The Psyche Diver Trilogy: Demon Hunters (31 page)

Iba nodded, his bloodless lips trembling.

“Master Kurogosho,” Renobo broke her silence. Her voice was dripping wet. The old man turned to look at her. “Would you allow me to take him first?” Her eyes glistened, cloudy with excitement.

“Aha!”

“I have always wanted to partake of a man on the cusp of death.”

“A fine proposal.” The old man gave her a perverted smile. “Why not! Iba, employ your ten minutes as you see fit. Cavort with Renobo or flee, the choice is yours.”

By the time Kurogosho had finished speaking Renobo had already made her way down to the garden and was undoing her sash.

“Iba, I will be the last woman you take. Revel in my flesh as you prepare to leave this world.” She discarded the sash holding her kimono together. The garment fell open at the front to reveal her pale, stunningly erotic body.

“Ten minutes, beginning now,” Kurogosho called out.

Iba was rooted to the spot, gawping at Renobo’s wan figure with wide-open, hungry eyes. Renobo placed her hands under the kimono and scooped up her heavy breasts, using her fingertips to rub and pinch at her reddening nipples. They hardened instantly, growing thick as a child’s finger.

“Would you like to suck these?” She continued to knead her breasts as she pushed her hips forward, spreading her legs wider. The maroon lips between her thighs peeled open, a smile below the dark shade of her pubic hair.

“Sheesh, I think I wanna puke,” Hosuke muttered. “Just do the man a favor and get it over with, won’t you?”

Hosuke was grimacing, a wholly uncharacteristic expression for him. He looked like he was chewing rocks.
Something to communicate the extent of our resolve...before we commence discussions.
He was coming to understand the full meaning of what the old man had said moments ago. No-one offered him a response.

Iba’s face was bent from the torment, ready to break down and cry. Renobo crouched before him and undid the zip to his trousers. White fingers tugged out the man’s limp, feeble-looking cock. She wrapped her lips around it. Iba remained fixed to the spot, glowering at the sky with tears in his eyes. Renobo’s head bobbed up and down between his legs.

“Two minutes and counting,” Kurogosho announced.

Still Iba did not move. His arms hung flaccidly at his sides, his feet in exactly the same position as before. Hanko watched on with half-open eyes, looking almost sleepy. The two men to Iba’s side looked nervous, perhaps to be expected at this stage. Only Hanko’s expression remained unchanged throughout.

Iba let out a deep groan, emerging from the back of his throat. Renobo’s eyes narrowed in satisfaction. He was responding to her lips and the movement of her tongue. Renobo began to pull her mouth away from his groin, exposing part of his cock. It was covered with her saliva and glistening brightly. It was hard, blatantly erect. She stopped around the tip and began to shake her head to either side. Iba’s mouth was gaping open to expose his toothless gums, his eyes were clamped shut. When Renobo finally pulled away, his dick flicked vertically upwards like it was trying to escape. She undressed herself from the loose kimono and offered Iba a bewitching grin. She took his hot erection in both hands.

Renobo was already worked up to the point where she could hardly even see it. She wrapped her red lips around it for the second time, causing a violent growl to issue from Iba’s throat. He grabbed her head and began to pump his hips against her, pushing himself into her mouth. His cock would have reached her throat. Renobo, still kneeling, let go of him with her right hand and threaded it down between her own legs. Her white fingers parted the flesh at the top of her groin. Filmy juices seeped down the inside of her legs. She pushed a finger through the moist, hot gap and began to play with herself, lost in wild abandon. She thrust her pale buttocks out behind her, inviting as she arched back and forth with small, quick motions. She began to groan even as Iba was still in her mouth. Her index and middle fingers reached up to pinch at her clitoris. Both Iba’s hips and her hands picked up speed.

The two groaned in ecstasy as they came together in almost perfect unison. Renobo’s white throat flexed like a snake’s belly as she swallowed Iba’s fluids. Her eyes were pinned shut, enraptured. Iba pulled his cock from her mouth and roared, animal-like as he pushed her to the ground. His penis was still rock hard, pointing upwards. He tipped her so that she faced the grass and yanked her hips up to him. She let him, sticking her buttocks out as she drew herself up into an animal position.

“Fuck it all!” Iba howled. He fiddled with his cock, impatiently seeking out an entrance with the tip; he forced it in.

Renobo let out a sweet groan. “Come on and fuck me, Iba!” she screamed. “Stick it all the way in!”

It was impossible to tell whether Iba could hear what she was saying. He was already pounding at her in wild spasms. He leant forward and swung his hands under her, grabbing at her breasts. He squeezed.

“That’s it, just like that!” Renobo continued to wail. “You’re a dead man. A fucking dead man!”

“Yeah, I’ll fucking die alright.”

