Even so, it was still dangerous to touch anything that could maintain this kind of clarity inside the mind; it was impossible to know what it might become if stimulated. At the same time, watching it in silence was getting him nowhere. There was a technique. He could send in a fragment of his self, a shadow of his mind. It would mean sacrificing it, but the loss would be no greater than the calories lost from lifting something heavy; a non-issue. Hosuke rested his hand on the shape of Kukai and released a gentle current of energy. Kukai stirred, appearing suddenly restless.
The monk’s eyes flicked open, then closed again just as fast. Hosuke tried again. Kukai’s head bent upwards, eyes opening again. They burned with an amber light. Hosuke released yet another charge of energy. This time Kukai’s head began to turn, creaking in a way that seemed to register in Hosuke’s actual ears. The monk’s eyes grew brighter still, taking on a golden, vapor-like intensity inside the parchment-like frame.
Electricity had begun to spark through Geshin’s consciousness—it was beginning to react. Geshin’s mind was waking up, and fast. A direct reaction to Hosuke’s stimulation of the dormant memory core. Hosuke hoped to bring about a fairly accurate re-enactment of the events from the burial chamber. Maybe accurate was the wrong term—the re-enactment would be of events as Geshin remembered them. Even so he did not expect the divergence to be large. Kukai was directly ahead of him. Hosuke was ready to perform the role of Geshin.
He had already altered his shape to resemble the monk as closely as he could. He allowed his Psyche Suit to attenuate, grow as thin as he was willing to let it. He was letting it thin to the point where Geshin’s mind could detect him. The Suit was made from elements of Geshin’s surface consciousness; empty murmurings of the mind mixed with fragments of daily, subconscious memory—a fraction of some location, an object glimpsed in the corner of the eye, the partially-registered sound of the wind.
Its purpose was to protect Hosuke’s consciousness from direct contact with Geshin’s. Regardless of how careful he might be, the deeper sections of Geshin’s mind would detect him if he ventured around without one; closer to the surface and he would be even more vulnerable. When the mind senses an intruder it attempts to destroy it—any Diver would face a sudden, powerful resistance. The primary function of the Psyche Suit is to conceal the presence of a Diver. It is an imperfect system, but diving without one is like blundering naked into the mountains—except that in this case the resultant damage would be levied on the exposed Diver’s mind.
Hosuke was letting his Suit fall away.
He had already taken on Geshin’s form. Now, by lowering his defenses, he was preparing himself to be detected by Geshin’s mind. The aim was to spark the same chain of events as the night in the burial chamber. Kukai was shuddering. Geshin’s consciousness was reacting to the waking memory, attempting to shut it down. There was a creaking as the level of mental pressure grew even higher. Geshin’s consciousness was already through Hosuke’s fading Psyche Suit. It had contacted Hosuke’s bare flesh, causing Geshin to notice the intrusion.
Kukai’s mouth snapped open. The inside was a shocking red, marked with fences of tall, razor-like teeth. Hosuke saw a violence emerge, something heretofore concealed below the folds of the monk’s aged skin. Kukai’s entire body was undergoing a transformation into some kind of demonic creature.
A monstrous form consisting of teeth and sulfurous eyes burst from Kukai’s flesh; it lunged directly at Hosuke, a black, grotesque amalgamation of eyeballs and fangs. Hosuke tore away the remainder of his Psyche Suit, leaving the empty human shape as he dived to the side, completely exposing himself to the mental sea around him. The monster clamped its jaws over the human form. Behind it all, Kukai moved in motions that matched those of the dark creature. Kukai drew the creature back, swallowing it so that the two became one again. Kukai’s head vibrated with the Psyche Suit in its lips.
The black creature that had sprung from Kukai was a part of Geshin’s mind, along with Kukai himself, memories of the burial chamber. The core had opened, allowing Geshin to relive the moment. As Geshin was still, the memory would have come to him in dream form. Had he been awake he would have lost his mind.
As I suspected, Hosuke muttered.
