Demon City Shinjuku: The Complete Edition (30 page)

Sayaka Rama-sama,

You are cordially invited to a housewarming party, to be held at the following address on the twentieth of the month, the year 2030.

I am aware that you lead a busy life, but truly hope you will be able to attend. A courtesy limousine will be provided on the designated day. The most unusual delights await you.

A car will arrive at one o'clock in the afternoon (wherever you may happen to be).

The Lord of Babylon Palace

Shinjuku Ward, West Shinjuku, Chuo Park

“Presumptuous bastard,” said an openly indignant Kyoya. “There's no way you're going, Sayaka-chan.”

“But why would
I
receive such a letter?”

“That is a puzzle,” Section Chief Yamashina interrupted. “Which is why I came. Today, the World Federation Government Information Bureau received a list of all the invitees who were sent the same invitation from the same sender. Izayoi-kun, your name was included along with Sayaka-san's.”

All eyes focused on Kyoya.

“You do have some interesting friends,” said Mephisto.

Kyoya fired back, “Starting with you, I suppose. None of
my
friends would show off like that.”

“Then why—” Sayaka furrowed her brows.

“The puzzle should soon unravel,” said Mephisto.

“How's that?”

“Simple. Accept the invitation.”

“Eh?”

“The invitation itself states that no matter where you are, somebody will be there to pick you up. Rather than fighting them, join them. You can't beard the lion unless you venture into its den.”

“What would I want with a lion's beard?”

Mephisto said, “What do you think, Sayaka-san?”

“Hey!” Kyoya protested. “What the hell? That's not gonna happen, right, Sayaka?”

Sayaka said, “No, I think I will.”

“What?”

“I've no idea why I received an invitation, though it probably has something to do with me being the daughter of the president of the World Federation. Besides, sending out a list like that, regardless of the malicious intent, seems to be throwing down a gauntlet. I accept the challenge.”

“Cut it out,” Kyoya insisted, though clearly losing the argument. “C'mon Yamashina-san, do something.”

“To be honest,” the section chief stated, “we were hoping that's what she would decide to do.” He continued despite Kyoya's raised eyebrows. “Taking all the worst-case scenarios into account, the cabinet of course will be deploying android stand-ins and agents in disguise. But considering the technological sophistication of the opponent, such steps are not guaranteed to succeed. In order to get as close to the target and gather as much information as possible, we need people who can adapt and react on the spot to any contingency. Examining the guest list, that would be Sayaka-san and you.”

“Easy for you to say,” Kyoya grumbled. “No matter how many subs and stand-ins the prime minister and the cabinet send in as reserves, she's still gonna shoulder the full load. Whose idea was that? Did her father—Mr. President of the World Federation—sign off on this?”

“Well—”

“See, Sayaka-chan? There's no freaking way!”

Sayaka gazed back at the fuming Kyoya with an indomitable expression. “I'm going,” she said.

“Sounds settled,” Doctor Mephisto said, with a wry look at Kyoya. “There's nothing to worry about, Sayaka-chan. You'll have the world's best bodyguard with you.”

Four days later, at one o'clock in the afternoon, black limousines began arriving in front of the fence surrounding Chuo Park, curiously in the same place where the patrol helicopter had crashed.

The VIPs who'd received the invitations came to the mysterious floating house. Movers and shakers in government, business and the arts. No one declined to attend. Skipping out would not only look bad, but even worse, would yield the limelight to other celebrities.

Especially with the mass media focusing their attention day and night on the enormous structure. For audiences outside Demon City, the bigger the scale of the supernatural phenomenon, the better the entertainment value.

To the peaceful world, like the Devil Quake itself, the reality show that was Demon City shook the foundations of physical law. Its very existence was a threat.
Real
information was limited to the local and small-scale. Everything else was treated as comedic filler.

Though the perfect attendance came down to one incontrovertible factor: bodyguards were also allowed.

The last guest arrived thirty minutes later.

The glittering panoply of celebrities was surrounded by mobile police commandos and robot troops. Among them were Kyoya and Sayaka.

Along with the camera crews and reporters, Kyoya ignored the guards and looked instead at the celebrities. Sayaka, though, focused her attention on the giant edifice hovering above their heads in the middle of the park.

Taking an unobstructed view of the miracle structure would make anybody suck in their breath in wonder. First of all, the legs holding up the enormous building.

According to the ward press releases, each of the legs rested on four square yards of land. Though invisible to the naked eye, they were perched on steel cylinders a yard in diameter buried in the ground. The legs reached skywards from the center of the cylinders, themselves only four inches across.

Structural engineers had speculated that the whole thing must weigh fifty million tons. No matter how hardened and reinforced, the four-inch-wide wires couldn't possibly support that much mass.

But the master of this mansion had accomplished exactly that. The most august of the scientific societies appealed to the know-nothing bureaucrats, and were told that only those on the invitation list would be allowed in. There were no scientists on the list.

The wire-like legs rose until they faded into faint lines before reaching the smooth silver “plate” that formed the base of the tower. No joints or seams were visible. The surface appeared perfectly smooth. The material seemed to be the same as the legs. Magnetic resonance and ultrasonic imaging had been conducted in secret, and had revealed nothing.

Starting slightly above the “plate,” the lowest part of the base of the building surrounded the center as it rose up. A single room of this structure was a flat section covering over four acres and standing thirty feet high and made out of marble. The two “flights” of rooms combined to form a wide, winding staircase—connected here and there to the wires to trace an elegant arc through the air.

