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“Eeeee!!!”
It's not Kanako who shrieks, although she is the one struck by the whip wielded by a Minotaur. It's not Atomic Samurai either, who she shoved out the way. He stares, more wide eyed than he's ever been before. Instead, it's the attacker itself who screams. Because it was already dying before it ever landed a blow. Another monster appears behind it, an invisible beast who sucks out its insides and then stomps its carcass to mush before disappearing back into the ether between time and space.
But no one's paying attention to that.
“Kanako, sweetheart! Are you okay?” Kamikaze cradles the limp form of his beloved geisha in a very aesthetic pose, very cherry blossom and moonlight, the two of them utterly exquisite together.
“Mm...”
“What was that, my little dumpling?” The hero lowers his ear to the woman's lips.
“I wasn't hit by the whip, only its air, Master.” she whispers.
“That air knocked one of your pretty ornaments out of your hair, my girl.”
“Oh, I perish.” Kanako drops the hand holding her fan, affecting an attitude of tragic death.
“Hehehe.” her man tightens his grip, the pair cuddling on a street awash with monster guts.