Then he noticed that something red had clamped itself to him. It squeezed at him as it wriggled and squirmed. It was Geshin’s mind attacking him, attempting to get rid of the aberration. Haw! Hosuke’s imaginary lips curled into a thick smile. It was the fearless smile of an A-grade Diver. When has Diving in the buff ever stopped me? He engineered subtle changes to the rhythm of his mind, matching his own signature to the crushing elements of Geshin’s mind.
The technique was the same as the one he had demonstrated with Biku at the Odawara coast. There, he had let his mind grow transparent, phasing it to blend in with the scenery behind him. Now he was doing the same inside a person’s mind.
All he had to do was shut down his aura, synchronize with Geshin’s mind. The conscious part of this, the matching of beats, occupied him for a fraction of a moment. The rest was automatic, his transparent consciousness naturally phasing with the bulk of the adjustments. To an outside observer it would look like his brainwaves had begun to tick in perfect alignment with Geshin’s. Just as Enoh could conceal his aura in mid-combat, so could Hosuke maintain an invisible mind, even while navigating the interior of another mind. He had achieved a perfect harmony between their emotional blueprints, a state impossible to maintain with even the slightest dissonance or instability. Only a true A-grade Diver could accomplish this while the host mind was in turmoil. The one disadvantage to the technique was that it left the Diver open to influence from the host. If Hosuke was forced to remain like this for an extended period of time his personality would begin to merge with Geshin’s.
He felt the forces against him begin to lessen. He began to move, cautiously—his first priority was to surface. Then he noticed something; a scratching pain around his abdomen. He looked down.
He was invisible, yet a maggot bit into him regardless. Something from outside of Geshin’s mind. Hosuke recognized the creature from before. No fucking way… It was one of the creatures that had been strewn across Tamura’s mind—and they had found him unconscious outside Kukai’s burial chamber.
One of those black maggots had attached itself to him.
Twenty-two
The Sexual Fiend: Transformation
1
Senkichi Fuminari directed his thoughts to the soft female body cuddled inside his left arm, sleeping peacefully.
His giant frame was over 2 meters tall, with 145 kilograms of bulk; he could crush her by turning in his sleep. It was not that she was small. The effect, rather, was due to Fuminari’s abnormal size. The woman’s body—Ryoko Kitano’s body—was warm. Her head rested against the base of Fuminari’s left shoulder. She had curled up with her pale left arm draped over his massive chest, breasts pushed flat against his side. He could feel her breath on his skin, his own chest rising and falling gently under her arm. He was staring at the ceiling, eyes wide open.
His dark features seemed ready to soften at any moment. He felt somehow that, with the girl asleep to his side like this, his guard might just crumble away. It had to be delusion. He would never know true peace again, not even for a moment. Fuminari glared at the cloudy darkness of the ceiling, attempting to rekindle the demonic flames that lived within him.
Revenge.
A single word, his reason for living. Killing Hanko. The flames burning inside him would not die out, not until he had realized this goal. More than even flame, they had congealed into something tumor-like, hard and solid inside him. He would kill, or be killed by Hanko; until then his nights would be spent grinding his teeth. It was impossible to conceive of anything else.
But. Ryoko’s body was warm. He could feel it, communicated where their skin met. Their body temperatures mixed like an all-enveloping bath. Was I wrong to get her involved? Fuminari considered the question. Just moments
ago she had been gasping with ecstasy, soaked and writhing as he played his hands and tongue over her; now she was like a night sea, quietly undulating. Could I kill her if I had to? Fuminari asked himself. He did not know the answer. Even if I had to do it crying, could I kill her? He didn’t know. The answer evaded him, but he could sense the way his breathing had synchronized with hers. A sheet covered them from the waist down. Underneath, one of Ryoko’s smooth legs wrapped over his thick left leg.
“What are you thinking about?” Ryoko’s voice came through the pale dark.
“You’re awake,” Fuminari replied quietly, glaring at the ceiling. She nodded, head still on his shoulder.
Silence.
“What were you thinking about?” Ryoko asked again, her voice fragile. She used her left arm to massage Fuminari’s thick chest.
