The Psyche Diver Trilogy: Demon Hunters (36 page)

“So you find yourself becoming interested; in Kukai, in immortality,” Biku stated.

Fuminari looked up to Biku, gauging the man’s eyes for a few seconds before returning his gaze to the glass on the table. “I couldn’t care less about immortality, or of Kukai for that matter. Besides, I don’t believe anything as ridiculous as that actually exists.”

“Why the question, then?”

“I just don’t get it, the whole thing.”

“You don’t get it?”

“All these grown men running around obsessed with Kukai’s mummy. All these people dying for it. Fuminari chuckled, “I mean, I know I’m responsible for some of that but...”

“Don’t forget, you have your own agenda in all this too--finding Hanko.”

“Huh,” Fuminari shook his head a fraction, as though trying to cast away the image of the glass before him. He uncrossed his huge arms and glared up at Biku. “What about you?”

“Me?”

“You think Kukai’s still alive?”

“I was taught that way, back at Mt. Koya.”

“Huh. Maybe I should just rip those pretty lips of yours from your face.” Fuminari gestured upwards with his gloved left hand, glaring sharply into Biku’s eyes. Biku returned the knife-like stare with an easy smile. “So tell me, why suggest we team up again?” Fuminari asked.

Biku had made the suggestion only a few hours ago when they had met up on the mountain road. He had remarked that the
situation
meant it was provident for them to work together again. Fuminari wanted to know exactly what he had meant.

“I would like your help abducting Akio Ishibashi.” His voice was utterly composed.

“You want to abduct Akio Ishibashi?”

“Most definitely.”

“Do you know where he is?” Fuminari asked.

Fuminari had broken the man’s left arm only the other day. He was tough. He was short, only 160 centimeters, but the secretary had shown him a fortitude far beyond that of his boss, Shutaro Toyama. Even when the bone had snapped in his arm, the man had only made a tiny groan in the back of his throat. A normal man would have erupted into a screaming fit from the pain. The man reminded Fuminari of a lizard hiding under a rock, away from the sun.

That was when Fuminari had been caught, taken to Miwa Ishibashi’s residence as their prisoner. Yet a mysterious woman had saved him, coming to him out of the darkness. She had entered his room quietly, placed a knife in his hands so he could cut the rope that bound him. It had happened only a short while after Renobo had sneered at his impotence, sipping blood from Munakata’s
kapala
as she did. The woman had told him to keep out of Panshigaru’s affairs, her voice a hissing whisper
.
It haunted him even now. His life had been in real danger. And he had gotten into that position because he had fallen for Ishibashi’s trap. He had not seen Ishibashi since then.

“Yes. Itsuki was quite talkative on my way out here. If what he said is true, Akio Ishibashi is currently at his mother’s residence in Hachioji.”

“No fucking way!”

“Indeed, the very same place where yourself, Hosuke and I first stumbled into each other.”

“What do you want him for?”

“He’ll be our trump card.”

“Trump card?”

“It’s safe enough to assume that the two at the top of all of this are the old man they call Kurogosho and Miwa Ishibashi. While we know little of Kurogosho at this stage, we have acquired a fairly decent picture of Miwa Ishibashi. If we can manage to abduct her son, that should put us in a relatively advantageous position.”

“You would negotiate an exchange, Kukai for her son?”

“That would certainly speed things up, if it were possible.” Biku took his whiskey glass in his hand for the first time. His crimson lips seemed to shine after he replaced it. “Kukai is most likely being kept at Kurogosho’s residence on Megami Lake. This would be easier than us, say, simply storming the place.”

“Agreed.”

“The residence is most likely where Hosuke and your beloved Hanko are.”

Fuminari chuckled. He twisted his face into a one-sided smile as he reached out for his glass. He downed the contents then wiped his right hand, still gloved, over his mouth. He thew a powerful look in Biku’s direction.

“You know, right?” His voice was deeper than before, sounding like the low growl of an animal as it bared its teeth, ready to snap its jaw open.

“Know what?”

“That I hate your guts.”

“Hmm. I happen to find you quite agreeable.”

“
Don’t
fuck with me.” Fuminari’s voice had completed the transformation into animal. The glass in his hands gave off a sharp crack. Fractured capillaries ran over the surface, a fragment of glass jetted into the air.

