Yashakiden: The Demon Princess, Volume 5 Omnibus Edition

by Hideyuki Kikuchi

  Dark rivers of black mud assaulted the forests and the hills and the manor house. The lake spilled out of its banks. Mutant life forms squirmed from the plains to the mountains. Giant snakes writhed in the black waters.

  The beautiful silhouettes glittered in the sky. Thousands of lightning strikes shattered the peaks of the blue mountains, cleaving off the cliffs, sending them crashing down on the fleeing animals.

  Fires erupted in the forest. The torrential rain only seemed to spread the flames. But the end was coming faster than the inferno could consume the world.

  Setsura dodged between the shards of ivory lightning. The thunder died away. All movement ceased. The animals and forests and lakes and the manor house were surely seeing dreams carved in ivory.

  He reached out and grasped a solidified white dove immediately to his left. Wings spread wide, the bird floating in the air swept easily into his hand, without him resorting to wires or weapons.

  “What are you going to do after this?”

  He grasped each wing in order—intricately carved, to the soft down of each feather—between his fingers and waved it back and forth.

  Princess shook her head. “I don’t know. Kikiou made this world. Ask him.”

  “Where is he?”

  “Must still be outside.”

  “Give him a call. No matter who you are, lose the world you’re attached to and there’s no place else you can go.”

  “Oh? So now you’re concerned for my well-being?”

  “I’m stuck here too, you know,” he shot back. Followed by a startled look.

  “Hey, even the wind is solidifying.”

  “I know that.”

  Princess’s eyes filled with an eerie light. If the wind could turn to ivory, then so could the air. There was no telling what would happen to these two next as they flew through the air like a pair of dazzling, demonic angels.

  The most beautiful pair of eyes in the world focused on the mechanism, sitting there like a silent, black lump of parts.

  “What do you think?” Tonbeau Nuvenberg asked.

  “It’s been tampered with,” said the lord of the Resurrection Room, Doctor Mephisto.

  “Kikiou?”

  “So it would seem.”

  Mephisto’s confidence was not mistaken.

  “What a pain in the ass that old geezer is. The next time our paths cross, I’m giving him a piece of my mind.” She pressed her sausage-like lips together and delivered several karate chops to the air with her hand. When she’d calmed down a bit, she said, “What are you looking at?”

  “There’s a woman here in Shinjuku you remind me of. An information broker.”

  “Oh, well, she must be a real piece of work then.”

  “That she is indeed.”

  Tonbeau nodded contentedly, then said in a flurry, “What about Setsura?”

  “That world has separated from the nexus and I have attempted to reestablish a connection. But there’s been outside interference. That world is—”

  The smooth flow of his words came to an abrupt halt. A cold chill ran through Tonbeau’s body. “What’s become of it?”

  Mephisto didn’t answer. With a wave of his right hand, the particles floating in the air solidified into a projected image. “Ah!” exclaimed Tonbeau. They were looking at the director’s office of Mephisto Hospital. Two pairs of eyes were drawn inexorably to the object lying akilter on the floor.

  “That’s—that’s the box! And the lid—!”

  The lid was open. It had fallen into the wooden box.

  “Just barely managed to get it back.”

  Not listening to him, Tonbeau ran for the door. “What are you doing? Hurry up and examine what’s inside! It’s gotta be worth a fortune!”

  Paying no attention to the big woman galloping out of the room, Mephisto examined the image hovering in the air.

  “It’s back, but where are the contents?”

  Exactly as he’d observed, when Tonbeau barged into the director’s office—that hardly anybody was allowed into or even knew where it was—this very powerful witch stared inside the box and shouted in surprise.

  She said to Mephisto, a few steps behind her, “How do you explain this?” And thrust the wooden box in his face.

  The box wasn’t empty. When Tonbeau had calmed down, Doctor Mephisto reached out and took the milky-white lump out of the box and set it on the table.

  From its shape and size, everything was a half of itself, a bas-relief. The fine details were amazing, breathtaking. It was a garden carved in ivory. No, far more than any sculpture, it was imbued with the look and feel of an entire world—the lake brimming with water, the green woods and verdant forests, the blue mountains—

  Every last one of them revealing only half of what it was. And yet Doctor Mephisto could feel the blue sky enclosing that world like a dome, just as Tonbeau Nuvenberg could see the white clouds floating through it.

  The delicacy of the whitecaps on the lake, the boldness and ferocity of the animals peeking out from the trees in the forest—the sharpness of each cross-section, neatly divided down the middle, was rendered with such perfection as to suggest the work of an artist who’d sold his soul to the devil to achieve it.

  The history of ivory carving in China was said to have begun in the Ming Dynasty. Up till then, bamboo had been the standard material. One of the prized items in the collection of the National Palace Museum was an ivory carving known as the “Dragon Boat.”

  The length, width and height came to a mere two-point-five by three-quarters by one-point-five inches. The tiny vessel was equipped with paddles and oarlocks, masts and rigging, pagoda-like decks and staterooms. The miniature windows could be opened and closed.

  Approaching the ideal of a “world in a box” was a Huang Zhen Xiao ivory landscape from the Middle Qing Dynasty. The sculpture, rendered from a single tusk, created the illusion of sublime mountain ranges far in the distance, men fishing in the lakes dotting the foothills, animals frolicking in the fields. people lounging in gazebos and teahouses hidden within the stands of pine, bamboo, and plum.

  An unbounded world that could be contained in the palm of the hand. Except even those treasures were crude facsimiles compared to what had appeared before the eyes of these two wizards.

  “There’s no manor house,” said Mephisto. “And no boat. They must have disappeared somewhere.”

  “The boat sank.”

  Tonbeau Nuvenberg pointed to a single point among the cresting whitecaps. A thin dark line, a shadow painted with India ink beneath the water’s surface.

  “One of the waves is severed. That slit is not supposed to be there. The only person who could have put it there is—”

  “Setsura Aki.”

  He spared no praise for Tonbeau Nuvenberg’s eyesight, able to discern a single imperfection from the sea of waves rising the barest fraction of an inch above the surface, and instead stared off into space.

  “Where is the other half of your world, Setsura?”

  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.