his partner. “, why are you so insistent on this?”
“H-Huh? W-What do ya mean?”
“You keep pushing me to go back into Devil hunting, when you are a Devil. You’re essentially telling me to keep putting my life on the line to protect Japan from harm. You’re being, in general, very inquisitive.”
“...”
“Why is that?”
Two long seconds passed.
“...C-Cuz I wanna see ya fight a Devil and lose your limbs, of course!”
“You hesitated and stuttered. Please, tell me the real reason.”
“Oh, come ON! Why are YOU interested, asshole?! It’s not like ya need to know anythin’ about me anymore! Ya ain’t gettin’ into Devil Huntin’ anymore, right?”
“Yes. I talked to a friend of mine from back in law school, and he was willing to give me a hand at joining his office as a Civil Rights assistant. I’ll probably stay like that for a while while I go back to live with my father.”
“Well, there ya have it! Ya don’t need me, I don’t need ya! Just like Makima said, right?! Can’t share bureau secrets with a civilian, blah, blah, blah! How’d ya like that, four-eyes?! Right back at ya! I ain’t talkin’ to ya anymore, buh-bye!”
Closing its imaginary eyelids with a pompous smugness, the little creature merely cackles as he self-proclaims moral victory over his contractee, assuming that repeating the exact same thing someone said to Madoka would have the same effect of “shutting him down”.
…Thinking about it, it makes sense, doesn’t it, Madoka?
That’s what this Devil loved to do to his heart's content…
…but mostly in Madoka’s presence.
Being silly, cackling, telling dumb jokes, swearing, lying for no reason, saying stupid things.
“...Oh. I get it.”
Like an innocent child…
“You enjoyed working with me, didn’t you?”
…Who only wanted a friend.
“...”
“Dishonesty will only get you so far.”, the man proclaimed, convinced of his reasoning. “You don’t need to hide what you’re feeling. That’ll only make it worse for you in the future.”
Madoka has been working on Public Safety for a few years; he’s seen his fair share of tragedy to maintain such a scarily steady poker face. A man who faced many tragedies first-hand and lived to tell the tale; at the cost of most manners of emotional expression, but who gained a well-reclaimed sense of self-protection and ambition for the future.
“What if you meet another Madoka? If they’re patient with you, you better do the same to them. You never know how things might go in the future. Take this as genuine advice.”
Through this whole time, this cheeky Devil, infamous for it’s easy contract conditions on the offset of being insufferable in all possible senses, has also seen its fair share of lively humans with a penchant for dying in their early days; death always loomed just when a Hunter was about to warm up to his antics. Locked up by the Japanese government a bit after it’s newest incarnation into the human world, it never had a proper chance to understand the intrinsic qualities of humanity and their indomitable will for survival.
…No, rather, the issue was even more simpler and way less philosophical.
“You’re a strong partner. I’m sure you’ll find someone better than me.”
“...”
It just wanted attention. Most Hunters usually told him to shut up as soon as they got contracted with it. Naturally, that led to him being even more annoying to them in retaliation; a cycle of sorts.
When it contracted with Madoka, it expected the same to happen as always. To be chastised, interrupted,
or to be ignored.
But that never happened.
After all, Madoka is always direct with his feelings, much unlike the Devil.
“...Well. I suppose I won’t be part of your future anymore. Remember what we talked about, back when we first contracted?”
The man sighs, and looks over the foggy window once more.
From there, he saw the looming destination of Kyoto approach ever so close; and conveniently so, there were signs of the clouds dissipating. The rain was close to stopping.
For the eye, however, held tightly by two frail fingers, it could only look up to see the clouds, crying, as they have been doing from the start.
“...Yeah, I do. If ya ever resign from Devil Huntin’, ya’d ask me to break the contract, right?”
“Precisely.”
Madoka is, at his core, cold and meticulous. Possibly expecting such a development, he knew what to prioritize.
The true risk, however, was seeing if the Devil would accept such conditions. Still, he believed it wouldn’t be much of an issue.
“Pffffft… Who do ya think I am, the Fox Devil? Do ya think ya can just ask me to let you out easy, pussying out like that, just cuz ya decided to throw the towel?”
“Please.”
“...”
