The Psyche Diver Trilogy: Demon Hunters (40 page)

As he unleashed a blazing kick, Hanko’s enormous frame took to the air. It was the leap of a monster, completely negating any sense of weight. But a ceiling was a thing too low for a beast like Hanko, whatever the building’s size. If it jumped a meter, it would hit the ceiling. But it had leapt regardless, seemingly heedless of this fact.

Then, as the beast ascended, Hanko raised its arms, pushing its palms flat against the ceiling and using its elbows to buffer the speed, pausing as it tucked in its legs. It looked like the ceiling was sucking in Hanko’s immense frame. Then Fuminari sensed a disturbing swell of energy begin to radiate towards him, signaling the beast’s intentions. He funneled all his strength into a sideways dive and rolled away as Hanko’s overwhelming bulk came flying towards him, body growing as the beast unravelled itself feet first. Hanko had curled inwards only to use itself as a launching pad, pushing off the ceiling to attack. Fuminari scrambled under the table, covering his head as Hanko came crashing down from above.

The heavy bone and wood table, covered with Indian carvings, groaned and cracked as it split in half. By the time it gave way Fuminari was already clear, but Hanko closed with two, then three rapid attacks before he could even get to his feet. Fuminari used his elbows, blocking each attack as he pulled himself up. Blood flowed from his arms, each time he blocked Hanko’s nails tore rents in his flesh. Fuminari backed into against something solid—the counter. Hanko made a thunderous roar and charged in.

Fuminari threw himself down, sending his right leg whistling up in the same movement. For the first time his attack found a direct route to the beast’s body. A critical hit. He felt his nails dig into Hanko’s abdomen, it felt like kicking a boulder made from wood. Only his training kept the bones in his toes from shattering. Hanko lurched upwards, tumbling over the counter to crash down on the narrow far side. Shrunken heads and
kapala
rained down.

A chance.
Fuminari felt a thrill of elation. He kicked his right leg up, timed to connect the moment he expected Hanko’s head to show. A killer blow. It would be too late if the beast’s head was already up. His tree-stump leg boomed through the air as the incredible attack scythed a horizontal line behind the counter. It met with empty space.

Hanko had seen it coming.

There was silence, then a sudden jagged tearing; wood being wrenched apart. The bar counter pitched massively in his direction, leaning forwards as it groaned and splintered. It was home-made but substantially built. And Hanko was physically tearing it from the wall, up from the floor. Hanko was more than just strength, he was fearfully smart. Fuminari’s skin prickled, he shuddered.
Could anything human take a kick to the stomach like that and still command this kind of strength?
Fuminari thought of his training in Taiwan, he felt it drain from his body and mind. The fear came—
that he was no match for Hanko, even after all he had done
.
He wanted to howl in terror, smash through the window and bail.
Shit!
His legs were trembling, maybe from fear, maybe from the fever of battle in a last attempt to revive his inner warrior. All he knew now was that if he ran he would be condemning himself to forever be worthless, less than a dog. A fate equal to death.

He felt a sudden doubt, a terror that he would never again be able to call on the fire necessary to take Hanko on. He was still trembling.

His legs buckled, the shaking was from fear. But it was not a fear of Hanko; he was afraid of himself. That he might get up and run. He concentrated on the horror of having his fingers eaten before him,
on
that night
. The feeling came back, more powerful than ever. Once bitten and fear takes root, even harmless dogs become monsters. This was the same. Fuminari held his ground—if death was coming regardless, he would choose to die here. He had strength enough to make that decision, and while the images from Tanzawa consumed his will to fight, they also strengthened his will.

He felt a fresh wave of agony rush over the fingers Hanko had torn off, phantom pains that stabbed through his brain. He clung to the sensation,
forced
himself to stay put. He clamped his jaw over his left hand and bit down hard, calling on all his strength as he clamped his teeth over the glove, over his missing fingers. Then he bit down on the roof of his hand, tearing a chunk away.
Come on you fucking bastard!
Fuminari screamed.