One glance at the building prompted a scholar from Israel to proclaim: “The Hanging Gardens of Babylon!” And was all more astonished to learn of the name appended to the invitations. He had recalled one of the “Seven Wonders of the World,” so-named two thousand years before by the Greek mathematician, Philon of Byzantium.

In the sixth century B.C., in the kingdom of Babylon in the south of Mesopotamia, King Nebuchadnezzar II built the gardens in the middle of the desert to please his queen, who had been born in the mountains. The gardens rose three hundred and fifty feet high. The numerous terraces on the man-made bluff were adorned with flowers and fountains. Onlookers could imagine that, from afar, it was suspended in midair, such that it was also known as “The Floating Gardens of Babylon.”

Now, twenty-five centuries later, this building ruling the air over Demon City Shinjuku was surely a restoration of the original.

A sharp-eyed cameraman and reporter picked Kyoya and Sayaka out of the crowd. Eluding the mobile police guards holding them back, they got up close and pushed a mic into Sayaka's face.

“A word for our viewers,” the reporter said.

“Hey,” said Kyoya. He turned to the camera and blinked. “Yo, Shiratori, Kayama,” he said, calling out his friends' names. “You watching?” He flashed a V-sign.

“Wasn't asking you,” the reporter said, inserting himself between Kyoya and Sayaka. “Miss, could you tell us why you received an invitation?”

Kyoya clapped him on the shoulder. “Go ahead, ask me.”

“Put a cork in it.”

No sooner had the reporter shrugged him off but he found himself sinking to the ground. He had suddenly gone numb from his shoulder down to his legs.

“You'll be okay in five minutes.”

Kyoya reached out to touch the body of the cameraman, whose entire attention was focused on Sayaka. At that moment, a grave and dignified voice floated down from above.

“
Welcome to my humble abode. I see that you have all chosen to attend, and for that I am deeply thankful. Inside I have prepared delights to satisfy every expectation. Feel free to spend as much time as your schedules will allow
.”

“Kyoya-san.”

Sayaka took hold of his arm. Kyoya grinned affectionately and said, “Here,” and moved her hand to his left. He had the wooden sword — Asura — in his right. He had to keep that free.

Upon hearing the voice from above, the boisterous crowd went silent. Doors that led to what must be a foyer at the base of the tower—like the upside-down bell of a morning glory—slid open to the right and left. A band of light spilled out of the opening and poured down in front of the guests, connecting the ground and the air.

“
Please climb aboard
,” the voice said.

The prime minister was first in line. Of course, this one was a body double. After a moment of human hesitation, with all the dignity befitting the leader of a country, he stepped onto the ribbon of light rising skyward. He swayed a bit, then the prime minister—his double—followed the path into the air.

The guards hastily clambered after him. The crowd of close to a thousand surged forward and hopped on one after the other.

At the end of the line, Kyoya and Sayaka stood in front of the ribbon. The cameraman focused the lens on them. Sayaka seemed to have become the center of his attention.

Up to a few minutes ago, the video transmissions from within Shinjuku had come to naught. The magical miasma that engulfed this city suppressed all electronic waves. Now, although filled with static, the images somehow got through. That young man had dampened the interference.

The two stepped onto the ribbon. After an unsteady moment, they were already a yard in the air and rising at a brisk pace, Kyoya estimated about ten miles an hour.

“What is this?” Sayaka wondered, looking down at her feet.

“Not light. My senses tell me it's a fluid.”

“Water?”

“Something like that. Moor the air in place and flow a concentrated molecular thickener across it. The glow must come from the air being bound in place and then manipulating its physical properties. Whatever it is, it sure does make you think.”

“About who's behind it all.”

“The boss of Babylon.”

“Babylon,” Sayaka repeated to herself, as if trying to convince herself that it was all actually there.

Below them came the howls of beasts mingled with the siren calls of the lost souls of the park.
Come down and join us
, they cried.

The front foyer approached, as big as the lobby of a grand hotel. And at last, the two were drawn inside Demon Palace Babylon.

The milky white light filled the hall. Murmurs arose here and there in the crowd, expressions of surprise.

“This guy is something else,” Kyoya said, in honest admiration.

This was the kind of edifice built in ancient times by absolute monarchs. The stone pillars rose up like a forest of trees. Beyond the “trees,” water sparkled in a man-made lake. In the lake floated a small, swan-like boat, against a background of endless green and a deep blue sky.

The columns, the floor, the great statues of ancient gods found here and there—all were carved with extraordinary artistry and skill. The effect was truly as if they had stumbled into an enchanted castle. What kept it from descending into a child's fairy tale was the ghostly aura that ruled the hall.

“Look at the ceiling. From the outside, it's no more than thirty feet high. From this perspective, it goes on forever.”

Sayaka's amazement was shared by Kyoya. “I'm not surprised, considering what else he's built here. Seems the master of this place can manipulate space in four dimensions.”

“Neat.”

“No idea what's going to show up next, but in any case it's probably gonna be out of the frying pan and into the fire.”

“Sorry about that.”

“Not your fault,” Kyoya quickly added.

Though they entered the grounds without any trouble, what awaited them weighed heavily on their hearts. It was hard to say how far the swing of a wooden sword would take them.

The noise of the crowd suddenly ceased. A warning sound reverberated around them. It arose from a big statue of a god on their left.

“Open your mouths!”

The words rang forth in a chorus of voices. Before the echoes had died away, from the mouth of the old god a human shadow burst forth and landed with perfect timing on the right palm of the hands that had been till then folded across its chest.