“I hope we can cooperate with each other, this time at least, without letting such feelings getting in the way.” Biku showed no signs of being intimidated.

Fuminari put the glass on the table and spread his fingers so that they opened slowly around it. The glass maintained its form for a moment, then it collapsed in petal-like shards. It was impossible to tell the broken glass apart from the remaining splinters of ice. A ring of water spread outwards as the ice melted inside the jagged, tumor-like form of the glass.

“We have different objectives, sure, but our enemy is the same,” Biku said, maintaining a level tone.

“
You
are my fucking enemy,” Fuminari shouted as he felt the familiar ache of illusory pain burn sharply inside his left glove. Fuminari clenched his teeth against the sensation.

3

The room was brightly lit, large and western-styled.

There was a substantial bed next to the window that showed the room to be, for all intents and purposes, a bedroom. The only anomalous item was a cramped, bar-like counter to one of the corners where a three-leveled set of shelves had been rigged to the wall. The top shelf contained a few token bottles of alcohol--some Old Parr, opened, and a few bottles of untouched Camus Napoleon cognac--but the objects packed onto the rest of the shelves had nothing to do with booze. Each was grotesque, nothing any sane person would use for decoration. There were seven human skulls, each clouded with a gory layer of dark, congealed blood. Next were five
kapala
, three with gold lining across the rim. The bottom shelf was packed with clumps of festering meat--human heads, ten in total. Almost all had their hair still attached.

Across from the counter was a rudimentary lounge area of a table and chairs, but the legs were not wooden--they had been fashioned from bone, bone that revealed itself on closer examination to be mapped with intricate carvings of men and women copulating in an array of sexual positions. The bone was clearly human.

The air in the room was suffused with an unnaturally stifling odor--the smell of blood, dense enough to be sickening. The atmosphere was sultry, as though the air itself carried warm particles of clumped-up blood. It felt as though just clenching one’s hands together might be enough to cover them in a red film. Ten minutes in the room would be enough for the stench to work its way into one’s clothing.

A deep, sexual moaning filled the room. A man’s voice. The man was on the bed, face up and completely naked, his left arm in a sling. It was Akio Ishibashi. Renobo was on her knees to his side, also disrobed. Her flesh was like that of a snake, pale with a white liquid gloss. Her body looked as though it might bend in any direction, like an invertebrate, ready to assume any position the man was to demand of her.

“Feels good, eh?” Renobo peered into Ishibashi’s face, her eyes shockingly narrow.

Ishibashi said nothing. He continued to groan from the pleasure, his eyes closed. The woman’s dark-red lips curved into a smile, satisfied as she watched on. Her smile alone was enough to bring a man to the brink of orgasm.

“Like this? Or like this, perhaps?” She said, almost singing the words.

Her left hand was between his legs, fondling the man’s towering erection. Both his penis and her hand were soaked red. She held a
kapala
in her other hand, full to the brim with a thick soup of blood. She used her right hand to tip the contents over Ishibashi’s swollen penis, holding it firm with her other. Her slender fingers stroked over the tip as the blood fell. She was using the warmth of the blood to get him even harder. A red corona seeped through the white sheets below him as the blood was absorbed. Renobo crouched down and flicked her tongue over his glistening red tip. She continued to sweep her tongue over his cock, tracing lines around his flesh in a dancing motion. Every now and again it would push inwards, piercing his urethra.

Ishibashi thrust his hips upwards as his groaning picked up in volume. Renobo poured some more blood over the areas she had licked clean. Then she leant towards him and began to rub her upper body over his newly-stained erection. She massaged her breasts into him, up and down over the man’s wet penis. Ishibashi thrust his hips upwards, increasingly losing control.

Renobo’s pale breasts became painted in red lines, as though red slugs had crawled over them. Renobo sped up the flicking of her wrist, positioning her nipples over the tip of his cock. White liquid spurted out, landing on her breasts and reaching her face. Renobo closed her eyes, letting the warmth of the liquid soak into her flesh. She trembled slightly, then arched her head backwards and poured the red liquid directly into her mouth from the
kapala.
Blood dribbled down the sides of her pale throat as it overflowed from her mouth. Then, making sure not to spill any liquid from the
kapala
, she brought her face down to meet Ishibashi’s. She found his mouth and let the blood pour into it from hers, followed quickly afterwards by her tongue. Ishibashi sucked desperately at her, swallowing the liquid as it seeped into his mouth.

