Demon City Shinjuku: The Complete Edition (36 page)

A slender youngster was standing in the center of the schoolyard. His dusky features had a melancholy aura and suggested a Middle Eastern background. His white shirt, rolled up sleeves and narrow-cut jeans balanced the intellectual mien with a touch of the wild side.

Everybody's first assumption was that he was an exchange student. Everybody except one.

Kyoya raced out of the classroom and down to the courtyard. A PE class had just ended. They surrounded the kid at a distance and eyed him suspiciously. It wasn't that unusual to see students from other schools there. So why was everyone crowding to the window? What were they looking at?

The PE instructor walked up to the kid as Kyoya ran onto the field, still in his slippers. The instructor said something to the kid. The kid turned away. The instructor clapped a hand hard on his shoulder.

The kid only turned his head and looked at the instructor behind him. Nothing else transpired.

The instructor's body turned blue. A wordless scream echoed across the courtyard. The instructor's face and chest glittered with a dull mineral luster. Beneath a bright blue sky, the young PE instructor turned into a stone statue, as if in ironic recognition of some hitherto unknown achievement.

By that time, Kyoya stood in front of the kid, Asura in his right hand. “You here to see me?” he asked in a voice brimming with a tension his classmates had never heard before.

“You understand me?” the kid said, suggesting a smattering command of Japanese.

“He wasn't a threat to you. Put him back the way he was.”

“It is too late for that. Can you reanimate the dead?”

“No. I know of only one man who can do that.”

“My name is Ishmael. And you are Kyoya Izayoi.”

“Yeah.”

“I have something to say to you. After school, come to the Koma Theater in Shinjuku.”

“Why not settle things here and now?”

“It is all the same to me. Though there is no telling how many more people I might
look
at. Koma is in the ruins. Nobody will interfere.”

“Fine,” Kyoya readily agreed, cognizant of the threat implicit in Ishmael's words.

“Well, then.” Ishmael nodded. “But having come all this way, I would like to see the differences between you and the teacher for myself.”

He raised his head. Kyoya stood stock still, school uniforms reflected in his black eyes. Ishmael as well remained frozen in place.

“What?” Kyoya asked in an expressionless voice.

Only his lips moved. The rest of his face could have been a Noh mask. This was the result of terrific mental concentration, that preceded the unleashing of his
nenpo
.

“If I'd taken a full hit of your power, I would have turned out like the teacher here. But to do that, it seems I'd have to turn around. Fine with me. Shall we give it our best shots?”

For a moment, the kid's face twisted into a ghoulish form. A slight smile flashed for a split second. And then the calm countenance once again presented itself.

“I seem to have underestimated you,” he said graciously. “I did not think this world had another Semulia in it. But next time, I will have the sun on my side. There will be no turning your back on me then.”

“Sure.”

Ishmael strolled away. Kyoya didn't relax until he had passed through the front gate. He was soaked with cold sweat. It was like his
nen
flowed out with his perspiration.

Ishmael hadn't intended to kill him just now. He'd showed up here more for the fun of it, which was why he'd faced him head on.

Kyoya, though, was dead serious. Had they turned around and faced each other—even feigned doing so—he would have swung Asura at his head. Ishmael's powers would have left him no other option. He had imparted all of his mental energy into the sword.

This time, the enemy had walked off, showing him only a faint smile. The next time, in the arena of his choosing, the gloves would be off. And Kyoya couldn't be sure he would win.

He sensed the golden mask at work here. And he was making a war of it.

As Kyoya endeavored to focus his thoughts, his mood suddenly changed. With a skeptical glance at the students getting up their courage to approach him, he ran back to the school building. His hand was shaking when he pressed the speed dial button on his cell phone.

He reached someone on the third call. “Kawadacho Philanthropic Hospital.”

“Get me Rama in the surgical department. Make it quick!”

“And who are you, sir?”

“Kyoya Izayoi.”

“Kyoya-san?” the receptionist said in a friendly voice. Just about anybody living in Shinjuku was familiar with his name. “What are you calling about this time?”

