Demon City Shinjuku: The Complete Edition

by Hideyuki Kikuchi

  Kyoya quickly lowered Asura and planted the tip in the center of the puddle. As if taking that as a signal, Kaki transformed his body into a column of fire. The cold flames—that could turn the body and soul into ashes—grew five fingers and roared straight at Kyoya.

  And was repelled by a fierce cry. “Nenpo, rising dragon!”

  Kyoya flipped up the tip of Asura. The inch-deep puddle rose up before him in a column of water. Fire met water with a hiss of steam and came to a halt.

  Kaki smiled confidently. A moment later, the blocked fire changed into many smaller tendrils, bursting apart and wrapping around the water, then coming at Kyoya from all directions.

  “Yaa—!” Instead of fire, a gasp of fright and surprise issued from Kaki’s mouth.

  The towering waterspout poured down from the tip of Asura onto Kyoya’s head and like a living creature wrapped around him, soaring and crashing to earth very much like a dragon. The raging steam again billowed up, extinguishing the tendrils of fire.

  “W-what—is—this—!”

  Sensing defeat, Kaki turned back into a fire sprite and turned to flee. From the direction of the erupting steam came another command: “Nenpo, surging waves!”

  Kaki turned and saw the young man, eyes tightly shut in quiet concentration, bring down the sword with a sweeping motion. The roiling water burst from the tip like a geyser and rushed at him, the wave imbued with the evil-crushing psychic energy of both father and son.

  The demon gagged and gurgled. The screams of its death throes warbled down the empty corridor and died away. Kyoya stood there, Asura in his hand. The cavernous space returned to the same stillness before the duel began. The only difference was that every puddle of water was gone.

  “We did it, Dad. One more monster to go.”

  Together with the pain in his side, he felt as if the death match had wrung the last ounce of physical and mental energy out of him. He steadied himself to keep from falling over and took off running. He glanced at his watch. Twenty-five minutes left.

  The stairs came up on his left. Taking the steps two at a time, he entered the main station concourse. Points of light flickered beyond the ticket booths.

  There it is.

  He vaulted over the turnstiles and ran closer. A black silhouette crouched before the altar. A sickly breeze struck him in the face, carrying omens of that thing’s ascendance.

  Kyoya stopped behind the silhouette. Pouring all of his nen into Asura, he called out, “We meet again. But for the last time. Release the curse on the president. If you don’t—”

  The answer came in a blast of evil energy, and a blow from a mighty sword that sent sparks through his brain and made him see stars. The impact left his whole body numb and wrenched Asura from his grasp and sent it clattering across the ground. The war of light and dark that erupted when Asura and the Devil Sword clashed favored the darkness.

  “Who the hell is this? Not the Sorcerer from before!”

  Seized by an almost crushing sense of dismay. But still managing a backwards flip through the air to retrieve Asura.

  “Hoh! And if I don’t release the spell, what will you do?”

  The Sorcerer slowly got to his feet. Knowing that he’d made such a furious assault from his knees, swinging the sword without breaking a sweat, made Kyoya tremble in his heart.

  “What will you do? Cut me in two? You cannot kill me. Having died once, a human being cannot die again.”

  The Sorcerer shed his black cloak. Kyoya couldn’t help gaping. What, this a human being?

  At first glance, he looked like a cyborg with the skin stripped away. The obsidian alloy metal frame, studded with metabolic regulation mechanisms, pushed the darkness aside like water and towered over him. The mechanical heart beating in its chest and the other body parts were connected by circulation pipes and electrical conduits from a nuclear fusion furnace in its abdomen through its spinal cord.

  It was like the life-sized anatomical model in Kyoya’s high school science room had suddenly come to life.

  The Sorcerer had been reconstituted as a cyborg? No, observing the pale phosphorescing light cast off by the mist that encased the mechanical demon’s body, Kyoya understood the true nature of the beast.

  “Bastard—after you died, you encased your soul in a cyborg’s shell.”

  Black laughter shook the concourse. “Just as I should have expected from Izayoi’s son. What good eyes you have.”