He offered no reply—I was trying to work out if I could kill you. He could hardly tell her that. “I don’t know.”
“You don’t know what you were thinking?”
“Sure.”
“What kind of don’t know?”
“It’s just boring stuff,” Fuminari said, falling silent again. Am I, Fuminari, engaging in the idle chit-chat of lovers!? he asked himself.
“How long will it last?” Ryoko asked.
“…”
“How long will this last?”
Fuminari had no response. It had been close to twenty days. Twenty days since Fuminari had saved her from that rogue private detective Ozaki, from his attempt to abduct her on the street that night near her mansion. It felt like an age ago, yet it felt like no time had passed at all. Her arm had grown tense over his chest.
“I…I actually want to try working again,” she said, almost whispering.
“Working?”
“I know, it’s hardly been twenty days but…I want to work. You know, it was always a pain when I was doing it. I’d always wanted to escape.”
“…”
“It’s just that I get these ideas, colors, patterns—they come in flashes. Then I feel like I have to use them, for work stuff.”
“Huh, okay.”
“I’ve copied them all down, in my notebook. So I don’t forget.” He felt her cheeks moving subtly, still pressed against his skin. Her hair was trapped between them, accentuating the sensation of movement.
“You can leave, if you want,” Fuminari said.
“I can?”
“Give it two days after we move on from here, then you’re free to go. Just make sure not to go back to your old apartment,” Fuminari muttered. He would be happy enough with that, if Ryoko took this chance to leave. If she kept her next location from him, that would be that.
“Maybe I’ll leave, then.”
“Okay then. It’s probably best,” Fuminari said, his voice stiff.
Ryoko clung tighter as he said the words.
“If you stay with us you’ll die, sooner or later,” Fuminari said. He had in no way meant it as a threat. Fuminari had killed Ozaki right in front of her. Ryoko would know he was telling the truth. “Besides, your being here gets in the way.”
“How so?”
“You can’t fight. You slow me down,” he put it bluntly. He knew she was developing feelings for him. He knew the same was true for him. But if she fell into their hands, he would have no choice but to leave her to die. He would do to her what Biku had done to Shimizu when he had crushed his head under the Land Cruiser.
“I guess so,” Ryoko said, quiet after a lengthy silence.
“I know you’re a smart girl,” Fuminari said, remembering how level-headed she had been when leaving her apartment behind.
“Hey,” she reached out to him, taking his right hand in her left, guiding it between her legs. “Fuck me again…”
She rubbed his fingers over her groin. She was still dry. He pushed his fingers through her fleshy lips, finding traces of moisture still inside her, wet against the tip of his finger. He silently traced his finger around the sensation.
“Do it to me…”
Her hips began to move. Fuminari spread the moisture upwards, parting her lips at the tip to locate her sensitive pearl of meat. Her body erupted, pulsing with tiny electrical currents. A new wetness flowed over his fingers, a heat—he pushed her lips further apart. Ryoko let out a trill squeal. Her hands crawled across him, pawing for his limp cock. Then she clamped her hand around him and began to stroke. Her lips came down over his left nipple and she sucked. A thin sound leaked from her mouth. The movement of her hips was no longer conscious, bucking instead in reflexive motions, answering his fingers as they brushed over her.
“Do it now…”
She moaned, pulling up from his chest. In that moment, someone knocked at the door. Fuminari’s fingers fell still.
“No…” She shook her head.
“Who is it?”
“It’s me.” Biku’s voice.
“What do you want?”
“Renobo. She is acting a little strange,” Biku replied.
“Strange?”
“I think you should come down. Feel free to finish what you’re doing first, of course.”
“I’ll be there now.”
Fuminari brought his huge frame up to sit on the bed. It groaned loudly.
“No!”
Ryoko pulled off the sheets and buried her head between his legs, taking him into her mouth. He wrapped his huge hands around her, pulling her slowly away.
“Look. I’ve got to go,” he said, his voice resigned.
