Chapter Three

Chapter Three

The man stretched mightily and sat down on the sofa. The long day was finally coming to an end. He still had a ton of things to deal with, but there really were times when some tasks were best put off till tomorrow.

Arriving home after a week away, his wife greeted him with a face like an iceberg. At least she did give him the old “Who the hell are you?” routine. She’d probably turn a cold shoulder to him in bed, and thank God for that too.

His eyes fell on the package on the cushions next to him. He picked it up and put it on the table. He was the kind of man who bought such things from the kind of men who sold such things. In the heat of the deal, there wasn’t time to call in an appraiser. He had to trust his gut and his luck.

Containing his rising spirits, he began to undo the knots.

Monsters bared their fangs from the red surface of the worm-eaten wooden box. A dragon flying through the air; a giant snake coiled around a mountain peak; a white tiger prowling the ground—these animal drawings dashed off in black ink possessed an uncanny realism and sense of presence that burned into his retinas so vividly that he unconsciously pulled away.

“He said he dug it up—”

The man stroked his jowls. He couldn’t believe his luck. There was no end to the precious artifacts that only an expert could put a price on. But he could count on the fingers of one hand those ancient works of art whose value anybody knew at a glance. This was one of them—in the same class of a nation’s crown jewels. No, a wonder of the world.

The shining brightness in the tiger’s eyes, the realism in the dragon’s scales—he noticed his palms were sweating and wiped them on his bathrobe. The air conditioner was on full. He hadn’t been this excited about a find in a decade.

He touched the lid covering the box. Considering its design, those creatures must protect untold treasures within. His finger froze. He had the feeling the tiger was glaring at him. He put more effort into his hands and lifted up the lid without any additional effort.

He let out an explosive breath. Just as the phone on the table rang. Clucking to himself, the man replaced the lid and got up. He stepped over to the desk and picked up the receiver.

“It’s from Kanzaki-san,” said his wife, sounding like fingernails on a chalkboard. Calls to the residence weren’t set to go directly to the study.

“Tell them I’m tired. I just got home.”

“He says it’s urgent business, from the Chief Cabinet Secretary. Kanzaki-san says it’s not something he can handle on his own.”

“What the hell’s with Demon City’s General Administration Division?” he grumbled. “Who does he think the bad guy is here? My God, if he doesn’t have the brass to intimidate the likes of the Cabinet Secretary—well, all right. Fine.”

Yoshitake Kajiwara, mayor of Shinjuku ward, took a deep breath and prepared himself to tear his subordinate a new one.

Setsura ran after the Demon Princess, following her to the middle of the forest. The reasons were simple.

“I know where Takako is,” she’d said. “Come with me and we’ll throw a little reunion.”

Normally, whether or not to take a handout from the enemy would be a no-brainer. But the situation was hardly normal this time.

“Sure,” he’d said, and went willingly with the woman in white.

They weren’t on any kind of trail. The undergrowth changed with every step, up to the knees, to the chest, over his head. Princess alone strode without a detour, without slackening in her pace, running along with a straight bearing. Setsura couldn’t help noticing that the thick shrubs and briers parted before them of their own accord.

A white object wavered in the distance. Using his devil wires out as sensors, he determined that it was a towering column of high-temperature steam. Despite the smell of sulfur, there was nothing toxic about it.

After another fifteen yards, a rugged and rocky field appeared in a corner of the forest. The steam rose in thick columns. Between the columns a pool of water, a hot springs, was visible.

Standing next to a rock, Princess put her hands on the clasp of her robe. Setsura said, “You came here to take a bath? You’ve been taking me for a ride.”

Princess paused and smiled. “Nothing of the sort. You will learn of Takako’s location soon enough. But you’re looking a bit down in the mouth. You must be tired. Not a condition at all appropriate in one of my servants. You could use a good soak.”

“You think this is the time for that? I’ll go on without you.”

“Go where?”

“Wherever.”

“Regardless of whether you know where that is. How very much like you. Go wandering around in the dark and you are bound to get lost. You’ll do yourself more harm than good.”

So it was back to the hot springs with this woman.

“Besides, didn’t you wound your hand in the village of the Dancing Fiend? These waters would do you a world of good. Join me.”

The steam or her garments blocked his view. When his vision cleared, she wasn’t there anymore. A splash and spray of water that made him duck.

“What are you doing? Come on,” she urged him firmly, standing in the hot springs, boldly exposing herself above her waist.

Light reflected off the water beading on her porcelain skin like pearls. Princess herself was an angel, her body itself the beautiful treasure. A small spark of admiration lit up in the eyes of the young man looking idly on.

“Hurry up,” Princess enticed. The tone of her voice was the same, but layered now with husky overtones.

Setsura started to walk towards her, and then stopped. She wasn’t weaving a spell over him. The only magic she was using was her own nudity.

And yet the sight alone stirred up mists of sexual desire that clouded his thoughts, rang like crystalline bells in his ears. His self-control slipped away. He cast himself into a sleepwalking state as he yielded to her commands.

“What a strange man. Don’t you want me? Don’t you want to embrace this body at least once? Or do you belong to Doctor Mephisto’s tribe?”

Now shadows of disgust and volition flitted across the unruffled features. “Enough with the kidding around,” he said sternly.

“Then come on in. I—” Princess looked up at the sky. “Hoh.”

Setsura followed her gaze. “Huh,” he said.

“What did you see?” Princess asked.

“Oh, nothing.”

“Then what did you say huh for?”

“Dramatic effect.”

Princess gave up trying to twist his moral arm. “There will be plenty of opportunities for us after this. If you find the prospect so disagreeable, then I will enjoy the waters alone. You take the point. Go looking for Takako alone.”

She sank down, down to her head and deeper still, until only her black hair floated on the surface, until it too was sucked into the depths, leaving him very much alone.

He gazed at the sky, the surrounding forest, the bathing hole at his feet. He nodded. “Might as well.”

Though he didn’t sound convinced that these hot springs were as grand a place as she claimed it to be.

Ryuuki walked alone down Okubo Avenue. The old warrior’s refined features were strained with inarticulable distress. Now and then, a passerby turned for a second look.

The root of Ryuuki’s pain was his craving for blood. He was starving and suffering. Blood was life. He was exercising his martial spirit to suppress that desire.

Reverberations shook the air above his head. Bright beams of light pierced the darkness and swept towards General Ryuuki. Helicopters.

“You, there! Stop where you are! Don’t move! Our laser cannon and missiles are trained on you.”

Ryuuki counted how many were hovering around him. Five, positioned randomly across the sky.

He moved fast. Beams of light fell to the ground in front and in back of him, to the right and left. The asphalt vaporized. Flames shot up, thousands of degrees in intensity.

One beam caught him dead in the chest. He fell forward violently. Another beam pierced his skull.

“Cease fire,” came the voice over the radio. “But don’t touch him. Hold your positions until the ground troops arrive. Don’t let down your guard.”

“Roger that.”

The helicopter drifted closer, forming an air cordon around him. Ryuuki suddenly looked up at the sky. Laser cannons and RPGs weren’t enough. An invisible something ruptured the air in the center of the squadron. As if summoned by unseen forces, Shinjuku’s elite helicopter corps plummeted a hundred and fifty feet to the earth.