Demon City Shinjuku: The Complete Edition (32 page)

Kyoya gave Asura a casual practice swing, just once, and yet it sent an electric charge through the gentlemen and ladies in attendance, like the flowing of a cold, clear stream.

The crowd fell silent. And not only them, but a tension in the formless presence of the masked lord could be felt as well.

The disarming smile of an amiable honors student hadn't vanished from his face when Kyoya Izayoi said in a cool voice, “I'm also one of the invited guests. I wasn't eager to so rudely intervene in the fun. I would have walked away, but will happily answer the challenge. Keep in mind, though, that however he may go easy on me, I won't return the favor. I wouldn't be standing here otherwise.”

He spoke with unexpected force and fluency, and turned on the spot to face the knight. No applause or cheers greeted him this time. The combat unfolding in front of their eyes had ceased to be a sideshow and became a life and death struggle.

Kyoya lowered his arms to his sides in a natural stance. The blue knight remained motionless.

As the two relaxed in the final seconds before the war commenced, the spectators couldn't help but sense the threads of their dreadful auras tying them inexorably together, binding them to the impending moment as surely as it did Sayaka.

One famous female critic could not abide the rising tension and swooned. Reflexively throwing out an arm to catch herself, her hand hit the plate and knife she'd placed on a nearby table. The knife went flying through the air, drawing a graceful arc and smashing into a big bowl several yards away with a clamorous jangle.

At that moment, the black horse snorted. With the war cry lingering in the air, the horse and rider kicked against the sand and raced toward Kyoya like a rocket. Twice what they'd shown their previous opponents, faster than the fastest racehorse.

The blue knight thrust his lance at Kyoya's chest. The air hummed. Startled shouts erupted from the mouths of the onlookers.

They would have all sworn they saw the spear tip penetrate his rib cage, and the lance trace an arc through the air like a giant needle through a pin cushion, the ferocious centrifugal force finally flinging Kyoya's body over the stands to a certain death.

But that was not what happened.

They saw Kyoya leaping straight up, like the surging current of a great river suddenly reversing course. The wooden sword he'd been holding in his right hand he now held in both hands high over his head. And swung down.

The blue knight couldn't skirt the blow. The center of the blade connected squarely with the top of his helmet.

The loud
clang
struck their ears. Invisible sparks stung their eyes.

“Yes!” Sayaka cried in triumph.

Kyoya pushed off in midair. The blue knight leaned wildly over. Sayaka had fought alongside Kyoya before, and knew instinctually that he'd hit the bull's-eye with the kind of power that would incapacitate just about any monster.

As Kyoya landed in the sand a dozen yards away, the blue knight toppled over. Before Sayaka could react to Kyoya's wary, sword-ready stance as he bounced to his feet, she looked at the knight and her congratulatory cry turned to surprise and fear.

The knight righted himself.

He'd been leaning almost horizontally in the baroque saddle, but still held onto the lance, supporting himself only with the reins in his left hand. He yanked himself to the vertical and again leveled the lance. The horse's forefeet pranced on the ground, antsy for round two to begin.

Kyoya was amazed but impressed. He'd pinned the initial attack beneath his arm. He didn't fight it, but jumped in concert with the direction of the motion. As expected, the momentum took him right over the knight's head, where he delivered the telling blow with Asura.

The
nen
he'd poured into Asura didn't deal a killing blow, because he hadn't detected that intent in the opponent's thrust either. Thinking he was being taken for granted, at first he was resolved to take no prisoners. He'd let up at the last moment because he was, almost despite himself, a good person underneath all that attitude.

However, no matter who he might be fighting, even striking with his upper arms alone there was no way the recipient should have been able to remain conscious. Absorbing physical energy in stages, the propagating thought waves directly impacted the living thing within, regardless of the thickness of the defenses.

What sort of being was this knight who could take such a hit to the head and come so quickly to his senses?

His opponent must be thinking the same thing.

