Chapter One

Chapter One

Yakou floated there in the air. “You broke your promise,” he said, a frown rising to his refined face. He meant Setsura promising to stay out of sight until Princess returned.

The object of his accusation scratched his head. “Well, not on purpose.” He showed no sign of being rattled in the least.

“You do know that this is no joking matter?”

“Oh, don’t start saying things like that.”

“Prepare yourself for the possibility that when Princess returns with Takako, she will crush her like an insect.”

“You intend to play the tattletale?”

“You are hardly in a position to complain.”

“True.”

“There remains inside my heart a remnant of the fellowship you and I once shared. A foolish and utterly ridiculous thing, but I cannot ignore it. That may be why I believed your promise to keep quiet and stay still.”

On the ground below, Setsura betrayed no sign whether he caught the touch of mortification in Yakou’s voice. When God talked to mortals, it may have been something like this.

“However, you defied my wishes. Kikiou was absolutely sure you could not escape, but he should come running any minute. It needn’t come to that. Here and now I will sing your requiem.”

“That’s an awfully confident statement.”

Setsura sauntered to a stop. More than the thought of making a friend of Yakou, keeping things relaxed at this stage of the game seemed the right way to proceed.

“Everybody makes mistakes. The important thing is that we don’t repeat them. A little something to keep in mind.”

“You are too laid back for your own good.”

“I was born that way, I guess. But if the shoe fits, might as well wear it. Your eyes need to be opened as well. Then we can call it even.”

Yakou had released Setsura from the clam’s nightmare by blowing on the flute. His wings beat against the air. Setsura’s eyes glimmered, sensing his approach. In that instant, Yakou soared higher.

Pretend Takako screamed as Setsura shoved her aside. That something flew through the air, was severed without a sound, and disappeared.

“As I should have expected. My three-pronged attack. Good parry.” Yakou’s voice came from high above, trembling with excitement.

“No problem.” Setsura smiled and raised his hand. Like two friends out for a friendly game of golf.

“The next one won’t be so easy. When it comes to restoring lost confidence, there’s no making the same mistake twice.”

“You’re really trying to kiss up to her, aren’t you? A real man might find that a bit embarrassing.”

“You know nothing of her true magnificence,” Yakou said, almost ecstatically. “Share her bed once and you shall see—the true meaning of Shangri-la.”

“Ask that doctor who lives in the old ward government building,” Setsura said airily.

“He doesn’t know the half of true human pleasures,” Yakou smirked. “Either way, he will soon be one of us as well. His charms will be ours for the studying. Why don’t you come along too?”

“Sounds like you’re making up for past mistakes,” goaded Setsura, in words that didn’t sound like it at all. “If you don’t wrap things up before Kikiou arrives, there will be a lot of explaining to do. Besides, I’ve got places to go and things to do.”

“What would those be?”

“To make an honest man—no, a good grandson—out of you. Where there’s a will there’s a way.”

“You mean the moon lilies? Do you even know how?”

“Ah. Steep for thirty minutes in boiling water. Or something like that.”

He wasn’t joking, but the way he said it, it came out that way. Yakou’s smile was equally unruffled.

“I should be getting a move on, if I say so myself. But first, could you tell me what became of Kanan-san afterwards?”

“Does that concern you?”

“Yes, indeed.”

“Princess should be returning with her even now.”

“Running a little behind schedule, isn’t she?”

Yakou hesitated. From the unexpected reaction on his face, Setsura had exposed a chink in Yakou’s armor.

“So something’s come up. General Bey or another one of your bothersome intruders?”

Yakou didn’t answer. He instead flexed his fingers. Before the cracking of his knuckles reached him, Setsura had dashed to the right, diving headfirst into a hedge of thick green undergrowth. While still in midair he carved out a round hole with the scythe of his devil wire, and at the same time he landed, another hole burrowed into the ground.

That same hand reached skyward.

Yakou dodged the howling mass of devil wires and plummeted downwards, folding his wings at the last second to slip through the entangling mesh. The web reversed direction in pursuit. Just as it reached him, Yakou pushed out both hands.

