Demon City Shinjuku: The Complete Edition

by Hideyuki Kikuchi

  “Such foolishness! What could be more shameful than sending others to their deaths for your own profit and satisfaction?”

  With the crystal-clear eyes fixed upon her, Yoshiko was at a loss for words. The dignity radiating from the body of the slight Sayaka thoroughly outclassed the rough woman.

  “Kill her, Shimura!” she shouted desperately.

  A seedy-looking underling with a pockmarked face aimed a laser gun at Sayaka. But faster than Kyoya could run to her, lights like camera flashes lit up the surrounding crowds, the beams converging on the underling, setting his shoulder and the weapon afire.

  “Drop it, punk!” somebody called out. “Nobody lays a finger on the little lady!”

  Another added, “If she wasn’t here, your brains would be decorating the asphalt!”

  “You go, girl!” a rough but warm voice said. Then addressing the espers, “You guys better treat your lives a bit more valuable.”

  “Damned straight. Anyway, it’s noon. Any more killing’s just going to get in the way. You guys came to this city to get a life too, not dig a grave.”

  The throngs supporting Sayaka had turned on the two gangs.

  “Get out of here, shit for brains! We got businesses to run here!” A shop owner obviously.

  “Yeah,” piped up a woman. “Nobody orders us around and tells us how to live our lives here. That’s the law of Demon City.”

  A chorus of agreement, along with chants of “Get lost!” and “Hey, hey, goodbye!”

  The gangbangers glared back in a threatening manner, not intimidated in the least. They were the baddest badasses in this town, seasoned pros at madness and mayhem. The hearts of these men and women were unlikely to be touched by the words of a cute girl who looked as if she would break in two if handled without kid gloves.

  “Let’s call it a day, Hippos,” the Praying Mantis boss said with a wry smile. “No matter how much of the market you call your own turf, turn the customers against you and there’ll be nothing left worth fighting over.”

  “It’s over when I say it’s over!” Yoshiko bellowed. She was bad to the bone, and determined to prove it with her dying breath. Her oil-drum sized torso shook with anger. “Same goes for you, bitch!”

  The big cow charged at Sayaka. Then unexpectedly circled through the air in an elegant arc, before crashing down on the pavement in a cloud of dust. A repeat demonstration of Sayaka’s Aikido. This time accompanied by cheers and a round of applause.

  At that moment, practically doubled over with laughter, Kyoya’s body suddenly tensed up, his senses coming alive in all directions. Threading through the noisy rabble, a blood-red demonic aura reached across the plaza. Its source was close by. It was stronger this time. There were at least two of them.

  But as for where and how they would make their appearance, even focusing his mind and nen, it was like groping his way through a thick fog. He could make out only the vaguest details. He was still fighting off the fatigue, a real disadvantage in a long fight.

  My best bet is to beat them to the punch just as they’re emerging and bolt. Except I’m facing more than one opponent this time.

  He had to get Sayaka to safety. Standing there in the middle of the common, she might as well draw a target on her bare chest. If she didn’t have any more value to them, they’d take her out along with him in a heartbeat.

  He started forward just as the demon vibe moved, concentrating with alarming speed in a space several yards away from Sayaka.

  Damn. Found us!

  A crimson flame silently appeared in the sunlight. The crowds gasped. Not in fear, rather more in the manner of those who lived in Demon City. They were accustomed to the supernatural. When something weird happened, their natural instincts were no longer to run, but to lean closer to get a better look.

  Sayaka turned and stopped cold. Though she had the presence of mind not to look in Kyoya’s direction.

  “Girl—”

  A voice from within the flames, stripped of all human emotion. Less a “voice” than words strung together.

  “As long as your shadow is in my grasp, there is no place you can go that I won’t find you. You and the boy who destroyed Doki will burn in the fires of hell. Where is he?”

  “We split up. He said he was going to look for the Sorcerer. I’m here alone.”

  The flames laughed coldly. “Really? It doesn’t matter. Your shadow will lead me to him.” He called out, “Show yourself, boy. Else I will snuff out the spark of this girl’s life. A death by my hand is a painful death indeed.”

