“I have to get back. We should go back.”
“And why is that?”
“You must stop that gladiator bout in the arena.”
A vain request, to be sure. Without a backwards glance, the lord of the manor house said, “If my calculations are correct, the thing has already been settled, after a most unexpected fashion.”
“How could you—” Sayaka began to retreat.
“Please excuse me.”
Courteous to the end, he bowed and turned around.
“Wait.”
The plea faded into the distance. The air shook above her head, followed by a strange screeching sound. She looked up. A creature with bat-like wings dropped down on her. A gremlin!
Sayaka felt a pinch in her shoulders as she rose into the air. The carrying capacity of these legendary creatures could be attested to by the spies and agents among the invited guests who’d been disposed of earlier.
She considered using the paralyzer setting in her laser ring, but her body was already a good fifteen feet in the air and rising fast. A fall from this distance would break a bone or two. So she resigned herself to going wherever the gremlin was going.
Kyoya-san should be okay. There’s no way he’d lose to those armored creatures. That’s what she believed. She gave less thought to what would happen to herself after this.
The gremlin soared elegantly through the air and reached the top of the staircase. They were headed in the wrong direction, and there was nothing she could do about it, but Sayaka couldn’t help thinking this wasn’t a bad way to get around.
At the very top of the staircase was an enormous pool, in which bobbed a number of pretty boats festooned with bronze flower petals.
Sayaka and the gremlin turned to the right and rushed toward a great glass door. Just before colliding with the door, it opened wide. Sayaka was drawn into the invigorating air. She was startled not just by its cool taste, but by the great blackness that reached out and out before her.
Stars twinkled above. The heavens were full of stars that looked ready to pour down out of the Milky Way. Lights twinkled below. When the darkness crystallized, it must glitter like this as well.
The endless points of light took hold of Sayaka’s youthful aesthetic. Standing on the green-covered terrace, she was intoxicated by the dreamlike spectacle. And yet her nervous system was definitely not asleep.
Hearing footsteps behind her, she spun like a lithesome top to face the man in the golden mask.
“I thought you should see this,” said the lord of Babylon, with a word of apology. He pointed at the amalgam of light and dark and looked at Sayaka. “The stars of the night, the lights of the earth, are yours and mine—no, yours alone, if you so choose.”
“I don’t understand what you are saying,” Sayaka answered forthrightly. “You mean you will pull the stars down from the sky and steal the lights from off the earth for me?”
“That is correct.”
“Well, that’s nice. But not scientifically possible.”
“That is also correct.”
The lord’s face twitched in a smile beneath the mask. “But the day is still the day, and this is all an illusion.”
“I know that,” said Sayaka, though she hadn’t actually known that.
“Do you remember?” asked the mask, ignoring the bands of light.
“Remember what?”
“Remember that you once stood at this terrace with me and looked at the moon and the stars and the world below.”
“Pull yourself together. You’ve obviously got a fevered brain.” Sayaka slowly backed away.
The mask followed. “You have forgotten why I built this garden in the sky?”
“I’m sorry, but I can’t meet whatever expectations you had of me.”
“Well, we have all the time in the world. It will come to you eventually. For now, let us drink the night away.”
“It’s still daytime.”
“You needn’t take everything so literally.”
He stepped to the side. Behind him, a white round table appeared. Sayaka smelled the sweet aroma of fragrant wood on the night breezes.
“I built these gardens for my wife, who came from a country of mountains and forests. Because, aside from a few touches of blue and green, the kingdom I ruled was known more for its vast deserts and wastelands.”
There were the unique resonances of a long-ago loss in the mask’s voice.
“You mean the Hanging Gardens of Babylon. That would make you Nebu—”
Sayaka closed her mouth before saying the rest of the name. Because the golden mask had held out a silver chalice in front of her eyes.
The aromatic scent assaulted her nostrils and burned a numbing path into the center of her brain. Sayaka took the chalice and raised it to her lips. The cool liquid slid down her throat.
“That is your favorite drink. Though this time the ingredients are slightly different.”
Sayaka felt a keen sense of surprise. But not one that connected that shock with “danger.”
“You should return.” The implacable voice of the mask seemed to come from far away. “Return to the you I know best. Remember. Remember the reason I came here. The reason I chose Demon City.”
Sayaka collapsed to the floor. The golden mask quickly moved closer to hold her up, then laid her down on the purple divan next to the table.
“And so the first step has been taken,” he said to no one. “Now we wait.”
Kyoya slipped out of the hall. From the effusive chatter, the guests had already put the death match behind them. He scanned the silent hallway but couldn’t see Sayaka anywhere.
“I guess I’d better give it a shot,” he muttered to himself.
The shadow that crossed his face reflected his confidence and determination. He closed his eyes tightly. The air around him froze in place. If anybody had come within a yard of him at this time, they’d have been hit with the equivalent of an electric shock, be knocked unconscious, and likely bodily thrown backwards.
Such was the state of his terrific mental concentration.
In this state of no-mind, Kyoya gripped Asura and stabbed it into the floor. The tip of the wooden sword buried itself in the marble. The sword didn’t chip or splinter.