“This time?” Kyoya felt a cold stab of fear down his back.

“We got a call from you a few minutes ago. Rama-san just left to meet you.”

The call from “Kyoya” came shortly before noon. He said he was in the neighborhood and wanted to see her. He didn't say why, only that it was a pressing matter. Sayaka set aside her suspicions. After all, being reluctant to come to the hospital was very much like him.

He hadn't been a particularly happy camper either when he'd visited with Mephisto. And hearing him say he wanted to see her thrilled her more than it awakened any doubts.

The place was a nearby coffee shop.

There were ten or so people in the place when she got there, along with the lingering odor of tobacco smoke and Sheridan Fanu singing “The Hunter of Martin River.” But no Kyoya.

As she stood there, a man with a short mustache — who must've been the proprietor—approached her and said that her date would be back in five minutes and asked her to wait here. He showed her to a window seat.

Sayaka furrowed her brows. All the seats were occupied. In front of her were a young couple, a woman in a colorful and ornate scarf and long dress, two salaryman types in suits.

“It's full.”

The proprietor turned around. “What? Oh, here's an open seat in the middle.”

Sayaka looked back. The woman was raising a coffee cup to her lips. “There's somebody there too.”

“Eh?” the proprietor burst out. “Um, are you sure? You're not nearsighted, are you? Follow me. Right here.”

He walked ahead of her and indicated the place. Sayaka felt a surge of fear. A woman was sitting right there. And yet the man saw only an empty space.

“This should do, no?” he said stiffly, and walked off.

Sayaka stood there. She couldn't leave. The woman raised her hand. Sayaka pressed the thumb of her right hand against the ball of her middle finger, releasing the safety on her laser ring.

The woman beckoned to her. Against all her natural instincts, as if pulled by an invisible string, Sayaka walked over and sat down across from her.

“Who are you?” said Sayaka.

“You don't know?” the woman asked softly.

For the first time, Sayaka realized that the scarf was covering the woman's mouth. Then how did she drink the coffee? And another thing caught her attention. In the valley between the swell of her breasts, peeking out from the plunging neckline of her dress was a dark red oval like a birthmark.

She saw her reflection in the woman's black eyes. Fighting the sensation of being sucked into them, Sayaka was sure she had seen them somewhere else.

“I have been with you always. Only you haven't realized it. I have been so lonely. My beloved husband awakened first to the possibility, but you continue on unawares. No, you forcibly suppress it. You don't wish to set me free. What tremendous power. Ordinarily, that most detestable of human qualities, that they have been endowed with from the start, could easily be strengthened in other ways. I'm surprised the world has ingénues like you left in it.”

“W-what are you talking about?”

Sayaka could hear the blood coursing through her veins. There was no way she should understand what the woman was talking about—but nevertheless she did. This woman was telling the truth!

She reached out and took hold of Sayaka's right hand. Not a cold, dead hand. A warm and living one.

“A good thing you were unaffected by that memory restoration machine. You lost your memories and everybody claims to have seen nothing. That was to preserve your sanity. As a result, since that time, I have been able to appear like this, albeit not yet in perfect form.”

The woman tightened the grip of her hand. Sayaka felt her bones creak.

“Stop it!”

“You cannot escape. Because I will return to you.”

“No!” she shouted, jerking her right hand.

Her hand came away so smoothly that she arrested its movement at once, and managed to stop herself just before it collided with the window glass.

Sayaka noticed that she was alone. The customers all around her stared at her with startled expressions. She blushed and looked at the window. “Ah!” she said, and smiled.

Kyoya was standing there. He waved, and walked into the coffee shop. “Sorry. There was something I had to do. All taken care of.”

“No problem.” She smiled again, as if what had just happened hadn't. “I'm glad you asked me.”

“Yeah?” Kyoya grinned and reached for the coffee cup.

Huh?
Sayaka said to herself.

“What?”

“Oh, nothing.”