  “What’s this monster shooting off his mouth about?” A big bull of a man trotted out of the crowd and interposed himself between Sayaka and Kaki. He had a laser gun in his right hand. “Don’t you dare lay a finger on her. Or you’ll get what’s coming.”

  “Ah, a gallant knight. Six hundred years ago in England, the fools I encountered said the same thing. Are you the one who fought Doki?”

  “No,” said Sayaka. “He’s—”

  She was about to step in front of him when the laser gun flashed. The beam passed through the heart of the flame. It didn’t even flicker.

  Surprised more than he was afraid, the big man gaped at Kaki, just as a flying fist of fire filled his mouth.

  His scream erupted as an inarticulate gargle as he fell to the ground, clawing at his chest. Red-hot flames poured from his mouth and ears and nostrils, like he’d turned into a fire-breathing dragon. His body appeared completely unscathed from the outside. Kaki’s accursed fires consumed only the internal organs.

  “Stop it!” Sayaka cried out.

  Kyoya broke through the cordon of onlookers and sprang forward. He had in his right hand the newspaper he’d “borrowed” from the back pocket of the man he’d been talking to. As he ran, he rolled it into a kind of sword.

  “Son of a bitch! Eat shit and die!” he yelled, adopting an uncharacteristically uncouth manner in hopes of hiding his true identity. If Kaki underestimated him, he could fend off the first attack and then deliver the fatal blow before Kaki could recover.

  There was only one problem with the plan.

  “Kaki! That’s him!” A voice thick with hatred hurled at him as the ground beneath his feet turned to water.

  At the last second, as the sound waves reached him, he’d taken a flying leap. Kaki’s fire reached out with a roar. While in the air, the paper sword flashed, intercepting the ball of fire and shattering it into a thousand pieces. Just as he landed, he pushed his nen into the “sword” and struck the ground with it.

  He did this in order to check Suiki’s magic. As he landed, he brought the “sword” to the vertical and intercepted a second volley from Kaki, and then ran to Sayaka.

  His feet came to a sudden halt. “Damn!” he cursed to himself, as Sayaka sank into the pavement down to her ankles.

  “Don’t come any closer!” she cried out.

  “No, come on.” Suiki’s victorious voice flowed across the plaza. “I will drag you both down to a Davy Jones’s Locker. In the pit of my stomach.”

  Kaki added, “Throw away that toy. Or the girl dies first. Want to watch her struggling in a watery grave?”

  Kyoya froze. He couldn’t move. He’d happily take on two demons by himself. But with Sayaka in the mix, there was little he could do. She was ten feet away. The time it’d take him to cross those ten feet was plenty of time for Suiki to demonstrate his powers. He was facing the worst of all possible stand-offs.

  “Kyoya-san, run!” Sayaka shouted. “You are our only hope. Think of the people of the world, not me!”

  “How self-sacrificing,” Kaki sneered. “What will you do, boy? You are our target now. If you promise not to resist, I will persuade Suiki to let the girl live.”

  No matter how fierce the battle, Kyoya’s mood remained all the more laid-back at the height of it. But now a flinch of concern showed for the first time. He could hardly count on Kaki telling the truth, all the more reason why he couldn’t abandon Sayaka even as she
wept and pleaded for him to cast her aside and save others.

  He slowly lowered the paper sword.

  Sayaka abruptly groaned and threw back her head. She was about to bite down on her tongue when an unexpected force stopped her.

  “Hey!”

  Kyoya and the two demons shouted practically in unison. Sayaka vaulted from the ground and shot through the air with tremendous speed, then gently landed feet-first next to Kyoya.

  Putting out a hand to steady her, he cast his eyes around the plaza. In one corner, their hands linked together, stood seven men. The remaining espers, enemy and ally alike, combining their psychic energies to save Sayaka.

  “Get going!” shouted one. “Whatever else happens, be sure to save her!”

  “Thank you! But why—?”

  Another answered the unfinished question. “You’re the only one who ever went out of her way for a bunch of bastards like us. We won’t forget it!”

  “We’ve brought those demons to a standstill with our psychokinesis. Escape while you can!”

