The skies over Earth had barely begun to brighten when they appeared again—those flying bastards with their curly golden hair, heart-tipped arrows, and eyes too wide for someone with no self-preservation instincts.
A dozen cupids, glowing like polished brass lightbulbs, floated down to the rooftop where Kikidori sat sharpening one of his knives. Haruna stood nearby, arms crossed, still keeping that minimum five-foot distance, just in case another spell made Kikidori confess to wanting to do *biblically inappropriate* things again.
"Hello!" sang one of the cupids, the same little prick who had shot Kikidori the day before. "We came to apologize! That love arrow was meant for *humans*."
Kikidori didn't even look up. He just dragged the blade against a whetstone with a long, slow *scrrraaape* that sounded like a promise.
"I told you he wouldn't like this," whispered one of the other cupids nervously.
"Don't worry," said the first, floating down. "We're emissaries of affection and harmony! Love and forgiveness is our mission!"
Kikidori stood up slowly, flipping the knife between his fingers. "You think a fucking *apology* is gonna fix my brain, huh?" He took a step forward. "You think I *wanted* to ask an angel if she wanted to bang on a rooftop in broad daylight?!"
Haruna was already backing up. "Oh no."
"You think I wanted to imagine us slow dancing in a field of sunflowers under the *twilight moonlight*?!"
The cupids all gasped. One of them blushed. Another swooned. "That sounds... romantic."
"*SHUT THE FUCK UP!*"
And then…
**BAM!**
The first cupid was on the floor—well, the roof—with Kikidori's boot on his back and a fist that came down with the weight of a demon forged in fire. Wings snapped. The harp it carried clattered to the ground like broken glass. Glitter exploded from the impact like a nuclear valentine.
The other cupids screamed in harmony. It was not a pleasant sound.
"You little cherub shits better go back to your glitter castles in the clouds," Kikidori snarled, grabbing the wounded cupid by its curly little head. "Or I swear to every infernal realm, I'll pluck your wings and use them to make a fuckin' feather duster."
"WE'RE SORRY!" another yelled, zipping into the sky.
"YEAH, LOVE SUCKS!" another agreed, vanishing behind a cumulus cloud.
The wounded cupid on the ground moaned. "You hit like a volcano…"
"You're lucky I'm not in a *murderous* mood today," Kikidori muttered, letting the poor thing go.
Haruna blinked, stunned. "Well… you beat up a baby with wings."
"Correction," Kikidori said, cracking his knuckles, "I beat up a sparkly *menace to society* with magic date rape arrows. There's a difference."
Haruna gave a small sigh. "They were only trying to help."
"They made me ask you to bang. *Bang*, Haruna. Do you have *any* idea what that does to a demon's reputation? I have demons down there that will never look at me the same again!"
She looked like she was fighting a smile. "You know what? You *almost* sound like you care about your public image."
"I care about not being some moony-eyed poet writing ballads about 'angelic thighs.'"
Haruna finally broke. She laughed. It was the kind of laugh that sounded like sunlight on stained glass.
Kikidori grumbled. "Oh, great. Now you're enjoying this."
"I mean… I'm not the one who got shot and asked to fornicate with a celestial."
"I *hate* you."
"Mutual."
They sat back down on the rooftop. The sun started to rise. A few humans pointed up, wondering what the hell a golden girl and a dark-winged man were doing sitting together like some kind of apocalyptic odd couple.
Whatever. Let them wonder.
Kikidori pulled out a cigarette and lit it with his finger. Haruna closed her eyes and let the wind brush her face.
"Next time," Kikidori muttered, "I see a Cupid, I'm gonna—"
"Don't finish that sentence," Haruna interrupted. "You might get shot again."
He rolled his eyes and flipped off the clouds.
The end of Chapter 23.