Yashakiden: The Demon Princess, Volume 3 Omnibus Edition

by Hideyuki Kikuchi

  “Is different?”

  “Night and day, such that it frightens me. More than Ryuuki, more than Shuuran, and even more than you—if my diagnosis proves correct, Setsura Aki is closer to you than any man you have met in four thousand years.”

  “To me?” Princess laughed gaily and for some time. “What are you trying to say? This man is the genuine article.”

  “Flesh and bone is not the distinguishing characteristic between man and magic,” Kikiou stated firmly. He looked at Setsura—standing there stock still—and there was yet fear in his eyes. “There are humans possessed of hearts and souls more frightening than ours. Setsura Aki is the archetype. If we do not strike him down now, the cause of great travails will remain with us.”

  “You disapprove of my handling of him?”

  “Yes, I do.” Sweat streamed down the old scholar’s forehead. Considering the construction of his body, it was a rather strange phenomenon.

  “Well, there’s no killing him. Especially now.”

  The cold tendrils of the woman’s voice crept along the ground and wound around the feet of Kikiou and Setsura.

  “I—understand,” said the plainly discouraged Kikiou.

  “That look on your face is at odds with your answer. Fine. Come here.”

  “Eh?”

  Kikiou looked at where the woman’s white arm rested on the futon. And then at Setsura.

  “I have never been ashamed to be seen by others. Not at any age.” The Demon Princess chuckled. A flash of pink illuminated her breasts and inner thighs. “The more you feel the eyes of strangers upon you, the more excitable you become. That has always been your predilection. It has been a good thousand years since the last time we fucked, but that alone certainly has not changed.”

  Kikiou didn’t answer. Instead, he cast off his robe and stood at the side of the bed, his strange body fully exposed.

  Princess’s eyes fell to his waist. She smiled, observing the prominent sign of vigorous manhood rising inexorably to attention there. And no clockwork device. The real thing.

  “Far too splendid for a mere scholar to have in his possession. On its account, you were driven from the palace of Emperor Zhou. Obviously you could not part with it even then.”

  Kikiou’s reply was a low groan as Princess grabbed its firm, long length. “My, as big as ever. And hot. Shall we see how it performs, Kikiou, right here and now?”

  With a contemptuous glance at the old man’s agony, Princess turned the side of her face to Setsura.

  “Princess, with your mouth,” Kikiou pleaded.

  She ran her red lips along the ring revolving inside his torso. Her lipstick left a long crimson streak on the metal surface. With teasing reluctance, she closed her mouth around his manhood.

  The old man’s satisfied cries rose almost to a scream. “Princess—Ahhh—Princess—I’m—coming—”

  “Exercise a little self-control. You certainly last longer with Shuuran.”

  “Not—like this—that little bitch—never like—this—”

  The electrifying sound of her moist, lapping lips silenced his begrudging howls. The old man’s back bent like a willow. She took him in, all of him into her mouth.

  “Drink it down. Drink me dry. Drink me—”

  The scholar’s passion-crazed gaze focused on the woman’s pale throat and watched her swallow with a great look of satisfaction on his face.

  “You had enough?”

  “N-no—” Kikiou breathed heavily.

  “And neither have I. It is your turn to apply yourself.”

  “But—”

  “Did you turn into an impotent geezer, Kikiou?”

  She wiped her mouth with the back of her hand and reached out toward his midsection. Within the rhythmic grasp of her fingers, the licentious life returned. All at once, the old man’s member pulsed with hard heat.

  Letting go of him, she turned her backside to him, her smooth, white, quivering ass.

  “Princess—” Kikiou mumbled into empty space. He seized the hips of his mistress and rammed his length inside her. Even before he’d fully penetrated her, she was grinding away with her hips.

  The old man moaned. Princess moaned. Kikiou laughed through clenched teeth. At these times alone, he had Her Highness right where he wanted her—pinned between his knees.

  A long gasp emerged from Princess’s parted lips. “Ahh—Kikiou—Kikiou—Give me your blood—”

  “I refuse.”

