Hosuke Kumon seemed to have travelled from Shinshu, over Mt. Shiro’uma, and then spent a few weeks meandering the lowlands around the Tateyama range. Biku had learned this by following a trail of campfire-charred grass, scattered footprints, and areas where edible plants had been harvested. While most of the footprints had been washed away in the rains, some stood out all the more for it. Of course, there was no guarantee that the tracks belonged to Hosuke Kumon, but the chances that they were his were relatively high; Biku found them in places he doubted regular hikers would think to visit. Biku had followed the Lower Corridor from Kurobe into the Kuranosuke Valley and now stood in the valley beyond.
Occasionally, Hosuke Kumon would stop and eat a rabbit he had caught. The campfire sites had been littered with rabbit bones and fur. Hosuke appeared to be using a snare made from a kind of nylon thread. A few of the dead rabbits had nooses around them still cutting into the neck or legs. If he was able to find a freshly laid snare, Biku felt sure that Hosuke Kumon would come his way, it would just be a matter of waiting.
He clambered down the boulder, back onto the snow-covered grass below. He flung his rucksack over his shoulders and started to walk. The rims of his mountain boots cut a light rhythm in the snow as he ascended the slope. The hillside veered steeply; there were no decent paths. A single slip and Biku would slide down the snow for 100 or so meters before slamming into rocks. Without a doubt, the fall would kill him. Seemingly heedless of this, Biku sustained an almost casual step as he scrambled upward; he was not even using a pick. His plan was to hike to the ridge and make his way down to the far side valley heading toward Tsurugisawa. He maintained a constant pace as he continued the ascent. Finally, he reached the ridgeline. Beyond the green valley was the rocky peak of Mt. Tateyama, still covered in a patchwork of snow, closer than he had expected.
That was when he heard a voice... A woman screaming.
5
There is a narrow mountain path that leads from the ridge above Tsurugisawa into the Kuranosuke Valley.
The path is untamed, even for the Kurobe area. It passes through the snow-covered valley of Tsurugisawa, stretching upward until arriving at the Tsurugi Lodge, a mecca for hikers, but only a few people walk the entire route, even in mid-summer. Still fewer would brave it now in the middle of the monsoon season.
Yet, two people were making their way along the route, a man and a woman, Takashi Ishida and Emi Ono. They had hiked over Mt. Oyama in the Tateyama range from Murodo and from there cut across to Tsurugidake. Finally, they descended from Tsurugisawa and began following their current path. Their schedule was relaxed, designed to give plenty of time. They had already spent one night at Murodo and another at the Tsurugi Lodge. Ishida was accustomed to the mountains, and he had walked the route before. It was Emi’s first time in the area, but she felt confident. Having hiked up the peaks of Hodaka and Jonendake at Kamikochi a number of times, she was no slouch. They were both students of the same university in Tokyo.
At a point halfway to the ridge, Emi called out, “Look!” A rabbit was crouching in the shade of some rocks just 7 meters ahead of them. A wild rabbit, its fur was almost brown in color.
“I bet it’ll bolt in a second,” the man replied. But it was still, even when they were almost upon it. It finally moved when they were only a meter or so away, but its movement was awkward, dragging its right leg behind it. The rabbit was injured.
“Look, it’s pulling a branch.” Emi pointed a finger. A small branch trailed half a meter or so behind the fleeing creature. It appeared to be connected to the rabbit’s leg by some kind of thread. It had stumbled into a snare and managed to drag itself this far with the branch in tow. “It’ll die if we don’t get that thing off it,” she said.
Ishida started after it still carrying his rucksack. Emi followed close behind. He came close to catching it a few times, but each time the rabbit escaped. It should have been easy enough, he just needed to get his foot on the branch, or maybe it would just get stuck somewhere, but it was not happening. The rabbit was injured, but it was still a wild animal. It was not going to be easy for someone unprepared like Ishida to catch it with only their hands. Before he knew it, they had strayed from the path but not far enough to get lost. They still had plenty of time. The rabbit dived under a collapsed tree and the branch snagged. Ishida kept a foot on the branch while Emi hoisted the rabbit up.