A white gash ran vividly across the crown of his helmet. Having reseated himself in the saddle, he still swayed like bamboo grass in a stiff breeze. Needless to say, he could not be looking forward to a renewed attack. The
nenpo
of Kyoya Izayoi was a fearful thing indeed.

“What do you say?” Kyoya called out. “Shall we call it a day? I think the android's had enough. It's no skin off my nose, but I don't care much for those who toy with people for the amusement of others. Keep this up, and somebody's gonna get hurt for real.”

Kyoya let down his guard and turned to the horse and rider as nimbly as a skater gliding on ice.

Something burned through the air. Asura slashed sideways in a purely reflexively action. The blue flash of lightning bent almost at right angles and sank into the ground next to Kyoya's feet. Only afterward came the sound of striking metal.

What Kyoya had deflected—sticking out of the earth was a bronze-blue arrow.

The air was filled with a succession of shrieks. Asura flashed. The earth shuddered. Two more arrows sprouted around him.

Nobody saw who was shooting them, just as nobody saw Kyoya deflecting the flying shafts—that was how fast the attacks came and were parried. Kyoya closed his eyes. In that state of non-being, his sixth sense came into play. The speed of the arrows was such that detecting them would have otherwise been impossible.

Then came the sound of hooves.

At some point, two men on horseback had lined up on the rim of the basin facing Kyoya. They'd undoubtedly emerged from a hidden passageway while the onlookers were caught up in the contest between Kyoya and the blue knight, appearing out of the nothing like ghosts. That alone was enough to send a collective shiver down their backs.

They both wore the same design of armor as the blue knight. Facing Kyoya, the one on the right was the color of the dusky setting sun, down to his eyes. The eyes of the one on the left, deep green. Kyoya didn't need to note the enormous bow beneath his arm to know that he had fired those three arrows.

But what made all those watching quake was not merely the arrival of these new foes, with skills at archery that must equal those of the blue knight. It was their strange appearance.

The right arm of the green knight holding the bow jutted out from his waist. Beside it grew the left arm. And another pair of arms a bit above them in the center of the sternum. And finally the two normally expected at the shoulders, making six altogether.

There were no arrows in the left hands, but in tubes affixed to his back. In easy reach of the three arms awaited more fletched bronze shafts. With these three arms operating simultaneously on a single target, the inevitable outcome would be near impossible to avoid, even for Kyoya Izayoi.

The weirdness of the red knight was also in his arms. He didn't have six. They were extraordinarily long. His head and torso were similar in size to the other two, but his arms were three times the usual length. They reached his thighs and angled forward, with his hands grasping the reins. The impression he gave was that of a human spider or praying mantis, that filled the hearts of the onlookers with an unpleasant horror.

This knight's weapon was a long sword strapped to his back. A very long sword—ten feet long. The hilt and scabbard poked out from his back. A fencer would need arms that long to wield it. Or a fencer with arms that long would demand such a sword.

Together with the sword, his reach extended twenty feet. At that distance, he could best the greatest swordsman in the world with a single swipe. Including Kyoya Izayoi.

“Well done, boy.”

The voice came from the red knight's helmet, the voice of a mighty man. Though there were unnatural resonances in it as well, as if electronically amplified.

“Men and women, old and young alike, you are the first to fight Valen even to a draw. Yours is an impressive and admirable will. I say this only to preserve Valen's good name, but he went in unprepared. Seeing as you are but a child, he moderated his initial attack.”

“Yeah, I know,” Kyoya said brightly. The red knight's words dissolved the anger like a spring breeze. “I figured the old guy had a whole lot more in him from the start. But that's that and this is this. You a friend of his? You want a piece of me too?”

“You think highly of yourself, boy.” This dramatically different voice could freeze the air. It belonged to the archer with six arms. “I shot those three arrows at you using one arm, and with time to spare. Are you confident that you could escape unscathed taking three at the same time?”