“In that case, all the better. So you didn't notice?”

“Eh?”

Kyoya raised the coffee cup to his mouth. The rim covered his nose and mouth. For a moment, she could only see his eyes.

Sayaka gulped.

“Wasn't I drinking coffee?” Kyoya calmly asked.

Sayaka nodded. She'd mistakenly thought that woman had ordered it. She steeled her nerves and betrayed no fear.

“I first drank it at the palace,” Kyoya went on. He took another sip. “Took to it right off. I order it as a matter of course now. Oh, that's right. My preferred beverage is Deimos beer, right?”

“Who are you?”

“Come with me and you'll understand. Don't worry. Women aren't my thing.”

“You and that woman just now, are you partners?”

“Ah. Not exactly. You might rather say we hate each other's guts. Thanks to her,
we
have been imprisoned for ages. Two thousand years, seeing and hearing hardly a thing. A man loses the will to work under those conditions. Hey, what do you say we pretend we're on a date?”

Sayaka got to her feet. The laser ring on her right hand was fully charged.

“Take it easy.” Kyoya put down the cup and wiped his mouth. “If you don't want to, you're free to leave. But if I don't do the job I came here to do, it's back in the brig. You can't run away. Give it up. Come with me to the castle. We'll have fun.”

“Don't move!” Sayaka thrust out the ring. Kyoya — his doppelganger — quickly raised his arms. The other customers followed suit. “Let's take this outside. We don't want to inconvenience the other people here.”

“Fine with me.”

Kyoya stood up and marched outside in front of her. Sayaka paid the bill. The proprietor stared blankly back at her.

The two set off in the direction of Kawadacho Philanthropic Hospital.

“So where are we going?”

“The police.”

“The palace guard, you mean?”

“More or less.”

His nonchalance gave Sayaka a strange feeling. Aside from that recent look he gave her, she could easily think of him as an otherwise harmless master of disguise. She soon understood just how far this was from the truth.

They hadn't gone a dozen steps from the coffee shop when five dark shadows surrounded them holding firearms and laser guns.

“Who are you?”

One of the men smiled. “We're agents with the Information Bureau. Chief Yamashina's orders.”

“So you've been watching the whole time?”

“Twenty-four seven.”

Sayaka lowered her ring.

“Who are they?” Kyoya asked.

“We're taking you in,” said the agent with the laser gun, in the tone of voice that normally demanded unquestioned obedience.

“Idiot. Guards or jailers? When did hassling people become your job?”

The agent answered the quip by burying the butt of the gun in his stomach. Kyoya grimaced. He scowled at the agent. “I will remember that.”

“This way, Rama-san.” The first man indicated a limousine stopped along the side of the road.

“But he is—”

“Don't worry about it!” a shrill voice called out.

Sayaka and the men stopped and looked at the car. The voice seemed to be coming from the vehicle.

“Wait here.”

The agent drew the laser gun back out of the holster and ran over to the car. Confirming that there was nobody inside, he circled around the chassis.

“Nothing out of the ordinary,” he muttered to himself.

“Oh, quite out of the ordinary,” the car answered.

The startled agent reached out and touched the car. A moment later, his body melted into the body of the car.

Sayaka just stood there, dumbfounded. Then almost on autopilot, aimed her laser ring and pressed the trigger. The air hummed. The car turned into a lump of viscous slime affixed to the road.

Sayaka turned to the remaining agents. Kyoya stood there smacking his lips, Asura resting on his shoulder. The agents were gone.

“I helped myself,” Kyoya said, pulling something white and long from between his lips. “Yeah, guys are definitely more to my liking. You just can't eat one.”

He spit something out of his mouth. It landed next to Sayaka's feet. She swallowed the scream rising in her throat.

It was a human rib.

Her fear motivated action. The laser ring hummed again. Kyoya turned into another glob of slime spreading out on the sidewalk.

“Splendid!” the shrill voice said. “I really wanted to go on a date. But I guess that's out of the question. Too bad. We'll have to come as we are.”