  The Sorcerer—his “spirit cyborg” — bared his artificial teeth in a grotesque smile, pointed his Devil Sword at Kyoya and marched toward him. Pushed back by the demonic wind as the robot monster powered up, Kyoya had no choice but to retreat.

  A battle was simultaneously unfolding in another location. As soon as Kyoya left, guided by Sayaka’s shadow, Suiki stole into Mephisto’s operating room.

  Perhaps taking it for granted that the world would become part of the Demon Realm that night, the figure clothed in the monk’s habit returned to its original nature. A multitude of white tentacles spilled forth from its collar and sleeves, wriggling and writhing.

  Guided by the girl’s shadow crawling across the ground, they made a grand entrance at the ground floor, throwing the waiting room into an uproar and sending the patients fleeing.

  “Cowards, all. You will never find safety in this world, no matter where or how far you run. Come three o’clock and wives will set upon their husbands, parents will kill their children. But I shall not rest unless I first draw and quarter that boy and girl with these hands.”

  Suiki followed the shadow’s trail with his burning, hateful eyes. “I was sure they had died in the DMZ, but unleashed the shadowmancer just to be sure. And now it shall pay off. Ah, in the basement. Wait there, my darlings. I shall soon arrive.”

  From the monitors, Sayaka and Mephisto were already aware of the commotion. Suiki began descending the stairs.

  “It seems you have a guest. Some creature called Suiki.”

  Sayaka nodded. “This is good news.”

  “How is that?”

  “If this creature is here, that means Kyoya-san must contend only with one.”

  “I find that nothing worth celebrating,” Mephisto said, with obvious displeasure. He waved his right hand.

  Descending the stairs, Suiki was pierced by a particle beam weapon embedded in the walls. He calmly reached toward the wall with his tentacles. The wall grew half-transparent, frothed and bubbled, and turned into a sheen of water. The stream of particles stopped like a crimped hose, and Suiki proceeded on his way.

  The demon sprite was bombarded in succession by lasers, ultrasonic waves and chemical weapons. He cut all of them off from their sources in a matter of seconds.

  “Physical deterrents won’t work here. This living creature doesn’t follow the natural laws of this world. Refurbishing these government offices cost a hundred million. That thing is causing an awful lot of damage.”

  “I’ll see to it that you are compensated,” Sayaka responded calmly and apologetically. “Just give me the invoice.”

  “You certainly are a resourceful young lady.” Mephisto smiled, though it seemed more the result of restraining outright laughter.

  “I try to be.”

  “I’ll have my accountants tend to it later. For the time being, we should address the problem at hand.”

  “I concur.”

  “That fellow is being guided by your shadow. Once being a part of you, it now seeks to unite with you again and so pursues you. Meaning that no matter where you go, it will follow. The only remaining option is to stand and fight.”

  “But Kyoya-san is the only one who can defeat them.”

  “Ah, yes. A particularly common failing of the female sex is to believe that love conquers all. Which is not to say it does not have its uses.”

  “W-what?” Sayaka blushed. “I am not Kyoya-san’s girlfriend!”

  “So you say. Come along.”

  Mephisto left the operating room. Sayaka followed him. The
y took the elevator to the second underground level. Mephisto opened the door to the room immediately adjacent to the lobby. The fairly wide space was covered from floor to ceiling with machines and tools. Sayaka recognized some of the computers, translation machines and monitors, but as for the rest she didn’t have the slightest idea what they did or how they worked.

  The room was wrapped in a dusky silence. It seemed a most appropriate abode for this black-clad young man. His personal research laboratory.

  Mephisto stood in front of a huge machine in the back and picked up what appeared to be a silver gun.

  “Completed it just yesterday. A psychic wave gun.”

  Sayaka darted up and looked intently at it. “A weapon that can destroy monsters?”

  “That was the intent. It has been in the works since I learned about their existence two years ago, our ace in the hole, so to speak. It amplifies the user’s nen and directs it against the enemy.”