“Nenpo lost shadow,” Kyoya murmured, and pulled out the sword.
No crack or fissure marred the floor. A shadow shaped like a willow leaf affixed itself there, outlining the tapered edge of the blade. Kyoya opened his eyes. Sweat beaded on his forehead. He didn’t pause to wipe it off, but reached into the pocket of his shirt and took out a single strand of hair.
“Sayaka’s. Lost shadow, find its owner.”
He brushed the strand of hair against the “willow leaf.” The shadow absorbed it and shot across the floor at high speed.
Kyoya gave it a three foot head start, then took off after it. This “nenpo lost shadow” was definitely headed where the man in the golden mask had last taken Sayaka. The shadow of Asura, having been imbued with Kyoya’s nen and assimilated a part of Sayaka, now turned into some kind of predatory animal.
Down a corridor lined with enormous statues—past a lake, the wind rippling the surface—where Sayaka had gone they went too. After running for five minutes, a wide long staircase rose up before Kyoya and the “lost shadow.”
They’d come to the foot of the staircase leading to the moon viewing terrace.
“Stop,” Kyoya told the lost shadow.
He stopped himself to collect his breath. In any other time or place, he would hardly be winded by a five-minute dash. His ragged fatigue was the result of creating the lost shadow. The focus and concentration required to animate even a two-dimensional object with pseudo-being and give it the ability to accomplish its purpose drew deeply on his mental and physical reserves.
Compared to that, the straightforward business of crossing swords with a demon knight was far and away less draining.
He took two and then three deep breaths, and was about to
set off once again when a huge mass moved in front of him. In a flash, Kyoya jumped back ten feet, drawing Asura as he landed.
The staircase rose up in front of him. It was an imposing mass as well. But it wasn’t moving. Kyoya understood. It wasn’t the staircase, but an enemy at the top. A monster? No, not exactly. An evil presence, to be sure, but lacking that sense of living vitality that even a monster possessed.
Then what?
Kyoya focused his gaze. The flight of stairs rose fifteen feet above him. The very top rapidly warped and swayed. Something white struck the steps below, coursing down with terrific force.
Water.
He couldn’t have known at that instant, but the top of the stairs had become a wide pool. Water now poured down it. The raging currents had reached the middle of the flight of stairs, kicking up spray on each step, when a mountain of water welled up at the very top and plunged down at Kyoya.
It was water to be sure, but with this much force and speed behind it, even a heavyweight wrestler would have been reduced to all fours, scrambling like a baby before being swept away.
The crest of the wave rose up several feet above him. Asura sprang forth.
The blade tore through the wall of water. That rent traveled back up the stairs to its source, the parted waves turning at angles away from Kyoya’s head. The spray from the waves crashing to the floor around him stung his cheeks.
With a martial cry, like a canvas sail tearing in two, Kyoya swung Asura at the mass at the top of the stairs. He felt the swing connect. The massive thing reeled. And then that sense of presence winked out.
Kyoya brought Asura back to the en garde position, but the tip of the sword dropped down, becoming a crutch to prop himself up. The lost shadow and the battle that followed had used up his reserves of mental energy.
For a while, the formless enemy didn’t move. But were a new enemy with similar powers to come at him—
Kyoya held his breath, steeled himself against the vertigo that came from the lack of oxygen, and reinforced his nen.
He held it for five seconds more. Hardly sufficient, but it’d have to do for the time being. Leave the rest for later, and time should take care of it.
The water spilling down the stairs spread out in broad streams. Kyoya stomped through the puddles and set off running.
II
“Where are you going?”
Kyoya was halfway up the staircase when he heard her quiet voice. Sayaka and the golden mask were standing at the top of the stairs. His initial relief that she appeared safe and sound was soon replaced by one of distinct unease, seeing the dreamlike expression on her pale and lovely face.
Kyoya turned his flashing eyes on the masked man.
“Don’t worry. Rama-san is fine.”
His assurances—as if reading Kyoya’s thoughts—only aroused his anger further, and his glare grew all the more menacing.
“She’s hardly doing fine. You’ve got her in some kind of trance. You perform some kind of mojo on her, slip her a roofie?”
“Why don’t you ask her yourself?”
When getting into a brawl, Kyoya was the type who grew calmer as the other guy got hotter. Except that the voice of the mask was as cool as ice.
“Same goes for you, bud. You’re good at not getting to the point. To start with, why don’t you tell us who you really are? Second, why invite all those people here? Lastly, what’s the true reason for this whole charade?”
The mask’s answer was leavened with laughter. “I’m afraid you have watched too many science fiction and adventure shows. This is my home, secured through all the legal and proper procedures. It is only natural that I should invite to my home those people most appropriate to its size and opulence. As for my identity, perhaps you didn’t bother yourself, but I’m sure it’s all there to be found on the Internet. As for my true reasons—”
Kyoya felt himself rising up on the balls of his feet.
“—to throw a party for you all, of course.”
“Why did you kidnap Sayaka—Rama-san?”
“You misunderstand and accuse me falsely. I came here to the terrace to relax. The young lady accompanied me of her own accord.”
“You expect me to believe that?”
