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Higashiyama Kobeni noticed the bumpy scar on Arai Hirokazu’s left ring finger during target practice soon after they became buddies. That day, Arai was showing Kobeni how to handle an M4 carbine when her hands slipped and felt the raised keloid tissue encircling his ring finger like a wedding band. The sudden touch made Kobeni jump in place.
“Ah!” Kobeni squeaked, barely managing to not drop the weapon while Arai pulled away. “Sorry!”
“No offense taken!” Arai barked. “If you’re reacting to the scar, it’s from the devil a few days ago.”
Arai had intervened in her favor with a long stringy cuttlefish-like Devil that past Wednesday. In his tomfoolery, he nearly lost that finger for her sake. Not exactly the most romantic gesture, but his selfless act caught Kobeni’s attention. She was grateful that one of the trained Public Safety medical personnel managed to save that finger. Of course, she could never articulate that very well out loud.
“Ah! Of course!”
“Back to business!”
“Yes!”
They then continued about their normal routine like they hadn’t almost held hands. Arai never mentioned the touch ever again, but Kobeni wished he would’ve. If he did, she might’ve gathered up the courage to ask him about his other scars. Maybe a conversation like that would’ve led to them actually holding hands one day.
Of course, then Arai had to go and get himself killed by a little man disguised as an old lady looking for directions. With the devil she had a contract with, Kobeni should’ve known immediately. She should’ve protected him that day—returned the favor. The endless guilt kept her up until the wee morning hours for many weeks afterwards. She kept a bottle of shochu by her unkempt bed until she was assigned the Violence Fiend as her new partner.
Kobeni began noticing similarities between the Violence Fiend and Arai as soon as she laid eyes upon the masked figure for the first time. Same height, similar frame, and a borderline identical stride. Same friendly mannerisms and penchant for sweets too.
If she was being sensible, she would chalk up the coincidences up to the fact that Arai wasn’t anything special. There were plenty of men walking about the streets of Tokyo with his general physical and personality traits. Luckily or unluckily for her, Kobeni was anything but sensible. Within days, the identity of Violence’s formerly human body became her main hyperfixation—especially after his verbal gift for her.
❦
They were walking down the sidewalk back to Headquarters from their favorite ice cream haunt when Violence perked up. He gazed at the sun, now hanging low in the sky and casting colorful light and shadows onto the skyline.
“Ah! I finally know how to finish your poem, ” he said with a certain oblivious cheerfulness that made Kobeni’s blood run cold.
“Purple and gold sun…
Incomparable to her,
Brave girl with red clips.”
Kobeni stopped in her tracks with her mouth wide open. The strawberry soft serve cone in her hand dripped over her fingers and onto the concrete below.
With his hands deep in his pockets, Violence looked back at Kobeni and cocked his head in the same bird-like manner he always used when wanting her input.
“Too dramatic for a haiku?” he asked.
“Oh, no!”
“Too sappy?” he asked with a heavy sigh when she didn’t answer immediately. “No—don’t comment. I’ll keep working on it.”
Kobeni stood there, transfixed by the Violence Fiend’s back as he walked away. If she was someone reckless and irresponsible, like maybe the Blood Fiend or Denji, she would run up to the fiend, wrapped her arms around his chest, and hug him from behind. If she did, Kobeni wanted to tell Violence only one thing: “That’s the nicest thing that anyone has ever said to me.”
The Violence Fiend turned around and again cocked his head questioningly.
“Are you well, Higashiyama?”
“Yes! I’m fine!”
“Come on, then! I much prefer talking to you side by side.”
“Right away!”
❦
Kobeni began wondering about his hands. If Violence was actually Arai, there was a possibility that his finger scar remained. Fiends usually healed all of the scar tissue when they entered a dead body, but if the fiend retained some semblance of their host…it was certainly within the realm of possibility for them to keep a sentimental scar. Right?
To calm her own worries, Kobeni needed to see his fingers.
There was only one problem. Violence’s hands were always out of sight or at work. After considerable debate, Kobeni decided she couldn’t ask to see his hands either. That would just be too weird.
❦
Finally, her chance came on the train two weeks later. Another sunset stretched out over the scenery rushing by toward Public Safety’s Headquarters. Despite his slacks being covered with Devil blood, the Violence Fiend nodded off beside Kobeni on the padded bench. His masked head tilted towards her seated form. His hands loosely cupped in his lap. His snores whistled lightly.
This was her one opportunity, Kobeni realized. She looked both ways on the train. Her heart thumped in her chest, but no one was looking her way. It was safe for her to do this.
Kobeni wasted no time. Her blood-covered hand timidly shot out and grabbed Violence’s broad and callused hand. She loosely threaded their fingers together—his hand over hers—and experimentally ran her thumb along his ring finger without looking.
Her heart stopped when her thumb went over something firm. She gathered her courage and looked down at his hands.
It was the scar. Seemingly identical, down to the thickness of the scar tissue.
Kobeni couldn’t stop the ache in her chest from growing bigger, nor the tears from falling down her dust-streaked face.
You came back, Kobeni thought.
In his sleep, Violence unknowingly changed his grip on Kobeni’s hand, squeezed it firmly, gave a little snort, and returned back to deep sleep. Kobeni smiled bitterly to no one in particular.
I wonder if you came back to protect me. Even…even if you didn’t, thank you. Thank you for staying at my side. I…I love you. Really! More…more than words can say.