Setsura, though, didn’t try to cut through the demon qi that had shattered Kikiou into pieces. Ten feet in front of him, the qi dove into the ground and seemed to vanish. It passed by him and was absorbed into the side of the manor house.

Setsura stopped and said, “What are you up to?” Yakou was hurling qi at a place directly below him.

That they would make the time in the midst of this life and death struggle for such a Q&A meant that Yakou had not fundamentally lost his old self. It was, of course, part and parcel of Setsura’s personality.

“I could ask the same of you. Do you wish the evening bell to toll thrice for thee?”

“Meaning what?”

“An old English proverb. When evening came, the country churches would ring their bells twice to mark the time of day. Children playing in the fields would take it as a cue to return home. But sometimes children would stray too far and get lost. In that case, a third bell would chime.”

“That’s a nice story.”

“Not really. A child who heard the third bell was sure to return home the wrong way and disappear. Fall from a cliff or drown in a bog. That’s the origin of the third bell.”

“You calling me a liar? Just because you did a little study abroad in England doesn’t mean you go lording it over everybody.” Even when dissing someone, he did it in a cheerful manner.

“Anyway—” Yakou grinned, signaling a resumption of combat. Setsura relaxed his body.

A moment later, the growl of a wild animal interrupted their contest.

“Hey, look at that,” Setsura said.

Kikiou came around the corner of the manor house. He wasn’t alone. A fierce-looking eagle-like bird perched on his right shoulder. To his left was an attractive young woman.

“Stay out of this, Kikiou,” Yakou warned.

“Who do you think you are talking to?” Kikiou cast a disparaging look at the airborne young man. “He has caused us nothing but trouble. He broke into Princess’s mausoleum and destroyed her casket. It does not matter that it was a fake. She could not fault us for ending his life. The one who shouldn’t be interfering is you, Yakou.”

“He could destroy this world for all I care, as long as it is in accordance with Princess’s wishes. You are the traitor to her desires. Don’t forget that.”

The cool stare accompanying the equally cool voice brought an unpleasant look to Kikiou’s face. Forced to play second fiddle to Yakou was reason enough to loathe him.

And Yakou as well had good reasons to give Kikiou a wide berth. He’d awoken Setsura from the dream behind Kikiou’s back. And even if the fault lay with Kikiou to start with, making an enemy of him in this world was hardly a wise strategy. Win a battle of qi and the warlock could resurrect a new body from the severed head alone.

And he wasn’t likely to make the same mistake twice. If they ever re-engaged, the only thing Yakou could be sure of was him pulling a trick out of his wizardly hat he’d never seen before. Considering that he had the run of his home ground, he could easily deliver a series of jabs that would add up to real damage after a while.

“So, how do you two wish to proceed?” Setsura asked, as if they weren’t the enemies they clearly were. “If you can’t get your stories straight, you’re not going to put together much of a coherent strategy. All to my benefit, I guess. Do we respect our elders or rely on the opinions of youth to show us the way? Well, either way, hurry up.”

Yakou looked at Kikiou. Kikiou looked at Yakou. Each pair of eyes filled with raw disdain for the other. His nonchalant manner and the sarcasm in his voice only made Setsura’s words all the more effective. When it came to fanning the flames without moving a finger, he was the king of what-the-hell.

“I will yield,” Yakou quickly offered. “I am content as the understudy. Let us watch you finish off Setsura, Sir Kikiou.”

He gave a little extra emphasis to that sir, tempting Kikiou to go ahead and make his day. With Kikiou and Setsura both showing their hands, he could stand on the sidelines and pick off the pieces afterwards.

The expression on the senbei shop owner’s face said, “Huh?” He was clearly taken aback. Kikiou saw where this was going as well. The icy flash in his eyes he directed at Yakou could freeze blood. But when it came to dealing with Setsura, he couldn’t very well be standing in line.

The towering fury spilling from his frame turned on Setsura, and sent forth—the pretty young lady. She was wearing a cheongsam slit to the waist. The fabric glittered like a kaleidoscope.

The fine figure of a man, his wings spread against the blue sky—the gorgeous flowers of the pretty young woman—the black-clad young man planted on the earth—all against the backdrop of the smoky-green forest and the vivid primary colors of the old manor house. The visual beauty of the scene might have otherwise sprung forth from a mural or scroll of some alien world.