“Well.” The mask said after a meaningful pause, “The more unbelievable fact is that you should have come away from your encounter with the three knights in such good health. How about it? Would you mind demonstrating your miraculous powers to me?”
“Let’s have at it,” Kyoya said readily.
He had his dander up. His nen was weak. In this condition, his former opponents would have carried the day. But he was hot-blooded by nature, and anybody who messed with Sayaka was cruising for a bruising.
“What about you? You gonna fight bare-handed?”
“You came bearing that exquisite sword. I am my own weapon.”
“Whatever.”
Kyoya swung Asura. He wasn’t taking his opponent lightly. This young man approached any fight with all due caution. Based on his previous encounter, he had a good idea of the mask’s true powers. This was no time to fold on a weak hand. He wasn’t about to admit the low ebb of his nen, and would rather have died than run.
Kyoya nimbly climbed the rest of the stairs. Observing the size and scale of the pool he exclaimed, “Hey, wow.”
The water level was just below the brim. Here was the source of the raging wave from before. Considering the amount, a lot more like it wouldn’t drop the level an inch.
Kyoya stared into the depths of the blue water, looking for something there, but saw nothing in the deep watery depths. One of those invisibility screens that had hid the knights might be deployed here as well.
“Shall we proceed, then?” said the mask.
“Bring it on.”
They stood ten feet apart. The mask left Sayaka where she was. Kyoya moved to the edge of the pool. The edge of the pool was a good six to ten feet wide, a kind of granite shore. The distance between them stayed the same.
Thirty feet away from Sayaka, they stopped.
Kyoya settled into a right hasso stance, the left foot forward, the sword raised over his right shoulder. Then slowly brought down the tip, aligning it with the mask’s face.
The mask appeared utterly unperturbed. It wasn’t an act. Even if it was, his ability to perfectly conceal the killer aura emanating from his body was on a par with the very best fighters in the martial arts.
The kind of fighter Kyoya was the least effective against. A weakness, a tell, a way in was simply not evident.
And the unarmed fighting style could be a feint. There was no telling what he had up his sleeve—a laser, a handheld missile. Unleash something like that on him right now and it could well kill him.
No problem. Kyoya could live with that. So to speak. He didn’t understand it, but he was okay with fighting and dying here. A little earlier than scheduled, but it wouldn’t be a bad way to go.
Just as that thought expressed itself in a slight smile, an agitated vibe roiled out of the masked man’s being. The young man’s laid-back manner had shattered his icy resolve.
The opening he was waiting for.
With a shout, Kyoya jumped forward, closing the gap between them in a flash. Though the mask managed to duck at the last second, he practically tripped over his own two feet doing so, and couldn’t set up an immediate counterattack.
Damn, too slow. The thought flashed through his mind, but he kept a poker expression and poured strength into his hands, swinging Asura sideways at the mask’s midsection. He wasn’t pulling his punches. If the blow connected, the guy wouldn’t be moving for a month.
He felt a peculiar reverberation down the shaft. Kyoya was thrown backwards in midair. He didn’t have time to execute a soft landing, and broke the fall onto the granite floor with his left shoulder. It was wet, probably because of the water.
Ow.
He kept that reaction bottled up inside too.
“Shit!”
> That he shouted out loud. His legs splayed apart at odd angles. He was forced to lean on Asura to stay up.
Rubbing his right hand, the man in the golden mask said, “Had enough?”
He wasn’t rubbing very hard. Kyoya hadn’t hit him any harder than that. The realization sent a cold chill down his spine that soon transformed to anger. One of his better qualities. But no matter how good, it didn’t solve the problem before him.
While still resolved to knock him on his ass, in a corner of his mind, Kyoya contemplated the true nature of the masked man’s riposte. He’d sent exactly the same physical impact and mental power invested in the wooden sword back at him.
“Well, do you still want to continue?” the man in the golden mask said scornfully.
Kyoya smiled complacently and said with equal derision, “Hoh. That sure hit the spot.”
“It looks that way, doesn’t it?”
“Sure.”
“And why would that be?”
“Guys like you, even given a little leeway, you don’t miss a thing. Spot a weakness and you’ll go straight at it. Not to mention that you wanted to kill me from the start. The only reason you didn’t is because of the way I rang your skull just now.”
“Idiot.”
“Then step up to the plate. I ain’t dead yet.”
“Fine.”
The mask’s voice was colored with rage. Kyoya’s words had no doubt hit the mark. With unsettled steps, he faced off against Kyoya, still leaning on the wooden sword. Kyoya’s body sunk lower, carefully folding his otherwise numb limbs beneath him, settling to the floor in a cross-legged position.
Asura shot up with a whoosh of air. The mask’s legs froze. The tip of the wooden sword swept against the side of his chest.
Rising out of some unknown and bottomless pit of energy, the energy radiating from the body of this enervated high school student immobilized him. When Kyoya should have had no nen left to use.
“Bastard.” The first sounds of human pique drifted from the mouth of the mask.
They were both locked in place, each holding the other motionless. Rooted there where they stood, it seemed that an eternity passed.
“Kyoya-san.”
Demon City Shinjuku: The Complete Edition Page 25