  “What?”

  “You want me to stop?”

  “No.”

  “Then ask nicely. I want to hear you plead.”

  “Are you mad?”

  “Quite. I will take whatever punishment you desire later. Now you are my slave.”

  “Idiot.”

  Kikiou thrust with all his might and she arched her back violently. The old servant’s cock took command over the young mistress’s pussy.

  “Ask me. Say please. Or I’ll stop.”

  “You can’t stop. You can’t—” She shook her head, tossing her disheveled hair, her voice tight and strained.

  “Say please. Say it like you mean it.”

  “Please—please—give it to me.”

  “And so I will. Look at Setsura.”

  “What are you up to, Kikiou?”

  “Show him. Show him how we make the beast with two backs. Show yourself at my mercy. Show him how this belongs to me. Oh God, why is your pussy so hot? Tell me. Why?”

  “God only knows.”

  “Whose ass is this right now? Tell him.”

  “General Ryuuki’s—”

  “That was then. This is now.”

  Kikiou bared his teeth. This perverse role-play reversal unhinged him. He bent over and sank his teeth into the soft flesh.

  She screamed.

  “Your ass is mine. Say it. What was once Ryuuki’s is now mine. Kikiou’s. Say it.”

  “It used to be Ryuuki’s. Now it is yours—Kikiou’s—”

  The Demon Princess shook her ass, recklessly intoxicated by the masochistic words. Her joy cried out from the deep dark pit. The higher her pride, the greater her joy in her groveling humiliation.

  Blood dripped from the bite wound. Kikiou sucked it up. “I’ll give you blood like you asked. But your own.”

  He swiped his hand across her hip, leaving a streak of bright red across the soft, white skin. And then painted more on top of that, adding fresh blood in sticky layers. Kikiou’s lusts knew no end. He varnished her flesh with her own blood and licked it. The gore coated his lips and face.

  The beautiful princess gasped and panted. She reached back and took his hand and smeared the blood across her sides and breasts. Her own blood. She sucked on his fingers, the bloodstained fingers, drenching her mouth and teeth with red.

  She howled like a wolf. Her gleaming fangs sprang into her mouth. She turned and sank those fangs into her own shoulder.

  At the same time, Kikiou came.

  No matter how decrepit the old man lying on top of her, the woman’s pussy never ceased craving for the young man inside.

  “Good job there, Kikiou,” Princess said several minutes later, in tones that could freeze fire.

  Kikiou had already thrown on his robe and prostrated himself on the floor. “Please forgive me.”

  “Didn’t you say you would accept any punishment I doled out?” Now she spoke in high spirits, kneading her breasts as she spoke. Pressing against the peaks of the aroused flesh, they strangely seemed to take on a life of their own.

  “I understand.”

  “In that case, kill yourself.”

  “Huh?”

  His neck bent further to the floor—because Princess was stepping on it. “How does that feel?”

  “Most pleasing, Princess.”

  “Naturally. How about this?”

  The vertebrae in his neck creaked ominously. Her slender foot crushed his steel spine. His head bent at right angles. Whether or not his spine contained a spinal column, exquisite pa
in showed on his features.

  The top half of his body drooped off the edge of the bed. Princess grabbed him by his beard. A popping sound like the snapping of tendons. Kikiou’s head tore away from his shoulders.

  A substance like vanilla pudding gushed from his mouth. The precious bodily fluids that sustained his life. His teeth chattered like a dime store skeleton’s. A translucent lump fell to the floor and clattered in all directions.

  “Does it sting? I imagine it does. I’ll give Setsura Aki a gander at the face of history’s most brilliant alchemist.”

  She came to her feet. Setsura was still standing there where she’d left him. She thrust the grotesque head in front of his face. The eyes in the decapitated head rolled in their sockets as it finally fainted from the pain and humiliation.

  “Hoh. You unfortunate man. I deliver to you such a fate, and you still want to be fucked by me. Oh, but not just you. All men. Emperor Jie and Emperor Zhou were the same. How about you?”

