The Psyche Diver Trilogy: Demon Hunters (24 page)

“She is here now, Master Kurogosho,” the man called through the
shoji.

A deep male voice returned from inside, “Good. Undress her and bring her in.”

“Of course,” the man answered. He began to unbutton Yuko’s blouse, using what appeared to be practiced hands.
More fucking,
Yuko thought. She had already lost count of the number of times she had been raped since coming here. The men would force their engorged cocks into every orifice and fuck her until they climaxed. Some were kind to her, others less so. A few would simply caress her before taking their leave. Sometimes she would feel aroused, sometimes she felt nothing at all.

This time was different, though. This was the first time she had been summoned from her room. During the walk she had felt uneasy, scared of what might happen to her. But now that she was here and being told to undress, she found herself feeling relief. At least this way she knew what was going to happen. The scent seemed to help her relax. The man continued to undress her, one item at a time. She obliged him by raising her legs when he wanted to slip off her panties. Now her pale body was fully exposed, her naked flesh seemed to glow in the half-light, as though her body had absorbed all the semen ejected into her and that, somehow, it had further purified her already-pale skin. Her skin bore no marks to attest to the pain she had undergone at the hands of so many lust-crazed men. If anything, it had become more lustrous, acquiring a sensuality that was beyond that of a girl in her teens. Her breasts seemed firmer, her waist more narrow.

The man slid the
shoji
open. The perfume, faint until now, was immediately stronger, hitting her with a choking intensity. She felt like she was about to enter a tropical greenhouse.

“Come in and close the
shoji
behind you.” It was the same voice as before, coming from deep inside the room, alongside the moans of the woman whose voice was like thin strands of chaffing silk.

Yuko did as she was told, walking in and sliding the
shoji
shut behind her. She saw a single futon arranged on the floor in the center of the room. Beside the head was a stand with a small lamp on it. On the futon were two figures in motion, one male and one female. The woman had her knees on the futon, buttocks raised high in the air; the man, also on his knees, was impaling her from behind, his cock dark in the shadows. Her elbows rested over the futon, cradling her right cheek. Her head was turned to face Yuko. Yuko recognized the woman that had visited her before, the red lips she had pursed over Yuko’s nipples. The woman had lavished her pale hands over Yuko’s skin, over and over as though sucking something from her. Yuko could still remember the disturbingly chilling pleasure she had experienced. The woman’s moist black eyes were open, but she was not looking at Yuko. Her abnormally white frame shook as she writhed back and forth, as though flames lapped over her buttocks. It was like watching an albino snake in human form. Her large breasts were suspended in the air, only the hardened red of her berry-like nipples rested against the sheets. The ends nuzzled along the fabric each time the man slammed into her from behind.

The man was old. Both of their bodies seemed to give off a bright layer of densely-packed energy. Each time the man’s penis thrust into her, her soaked lips would curl inwards and cling to it. Each time he pulled out, they would slide outwards, revealing flesh that was spotted red. Yuko watched from her position to their side. The sight was incredibly arousing.

“More! More..!” The woman’s voice was weak. “Do it now, Master Kurogosho!” The woman let out a wet groan like a chunk of pleasure itself, drunk on the sound of her own voice. Her blood-red tongue darted out, seeking pleasure from the drops of sweat that had collected on her lips. She came multiple times as Yuko watched on.

“Renobo,” the old man said, “you’re biting into me.” He reached down with his right hand and brought it under the woman’s abdomen, tweaking the swollen bead of flesh out from between her legs. He continued to thrust like a man possessed, a constant high-pitched wail emerging from the woman’s lips.

Yuko found herself already wet--hot and dripping. She could feel it on the inside of her knees; she could hardly stand. It was all she could do to hold back from using her fingers to relieve herself.

“Girl, come here,” the old man ordered.

Yuko felt herself stagger forwards, she wanted the man’s hardness inside her as soon as possible. She felt as though the incense inhaled through her nose had somehow dissolved into her flesh and travelled through her veins before finally collecting in her womb. She lifted a leg to stand over Renobo’s waist and face the old man, then she used her fingers to part her vaginal lips before pushing her hips into his face. The man fed on her greedily.