  Kyoya called back, “But they’re not exactly the types to forgive and forget!”

  His psychic powers and those of the espers were essentially the same. What distinguished the two was the kind of training and the refinement of the particular skill. No matter how powerful the esper’s nen, it didn’t extend much beyond moving and manipulating physical objects.

  With a degree of self-control mastered through yoga and zazen, Kyoya could push his nen beyond the restraints of physical law and strike at demons from other worlds. His was a superpower that arose out of what might best be called a “spiritual dimension,” fundamentally different from that of the espers, more akin to the exorcising power of a priest amplified several thousand times.

  In short, the psychic powers of the espers could never eradicate the presence of the Demon Realm. They had been able to extract Sayaka from Suiki’s grip only because there was one among them who, although his powers were tiny in comparison, had undergone the same kind of training as Kyoya.

  “We know,” answered another esper. “But we have enough strength to hold them back while you escape. The girl said it was for the good of the world. It may not count for much but let us do what we can for such a cause.”

  “Goodbye, princess. If I had a girl like you in my life, I’m sure I would have made something of myself more than what I am today. Get going!”

  “Go on. Take off!”

  Sayaka’s eyes filled with tears. Kyoya vowed to himself. There wasn’t the time to find out who they were. But he would never forget their faces. With a quick bow to the espers, he grabbed Sayaka’s hand and bounded away.

  “Don’t let them escape!”

  “You meddlesome worms!”

  The demonic curses swirled after them. Constrained by the psychic powers of the espers, Kyoya didn’t sense the demons themselves in hot pursuit.

  As they plunged through the crowds, someone draped a shirt around Sayaka’s shoulders. “Thank you, everybody,” she shouted over her shoulder.

  They crossed the common to the street they’d arrived on. An old electric taxi was parked at the Meiji Avenue intersection. The two of them practically dove inside.

  The elderly driver cast a suspicious look through the ballistic glass partition. “Where to? Don’t go getting me messed up in any funny business.”

  His suspicion was well deserved. Kyoya was still holding the scorched, rolled up newspaper. Sayaka hadn’t had the time to button the shirt and had one hand pressed against her breasts, exposing her smooth round shoulders and stomach. It was obvious at a glance that she had nothing else on beneath. An unusual sight even for a Demon City hack.

  “Shinjuku, Kabuki-cho,” said Kyoya, rapping on the back of the front seat. “And step on it.”

  “Ain’t driving into the middle of a dangerous place like that.”

  “Then as close as you feel comfortable. The sooner the better.”

  “You got any money?”

  “Want me to buy you a new car?”

  “Aye aye, sir.”

  Its outward appearance notwithstanding, the cab accelerated with remarkable smoothness. Kyoya twisted around to look out the rear window. The demons were after them. They had defeated the espers.

  “Faster, man.”

  The taxi raced down old Meiji Avenue, devoid of signs of human life. Without tearing his eyes away from the rear window, he cast a tense sideways glance at Sayaka. She said in a choked-up voice, “Do you think—they—”

  “Let’s just imagine they got away by the skin of their teeth and we’ll see them again someday. Okay?”

  “Okay,” she agreed, managing to hold back the tears.

  “So, kids, this an elopement or a kidnapping?” the cabbie asked, humming to himself.

  “The latter. And I killed five more just for getting in my face.”

  The cabbie laughed. “Good job! Not enough youngsters with initiative around these days. Say, you need any help with the ransom, let me know. Don’t mean to boast, but I’m as good as they get in Shinjuku. I can shake a mobile police patrol car just like that.” He snapped his fingers. “How about twenty percent?”

  Kyoya and Sayaka didn’t have an answer to that. A fireball appeared in the middle of an intersection behind them. Kaki and Suiki were closing the distance, the road and ruins dissolving like wax in a hot oven in their wakes.

  “But I’d settle for fifteen,” the cabbie said with carefree nonchalance, that seemed to include not looking in the rearview mirror.

  Kyoya closed his eyes, pushing his nen into the ragged newspaper. “All right,” he said, his face pale with concentration. He opened the window.