  She brushed her finger across Setsura’s mouth.

  “You who stirs my most murderous instincts. For now I will do nothing. I’ll have no peace of mind until you prostrate yourself before me of your own free will. I love a resolute man. I love a strong man. I love a handsome man. And when they grovel at my feet—ah, that is Shangri-La for me. Unlike Kikiou, who tried to conceal us from history, I sought men out. They were all the same. This mundane world can’t be expected to give birth to the extraordinary. But I didn’t give up. Every now and then, I met a man worth desiring, like the men of old. Can you hear me, Setsura? Until I came to this city, I considered setting forth to other climes, to find an undiscovered country that gave rise to rugged men who smelled of earth and sweat. But I’ve changed my mind—ever since that night, when I saw a beautiful man on the side of the road looking back at us. And moreover, that man spurned my advances while lying on his back and not moving an inch.”

  She ran her fingers along Setsura’s lips.

  “I shall be going out for a spell, to find a little something to seal the deal between us. You will be an inmate in my penitentiary forever.”

  In the face of this frightening declaration, Setsura remained as impassive as ever. The Demon Princess was here. Kikiou was here. Magical beasts were here. Did Setsura intend to take on a world such as this all by himself?

  The engineer in the white lab coat turned from the control panel and faced his visitors. “I haven’t got the slightest idea.”

  Mayor Kajiwara, Galeen Nuvenberg in her wheelchair, the deputy police chief, the doll girl and the raven perched on her shoulder. They were in an underground hazardous materials storage facility in the Wakaba district. They had just witnessed the latest attempt to destroy General Bey’s casket.

  “We’ve tried plastic explosives, thermite reactions, chemical incendiaries, lasers and hypersonic drills. Nothing works. What the hell is that thing made of?”

  “Ordinary wood,” Galeen Nuvenberg answered in a thin voice. “However, it is covered with a special kind of varnish. It is only a millimeter thick but is impervious to all known armaments. I don’t imagine even a nuclear blast would leave a scar.”

  Mayor Kajiwara asked, his face pale, “Are there any options left to us, Miss Nuvenberg?”

  “Still making a sick old lady work?” She glanced up at the shrewd ward mayor, but there was no strength left in her eyes.

  He was about to reply when he felt a strong jerk on his arm and found himself peering down at a tiny, enraged face.

  The doll girl stated in an intimidating tone of voice, “I will not allow putting Grandma through any more of this! Do you have any idea how much energy it required simply transporting that casket here? Not to mention that opening the general’s casket itself is an act of madness. The next stupid thing that comes out of your mouth, I will turn your heart to lead.”

  “My, my. Hold off on the fireworks, Miss.”

  Kajiwara was honestly flustered. Transporting the casket here, and the strange trio of the old witch, the doll girl and the raven had really made an impression on him.

  When Nuvenberg had spoken the incantation, a silver beam of light spilled from the palm of her hand onto the ground. It was surprising enough to imagine that this substance was the same as Setsura’s wire entwined around the casket. But all the more amazing was that the raven picked it up—that which could cut through heavy chains like butter—in its beak and brought it to the doll girl, who held it in her bare hands.

  And that wasn’t the half of it. The bird and the doll girl wrapped the casket and fastened the end by the same means, and then held on all the way to the government offices heliport.

  “What I mean is, if Miss Nuvenberg cannot open the casket, then we have set an impossible goal for ourselves.” Kajiwara folded his arms and closed his eyes. “I understand. We should count ourselves equally lucky that what is inside cannot get out. As mayor, taking the safety and security of the ward and its residents as my first priority, this casket shall be buried in a stressed concrete and steel vault a thousand feet down. Would that meet with your approval?”

  “No!” the doll girl cried out.

  “What is your objection this time, Miss?”

  “A human girl is still inside.”

  “I had heard as much. However, I have also heard about the man she is imprisoned with. This decision cuts me to the core, but it is one I must make.”