“This is it! The sweet nectar of immortality, Heruka!” the old man exclaimed as he pulled away for a breath, half-wailing as he once again buried his lips in her.

Yuko threw out her chest as her pale, naked body arched backwards. She grabbed the old man’s head with both hands to stop herself from collapsing backwards as she climaxed over and over. The pleasure was like nothing she had ever known, so much so that she was hardly even aware of her wild screams of ecstasy. No matter how much she came, it was never enough. The never-ending pleasure surged upwards, coming from someplace deep inside her; it was as though her entire body had become the physical embodiment of sexual pleasure. And the orgasms never dried up. She came to suspect the incense would allow her to come indefinitely.

“Tonight shall be the only occasion for our intercourse,” the old man said. He grabbed Yuko’s breasts.

Yuko arched further backwards so that she was looking up towards the ceiling; she was greeted by a disquieting scene: crowds of men and women in primary colors, fucking in a myriad of sexual positions. She took in the scene like it was some kind of dream. A mosaic of male and female deities given to pleasure, with the god Heruka presiding at the centre. A gaudy mandala of sex. As she studied the interfusion of demon-like gods painted over the ceiling, it was as though she could hear them crying out in a single chorus of lust.

5

The banquet of fornication continued to Yuko’s side as she lay in a sleepy daze on the floor, legs spread untidily.

Renobo was sitting over Kurogosho, now on his back, her hips rocking with a steady swinging motion.

“I hear that Fuminari’s whereabouts continue to elude us, as do those of Biku and Hosuke,” Kurogosho said, his hands massaging the underside of Renobo’s breasts.

“Yes,” Renobo replied, her voice warbling and song-like, her expression lost in the pleasure derived from their soft motions.

“That is a shame. I had wanted to see the man’s face for myself.”

“Enoh feels confident he will reappear soon enough,” Renobo said. She gave a muffled laugh.

“What is it?”

“He said he would stuff my cunt with vipers, but his was beyond useless.”

“Hah!” Kurogosho chuckled, matching the woman’s movements above him. “We still don’t know who helped him escape?”

“No-one could have broken that rope with brute force. Besides, the break-point was too clean. Someone gave him a knife, maybe cut him free. It could have been an outsider, but that doesn’t explain the open lock. We should consider the possibility that this was the work of an insider, someone with knowledge of the key’s location.”

“Either way, we can take our time sniffing them and Fuminari out once the ritual is complete.”

“And then we finally get to Kukai.”

“Yes.” Kurogosho nodded.

Renobo’s face suddenly darkened, still looking down at him. “I hear of ghosts in Kukai’s room.”

“Nothing to be concerned with. Two, maybe three people have reported strange noises, seen spirits in the building. If anything, I feel reassured. It is evidence, after all, that Kukai remains alive.”

“Of course."

“But this Biku, he paid the L.L.S. headquarters a visit?”

“Yes. The same day Fuminari escaped, earlier that evening.”

“I take it that no one is being allowed in or out of the building any more.”

“No-one has crossed the threshold since we locked it down.”

“And the L.L.S.?”

“Only director Jotaro Itsuki knows of the existence of Panshigaru or of my location. I have instructed him not to leave the building.”

“And the Shinmeikai have arrived en-masse to guard Akio Ishibashi at the hospital. So the only option left is for them to pressure the leaders of the Shinmeikai, or go after Toyama directly.”

“And there’s Geshin.”

“Ah yes, of course.”

“He comes from Mt. Koya, after all.”

“He can be dealt with easily enough after we have completed our business with Kukai. Make sure to have your fun with him in the meantime.”

“What should we do about Iba?”

“Let us consider him after the ritual on August 3rd,” Kurogosho replied, picking up his speed. Renobo’s moans rose a pitch. It was the 31st of July, only three days away from the dark ritual.

6

August 1. Hakone.