  Taking note of Sayaka’s disappointed expression, Mephisto smiled and added, “This alone should give you similar capabilities to those of the paranormal commando corps being developed in the outside world, except that this has dual chakra filters, one to absorb spiritual energy and one to project it. You are familiar with the concept of chakra?”

  “Yes,” Sayaka nodded. She’d gotten an explanation of the word during lectures about yoga from Master Rai on Earth.

  The chakra were dispersed among seven locations on the human body—the crown of the head, brow of the forehead or third eye, the throat, heart, solar plexus, sacrum and the loins or root—portals for absorbing certain kinds of energy. The lower two handled physical energy; the middle three, emotional energy; the chakra in the forehead took in spiritual energy while the chakra in the crown of the head released it.

  However, activating the latter two was difficult to impossible for any but the most virtuous of spiritual practitioners. The crown chakra had been from ancient times a symbol of a holy man. Statues of the Buddha represented this chakra with the protruding crown of his head. It was said that holy men could bring about great miracles through the release of the energy from that chakra.

  She didn’t understand it, but apparently Mephisto’s gun could capture the energy from those two chakras. Purifying the nen passing through it, and transforming it into a powerful burst of spiritual energy, it could strike down a demon. Like Kyoya’s nenpo.

  Mephisto was about to say something when a low growl permeated the room, along with a strobing blue light. The monitors automatically switched to an exterior view—and stopped transmitting. The warnings and flashing lights also stopped. For a moment, darkness ruled. And then retreated.

  The door and the walls around it radiated with a wan luster and turned half-transparent, letting in the light from the corridor. The black-hooded Suiki stood in the center of the light like a specter. The miasma of devilish loathing erupted from his entire body and struck at Sayaka, rooting her to the spot.

  “I’ve been looking for you and the boy. I came to return the favor for this one eye of mine.”

  “No, this man is—” Sayaka stood in front of Mephisto, as if to block the path.

  “No? Doesn’t much matter to me. This world will fall into our clutches hereafter. But first I will sacrifice you to our god. You should thank me for the honor.” Suiki cackled. “Alas, there will be no hereafter for you.”

  Accordingly, the broad array of equipment and even the hard floor itself—excepting the spot they were standing on—warped and wavered and dissolved. The computers sank into the floor, the desks fused with the machines. The swimming shadows of Demon Realm fishes were visible through the walls. The phantasms slowly closed on Sayaka, cruelly seeking to stab terror deep into the marrow of their mortal enemy.

  “I am impressed,” Mephisto mused as he prepared the psychic wave gun. “This is turning out to be a very valuable experience.”

  “You do know that every attack so far has proved pointless,” Suiki said contemptuously.

  “It’s only an experimental model,” said Mephisto. “But how does it feel?”

  A blue-white flash of light lit up Suiki’s form in a blinding glare. With a horrid, hoarse shriek, the demon fell writhing to the floor.

  The light faltered and went out.

  “Oh, damn,” Mephisto said breezily. “Needs a bit more work.” He handed the weapon to Sayaka.

  “But—”

  At that moment, Sayaka felt a sharp pain running through her heart, like a razor-sharp blade tearing her asunder. Red stains blossomed on her white blouse.

  “Not once, but twice. Such impertinence!” Suiki arose, muttering like a madman.

  The psychic wave gun hadn’t quite done the job. He raised the tentacles on his right side. There in their restraining grasp was Sayaka’s shadow. From around its chest dripped drops of blood. As he had fallen, Suiki had punctured the shadow with the tips of his tentacles.

  “Wound the body and wound the shadow. Kill the shadow and kill the body. Have you seen it? The demonic power to send a shadow back to where it came from? Boy, now you can watch me rip off her head and tear off her arms!”

  The tentacles twinkled and dug into Sayaka’s left shoulder. Sayaka clamped her hand to the same place and screamed.

  “Think of the important people in your life,” Mephisto said, keeping Sayaka from falling down. “The less tainted and more resolute the spiritual energy passing through the chakra filter, the greater amount of purified energy it will produce. Unfortunately, an eccentric and perverse chap such as myself is not of much use in this instance. But you can do it. Think—the one person you would die of sorrow if you lost, the one person you love the most.”