He felt something at the base of his feet, a coldness that spread up his calves to his knees, growing in temperature as it rose. The feeling transmitted up his thighs and buttocks, entering his colon to permeate his insides like a burning coal rammed through his anus. It flamed around him and he felt something like molten iron settle in his stomach. It blistered outwards as his cells began to pop, exploding from this central point. He let out a thunderous howl. The muscles around his thick neck rippled and his veins pulsed grotesquely. His mouth stretched into a pathetic grin, like a wounded animal; a cramped expression. Fuminari was completely unaware of the way his mouth had frozen.

The counter crashed down, revealing the demonic monster again. Fuminari grabbed the back of one of the fallen chairs in both hands and raised it over his head. He charged the small distance between them, roaring as he channelled every last ounce of his power into the attack. He moved with vicious speed, perfect timing. Nothing could avoid him. He was going in directly, aiming for a full-body blow. It would connect somewhere, regardless of how the beast dodged. If it blocked, it would smash into the beast’s hands or legs. Fuminari brought the chair down in a diagonal arc, putting his whole weight behind it. There was an explosive collision. It was like hitting a concrete wall. The chair smashed into pieces, scattering to ricochet off the walls and floor like a storm had hit them…

…then Hanko was just standing there, blood flowing down its forehead. Fuminari was facing him, holding the remains of the frame in his hands. They were two meters apart. Fuminari could hardly remember what had just happened—his conscious mind struggled to catch up with the speed of their bodies.

Between his bringing the chair down and the shards hitting the floor, there had been a period of furious attack and defense. Fuminari saw fragments of it—Hanko’s fist, coming towards his face. He did not remember how he had blocked. Then his left leg, flying towards Hanko’s side. The same leg, rebounding and burning with hot pain, torn flesh. Hanko’s claws coming down, perhaps blocked with the chair. He seemed to remember leaping backwards.

But now was not the time for details. The broken table was at Hanko’s feet, partially attached at one end. Hanko’s right foot slipped under it—the beast volleyed it towards Fuminari. It spun into the air, only just hanging together. Then the two halves broke in mid-flight, even as they hurtled towards him. Fuminari parried the first part off to the left with his right foot. It flew towards the window, greater in size than the hole created by Ishibashi and Biku. It crashed noisily through—the same noise that had distracted Biku outside.

The second half of the table angled so that it came towards him, but flat. Fuminari’s leg was still in the air from deflecting the first half, there had been no time in between. Hanko was blocked from sight, momentarily concealed by the table. Fuminari brought up his thick left arm and smashed his elbow through the heavy table. It split again, revealing Hanko behind it. The beast was coming in fast, jaws gleaming.

3

As Biku stepped back he felt something under his right heel—the part of table Fuminari had booted through the window, two legs still attached.

Just then he saw Enoh framed against the night sky, coming in from above.

“Kyaa!”

Enoh’s shout ripped through the dark, followed by the sound of snapping wood. Biku had gathered up the broken table and used it to block the attack. It split in two in his hands. Enoh had kicked off the board, flipping twice in the air before coming to land on the grass. Then, as their gazes locked over the newly-formed distance between them, the remaining fragments of window sprayed outwards, exploding loudly to their side. Fuminari and Hanko tumbled out onto the ground between them, their bodies entangled. They sprang apart as soon as they landed, each vaulting to their feet. Fuminari landed at Biku’s side, Hanko at Enoh’s.

Fuminari’s sturdy chest heaved as he sucked in, then released air. He had used up huge reserves of energy. Hanko’s lungs were working too, causing his chest to ripple gently. The thin light coming through the window made them appear to float in the dark.

Enoh was smiling, hardly able to conceal the fun he was having. There was something in the smile that was reminiscent of Hosuke Kumon’s, but with a more sinister edge to it. Hanko’s expression was mostly devoid of emotion. Biku’s crimson lips were smiling faintly, in a manner not dissimilar to Enoh. It was the smile of a Buddha, chilling in its own way, enough to make skin crawl. For Biku it was inbuilt, the same as no expression at all. Perfectly natural for someone unable to feel pain. Only Fuminari brandished his teeth, biting into his lips.

“Ah, Fuminari,” Enoh said.

“Old man!” Fuminari grunted, grinding his teeth together.

“Indeed I am. And here to kill you,” Enoh said.

“That’s not gonna happen. Not until I’ve ripped Hanko to pieces.”