It was horrific to watch. They had transformed into animals. Renobo gave a sudden high-pitched shout and jumped forward. The inertia left Iba’s cock to jump out behind her. He exploded in the same instant, shooting jets of white semen over Renobo from behind. She reached out and began to rub it over her buttocks, down into her groin.

“Iba!”

There was a loud, sharp call. A beast’s howl, pulling focus away from the sex. It was Hosuke. Iba turned to him, regaining himself a little. Everyone else followed so that all eyes were on him. Hosuke grinned, suddenly shy.

“Listen, Iba,” his tone was warm, nothing like his crazed roar just now, “a last chance for you to show us what you’re made of.”

Hosuke tossed something through the air, concealed in his hand until now. Iba caught it mid-air. It was one of the knives from the table. The two men beside him began to move, pulling up their guns. Neither Hanko nor Enoh showed any visible reaction.

“Call it a parting gift. Sorry it’s not much.”

Iba was staring at Hosuke with a look of utter bemusement.

“You’ve still got two minutes. Use them!”

Iba appeared to take in Hosuke’s suggestion. He was still pale, but he seemed to regain some of the Iba look that Hosuke knew from before.

“There’s something I didn’t tell Biku. I’ll tell you now,” he said as he yanked up the zip to his trousers. “About the job my people want you to do. They want you to dive into Kukai.”

With that, Iba turned his back on them and broke into a sprint. He was almost immediately out of sight. Two minutes later, Hanko’s gigantic frame kicked smoothly into motion. Hanko vanished into the darkness where Iba sought refuge. His footsteps fell out of earshot. The only sound remaining was that of the dark trees billowing in the wind.

“An act of kindness,” Kurogosho noted.

“I just didn’t want to watch the man die here,” Hosuke growled, keeping his voice low. His eyes remained fixed on the darkness where the two had vanished. He listened to the song of the wind.

6

Hanko returned fifteen minutes later holding the bloody stump of Iba’s head in his right hand.

It had been twisted, ripped forcefully from the man’s neck. Ashen bone stuck out from under the torn flesh. Iba’s toothless mouth was open in an expression that could have been rage.

The expression was not unlike Ishida’s when Hanko had done the same to him, sometime ago in the mountains of Tateyama--an act Iba himself had watched.

Sixteen

A Portrait of Kukai

1

The air was infused with subtle hints of
macha
.

They had gathered in a tearoom built in the
Soan
style. The room gave the impression of being slightly weathered, an effect heightened by the texture of the wood and the roughness of the grain. Yet it had been built in its entirety using materials of the highest quality, a fact not immediately obvious to the uninitiated. Every aspect of the space, from the
Gamamushiro
thatched ceiling to the exquisitely rounded pillars, even the walls themselves, exhibited a quality so refined it would reduce any aficionado to slobbering envy. The room was a masterclass in accentuating the materials’ unique characteristics while maintaining an overall effect that was subtle and restrained. It was restraint that lent the room an almost tangible sense of dignity.

There was a single Japanese thistle inside an unadorned ceramic vase in the alcove. The maroon violet of the flower balanced the room with an elegant tension. The sound of water coming to a boil issued from a small iron pot. Each and every element of the room fused together to create a space perfectly secluded from the outside world.

Only one item was out of tune with the harmony. Not just out of harmony--it was impressively dissonant. A scroll inside the alcove was completely out of place with the room’s decor. The artwork had been rendered in acidic-looking primary colors, depicting the mating of two deities. The scroll was a tribute to the god Heruka; it reveals Heruka, looming imposingly towards the center and portrayed in ultramarine blue. Poised in his lap is the female deity Varahi, black-green, arching her head backwards. Her legs are clamped tightly around Heruka’s waist while the dark form of Heruka’s oversized penis can be seen penetrating the shadow between her legs. Heruka glowers in what could be either ecstasy or anger. He bears his teeth, each of his three eyes is open and bloodshot. In his left hand is a priceless gem, in his right a cobalt pestle. A multitude of arms fan out behind him, each holding a particular ritualistic tool; one holds the severed head of Brahma, others, human bodies skewered through their anus. The deity’s clothing is an endless procession of human heads. His crown is a collection of ten skulls. The scroll originated within a denomination of Esoteric Buddhism.

It was completely unnerving; this one feature stood out, raw like blood splashed across the alcove in a room otherwise devoid of the essence of other living things.

Four people sat gathered in the space; Kurogosho, Enoh, Renobo and Hosuke Kumon. It was the same room as that in which Kurogosho had once asked Shutaro Toyama to value a ceramic bowl. Kurogosho had challenged the man to put a price on one of his own creations. Toyama had pressed his head against the tatami to beg forgiveness, unable to offer a response. Enoh had then taken up the challenge, offering a brazen reply that made Kurogosho laugh. He told Kurogosho he would have the bowl filled with premium Chinese sake, Lao-chu, and offer him the price of the sake for it. A month had yet to pass since that day. The faces were the same this time, except Hosuke took Toyama’s place.

