Punisher grits her teeth as she stares at her own reflection in the bathroom mirror; her hair, usually done up practically now wet, clinging to her face as she notices its original color creeping up the roots. Having removed her bloodsoaked shirt and jacket, she unwraps the hastily applied bandages from her shoulder, now filthy and doused with blood, and groans before tossing the cloth aside, studying her wounds. They continued to refuse to heal. She looks at the mirror’s image in front of her, pale and gaunt, in spite of some defined musculature on her arms and abs. It’s a body made for one thing and one thing only. And now, it is malfunctioning.

Kyubey: <We need to talk.>

She catches the creature’s reflection in the corner of her eye, standing on the bathroom floor, despite all the doors being locked. It is wagging its tail and looks up at her, anticipating her answer.

Punisher: <I do not talk.>

Kyubey: <That’s alright. I’ll be doing most of it, anyways.>

Punisher: (she scoffs)

Kyubey: <I know you’re good at listening, Fei. Or at least, you used to be.>

Punisher: <Two high-profile targets capable of Magia are dead by my hand—>

Kyubey: <You called me vermin. Vermin, Xiaofei—>

Punisher: <Don’t call me—>

Kyubey: <Vermin is a scourge. A blight. Do you believe me to be a scourge, Fei? Does vermin answer to a higher calling? Does vermin dedicate its entire existence to staving off the end? The end of everything? Was your father… vermin?>

Punisher: …

Kyubey: <Your father was a remarkable man. One of the few incapable of becoming Puella Magi yet still aware of the imminent death of the universe. He realized your species couldn’t continue on the same path it has been walking for generations. He knew something had to change… for the greater good.>

Punisher: <My father was a madman.>

Kyubey: <And yet everything he believed is coming to pass, Xiaofei. You can tell. You are your father’s daughter, after all. You love him, do you? Your father was not a madman, because if he were… you would be mad as well.>

Punisher: <And what if I am? Isn’t that the whole reason why you’re chastising me?>

Kyubey: <The reason why I’m chastising you, Liu Fei, is not because you are mad, but because you are convincing yourself you are mad. You are denying who and what you are. A blade. Like your father, you relinquish your humanity for the good of the universe. That… is not madness. That is, I would say, the exact opposite of madness.>

Punisher: <Haven’t I been an excellent blade, then?>

Kyubey: <You have! But a blade must be sharpened, lest it becomes dull. Lest it… loses its edge. A dull blade is crude. It can only butcher. A sharp blade, on the other hand, excises. Like a scalpel. It cuts out the cancer. Before it is too late.>

Punisher: <What is your point?>

Kyubey: <My point is that you are my blade, and I am sharpening it. You let your emotions get the better of you in that fight. And now I’ve been forced to improvise. I’d expected unforeseen developments, given the… proclivities of some of your colleagues. But I’d never imagined you would outdo them when it comes to a sheer lack of professionalism.>

Punisher: <… Perhaps I am not a blade, then. In the end, my father chose wanton destruction. Destruction… that I let loose upon the world.>

Kyubey: <Nonsense! Of course you wished for your father to be exonerated, Fei. Is it not a daughter’s duty to do so? I’d say that by setting your father free, you truly proved yourself to be his flesh and blood.>

Punisher: <I gave a killer his freedom. And in doing so, I became a killer.>

Kyubey: <You inherited his will, Xiaofei. It was fate. And you know it is foolish to defy faith.>

Punisher: <My father lost his edge.>

Kyubey: <Perhaps. It’s a burden and a risk you must carry. The contagion is in your blood as well. But I… I am the medicine. I am the whetstone. I am to be what helps you live up to your father’s legacy, Punisher. I am to be what helps you succeed where he failed.>

Punisher: <… To stave off the end.>

Kyubey: <… The end… of everything.>