  The cabbie misunderstood. “It’s a deal,” he said enthusiastically, thumbing the steering wheel. “A hot little number like that, partner, and the sky’s the limit.”

  The two demons were less than fifteen feet behind them. “Here’s a holy hand grenade for you!” Kyoya shouted, and threw the newspaper at them.

  A tongue from the ball of fire reached out and snapped at it like a dog. As the flames consumed it, at a point midway between the cab and the demons the sword erupted in a colorless, soundless explosion. Kyoya’s psychic energies scattered like shrapnel in all directions.

  With a roar, the fireball blew apart. The ruins stopped dissolving. Suiki must have caught some of the damage as well.

  After confirming the results, Kyoya sat back heavily in the seat. The skirmish in the plaza and the nenpo hand grenade had used up much of his mental energy. The loss of Asura alone had proved exhausting to his psychic reservoirs.

  “They won’t be coming after us for now.”

  “Did you defeat them?” Sayaka asked anxiously, peering out the rear window.

  “No. The fight back there in the plaza pretty much drained me. All I can do now is slow them down. They’ll be after us again in no time.”

  “What are you chattering on about back there?” the cabbie interrupted. He hadn’t noticed his own close escape from death, and was remarkably relaxed for somebody who’d just taken an active stake in a kidnapping. “So where do you plan on hiding her? There’s an empty warehouse over by the Imperial Gardens. Now and then, these huge carnivorous worms make their nests there.”

  Ignoring the cabbie’s chatter, Sayaka lay Kyoya’s head in her lap. When he tried to resist, she flashed him a fierce look. The young nenpo master smiled wryly and closed his eyes. He was exhausted physically, mentally, spiritually.

  He was at his limit. And two of those monsters remain. He still had to break the Sorcerer’s spell, and seriously feared going down for the count before they reached the enemy’s lair.

  And as if she could see into the heart of the uncharacteristically enervated Kyoya, Sayaka thought as well: It was the last thing on earth he wanted to do. And yet he fought like this tooth and nail. So did the espers.

  She really had been a burden. The least she could do was give him a place to lay his head. At that instant, Sayaka wish
ed to ride to the ends of the earth feeling Kyoya’s weight on her lap.

  Several minutes later, the taxi barreled up to the Meiji Avenue and Yasukuni Avenue intersection. Though the surrounding ruins looked no different, the pedestrian traffic had increased markedly. Yakuza and pimps and hired guns dressed in garish threads and wearing threatening looks, the cut of society that gave a place a bad name.

  “So those are the kind of people who live around here?” Sayaka asked the cabbie.

  “Kabuki-cho is home to every type of punk, roughneck and madman you can imagine. Come night, and it turns into a staging ground for murder and mayhem. We’re not quite there yet, so relax. I’m delivering you to a place with a guaranteed security perimeter.”

  He still expected a ransom to change hands at the end of all this.

  “Yes, thank you.” Sayaka bowed her head. She couldn’t speak for Kyoya’s state of mind.

  At that moment, a crash and a bellow from the cabbie resounded simultaneously through the vehicle. One of the punks had leapt into the street and swung a plastic bag and its red liquid contents against the windshield. With a heavy slushy sound, the thick glass began to melt. That wasn’t tomato juice obviously.

  “Bastard!” the cabbie yelled. The punk whirled around. The cabbie didn’t hesitate, but cranked the steering wheel hard over and chased him up on the sidewalk. The pedestrians screamed and shouted and scrambled out of the way. About to get body checked by the fender, the punk dove sideways to safety—and right into a dumpster next to a cafeteria.

  “Serves you right, buster!”

  The cabbie laughed in high spirits. “We ought to scrape all them punks together in one big pile and feed ’em to the coin purse and spit ’em out in the DMZ. Man, that’d feel good.”

  He was still venting when Kyoya—dead to the world till that moment—popped up like a jack-in-the-box. “The coin purse. You mean that pan-dimensional thing floating outside the Waseda Hotel?”

  He asked this question with a degree of seriousness that suggested a negative answer might cost him a limb. The cabbie paled a bit and didn’t contradict him.

  Kyoya continued, “Everything it eats gets spit out in the DMZ? Did I get that right?”