“How is it?” Kurogosho asked, keeping his voice low and flat. He was dressed in traditional Japanese kimono. His eyes were focused directly on Hosuke.

“Doesn’t seem to be poisoned, at least.”

Hosuke thumped the empty bowl back down on the tatami. He sat legs crossed with his back propped up against the wall. His posture was far from being polite, yet it nonetheless fit the atmosphere of the tearoom. One of Hosuke’s unique talents, it seemed, was an ability to naturally adapt to any environment. He was unusual, to say the least.

“If we had wanted you dead, we would have killed you by now.” Kurogosho’s lips curled into a faintly-honeyed smile. The man emanated a sense of weight, sitting there in formal
seiza.
He was not particularly large but there was something rock-like in his bearing that evoked a sense of weight and mass. It was as though he emanated a force that made him appear larger than he was. It was this curious intensity that enabled him to command respect from anyone without having to utter a single word.

Enoh sat to Hosuke’s right, Renobo to his. A soft breeze entered the room from the latticed window above Hosuke’s head. The wind was dry and carried the scent of larch, mixing it into the tearoom together with the rustling of the woods outside. After putting the bowl down, Hosuke appeared to lose himself in the sound. Then, he tilted his head upwards a fraction, like a beast catching a scent on the wind.

“So, Kukai then,” he began without any warning. He did not give the impression of addressing anyone in particular. He could have been talking to himself or to the breeze entering the room; it might have been nothing more than an exhalation, like blowing smoke from a cigarette. “He’s still alive, then?” he continued, voice flat.

No-one responded. The water in the pot had come to boil, the sound filled the room.

“That’s what they say at Mt. Koya, at least.” Hosuke brought his gaze back, catching Kurogosho’s. “You want me to dive into Kukai, huh?” Tiny shivers of excitement rippled through him as he mouthed the words. He was getting uncharacteristically worked up.

“Exactly,” Kurogosho replied. “As Iba said last night, we want you to dive into Kukai.”

“Okay. Well given that, I guess the question becomes, what do you hope to find?”

“Quite.”

“I mean...man, is he really still alive, Kukai?” Hosuke’s agitation was almost childlike, impatient.

Kurogosho said nothing for a while, enjoying Hosuke’s excitement before he spoke again. “That is the purpose of the dive. We would like you to find out whether he is alive or dead.”

“What the fuck?”

“Indeed.”

“You’re holding something back.”

“Not at all. We simply would do well to know the extent to which you are going to be...cooperative...before divulging anything else.”

“The extent I’ll be cooperative?”

“You came to us voluntarily; when I first heard from Enoh, I have to say I was incredulous. I imagined you as naturally having a secondary motive.”

Hosuke said nothing.

“Some people even suggested you might be concealing some kind of tracking device.”

“Hah! I don’t own anything that cool.”

“We have already confirmed this. So we find ourselves genuinely taken aback to see someone waltz into our midst and ask us to spare a girl, even though it might cost him his own life.”

Hosuke chuckled.

“It’s difficult to accept at face value.”

“Yeah, I can’t quite believe it myself,” Hosuke agreed. His tone told them that he meant it. He had never planned to give himself to them like that. The thought had never crossed his mind until he saw that Yuko was part of the Tanzawa ritual. His conclusion was that he knew himself far less than he had supposed.

“You must be quite a romantic.”

“Yeah, a damn fool.”

Kurogosho chuckled. “Exactly,” he nodded.

“You need to give me more details. As we’ve apparently established, I’m not the smartest guy in the room.”

“Your desire to learn more about us is matched by our desire to learn more about you, Kumon.”

“Huh.”

“How much, for example, you already know about our organization...and then there’s Fuminari’s story. I’m most interested in both subjects.”

“Unfortunately, I’m not really in a position to give you that information.”

“After last night’s show, you are no doubt aware of how far we are willing to take things, if necessary.” Kurogosho was referring to Iba’s death at Hanko’s hands.

“I thought you wanted me to do a job for you. I’ll tell you now, I won’t talk easy. And torture would really fuck with my motivation to do the job.”

“You feel a duty to these men?”

“Feel free to interpret it any way you like.”

“Fine. Whatever happens, Kukai comes first. Perhaps we will have you remember these little details once the job is completed. We can offer money, or resort to methods more arcane. That will be up to you.”

“I’ll be sure to mull over the decision.”

“I hope you are not deluding yourself into the belief that it would be easy to escape?”

“I’m sure it would be anything but easy.” Hosuke’s eyes flicked to Enoh beside him.

