directives notwithstanding, whatever he said was law. The nurse nodded wordlessly. She moved the gurney next to the bed, loaded on the woman, and exited through the same door as silently as she had arrived.
“Man, when it comes to women you’re one cold bastard,” Setsura said with a wry smile, shaking his head in disbelief. “And yet you surround yourself with legions of nurses. Kind of sets my hair on end at times. What are you thinking?”
“And if I said I was thinking of you?” He cast Setsura a sidelong glance that would reduce the most beautiful woman in the world to a mere country lass.
Setsura blanched a bit.
Mephisto added, as he returned to his desk in the corner of the room, “For one reason or another, this world must have creatures like women in it. Bodies and crazed countenances filled with corrupt flesh and unclean fluids. Why equip them with such grotesquely ample breasts and posteriors? The gods must have been drunk the day they created the female sex. I suppose they had to make do with what they had on hand, with no regard to common decency. A small consolation.”
Setsura said dryly, “A small consolation as well that the same doctor who wiped out the Freaks with one hand, and with the other would diddle a woman to death, apparently knows what the word decency means. Well, there’s nothing like throwing yourself into your work. Bitching and moaning about this vale of tears will get you nowhere.”
Mephisto sighed, an altogether human affectation that Setsura knew no one else would ever hear.
“So, has he come back?” Mephisto unexpectedly asked.
“Whoa,” said Setsura, patting his heart. “Gave me a start there. How’d you know?”
“This is Demon City.”
“And you are the Demon Physician.”
“As I am now,” he said with a faint smile, turning to face the windows.
The windows covered the wall opposite. The examination room was flooded with light. It was a room with a view, though the view was not much to look at. The cracks crisscrossing the grounds of the hospital had been sealed with concrete epoxy supplied by Yoneda Industrial. For over a decade now, the piles of rubble covering the adjacent lots had been taken over by a carpet of noxious dark green moss, punctuated by gaudy purple flowers and spotted stalks that peeked out from gaps in the debris.
The building that Mephisto and Setsura occupied had been spared damage, not because of superior earthquake-resistant construction or sheer luck. But as with the other few structures fortunate enough to have survived, because the Devil Quake “decided” not to.
At this time of day, the light streaming in from outside seem tinted with a thin film.
“Looks like rain,” the doctor said in a melancholy voice, though the kind of melancholy that made women—who knew nothing else about him—swoon.
“The rainy season, huh. I hate this time of year.” The man in the black slicker shrugged.
“I hardly think so,” said Mephisto. “Rain and gloom and neon go well together in this city.” He glanced back at Setsura. The braid of gold laying against his chest cast off a wavering light. His deep black eyes reflected the image of the young senbei shop owner. “We’ve known each other a long time, Aki-kun. So tell me, where did you come from? Where are you headed?”
“We’ve known each other a year,” Setsura answered in a wary voice. “But maybe a little coffee will loosen my tongue.”
“Just a second.”
From the door she’d just exited, the nurse entered carrying a tray bearing steaming mugs. With a glance at Setsura, she said, “Our very best coffee.”
“Blue Mountain blend?”
“That is correct.” She turned to Mephisto, “You have some unexpected guests.” She put down the tray and flicked her forefinger across her cheek, a gesture since ancient times used to indicate the presence of yakuza.
“Oh?”
Mephisto twisted the ring on his finger. A crisp projection of the hospital waiting room appeared
“Man, when it comes to women you’re one cold bastard,” Setsura said with a wry smile, shaking his head in disbelief. “And yet you surround yourself with legions of nurses. Kind of sets my hair on end at times. What are you thinking?”
“And if I said I was thinking of you?” He cast Setsura a sidelong glance that would reduce the most beautiful woman in the world to a mere country lass.
Setsura blanched a bit.
Mephisto added, as he returned to his desk in the corner of the room, “For one reason or another, this world must have creatures like women in it. Bodies and crazed countenances filled with corrupt flesh and unclean fluids. Why equip them with such grotesquely ample breasts and posteriors? The gods must have been drunk the day they created the female sex. I suppose they had to make do with what they had on hand, with no regard to common decency. A small consolation.”
Setsura said dryly, “A small consolation as well that the same doctor who wiped out the Freaks with one hand, and with the other would diddle a woman to death, apparently knows what the word decency means. Well, there’s nothing like throwing yourself into your work. Bitching and moaning about this vale of tears will get you nowhere.”
Mephisto sighed, an altogether human affectation that Setsura knew no one else would ever hear.
“So, has he come back?” Mephisto unexpectedly asked.
“Whoa,” said Setsura, patting his heart. “Gave me a start there. How’d you know?”
“This is Demon City.”
“And you are the Demon Physician.”
“As I am now,” he said with a faint smile, turning to face the windows.
The windows covered the wall opposite. The examination room was flooded with light. It was a room with a view, though the view was not much to look at. The cracks crisscrossing the grounds of the hospital had been sealed with concrete epoxy supplied by Yoneda Industrial. For over a decade now, the piles of rubble covering the adjacent lots had been taken over by a carpet of noxious dark green moss, punctuated by gaudy purple flowers and spotted stalks that peeked out from gaps in the debris.
The building that Mephisto and Setsura occupied had been spared damage, not because of superior earthquake-resistant construction or sheer luck. But as with the other few structures fortunate enough to have survived, because the Devil Quake “decided” not to.
At this time of day, the light streaming in from outside seem tinted with a thin film.
“Looks like rain,” the doctor said in a melancholy voice, though the kind of melancholy that made women—who knew nothing else about him—swoon.
“The rainy season, huh. I hate this time of year.” The man in the black slicker shrugged.
“I hardly think so,” said Mephisto. “Rain and gloom and neon go well together in this city.” He glanced back at Setsura. The braid of gold laying against his chest cast off a wavering light. His deep black eyes reflected the image of the young senbei shop owner. “We’ve known each other a long time, Aki-kun. So tell me, where did you come from? Where are you headed?”
“We’ve known each other a year,” Setsura answered in a wary voice. “But maybe a little coffee will loosen my tongue.”
“Just a second.”
From the door she’d just exited, the nurse entered carrying a tray bearing steaming mugs. With a glance at Setsura, she said, “Our very best coffee.”
“Blue Mountain blend?”
“That is correct.” She turned to Mephisto, “You have some unexpected guests.” She put down the tray and flicked her forefinger across her cheek, a gesture since ancient times used to indicate the presence of yakuza.
“Oh?”
Mephisto twisted the ring on his finger. A crisp projection of the hospital waiting room appeared
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