2
“What’s the problem?” Fuminari asked, closing the door behind him. He was wearing loose trousers but was naked from the waist up, showing off a heavy chest and rock-like shoulders. His build was wildly impressive.
Biku glanced at the door, then back at Fuminari. “You’re sure that’s okay?” he asked. He meant Ryoko, Fuminari had left her alone.
“It’s fine.”
Biku’s crimson lips responded with a grin.
“So, what’s up?” Fuminari asked again.
“Perhaps we should go down, you can see for yourself,” Biku said.
He walked on ahead, Fuminari followed. They descended to the first floor, then to the basement where there was a small room. A door, at the foot of the stairs. Biku jangled some keys and opened it. There was a faint glow inside, a half-light that only partially resolved the room. It was cramped, with only a single bed on the wooden floor. It was a conversion; most likely it had been a storeroom for something, a wine-cellar. Lying squat on the bed was a pale shadow. There was a slight panting, like an animal’s breath sounding intermittently across the twilight. It was coming from the pale form on the bed. Ah, uhh, ah, uhh… It was a voice, female. The woman on the bed was stark naked, breathless with her face in the sheets, rear-end pointed upwards. Her back heaved with each labored breath, rounding out before arching inwards again. Her head came up from the sheets. It was Renobo. Her eyes honed in on Biku and Fuminari, emanating a wild energy. In a moment her gaze transformed into one of sensual longing.
“Men,” she murmured. “Men, come to visit me.” Her moist, red lips coiled up at each side. The expression was cold and sensual, designed to incite lust in any man. But something was wrong. Fuminari noticed it immediately. Her face was gaunt. There was that same sense of wanton beauty, but her frame had shed weight somehow.
Then she was moving, suddenly and with the nightmarish speed of an arachnid. She lunged towards Fuminari. He knocked her aside with a simple gesture. She crumpled to the floor. Then she lifted her head and got onto all fours, the edges of her lips stained with blood.
“Fuminari, I know you came here to fuck me,” she said. Her voice was shockingly deep and hoarse. It was not the voice of Renobo. “You and your cock came here to fuck me, right here!” She began to cackle the moment she finished the sentence. “Oh no, I remember now! Your little viper doesn’t work!”
“That’s right,” Fuminari answered, looking her straight in the face.
“Well then, let m
e suck the sperm out of you. You’ll come, yes? I know you will—you came all over my hand before, such a good boy. Oh I’ll treat you well. It’ll be better than with any girl you’ve had before.” Her voice had returned to that deep, husky thing. “Feast on this!”
She lay back, stretching her legs wide for Biku and Fuminari to see. She pulled her knees up and brought her hands around from the outside, using them to pull her lips apart. It was as blatant as a gesture could be. Even her anus was in full view.“Are you seeing this, Biku? I remember what you’d said before. You promised to fuck me here with that prick of yours.” She pushed her buttocks upwards, hips shaking. Whatever clothes she had been wearing were scattered over the floor, pulled out of shape, in disarray like she had ripped them off. “Let me blow you. I’m so much better than the others,” Renobo continued.
“No way in hell I’d stick my cock in your mouth. I’d feel safer ramming a cobra,” Fuminari said.
Whatever he stuck in there, tongue or genitals, she would try to bite off. They both remembered the glowering hatred in her eyes when Fuminari had killed Ishibashi. The memory made her current pleading all the more incredulous. What was she up to?
“How long has she been like this?” Fuminari asked Biku.
“I noticed earlier this evening.”
Renobo had used the distraction of their conversation to get to her feet. She lunged in again, an animal this time heading for Biku’s crotch. Biku dodged to the side, avoiding her.
“You won’t let me? You won’t let me fuck?” She looked up at Biku, eyes burning.
She seemed to be losing her mind. “Don’t look so smug. Have you thought of what has become of that girl, the one that used to go to your apartment? Have you ever thought about that?”
“Yuko, I presume?”
“We had her raped, continuously. Oh there were so many men inside her. You must be angry. You must want to put me through the same ordeal…”
The Psyche Diver Trilogy: Demon Hunters Page 41