  Sayaka refused to surrender to the pain as she leveled the gun. The tentacles moved again. Blood showered from her right wrist. The gun fell to the floor.

  “Die.” Suiki raised the tentacles and was about to punch through the shadow’s throat. The earth suddenly shook. Suiki staggered.

  “Now.”

  Mephisto quickly retrieved the gun. Sayaka grasped it. The face of her father on his sickbed rose up in her thoughts. And—

  Suiki surely never counted on what was coming next. A crimson current poured from the muzzle of the psychic wave gun and became a raging tide sweeping around the demon’s body, according to the perverse laws of that other world burning every last cell to a crisp.

  With one final bellow, Suiki disappeared. The shaking of the earth stilled.

  Mephisto waved his hand again. The emergency lights in the ceiling came on. Utterly exhausted, Sayaka fell into his arms, the unlikely victor in the struggle to the death.

  Mephisto carefully placed his free hand on a nearby piece of equipment. It had returned to its previously solid state. Together with Suiki’s death, the demon’s magical powers had abated. However, the melted and fused walls and machinery stayed that way, turning the room into a life-sized installation of abstract art.

  He sat Sayaka down on a couch whose legs had sunk into the floor. “That was quite a performance,” he said in an unusually gentle voice.

  “That earthquake—” said Sayaka, recalling the violent upheavals from before. She was shaking with fear. “It toppled even a demon who didn’t conform to the rules of the natural world. That wasn’t—perhaps—a second Devil Quake? Those things appearing from the bowels of the earth—”

  Mephisto sensed the time from the biological chronograph embedded in his shoulder. “No, it is three minutes to three o’clock.”

  The two stared into empty space, as if lost in prayer. The face of the young soldier rose into their thoughts, somewhere in Demon City Shinjuku engaged in an eternal struggle to the death with the sworn enemy of hell, bearing the fate of the world on his shoulders.

  That fate would be determined in the next three minutes.

  “You cannot begin to imagine how much power I have right now at my fingertips,” said the Sorcerer.

  They were standing ten feet apart. His voice came from no vocal
organs. The soul spoke through the cyborg’s mouth.

  “The human spirit has always contained amazing reservoirs of energy. Unfortunately, these biological shells are more a hindrance than a help, capable of expressing a mere one percent of its true potential. The proof is all around us, of souls separating from the body at the moment of death and destroying their enemies, of souls transmigrating to others and reincarnating.”

  He wasn’t making it up. A team of parapsychology researchers at the University of Virginia had studied thousands of cases of reincarnation in places around the world over the past quarter-century, reporting many incidents of soul transmigration. As the Sorcerer had stated, proof of the inexplicable powers of the soul.

  The unflaggingly confident voice continued. “Transforming my nen into its spirit essence has bestowed upon me powers that are orders of magnitude greater than when you defeated me before. Furthermore, being housed in this cyborg gives that soul access to all the energy from its fusion generator. That nen now fuels this new body. Resign yourself to your inevitable death. Or ally with me.”

  “Give me a break, you mutant nut job. You should have died a long time ago.”

  Kyoya’s cheerful rejoinder was yet lacking in strength, while the Sorcerer’s booming voice echoed around the concourse. “Dedicating yourself to the Demon Realm, watching everyone else being consumed with despair and fear and loathing is such a pleasant thrill. Before I left the Himalayas, I asked your father to join me. But he was obsessed with the cosmic mind and such, goals impossible to achieve in a lifetime, and refused point-blank.”

  “The obsessed one is you! He abandoned his training after you left in order to defeat you. I’m here to settle the score once and for all.”

  “Idiot. Listen, boy. Humans are by nature creatures well-suited for the Demon Realm. Remember what I told you the first time we met. The being making its appearance this night had shown its face in this world once before.”

  “Shut the hell up!” Kyoya shouted, leaping forward at the same time, raising Asura high above his head. Pouring all of his psychic energy into it, he brought it down on the Sorcerer’s head.