“It’s some kind of synthetic,” she said. Nylon loops usually work themselves loose but this noose was taut, eating into the rabbit’s leg. “Poor thing,” she stroked its head. The frightened creature trembled in her hands.
Ishida pulled out his hiking knife. Just as he finished cutting the noose free, he heard a man’s voice, “And just what do you think you’re doing there?”
Ishida and Emi jumped, spinning toward the direction of the voice. Three men were perched in the undergrowth among the trees. They looked more or less like a group of hikers, but something about them was clearly wrong. Two of them were smiling, but the smile did not extend to their eyes. Their eyes were full of violence--the hungry eyes of predators that had found prey.
The third man, the one standing to the right, was not smiling. He looked over the two of them, eyes devoid of emotion. The effect was even more disconcerting than the smiles of the others. He had a scar on his chin, clearly from a knife wound. The scar was the type that spoke to any normal person’s subconscious, warning them to steer clear. It was a scar now, but the wound would have probably cut all the way to the bone, the kind of scar that demanded respect. It was clear from their appearance that they made a profession of violence.
Emi found herself taking a step backward, her legs responding to the strange feeling originating from the men. Her arms fell to her sides and the rabbit leaped free. It bounded away at a speed uncanny for three legs, and then it was gone.
“There goes our fucking dinner,” muttered one of the grinning men, the taller of the two.
“How fucking depressing,” said the shorter man. He rubbed his right hand over his cheek.
“Umm...was that your rabbit?” Ishida asked. His voice betrayed tension, trembling slightly. The man’s smile broadened as he picked up on Ishida’s fear.
“More or less.” The man with the scar on his chin watched as the other two men moved forward. Emi shuffled closer to Ishida, grabbing his arm with both her hands. The taller of the two men glared at her pale hands.
“Umm,” Ishida muttered.
He sounded ridiculous, unable think of anything to say. The noncommittal sound had come out automatically, some kind of mix between a greeting and an apology. The two men ran their sticky gazes over Emi’s body like they were assessing the value of the flesh under her clothes.
“If you’ve got any food, we’d appreciate the gift,” the taller man spoke again, his eyes still on Emi.
Ishida had three meals of instant noodles and some biscuits as emergency rations in his rucksack, and Emi had some apples and chocolate.
“We don’t have any,” he replied.
“If you want money, we’ve got it,” the man said, ignoring him. The shorter man plucked the hiking knife from his hand.
“What are you doing?”
“How’d you expect us to have a conversation while you’re holding a dangerous thing like this?” He brandished the knife in Ishida’s face.
“Hiroshi! Make sure you ask what we need to ask first.” For the first time, the man with the scar called out.
“Sure, no worries Iba,” the shorter one, Hiroshi, answered him. It seemed the one with the scar, the one he had called Iba, was in charge of the group. “I don’t suppose you’ve seen a man wandering the area by himself, hmm?” Hiroshi asked.
“What kind of man?”
“His name’s Hosuke Kumon. Looks different than you hiker types.”
“We’ve only seen normal hikers,” Ishida answered honestly.
“Don’t sweat it. Didn’t think for a minute you would have,” as Hiroshi spoke, the tall man
suddenly reached out to grope Emi’s breasts.
Emi stopped a scream halfway up her throat; she pulled harder at Ishida’s arm.
“Please, stop!” he yelled.
“I thought I’d told you, if you want money, we’ve got it.”
“We’ll be generous after we’re done ramming this one.” The two men broke into laughter for the first time.
“I bet your boyfriend here’s fucked you enough, huh? Bet you know a few moves alright.”
“Even if you don’t, the name’s Yajima, and I am a fuckin’ pro. I’ll teach you good.” The tall one laughed in response.
Hiroshi positioned the knife along Ishida’s throat. The man that had called himself Yajima made a sudden move to grab Emi.
She let out a piercing scream--the scream that alerted Biku.
6
Yakima’s buttocks danced between Emi’s widely spread legs.