Renobo’s free hand was still wrapped around the shaft of his already hardening penis. Their mouths separated and the heady stench of raw blood wafted on their breath. The smell was horrific, but the two inhaled it through their noses like it was nectar from the heavens. Renobo began to coil with light spasms--Ishibashi had buried his hand between her legs and pushed his fingers through the wet heat of her parted flesh.

“Yes... There... More!”

Renobo began to grind the pale curves of her buttocks into him. She pulled her left hand away from his groin and switched it with her right, taking hold of the
kapala.
She spread her knees and sat over Ishibashi, straddling the man. He followed her with his hand, delving into her warm flesh the whole time. Still riding her hips back and forth, Renobo began to shuffle forwards on her knees, up towards Ishibashi’s face. He strained his neck upwards, mouth gaping open as he stared at her with the desperation of a starved animal. Renobo shifted her center of weight, moving so that it came down on her hips instead of her feet. She raised them so that her moist parting opened before his face.

“Open it up. Use your fingers. Open it wide,” she ordered him, her voice dripping wet.

Ishibashi reached up and used the thumb of his right hand to part the left side of her lips. She spread her legs even further, exposing folds of crimson flesh half-open under her pubic hair.

“Ah yes, you can’t use your other hand.” She reached down with her right hand to pull the other side open, pushing it so far it looked painful. “Feast your eyes, Ishibashi.” Hot juices overflowed, dribbling down in threads that landed in drops on his throat. “Damn that impotent fucking viper for breaking your left hand!” She shook her head and clenched her teeth as her long black hair flashed out to either side.

Ishibashi strained his head further upwards and stuck his tongue out as far as it would go. It stopped short of its target by a few centimeters.

“You want it eh, you want to suck on me?”

Ishibashi’s head bobbed up and down as he moaned.

“Go ahead then, take a bite.”

Renobo arched her head backwards, thrusting herself into his face. Ishibashi began to slobber over her, grunting like a beast. He bit her first, then used his tongue to massage. Renobo trembled, weaving her hips in a circular motion as she pushed even harder into him. Ishibashi’s tongue dragged up and down over her swollen clitoris. She gave a sharp moan and lifted the
kapala
high above her, arching backwards so that she faced the ceiling. She poured blood from the vessel over her face. It trickled down in a series of tributaries that ran from her face to her throat, shoulders and breasts like a pack of ochre snakes. The lines merged with each other as they made their way downwards, constricting around her nakedness.

“Mmm.”

She poured the remaining blood over Ishibashi’s face, the man still ravenous between her legs. The empty
kapala
tumbled from her hands to the floor. She began to massage her breasts before spreading the blood around her. Then she reached out behind and took Ishibashi’s still-hard cock in her right hand. She pulled away from his mouth and began to shift backwards in the opposite direction, towards the contents of her hand. Ishibashi’s length was sucked inside her broiling flesh. He reached out and pressed his fingers into her buttocks, pulling her sharply towards him. He slid deeper, reaching the threshold.

“Fuck me, do it now!” Renobo was screaming as though she had lost her mind.

She was intoxicated with sex. They rubbed their blood-covered bodies together, thrashing as though trying to push the blood deeper into their flesh. Renobo’s moans peaked, pitching high like a flute. Ishibashi jerked his hips upwards and groaned, coming in the same instant.

Then--the room’s door crashed explosively inwards, as though their orgasms had been a cue. The atmosphere of obscenity drained out of the room, pushed away by the almost suffocatingly dense hulk of flesh that blocked the doorway.

“Long time no see.”

It was a thickset, powerful voice. Senkichi Fuminari stood there with the snarling grin of a lion.

4

“What a fucking mess.” Fuminari’s immense body lumbered into the room like a wild bear.

“You!” Renobo said, turning her blood-soaked face to look at him. She was still straddled on top of Ishibashi. “The one with the useless viper.” She hissed with white teeth.