Chapter Three

Chapter Three

A police helicopter was the first to notice the anomaly. They radioed in a report on a secured channel, but didn’t spot any patrol cars answering the call. The night belonged instead to the citizens of the city roaming the streets sporting glowing red eyes and white fangs.

Instead, a second helicopter was dispatched to the scene. Upon seeing it himself, the startled chief broadcast a live feed to the mayor’s office in the ward government building.

“Holy—!” As he could have predicted, Kajiwara jumped out of his chair.

On the screen was a majestic view of the Keio Plaza Hotel. Zooming in on the front lobby revealed a boat sitting there as if waiting to be ushered in. It appeared for all the world to be an antique vessel of Chinese design.

There was nothing all that strange about an ancient galley showing up in the ruins of an ultramodern hotel in this city. At this point in time though, confirming the whereabouts of any ancient Chinese vehicle was of the gravest importance.

Feeling the blood rush to his head, “Destroy that ship!” Kajiwara shouted.

“Roger,” agreed the captain, though not in a manner that suggested the mayor was listening in. The command authority vis-à-vis the patrol helicopters rested with him. With a few additions to the mayor’s remarks, he relayed the information to the pilot.

“Roger that.”

The helicopter put another two hundred yards between itself and the boat and armed the pair of TOW missiles on board. The one on the right was loaded with napalm, which should be more effective against a wooden structure.

“If anybody is in that boat, come out or we’ll fire!” he announced through the external loudspeakers. “The state this city is in, we’re not coming down to escort you out! If you can’t move, then say something. If you don’t intend to resist, let’s see your hands. Or hit the hull three times. Our sensors will pick it up. You got ten seconds! After that we’ll fire!”

He repeated the warning and counted down. The life forms squirming through the darkness froze in anticipation. The count started at ten. When it reached three, an invisible surge of power rose up from below and struck the helicopter.

“We’re losing thrust!” the three man crew shouted together. The gunner peeled his eyes. “What’s causing it?”

“No damned idea! We’re going to crash at this rate. Fire!”

“I can’t! The guidance controls are locked! We’re going down!”

The rotors kept turning the ten yards more to the ground as much out of sheer willpower as luck. The helicopter stayed in one piece and the crew piled out, slapping their heads and chests to make sure their bodies had too. Directly in front of them, gray men blocked the way.

“Who the hell are you?”

Within the group, one conspicuously tall man stopped forward. “We are former residents of the Toyama housing project. We’re asking you to not make the same mistake twice. We would like to see them all writhing in the fires of hell as well. But wait a while longer. There may be passengers on board of incomparable value to you and ourselves.”

“Toyama?” one of the helicopter crew exclaimed, his voice rising half an octave. The man’s quiet but forceful presence engendered both relief and apprehension. “You’re one of them!”

He had already drawn his Magnum sidearm. The moment his finger applied pressure to the trigger, the five-pound weapon slipped from his hand like it weighed a ton.

“What are you stopping us for?” This time, it was the gunner’s assault that was brought to a halt. “What’s your deal? You gonna save whoever’s in that ship?”

“If there’s anybody there.”

“Fine. Then get on with us. But remember who’s the law here. We’re coming with.”

“No objections here,” the young man said with a generous nod. “However, things could get dangerous. We won’t be watching your backs.”

“You don’t have to tell us. But if we all get out of this alive, you’ll be getting a bill for the helicopter.”

The gunner thumbed his lapel mike and said, “Like you heard. We’re going inside the ship. We’ll keep broadcasting, but there’s no telling what will get through.” He adjusted his helmet camera and said, “What’s your name?”

“Yakou.”

“I’m Hayata. Nice meeting you.”

The deck of the ship was ten feet above their heads. There were no handholds. Hayata glanced back at the helicopter. “We’ve got rocket belts in there.”

A black-clad arm wrapped around his waist. “And I’ve got room for one more,” Yakou said.

Another of the gray silhouettes stepped forward and stood opposite Hayata. He didn’t have the time to wonder what was going to happen next when the three of them soared into the air.

To the rest of the helicopter crew on the ground, the wings that unfolded from Yakou’s back as he launched into the air brought to mind fairytale images of a demonic angel.

They watched them disappear above the deck of the ship, only turning around when one of the gray men ominously raised his voice.

“They’re coming.”

From far off in the inky darkness surrounding them burned the fiery red dots. The citizens of Shinjuku on the prowl for fresh victims to feed their second lives.