The thrumming of cicadas was a constant noise through the open window, two recognizably distinct sounds, the
aburazemi
and the
ninizemi
. In a while, their calls would be joined by the dry croaking of the evening cicada, the
higurashi
, but the hour was still too early for that. It was two in the afternoon, when the day’s heat was at its peak. Hot air, cooler than lower altitudes but stifling nonetheless, poured in through the open window, unabashedly joining the song of the cicada.

There were five people in the room. These consisted of the four men Hosuke Kumon, Biku, Senkichi Fuminari and Tetsuo Shimizu; together with a lone woman, Ryoko Kitano. They gathered around a single table, each sitting in their preferred fashion.

There was a single sheet of paper on the table, clearly a mandala from a school of esoteric Buddhism, but the mandala itself was far from commonplace. The rectangular sheet had been sectioned into a chessboard pattern of smaller rectangles with five sections to a side, making for a total of twenty-five rectangular segments. While it was clearly different, it resembled a mandala of the
taizo-kai
, the womb realm. The mandala was unlike anything that would be commonly recognized. Each rectangular division contained male and female bodies engaged in fornication. Yet the figures were not human. They were representations from the cannon of deities that graced murals across esoteric Buddhist temples, sects that included the Lama.

The deities were intertwined in a melange of sexual positions. Such mandala often display an image of the
Dainichi Nyorai
or
Mahavairocana
to the center as a symbol of the fundamental principles of esoteric Buddhism, but the deity represented in this mandala was altogether different. It stood with its legs planted firmly on the ground, brandishing its teeth in an expression that could have been read as being either rage or delight. The deity had three eyes, the third of which was located in the center of its forehead, open and looking outwards. On top of having three eyes, the deity also had three heads. A wide delta of arms fanned out behind the male deity. Each hand carried a different object. One held a severed human head, another carried the head of Shiva--one of the principal deities of Hinduism. It wore a decorative belt around its waist, from which hung a chilling number of skulls.

The deity was copulating with a female goddess. The goddess’ legs were splayed wide, wrapped around and clinging to the male’s buttocks. The male deity’s huge penis was visible as it penetrated her from underneath. The copy was monotone, but the image still managed to convey an immense sense of force as the two deities joined in what could be construed as either hatred or pleasure.

“This copy is from the archives at Mt. Koya,” Shimizu said, his voice cutting through the humidity. “Usually, the figure in the center would be a rendering of the
Dainichi Nyorai
, or
Mahavairocana
. In this case, the deity is Heruka from the Hindu pantheon. The mandala can be seen as a sort of cosmology, in this case, one where Heruka is worshipped as the principle image. Looking at it this way, its function is the same as the original mandala with
Dainichi Nyorai
at the center. Yet this particular mandala differs fundamentally from the rest, as is clear to see, the ‘cosmology’ consists of couples engaged in sexual intercourse. It is said that sexual intercourse enabled the men and women inside the mandala to form a bond with the universe and thereby enable the arrival of Heruka from the heavens; in this case Heruka is symbolic of immortality.”

Fuminari remained silent, but his eyes had taken on a fierce light as he glared at the mandala, biting down on his lips. He was remembering the scene he had witnessed that night two years ago of men and women engaged in orgy, back in the mountains of Nishi-Tanzawa.

“It is claimed that such a ritual, as you see it here in the mandala, actually took place in ancient India. Some people even say that rituals like this are still being carried out, hidden away in disparate parts of the country. The ritual is said to be the key with which it becomes possible to gain immortality. That immortality is bestowed on the man that takes Heruka’s place at the center of the ritual.”

“Wow,” the exclamation came from Hosuke. His eyes were full of a child’s curiosity, looking almost amused as he stared at the image.

“The women having sex around Heruka are known as
Dakini
. In the three-months leading up to the ritual, they use a jar to collect and store their menstrual blood. During the ritual they use it to either paint themselves, or they actually drink it; this is a point of contention for the academics. According to some sources--well, actually according to this one particular source,” he placed a copy of an aged book onto the table. The crimson binding was printed with a black font, ‘The Hidden Sangha of India: Miwa Ishibashi.’ “Offerings were sometimes made to Heruka, the sacrificing of a young woman during the ritual.”