Chapter Two

Chapter Two

The three sat in the large room. The room was decorated in a classic, even “antique” style. Sitting atop a red lacquer bureau from the Ming Dynasty was a gold and silver vase inlaid with crystal, a product of the Spring and Autumn Period.

The light seeping through the white silk curtains was twined by the thin line of smoke rising from a sapphire incense burner decorated with birds. The room filled with the sublime aroma of Japanese yew.

The room otherwise followed a western-style architecture.

The Demon Princess had told Mephisto to wait there while she tended to business elsewhere. Setsura sat serenely in a black chair. Mephisto chose the ottoman and calmly crossed his legs. Yakou morosely paced the red carpet.

Once united in purpose against the four invaders, they now shared nothing in common—not their positions or their states of mind. Mephisto sported white fangs. Yakou had attached himself to Princess. Setsura alone had not changed.

And yet, however estranged their emotions, the room itself strangely dissipated the more physical aspects of their beauty. The light in Setsura’s black eyes faded. The breath passing Mephisto’s lips lost its fragrance. With each of Yakou’s sighs, the spectrum of scents in the air lost another of its colors.

The room was wrapped in a kind of pensive chagrin. These erstwhile allies must surely be experiencing similar emotions. Though the man in black lounging in the chair—as if kissed by the bright sunlight—showed no signs of allowing his happy-go-lucky spirits to fall.

Half an hour had passed since they came to this room. Setsura was the first one to speak. “She must want us to really cool our heels.”

“Bored already?” Yakou said, like a parent reprimanding a child. “Exercise a little patience.”

“What’s with making the guests sit around for half an hour twiddling their thumbs? Strange even for four-thousand-year-old Chinese etiquette. You did that study abroad thing in England, didn’t you? When it comes to standing up for the Orient, seems some of us aren’t pulling our weight.”

“So says the villain who came here to destroy Princess. Ask Doctor Mephisto. She suffered greatly in order to bring Miss Kanan back here. It stands to reason that her care should take precedence over ours.”

“So a Princess covered in Mercurochrome, eh? Emperor Zhou would roll over in his grave.”

“I will not permit you to slander Princess like that,” said Yakou, a dangerous edge in his voice.

Setsura calmly turned to Mephisto on his right. “Yo, Mephisto. Give the guy something for his blood pressure.” Then, “Oh, right. No talking about blood. Traitor. Well, how’s it feel becoming a vampire?”

“Feels rather excellent,” the man in white answered in a slightly breathy voice that would tickle the erogenous zones of male and female—and the infirmed on their deathbeds—alike.

Though Setsura was not entranced, to this doctor, he possessed a kind of deeply-rooted charm that he simply couldn’t put his finger on. He might even call it a kind of lasciviousness.

“I have seen many things. Things I knew. Things I did not. But merely one of the latter would justify the experience.”

“Well, well, well,” Setsura said in a slightly bored manner, and stretched like a languorous cat.

A shadow fell across the room. The brightness and intensity of the light didn’t change. A small smile came to Yakou’s face. Halfway through a rather feigned yawn, Setsura glanced at the door in the back. A blue glass door.

A willowy figure floated up like a dream and opened the door and walked up to them.

Any one of them could’ve been forgiven for believing this was not the same woman who, several hours ago, had struggled through the valley of death after a fight to the finish. Aside from the wave of black hair covering half her face, her beauty and sensual magnetism had not faded in the slightest, not from the first time they had met her. The robe covering her breasts and hanging down to her feet fluttered like the wings of a butterfly in an unexpected breeze.

“I see you have returned, Setsura,” said the Demon Princess, in gently mocking tones. “The tongue that swore it would never become my servant is still in good working order?”

“Yessiree.”

Yakou’s forehead twitched at the glibness of the reply, but Princess only smiled. “You certainly put on a gaudy show. And Kikiou got the brunt of it, I hear?”

“So it would seem.”

“Very good. The man just doesn’t die no matter how many times you kill him. He should show up any minute now.” Dismissing Setsura’s rampage, she continued, “And now to prove that I am as good as my word, come along.”

She turned around, completely ignoring Mephisto and Yakou.

“A moment perhaps?” said Mephisto.

“No,” was the frosty reply. “Yakou, escort the white-caped doctor to one of Kikiou’s laboratories. Whichever one you end up in, I’m sure he’ll be as happy as a kid in a candy store.”

“Yes.”

Yakou bowed deeply and apologized to Mephisto. “I’m sorry, but Princess does not acknowledge the presence of outsiders.”

The woman in white and the man in black had already left through the blue door.

She led Setsura down the long hallway toward a dark door. He felt as if he had traversed a far distance. From the doors set into either side of the hallway came the sounds of men and women weeping. Abrading sounds like fingernails clawed unceasingly at the doors. Doors from which issued long, sad songs.

Now and then a window appeared. If he squinted, he could make out the blue lake and flowers waving in the wind that wafted across the water’s surface. A legendary phoenix flying over the faraway mountains.

“Are you tired?” asked the Demon Princess.

“Yes,” Setsura answered, in a voice that split the difference between fatigue and sleep deprivation.

“And yet you went ahead and barged into my kingdom. You really need to think these things through. In addition to banging me, it took the living livers of a thousand woman and children to give Emperor You and Emperor Zhou the spunk you have now. In other words, from the time I met you, it was clear that you had all the makings of the next King of Hades.”

“If people who never considered the consequences of their actions were born to be devils, then this country would have gone to the dogs a lot quicker than it already has.”