“You make it sound like you’re already planning it,” Enoh spoke for the first time.

Renobo cast her eyes on Hosuke from behind Enoh, an amorous smile on her red lips.

“Only once I’ve completed the job. I’m under no illusions that you’re going to let me walk after this. Don’t worry, I won’t cry unfairness or anything.”

“Quite the enigma,” Enoh said with obvious enjoyment.

“Enoh, I think maybe you have fallen in love,” Kurogosho chided.

“Indeed. Indeed I have,” Enoh agreed, his chin bobbing like a monkey.

2

“Now then, Kumon,” Kurogosho addressed Hosuke, adopting a sudden businesslike tone, “I assume you know the basic facts about Kukai.”

“I’m picking up fast.”

“And you have heard of the concept of
Sokushin Jobutsu
in the esoteric cannon?”

“Yep.”

“Then, let me ask you to explain it to me
.
”

“Huh, this some kind of sociology exam?” Hosuke’s thick lips sneered at the old man.
Sokushin Jobutsu
: The pinnacle of all studies of Esoteric Buddhism, its teachings can be found in the principle sutras of the
Kongobu
(Diamond Realm) and
Taizobu
(Womb Realm). In each, it is described as a method for attaining Buddhahood while continuing to reside within the human realm. “It’s the process to achieve Buddhahood while remaining in the human world.”

“Essentially, yes,” Kurogosho answered, his voice deep.

Hosuke waited for the continuation.

“What does this imply? For a person to attain Buddhahood in this world and not the next, for a person to become a living Buddha?”

“Just get to it.”

“Hah!” There was an unnatural energy growing inside Kurogosho’s frame. “For a human to achieve Buddhahood while he still inhabits his own flesh and blood, well, it can mean only one thing. Immortality.” Kurogosho fell silent, his sharp eyes bearing down on Hosuke like arrows. “That is what I am after. Eternal life.”

“Huh,” Hosuke responded with a slow exhalation and scratched his head. “Wow, that’s a surprise, to say the least.”

“Perhaps you don’t believe it possible.”

“I guess...not.” Hosuke was trembling though, even as he answered. It felt like a phosphorescent ball of flame had lodged itself inside him, growing in intensity. An itch spreading through his muscles like a swarm of ants creeping toward his guts. His eyes had taken on a feverish glint. “But hey,” Hosuke shuddered, giving up trying to ignore the itching that spread inside him, “it doesn’t matter what I believe.” He was raising his voice as though the words were for him.

“And?”

“Fascinating!” Hosuke half groaned. “Fucking awesome!” His face had reddened slightly. He bit his lip as a teasing thrill rushed over his spine causing him to crouch forwards against it. As his powerful white teeth bit down, he couldn’t help but let out a smile. “That’s what this has all been about. Of course!” he was muttering to himself, over and over.
Crap it! It just gets more and more fascinating.
His thoughts were clear in his eyes. “Hey old fogey, tell me something,” Hosuke asked casually. He had regained his usual high-spirited tone.

Enoh’s lips closed in a tight smile, tensing in response to the way Hosuke had just addressed Kurogosho.

“What would you like to know?”

“What evidence do you have to suggest Kukai’s still alive?”

“Hmm.”

“You’re not reading the scriptures or, even worse, taking the legends of the
Konjaku Monogatari
literally? I mean, you don’t strike me as the naive type or anything. But come on, stealing Kukai based on something like that would be fucking imbecilic. Right?”

“Let us explain then, in light of your willingness to dive into Kukai. We would have to tell you at some point regardless.”

“Okay then,” Hosuke said.

Kurogosho turned to look at Enoh. “Enoh, would you do me a favor and bring Geshin to us?”

Enoh nodded and got lightly to his feet.

“
Geshin!?
” Hosuke muttered.

“Formerly one of Mt. Koya’s monks,” Enoh told him.

“The same that runs the L.L.S. with Miwa Ishibashi?”

“If you know that much already, introductions will be short.” Enoh’s wrinkled face creased into a frown, then he turned his small frame and was gone.

3

Enoh returned with a man wearing priest robes.

The pale-skinned man, Geshin, had a sharp intelligence to his eyes. Something about the man’s appearance reminded Hosuke of Biku. The man’s aura billowed outwards, twisting in violent waves of compacted energy. The effect was so powerful, a curtain of air a couple of centimeters around him seemed warped, pulled out of shape. Occasional spasms rippled across one side of his face. Each time, the spasm afforded a thunder-flash glimpse of the madness simmering in his eyes, a madness so pronounced it would have been clear to anyone. In these moments the man seemed to succumb to a second personality bubbling up from within, one altogether different from that suggested by his subtly intelligence features. Hosuke got the idea that even the slightest disturbance would be enough to let it take control of the man. The monk was the very embodiment of psychosis.