The three on the deck of the ship hadn’t the time to consider the fates of their colleagues. They landed on the stern. The black hatchway gaped open, beckoning them into the ship’s interior.

The deck, gunwales, masts and railings were lavished with glittering golden birds of prey, landscapes of hills and rivers. A bronze lamp still burned in the wheel cabin. This wasn’t a houseboat, but a pleasure craft for enjoying a misty spring moon while sharing a bottle of sake.

They descended a stairway, Yakou leading the way. At the foot of the stairs, a door rose up before them, walls to the left and right.

Watching as Yakou placed his hand on the latch, Hayata tightened his grip on the Magnum.

Light poured out like a swift-moving stream. For some reason, Hayata comprehended that this was the light of spring, the particles of light swirling around them before Yakou had swung the door all the way open.

Yakou may have hesitated at that moment, and Hayata pushed past him.

They were standing on the edge of a field. Not quite yet summer, springtime was fully in its glory. The blooming flowers basking in the radiant glow, their refreshing scent suffusing the languid breezes.

“Setsura Aki.”

The graceful form lay next to the trunk of a peach tree on a bed of green grass, covered with a blanket of white flowers. A rainbow-colored sprite danced next to him. No one could have imagined that this was the very incarnation of death and destruction.

Her lithesome, outstretched arms drew the light to her. Her feet treading on the ground brought forth the rich smell of the earth. Her fragrance was the light and the light became her fragrance, twining with the falling blossoms, forming a prismatic rainbow arcing through the sky.

The angel of death dancing to the song of life.

Yakou stood there in stunned silence. ‘Nice that you showed up,” the voice sang out to him. “That face, those eyes—I see I can no longer call you my servant. But I won’t be handing Setsura over to you.”

All at once, his one crucial task denied to him, Yakou felt his spirits fall.

“Oh, don’t worry. I have not yet made him my own. Once more is all it takes. You understand the meaning of that, don’t you? This is my dance of celebration. Instead of Setsura, you may take that woman. Do not draw any conclusions of your own from this, simply know that that is why I invited you here.”

Yakou saw Takako Kanan lying at his feet. He picked her up and passed her to his subordinate. “Go,” he said.

“But—”

“Wait on the deck of the ship.”

The subordinate nodded and left.

“Is she the bad guy here?” Hayata asked.

“Exactly.”

“She’s a babe. What do we do?”

“Kill her. Here and now.”

“Sounds like a plan.”

Hayata raised his fifty caliber auto, aimed it at Yakou’s back and squeezed the trigger. The thunderous reports ruptured the stillness of the spring day. His back arched, Yakou whirled around.

Twelve spent casings fell glittering onto the grass. Hayata tossed the gun away and wiped the drool from his mouth. The high-powered gun that could stop a mad bull in its tracks should have turned Yakou’s torso into a sieve. Seemingly oblivious to the fact that Yakou was still standing there impassively, he tottered up to the beautiful dancing Princess.

He was not under the spell of the Demon Princess. Or rather, it was her dancing alone that intoxicated his senses. The iron will of a cop who cruised daily through the carnage of Demon City melted like warm putty at the sight of her willowy limbs and transfixing countenance.

“Make me your servant—”

Her pale hands flitted like swallows before his empty face. Then beside the dancing Princess stood a torso and a head flying into the air, connected by a tide of blood. The tide became a mist carried by the wind and washed over Yakou as Hayata’s head thumped as well to the ground.

“What’s the matter? Can’t come any closer?”

The rainbow danced on and the ominous taunt rang out, oblivious to the macabre scene.

Yakou couldn’t budge. Not because of fear. An utterly unique look shone in his eyes, that no man had ever shown to Princess before.

“I believe you may have leapt to the wrong conclusion,” he said in a low voice.

“What would that be?”

“We are birds of a feather. And there are those other things too close to see. The emperors you drove mad, did you seduce them out of love?

“Well,” Princess said coldly. “They were all the same to me.”

She glared at Yakou, her eyes spilling forth a fearsome light. “I handed over the girl. All there is left for you to do is leave.”

“Then I’ll leave with Setsura Aki-san,” Yakou said with a ghostly smile, showing the confidence of a man who had led that band of vampires since olden times. Once in the skies above Chuo Park he had bowed down before Princess’s evil eye—there was that lingering anger too.

Lightning wouldn’t strike twice. Providing he was not caught off guard, even an immortal, four-thousand-year-old vampire princess could not easily escape his qi cannon.