  The mayor spoke like an experienced veteran admonishing a young upstart. The doll girl’s retort was cut short when the mayor suddenly toppled over.

  Chapter Three

  The deputy police chief rushed to his side. “Mr. Mayor! What’s wrong?”

  And then like a marionette whose strings had been cut, he too slumped to the ground.

  “Grandma!”

  The doll girl whirled around to see the old witch slump over against the right armrest of the wheelchair. Her right arm hung limply by her side.

  The doll girl sniffed at the air. “Sleeping gas.”

  “Precisely,” agreed the big raven, alighting on the back of an armchair. The white-clad engineer was lying on the floor as well. “Who did this and why? And in Demon City’s Hazmat storage vaults? The nerve!”

  “You’d better follow suit,” the doll girl said.

  “But—”

  “You understand why?”

  “Yeah.”

  “Then get to it.”

  “Sure thing.” The raven fell to the ground like a ball of black cloth.

  As the colorless, odorless gas filled the room, the doll girl alone faced the formless invader.

  According to standard protocols, the Hazmat facilities were located in an underground chamber. The great majority of the hazardous materials and substances purchased, manufactured and traded by the residents of Demon City could definitely not be stored above ground.

  On the second floor of an old wooden apartment building near Nakai Station, a kid with a persecution complex and threadbare anarchist’s technical manual had slapped together a suitcase-sized atomic device from plutonium 239 and uranium 238. If the timer had worked correctly, the entire city would have been reduced to ashes in an instant.

  The head priest at the Shinto temple in the Daikyo district founded a strange new sect. The “god” they worshipped had been assembled from blood-sucking mites bioengineered by a biotechnologist friend of his. While drinking the blood of the suppliants, a freak mutation endowed it with free will. After eating the priest it proceeded to rampage around the city.

  An unwary homebuyer bought a house from an ill-tempered real estate broker that was actually the gathering spot of malevolent spirits. After half a year, suffering not only a transformation of his spirit but his physical body as well, he attacked his next-door neighbor, who quarantined him and had him arrested. Because his next-door neighbor turned out to be a full-fledged witch.

  And now they all were sleeping deep underground—frozen in suspended animation, bound by spells and charms, or kept in chemically-induced co
mas.

  The Shinjuku police Hazmat containment facility was actually a high-risk danger zone that had once been a secret nuclear disposal site. Visitors had to pass through three security checkpoints that checked their blood proteins, fingerprints, and confirmed a spectrum analysis of their personal aura. And all conducted by cyborg security guards, no questions asked.

  Every level and every wing was monitored by CCTV and protected by autonomous laser cannons and pencil missiles, with battle androids on standby. There was no other way of getting to the special storage vaults six hundred feet down.

  The doll girl turned toward the door. The vault doors—that would put Fort Knox to shame—locked from the inside.

  The doll girl’s ears detected a short pulse. Her eardrums had highly sensitive crystal cores. The pulse was an electrical signal. It was undoing the lock.

  The pulse rapidly shortened in frequency, synchronizing with the electrical circuitry of the lock. And snapped. The electronic sound trailing off didn’t come from the original pulse.

  The doll girl realized that the lock had already been breached when they’d gathered there. The invaders had devices that could bypass the security mechanisms of the Shinjuku police.

  The door began to slide open to the right. Khaki shadows eased into the room like dark stains. The shadows changed into soldiers wearing hoods and night goggles the same color. Three of them. They weren’t wearing gas masks, so they probably preferred using a detoxicant to delayed-action.

  “Perfect,” said Lieutenant Matthews. “Top-secret shit, that. Do it, Cardinal.”

  Two black men had come in behind him. The one with a willow-leaf shaped scar on the side of his neck nodded, and opened the valve to the canister on his right hip.

  The Office of Munitions Control in the Defense Ministry had among its “tools of the trade” espers and biological weapons. The latter included a gaseous life form that could only be detected with specially-designed infrared sensors. Diffused into the air, it was inhaled or absorbed through the skin, with the same effect as anesthetic gas.