And how would this woman tear apart the composition?

“Take a good look, Setsura. This woman’s skills will make your lover die with jealousy.”

Setsura reacted to the threat with a brief, disbelieving look, a cat being rudely roused from a nap. “Forgive the correction, but if you are referring to a certain physician, I truly think not.”

Kikiou didn’t respond. The woman alone moved. Inclining her body slightly and turning to the left, her resplendent thigh emerged from the slit.

Its shape and muscularity were perfect in artistic and physical terms. Its alluring and captivating presence could not help but arouse the sexual impulses, as if the thigh had condensed out of a moist miasma and poured forth from beneath her dress.

Setsura looked on with blank bewilderment. Any other reaction would be perfectly unnatural.

The woman next reached up to the back of her collar. The dress split open. No sooner had her white chest and full décolletage appeared above the folds of the material than she pushed it further down her body.

The sensuous movements of her hands conducting a symphony of the erotic. Checking Setsura’s reaction with upturned eyes, she gradually pressed her hands lower.

The fruit had been at some point stained with the glistening secretions of the vine. Her pink nipples appeared, and Setsura’s eyes were drawn to the glistening protuberances. Her mannerisms and body would have aroused a stone statue.

The slightest thought of the fantasies such licentiousness must inspire made the focus of his attention perfectly comprehensible. And his unemotional gaze all the more remarkable.

The dress fell and gathered around her ankles. She pressed her hands to her breasts and her privates. The display of bashfulness in her gaze was itself bewitching, the pose enticing. Her breasts spilled out from her palms as she slowly turned her back to him, displaying her hips.

The sunlight played across the gentle curves. She shook them slightly.

The big bird perched on Kikiou’s shoulders shook as well. It was getting turned on, too. A bird getting the hots for a human was hardly the norm, but that was how invigorating this woman’s sexuality was.

Setsura blinked. “Quite the little hussy,” he said.

“Before coming to this city, I studied all of your ways. Especially when it comes to women, you’re not exactly a lady’s man. Not exactly indifferent. Or rather, not evincing the normal reactions. But how shall I describe a man who, despite his willingness to indulge himself now and then beyond the bounds of ordinary convention, has never once shared the delights of a woman a hundred times more experienced?”

“Well—”

“The results speak for themselves. During the First Emperor period of the Qin Dynasty, I created an artificial concubine and brought her forth like this. Quite the beauty, don’t you think? Look on her long and even a man like me gets to feeling funny. Before it’s too late—get him!”

She moved forward with a step-like gait. Her lips gleamed. From her mouth puffed out flashes of light like dandelion seeds. At Setsura’s head. Tiny needles like blow darts. He flicked his face to the side.

Her thigh filled his vision. Had he been a hundredth of a second slower, his cheek would have been studded with silver and blood.

Setsura jumped backwards before another wave of light came at him. While he was still in the air, a red line circumscribed her head. Without the slightest indication of pain on her features, it fell to the ground.

No blood flowed. The severed edges were a pale peach color.

Her two hands reached out. And severed at the joints. The trunk separated from the thighs and landed on the arms. The legs stood there splayed at odd angles.

“Go!”

Together with the sound of his voice, the flapping of wings arose from Kikiou’s shoulders.

Lying on the ground, Setsura released the killing devil wires at the onrushing bird. Just before making its strike, something warm and soft splashed against his hand. The bird’s steel beak had slit his forehead.

The bird swooped above with room to spare. Setsura got to his feet. The blood flowing from the wound painted half of his face red. He turned his open eye, not toward the bird, but toward Kikiou.

The old man tugged at his white beard. “It is pointless, but give it a try.”

Setsura released two strands of devil wire. One closed on Kikiou from the sky, the other from the ground, aiming to draw and quarter him, up and down, left and right.

The vectors of the wires suddenly tangled. A burst of colorless, odorless energy from Kikiou’s body vaporized them as easily as strands of cotton thread.

A strange feeling gripped Setsura’s blood-stained body.

The wet lips trailing along the nape of his neck, the groping hand around his chest and the thighs entwining his legs, the ass pressing against his waist—unmistakably those of that voluptuous woman.