Setsura lazily tossed off that bombshell. His face clouded over. “Hold on. A world full of devils would be pretty dull. Ah, I get it,” he said, nodding in agreement. “The world is supposed to be a peaceful place.”

Princess shot him an exasperated expression and pulled on the doorknob. For several seconds, the blue darkness enveloped them. The shadows at his feet disappeared.

“It is light outside. Why the sudden darkness?” he asked blandly. “Or rather, the opposite. Since you love darkness so much, why is it always so bright?”

“Hmm.” For a rare change, that was all that Princess said.

She walked on. Setsura followed her deeper in. The blue glow was like the bottom of the sea. His eyes were drawn to a sharp gleam. A statue of the Buddha covered with gold leaf and an elliptical pavilion draped with gauzy curtains.

Princess approached the Buddha and pressed on its chest. “Are you awake?” she asked shortly.

“Y-yes.” Her hoarse voice notwithstanding, Setsura could clearly discern the identity of the speaker.

“As you suspect, she whom you call Takako is in here.”

The Demon Princess flashed a ghostly smile, the kind of smile that must inevitably scratch the itch of a stranger’s psychic wound and bring up blood.

“But fling your threads till kingdom come and you won’t break through. This is the casket in which I have spent the last four thousand years—and long before that. Hoh. Not the makeshift bedrooms employed by General Bey and the others. If necessary, Takako could live here forever. Never aging, never seeing the false sun, hungering and thirsting for eternity, living on and on in the pitch dark. A painful thought, no? Depending on your answer, from that day forward, I will close the door to this room and never allow anyone to open it again.”

Setsura said wearily, “You are a woman with a penchant for making a major production out of the most trivial of resolutions.” All he cared about was sealing the place shut and throwing away the key. “That leaves Kanan-san in something of a fix. So how do I get you to open it?”

“I believe I have already stipulated the terms. You must become my servant of your own free will. That is all.”

“That leaves me in something of a fix.”

“Why should it? Will you cast her aside?”

Setsura said, with the gloomy aura of a young intellectual agonizing over a philosophical thesis, “It’d be nice if you turned that moral compass around now and then.”

“I am not other people, and neither are you. That look of distress on your face fascinates me. Think it over carefully.”

“Oh. You don’t need an answer right away?”

“Not at all. But won’t you become all the more morose the longer you drag it out? She will grow hungrier and hungrier inside the casket. This hunger and thirst are not fixed quantities. They grow day by day. How much more over an eternity?”

“You really are a thoroughly determined little bitch,” Setsura sulked. “I guess there’s no sense in dragging this thing out.”

Observing the pondering Setsura carefully, Princess tented her fingers as if wondering something herself. “Go into the bathroom.”

“The bathroom?” said Setsura, goggling a bit.

“Behind the curtains. The bath is filled with the blood of virgins.”

“How did you collect it all?”

“Four thousand years of history. Nations go to war and hundreds of thousands die. Take your time and walk a battlefield or two. We have stored up more than enough in the manor house. I will say this about Kikiou—he is the kind of man who spares no effort to fulfill my needs.”

Setsura shrugged. He watched Princess pace to the curtains. The silk curtains parted like a light mist. A strong scent assaulted his nostrils. Blood.

“May I come in?” Setsura asked, seized by curiosity of a different sort.

“That is what I’m here for. Come in.”

Setsura entered and looked at the dragon-shaped bathtub. “After I’ve met with Kanan-san,” he countered. “You may say she is fine, but using you as the standard of comparison does not bode well for her. I’ll accompany you once we’ve confirmed that she’s not dying while I’m bathing.”

“Huh. You’re a distrustful man. So, what do you do to put food on the table?”

“I make senbei.”

“Hoh.”

“And why would you ask a question like that?”

“With a face like that, you should be in the movies. No need to waste away in a city like this.”

“I’ve had a few offers in my time,” Setsura said with a touch of pride.

“Of course. And what happened?”

“I turned them down, of course.”

“Why?” the Demon Princess asked, clearly intrigued. More than the questions and answers, conversing with Setsura seemed entertainment enough.

“Pick a reason.” Setsura grimaced.

“Why turn your back on such opportunities?” Princess pressed.

“Sex scenes were usually involved.”

“You don’t like sleeping with women?”

“In front of an audience? No.”

“Then here will suit you fine. If I do not beckon them, no one else will come.”

“I’m not big on nude scenes, either.”

“You’ve made your point. Don’t push it.”

“We’ll proceed after I’ve seen Kanan-san with my own two eyes. How’d this conversation turn into a negotiation, anyway?”

Princess gave Setsura a brief but poisonous look and slipped back through the curtains. Setsura followed her. She stood next to the Buddha and fixed her gaze on the shining surface. At length, she leaned over and touched the Buddha’s slick engraved chest.

A slit opened vertically. The statue split into two halves. There appeared the unexpected sight of a completely changed young woman. Takako, stark naked, her eyes closed.

“Satisfied?”

“I still want to hear her speak.”

“Did you hear?” Princess whispered to Takako.

Takako nodded.

“Say something.”

Takako’s lips barely moved. “Setsura-san—I so wanted to see you—”

“Happy now?”

Setsura didn’t answer. His sharp gaze fell on Takako’s neck.

“Those marks are mine.”

Setsura moved Takako’s lips, showing her gums. The pair of unsightly, ferocious-looking fangs appeared.

“Hoh. Now what do you do? That woman has been elevated from a mere woman to my servant.”

Setsura removed his fingers from the purple lips and looked instead at the Demon Princess. A wicked glow suffused her eyes. A small part of that light might even be tinged by fear.

“That bastard—he has returned.”

Setsura answered coolly, “And once again, you have met me.”