Each thrust ground against the insides of her white thighs, forcing her legs wider still. His right hand kneaded her generous breasts, tightly squeezing her nipples, glistening wet with his saliva, between his index finger and thumb. She forced her eyes closed, enduring the misery. He had forced his cock into her with only spit as lubrication. The pain was razor-edged. He pounded inside her relentlessly. Tears came to the corners of her eyes.
It was not the first time she had a man inside her. She had slept with Ishida a number of times and two men before him, but none of that helped to soften the pain she was experiencing now. She only prayed that Ishida had closed his eyes, but at the same time she felt regret. She knew that there was nothing he could do to the three men while he had a knife to his throat. Even if he tried, she knew that nothing would come of it. She understood, but she wanted him to put up a fight nonetheless. She knew their relationship would be over. After this, there would be no way to go back to things as they were before.
Ishida was backed up against a tree, knife still at his throat, watching the two of them with blind stupor, unable to look away. Even as he held the knife, Hiroshi was watching Yajima and Emi with an animal thirst in his eyes. Only Iba maintained the same expression as before; he looked on impassively.
Biku watched the five of them from the shadow of the trees. It was immediately clear that they were the three men Gensai had spoken of. Easy enough to work out what had happened: the three men had stumbled across the two hikers while out searching for Hosuke Kumon. The couple’s downfall had been the fact that one of them happened to be female. Biku felt no particular desire to help. The rape had begun by the time he had arrived. Helping them now would not change that. Beside, there was no guarantee that he would be able to help. It would be careless to reveal himself before he had learned more about the three men. There was always the possibility that one of them concealed a gun. It was unlikely that they would kill the hikers. If the men went their own way after having their fun, that would be that.
The girl moaned. Biku could not tell whether it was from pain or whether her body had begun to respond to the man, letting out a moan of pleasure, but the moan signaled a sudden change in the status quo. Ishida noticed that Hiroshi had become preoccupied with watching; he seized the chance, knocking him backward. Hiroshi tumbled onto his back and the knife fell to the grass. Ishida grabbed it and charged at Hiroshi, screaming wildly.
Iba, who had remained still until now, burst into sudden motion. Ishida flew backward. Iba had used his legs to kick him into the air; it happened in an instant, the speed of his attack was breathtaking, revealing the man to have more experience than training alone. He had not appeared to put much strength into the kick, but it had been enough to knock a large man clear into the air. The man’s skill was impressive.
Ishida clutched his stomach as he vomited its contents. Hiroshi had got back up and slammed his foot down on Ishida’s back.
“Well that was fucking stupid.” Hiroshi’s eyes were stretched wide as he dug his boot tip into Ishida’s face. He looked like a crazed beast. Blood flowed red over Ishida’s face. “This is what happens when you spend your time doing nothing but chasing trapped...fucking...rabbits!” Hiroshi screamed, continuing to lay his boot into Ishida.
Yajima had cut short the rape to stand and watch. Only Iba’s stare remained cold, still fixed on Hiroshi and Ishida. Trapped rabbits. The words had piqued Biku’s attention. Now that sounds like Hosuke Kumon, he thought. He made his decision and drew himself up.
“I think that’s probably enough for today,” Biku suggested coolly as he strolled in toward the five of them.
Three
The Dark Man
1
Five pairs of eyes turned to stare at Biku.
Hiroshi looked dumbfounded, foot still dug into Ishida’s stomach. Yajima’s cock hung half-erect having lost momentum. Emi Ono and her partner Ishida looked confused, unable to process the sudden turn of events. Iba’s expression remained largely unchanged; his only response had been to raise his eyebrows slightly. He assessed Biku with a razor-like gaze.
“Who the fuck are you?” Hiroshi said, twisting the edge of his lips. His tone contained an equal measure of puzzlement and threat.
“Just someone passing. I saw something a little unpleasant, so,” Biku answered, casually deflecting the question.