Madoka’s desire for ignorance was a barricade of conviction. The Devil lost this little game of emotions from the start; even if his contractee expressed complete indifference, his heart was screaming louder than lightning.
For the scarred man, there really was no other choice or doubt.
If he’s abandoning all liabilities that can result from the shadows lurking over Public Safety, he’s doing it for good.
Even if it means forgetting everything he did and everyone he met on the time he spent there.
A bittersweet conclusion, all things considered.
“...Well, alright. I’ll cut my contract with ya.” The little Devil finally gave in… “...But ya know what that means, right? I’ll have to take somethin’ in return.”
“Works for me.”
“And by somethin’, I mean aaaaaaanythin’, alright?! If ya ain’t goin’ back, I ain’t either!”
“Sure.”
“Since I was originally stuck to your ring finger, then whatcha think of me pulling that one out of ya, huh?!”
“No problem.”
“How, how about both your ring fingers?!”
“I see no issue.”
“H-Heeeeey, your hand is lookin’ tasty! Sure ya wouldn’t mind if I went and cooked it?!”
“Whatever you wish.”
“...B-B-But, uh… H-Hey, what about… Y-Your arm, and… Your leg, or…”
“You’re not making this easy on yourself and you know it.”
“Sh-Shut up, ya eye-lickin’ freak!”
When it said that, a thought suddenly erupted in the Devil’s agitated mind. One that it thought would be a genius revenge against this stupid, dumb man who dared to abandon it.
“...I got it! I know what I’ll take from ya!”
“And that is?”
“See it for yourself, sucker !”
The crying clouds finally reached their climax, and were slowly deciding to leave the stage. For the movie’s final act, gentle moonlight was finally able to shine upon the suburbs of Kyoto; puddles of water shone with the brilliant reflection of tomorrow’s coming.
A semblance of safety for all who, in their triviality, desperately crave for a world made of simplicities. In which the statistic of Devil attacks is merely a baseless myth borne from senseless fearmongering, and that, in reality, everyone will be safe, forever and ever.
That we don’t have to think about what’s happening tomorrow, only that it’s coming.
That Madoka doesn’t have to remember what transpired in these past years.
Including the one who was with him this whole time.
The childish being who stubbornly wants to see what lies beyond the shadows.
As a reflection of that desire, an echo of moonshine lays upon the train’s window, a gentle cluster of white transposed into the bloodshot eye; its lines of red slowly dissipating as the pupil and globe return to their original color of a classic, everyday pinky flavor, favorite of any japanese citizen.
In a tiny beam of light, it can all end in a flash.
And it will.
“See ya around, Madoka! Have fun bein’ cursed for the rest of your life!”
“Goodbye. It was nice meeting you, friend.”
_________________________
Madoka was finally back to his father’s house. It was pretty close to the Kyoto station, so he didn’t have to walk that much further.
On the whole way, carrying along his luggage, he kept tightly holding onto the little lollipop wrapped in a napkin. For some reason, his sweet tooth wasn’t acting up at the moment; a rare moment, indeed.
He was right in front of his father’s front door. They’ve organized this whole moving out procedure for the past few weeks, so it’s to be expected for him to be awake, waiting for his son to knock.
Well, he was about to do it…
…But then, all he had to do was briefly glance at the translucent candy.
“...Well, why not.”
And so, his sweet tooth activated full force once again. Unceremoniously, Madoka lifted his hand, opening the doors of his mouth for that classic artificial strawberry taste to enter.
Yet… As soon as his palate recognized what was touching it, he felt it.
“...Chocolate Raspberry…?”
For a brief moment, Madoka thought: what if I feel this taste for the rest of my life?
What if every single sweet, every single food, every single drink tastes just like Chocolate Raspberry?
What if he never ends up forgetting that taste again?
What if his whole life turns into Chocolate Raspberry, and he has to accept it?
Such a terrifying thought crossed his mind for a second…
…But it quickly dissipated as the reddish taste of strawberry arrived.
Just like it should normally do.
Madoka, reflecting upon this quick, inexplicable fraction of time passage, meekly smiles…
…and whispers to no one in particular.
“...Thanks for the spoonful.”
The man lifts his knuckle, and finally knocks on the door.