“Hard to say,” Kyoya responded breezily. The ready answer was enough to make the green knight look quizzically at the red knight. “I may take one at best, two at worst. But I could probably return two to sender. So, green guy, could you duck two?”

The green knight fell silent. The high schooler's impertinence aroused neither anger nor cold laughter. He didn't doubt the nature of his powers.

“Not bad, boy.” The red knight shook with laughter. “Our loss. We shall withdraw gracefully. If you want a fight, it should be in an arena that gives us all much more room to move. We shall meet again.”

“Three against one?” Kyoya frowned.

“Nothing of the sort. We detest cowardly actions above all.”

“No problem, then. Anytime, anyplace.”

Everybody watching could
feel
the red knight smiling inside his helmet. He turned to the still shaky blue knight and said, “Can you proceed?”

He nodded. The three wheeled their horses around. There was a last flash of hatred from deep within the blue knight's helmet as he turned his back to Kyoya, but that was all he had to say.

The red knight stopped and twisted back in the saddle and said, “We haven't properly introduced ourselves. I am Vian. The green knight is called Mathias. We already know your name, Kyoya Izayoi.”

By the time Kyoya made it to the edge of the basin, the three had vanished, as if a screen had suddenly descended between them. Returning to the banquet hall, he was greeted by a round of applause. Slaps on the back, cries of praise came from all around for the splendid kid.

Kyoya only wanted to find Sayaka. It took him a good five minutes to determine that she had disappeared.

Around the same time the two new opponents faced off against Kyoya, Sayaka went looking for the masked lord of the manor. She intended to have him put a stop to the violence once and for all.

Scanning her surroundings, she spotted a door off in the distance, and something glittering moving toward it. Only after she set off in pursuit, without really thinking about what she was doing, did she become aware of something odd going on.

He was walking. She was running. And yet she couldn't close the distance between them. She heard the heavy sound of the door closing behind her, it didn't occur to her to turn around. Driven by an impulse she didn't even understand, Sayaka ran after the walking man.

Imposing statues rose up on her left and right—she seemed to be moving down a kind of corridor—she seemed to be moving past a lake brimming with mysterious blue water.

Finally, exhausted in body and mind, having closed the distance between them not at all, she stopped. She was surrounded by a blue light. Breathing ragged breaths, Sayaka looked curiously at the shadow stretching out on the marble beneath her feet. The feelings were hard to describe—emotions that in such a situation should have hardly come to mind.

“Are you tired?” asked a teasing voice.

Sayaka raised her head. In front of her, no closer than before, she could see the back of the lord of the manor. In the same direction, deeper within the blue light, wavered a stone staircase.

Without any logical reason, Sayaka thought of climbing it.

“Are you tired, Semiramis?”

“No,” Sayaka answered. “Not at all.” Then it struck her:
Semiramis?
Who was that? He'd posed the question to somebody else, and yet she had answered.

“What strength and spirit. There is a terrace perfect for viewing the moon just ahead. There is a divan there for you, and plum wine.”

Sayaka was all the more confused by the man in the mask. A terrace for moon viewing? It was still daylight outside, past three in the afternoon. And a divan for her?

“You still don't remember, Semiramis?” His voice was suffused with a sorrow that made her want to cover her ears.

“I believe you are mistaken,” Sayaka said. “I'm—that name—”

“I understand. All is as you say. But all is also as I say.”

“No,” Sayaka said, trying to dispel the dark clouds gathering in her chest.

“Very well. The time has not yet come. But behold your shadow.”

Sayaka reflexively looked down at the ground. She saw her shadow. Her hair appeared to be adorned with ribbons of fine fabric. A sleeveless dress reached to her ankles.

“What in the world—”

She blinked several times. And then with a prayer in her heart, peered down again. Her long hair swayed about her waist. Her own hair. Her shoulders slumped in disappointment. Relief mingled with a curious kind of pathos in her heart, which she did her best to ignore.

“No matter, you must come, Miss Sayaka Rama. I will show you alone what no one has ever seen.”

“I have to get back. We should go back.”