He had put together a dedicated band of brothers to deal with the creatures scattered across the Shinjuku night spawned by her. While preparing for the next encounter, a separate group arrived with news of the ship. This time, they would revenge themselves on the foe who killed the Elder and purge the humiliation of that defeat.

And yet Princess did not stop dancing, within the wind and light and peach blossoms, the symphony of spring. Far from being intimidated, she was hardly aware he was there. And far from being angered, Yakou was more taken aback.

Nevertheless, his hands shifted to a fighting stance, for he was the leader of the night dwellers. His hands reached out, spikes that could pierce a wall of steel. A silent, shapeless shaft of energy poured from his fingertips and shot towards the rainbow dancer.

In the multicolored kaleidoscope, a golden point of light flared up. And disappeared. One after the other, sparkling dots of light were absorbed into her body.

The Demon Princess raised her hand to her mouth and made a fist. Pursing her lips, she unfurled her fingers. Propelled by her breath, the peach blossoms wound around the trajectory of Yakou’s qi cannon and covered his face.

Yakou reeled back with a moan, his eyelids white, his eyes sealed by the blinders of white petals.

“If you cannot destroy me, you cannot remove that. So, Yakou, what do you think of your veil of darkness now?”

“I think this.”

Princess hadn’t expected that answer or his subsequent flight into the air. His face rendered expressionless, the winged figure rose elegantly above her and flitted off toward the far spring meadows.

“Bastard.”

In contrast to her execrations, with movements that did not disturb at all the flow of her dance up till then, Princess waved her hands. The sleeve of her gown sprang into the air like a flying fish and chased after him. Oblivious to the streamers hot on his heels, from the air Yakou thrust down his hands at a point below him.

“I found what I’m looking for, Princess.”

What had he seen with his unseeing eyes? What he had probably already sensed in the midst of the battle, using those senses that both he and Princess shared as creatures of the night.

Black splinter fragments erupted from the undergrowth as the multicolored band wrapped around his body. He heard the bones of his body breaking. Plunging abruptly toward the ground, what he felt was not pain. An intoxicating sensation coursed through the marrow of his bones and raced through his veins.

He could die like this. At that moment, the immortal young man longed for death.

Princess’s voice echoed in his ears from far away. “Emperor Zhou and Emperor Jie died the same way, the pain piercing their flesh and bones turning into tears of ecstasy. You are the Elder’s grandson. The least I can do is indulge you no differently than I would a king. You should taste the bitter fruits of an undying body all over again.”

Yakou was already writhing on the ground. The sunlight shone down on the trampled grass. He watched the demonic fairy floating though the spring dancing her eerie dance. The grass danced, the blood danced. Broken bones pierced his chest and viscera.

“How fare your heart and lungs? Ah, stabbed through and through. But your bones won’t kill you. The closer you get to death, the greater the pleasure you will feel. The dance is over. What do you say I assist you in these throes of bliss?”

She licked her lips, stopped dancing, and walked over to stand next to Yakou. With a lewd glance at his crotch, she knelt down. The mere touch of her hand drew from Yakou a low moan. The waves of unbearable pleasure pushed him inexorably toward climax. He did not right now possess the force of will to resist.

Using her forefinger like a stiletto, she slit his slacks in two. As if released from impatient seclusion, his member sprang toward the sky.

“Though I can’t so easily destroy you, I can drive you mad. Yakou, you will thank your stars for the time you stay sane.”

This woman, whose beauty like her evil knew no end, and yet might easily be mistaken for a heavenly nymph, wrapped her red lips around his aroused manhood.

Yakou twisted his body but he could not resist. His body could only move reflexively to the stimulus. She went down on him hard, and he came in her mouth. However pleasurable the sensation might be, all emotion vanished from his pale face. As if the wellspring of that pleasure itself had taken form within him, his vacant eyes froze in their sockets.

She pulled her moist mouth away and swallowed. Her throat quivered. “Once more,” she exulted. “Once more and Setsura becomes mine and you go out of your mind. Well then, who gets to go first? Who gets to watch? Of course, let’s start with you.”

Once again she lowered her debauched lips to him.

A sudden disturbance marred the quiet stillness of the spring day. With a start she spun around. A bright red line circumscribed her neck. Her head slid to the side. She raised an arm and returned it to its rightful place.

“You’ve woken up, Setsura?” Her indescribable voice carried on a fitful breeze toward the dark silhouette who stood beneath the distant peach tree. “No—you are—different. But the same Setsura. The man who once divided me in two.”

“You have met me, Princess,” he said, his countenance as cool and pale as the peach blossoms dancing and twirling before his eyes.