“Hoo. And why is that?”

“Shut up. I’ll take you out first if needs be.”

Enoh cackled in response.

“Where’s Renobo?” Biku asked.

“Still in there, unconscious,” Fuminari growled.

“Ishibashi managed to escape.”

“Huh.” Fuminari was glaring at Hanko and Enoh, hardly showing interest in Biku’s words. He would leave no openings during their conversation.

“I had tied him up, of course…”

“…but let’s see, we’ve been brawling long enough for him to crawl back into the house, find a knife to cut the ropes.”

“Most likely.”

The distance between the two groups was lessening even as they spoke. Enoh and Hanko were edging forwards.

“The woman is still in there.”

Biku moved sideways as he spoke, edging for the window. Enoh shadowed the movement but Biku had moved first, he was ahead. He threw one of the boards at Enoh. Enoh knocked it away, but it slowed him. Biku threw the remaining board onto the glass-covered grass and jumped, landing on it with one foot. Then he pulled off an incredible dive, springing up to slip cleanly into the room beyond, through the hole in the window left by the huge shapes of Fuminari and Hanko.

“Damn it!”

Enoh followed in from behind, but Biku already had a shard of glass over Renobo’s throat.

“Are we done?” he asked coolly.

The pain of the glass against her throat brought Renobo around.

“
Fuck!
”

She seemed to grasp the situation immediately, her slanted eyes widening as she groaned. The glass cutting against the skin of her throat, causing a trickle of bright-red blood to flow down her white neck. Enoh stopped, glaring at Biku with renewed force.

“Well then. It would appear she is important to you after all. I had expected you to come at me without consideration for her. That being said, this is probably why you’re here in the first place—protection duty.”

“…”

“If I’d known that I would have done this sooner.”

He pulled Renobo to her feet, pushing the shard against her throat as he brought his arm forwards. Slicing sideways would leave her with comparatively little damage, but it would cut deep if pushed inwards by someone with the right skills.

“The front entrance, if you would.”

Biku paced slowly forwards, keeping Enoh ahead. A couple of Shinmeikai thugs lay in the corridor outside the entrance, unconscious from when Biku and Fuminari had broken in, knocked out before they could make a sound.

Together, they left the building. Across the darkness, the clashing figures of Fuminari and Hanko were playing out a violent battle to the death.

“Fuminari! I’ve got her,” Biku said. The man showed no signs of stopping.

“Hanko, that’s enough!” Enoh called out. Hanko, likewise, was lost in the fight.

Neither could afford to let their guard down for a moment. To answer would be to die. Enoh pounded across the grass and leapt into the air, keeping speed as he kicked out for Fuminari’s head. Fuminari blocked, separating from Hanko as he did. Hanko chased, trying to close the gap as Fuminari pulled away, but Enoh landed between them.

“Enough.” The old man stood his ground.

The two monsters faced each other, both with their skin torn. Fuminari was covered in gashes, his clothes had become rags that hung loose over his gigantic form.

“
There is no stopping!”
Fuminari’s voice was a hellish roar. He kicked heavily, attempting to mow the two bodies down. His leg found only air. They had scattered, one to either side.

“Fuminari. We’ve got what we came for. I can’t do anymore to help, but I won’t stop you if you want to take them on alone,” Biku declared, his voice sober.

Fuminari swallowed a bestial howl. Even he was unsure of his chances, taking on the two of them. Biku walked up to his side, holding the glass tight against Renobo’s throat. They stood, silhouetted before the light coming from the window.

“Now then,” Biku started. “You two should leave. Or, maybe it would be fun to have you escort us out.”

Just as Biku was finishing speaking, there was a noise behind them. Glass, crackling under something heavy as it clambered over the fragments still embedded in the window frame. Fuminari roared, pivoting abruptly around. Biku remained still, unwilling to take his eyes off the two in front of him, even for an instant.

A black, human-shaped form leapt from the window, aiming for Biku, something metallic glinting dully above its head. The tip of Fuminari’s left foot came hurtling upwards, tracing a wide arc through the dark before smacking firmly into the shadow’s face. The form crumpled and fell forwards. Fuminari lost balance—the tip of his foot was embedded in the man’s face.