An obvious hesitation flashed across Hiroshi’s eyes. Biku’s choice of wording had been too understated. He had seen three rough looking men assaulting a couple of hikers, there was no other way to interpret it. They were far from any trails, so the chance of someone just passing by was almost nonexistent. This was not the city, where a scream might cause others to come and help. Yet this man had suddenly appeared claiming to have seen something a little unpleasant.
“Who are you?” Hiroshi spat the same question.
“Just a person out on a hike.”
“What do you want here?”
“To suggest that you leave it at that.” Hiroshi finally took notice of Biku’s dazzling features, impressive like a peacock with its tail spread open. He was momentarily taken aback.
“Are you a fucking woman?”
“Would you like to rape me too?” A smile graced Biku’s red lips. The voice that emerged was obviously a man’s. Ishida was still sprawled on the grass, clutching his stomach from Hiroshi’s repeated attacks. He looked up at Biku. Blood trickled from his mouth and nose.
“Go to the girl’s side,” Biku ordered. Ishida got up and stumbled his way next to Emi. Yajima pulled his pants up and shuffled toward Hiroshi. “So, you decided to get in our way,” he said.
“Something like that. You’re a bit quicker on the uptake than your friend here.”
Hiroshi flushed red. “You want to fuck with me?” he growled in a deep voice. All signs of hesitation had vanished.
“So, you noticed,” Biku derided.
“Motherfucker!” Hiroshi yelled. He squatted suddenly, reaching for the knife still lying on the grass.
Biku brought his mountain boot slamming down, crushing the knife and hand together. Hiroshi wailed.
“What do you think you’re doing?” Yajima was next to Biku in a flash. Biku tipped his head to one side, easily avoiding Yajima’s fist. Yajima was thrown completely off balance.
“Fucker!” Yajima threw a flurry of punches and kicks; Biku eluded them all. Dodging with his upper body, he pivoted his right foot on Hiroshi’s hand just enough to cause all of Yajima’s attacks to miss. Biku’s movements were a lesson in economy. Each time he spun, Hiroshi would cry out as Biku’s boot cut deeper into the back of his hand. The pain must have been considerable; his face was contorted in torment. Biku had never expected them to just give up on the girl, regardless of what he said, so he had readied himself for a fight. The two he was engaged with were not going to be a problem. Provided they did not try to run, they would be easy enough to deal with. The only unknown factor was the one that remained. Iba was doing nothing to help his friends despite their being obviously outclassed. He just stood there, his reptile-like eyes trained on Biku.
<
br /> “Are you just going to watch?” Biku asked, bringing his eyes to meet Iba’s gaze. Yajima’s attacks caused him no more hassle than a boisterous puppy.
“They started it,” Iba replied coolly.
“Iba.” Yajima looked over at him. He was breathing heavily, already gasping for air. Biku pulled his foot away. Hiroshi rushed to grab the knife with his other hand, stumbling backward. He stood, eyes alight with hatred. Biku’s boot was printed on the back of his hand. The skin was torn and bloody.
Biku strolled toward him. He could have been walking up to a vending machine to buy a can of soda, heedless, like the wind. Biku was on Hiroshi before he even had time to react.
“Cocksucker!” Hiroshi exploded into motion slicing the mountain knife up in front of him. The speed was dazzling.
Biku’s response was, in contrast, almost disappointingly slight. He shifted his right leg to the back and caught Hiroshi’s left arm, and the knife that had grazed the air before him, in his right hand. There was a deep pop as the knife fell from Hiroshi’s hand. His left arm hung limp, visibly longer than his right. He grabbed his arm and screamed. Biku had cleanly dislocated the man’s shoulder.
Yajima barked, “What the fuck have you--”
“Alright, that’s enough,” Iba muttered, breaking his silence.
He walked up to Hiroshi. The man had gone pale, oily drops of sweat bristled across his forehead. Iba took hold of Hiroshi’s dislocated arm from behind. He pulled. There was another pop as Hiroshi’s arm snapped back into the joint.
“Fuck you!” Hiroshi’s voice was shrill like a bird. Color began returning to his face.
The Psyche Diver Trilogy: Demon Hunters Page 5