“Of course.”
“Why did you come here?”
“I wanted to wake you up.”
“Well, I’m fully awake now.”
“No, not like that.” She smiled, there was a naughty spark in her eyes. “I was talking about a particular part of you.” She slipped a hand under the blanket tracing a line to his crotch. “Mmmm...” her hand stopped, having found what it was looking for.
“As I said, fully,” Hosuke jibed, maintaining his playful expression. The young girl slowly wrapped her fingers around his hot, hardened penis, gauging its size.
“Wow,” her perfect lips cried with admiration.
“So tell me,” Hosuke said.
“Hmm?”
“No-one mentioned any fringe benefits. Did someone send you, or are you here on your own?”
“Well, that’s a little complicated,” the girl answered, still massaging him with her hand. “Someone told me there was a person I might find interesting here and suggested I try him out.”
“And that someone was Biku?”
“Yeah. He asked me if I wouldn’t mind sneaking in. He wanted to know how you like to sleep with your women.”
“Hmm.”
“He says you can judge most men by the way they treat women.”
“Interesting hobby he’s got there.”
“So, what do you think?”
“About what?”
“Want me?” The young girl flashed a cherubic smile.
“Hmm, that’s difficult.” He scratched his head. It seemed to be a habit.
“Really? Even with this?” The girl wrapped her soft hand over the tip of Hosuke’s penis, flicking her fingers delicately across the surface. Her technique, wherever she had learned it, suggested more experience than he had guessed by looking at her.
“That does make things awkward.”
“So, what’s holding you back?”
“I only sleep with two types of women: women I’ve paid for and women that are nuts for me.”
“I like you. Don’t you like me?”
“I don’t even know your name.”
“But I know yours. Ho-su-ke Ku-mon. You can call me Yuko. Hey, are you some kind of ethics freak?”
“Just a romantic, and I don’t feel like getting into debt with your boss.”
“I’m here of my own free will.” Yuko ducked her head under the sheets and took him into her mouth. He felt a warm moistness wrap itself around him. She let her mouth trace up and down his shaft, teasing it with the tip of her tongue.
“Fuck it,” Hosuke grumbled, making up his mind. There was something childlike about him. He tore the blanket off revealing Yuko, her mouth around him. “Take your clothes off.”
She looked up and smiled. The tip of his penis glistened in the soft light below her lips. She crawled onto the bed and got onto her feet, stripping off her clothes.
“It’s been a while, I’ve kinda forgotten how this goes. We’ll go once, then take our time as I start to get the hang of it again.” Hosuke pulled her in so that she straddled his face. Yuko pushed her hips forward, exposing her gently parted lips to him. Hosuke flicked his tongue over the surface, then further in. She let out a quiet moan and arched her hips, rubbing herself against him. She was already hot and moist. Her hips began to tremble. Her knees softened, ready to sink into the bed. Hosuke put his arms around her buttocks and lifted her onto him. He felt his engorged dick penetrate her warm lips.
“Mmm...” Yuko leant into him, rubbing her firm breasts against his chest. Hosuke roughly took them in his hands. Her nipples hardened under his touch.
2
Tokyo. The penthouse of an exclusive apartment building in Aoyama.
Hosuke Kumon sat facing an old man across a meticulously varnished, heavy-looking wooden table. The man appeared to be around 80 years old. The room exuded wealth. Everything, from the carpet to the sofa Hosuke sat on, had been imported, and it was all handmade, rare even for the showy offices of corporate juggernauts. Beyond the window was an expansive view of the city at night.
The view was stunning. The city glittered below them like a field of diamonds. It was nothing like the squalid, teeming junkyard that was the real city. The air-conditioned space was sectioned off from the cacophonous noise of the streets, the stench of sweat. It was witness only to glittering diamonds. Presiding over this view everyday would be enough to convince anyone they had achieved something.
The previous evening Hosuke had followed Biku out of the mountains and spent a night in the building. He spent some time enjoying the company of the young girl that snuck into his room in the middle of the night, Yuko, then slept until evening. His room was adjacent. When he woke, a suited man brought him a sumptuous meal. He devoured the food and took a hot shower, then the man delivered him here.
Biku had been waiting, immaculately dressed in a suit. The sense of formality seemed to further accentuate his beauty. Biku stood silently watching Hosuke and the old man from his position at the window.
Hosuke sat cross-legged in jeans, eyes trained on the old man. They had completed their introductions. The old man’s name was Enjaku. He was a Shingon monk from Mt. Koya. He was dressed in his official purple robes, apparently having changed after reaching the building. He seemed to hold a very high position at Mt. Koya. The way he carried himself, Hosuke would not have been surprised if he was the temple’s head monk.
“The situation is as I have outlined,” Enjaku repeated. He had already said this a number of times. He pronounced each syllable with distinct clarity and impressively so; he did not speak like an old man, but there was a stubborn formality to his speech. It carried a sense of grief. He looked deathly ill, skin parched and the flesh around his cheeks stretched. There was an ethereal glint in his eyes as though force of mind alone was keeping his anxiety-wracked body together. He sighed heavily, relaxing his hands, which had been clenched into fists on his knees.
The situation the old man referred to was the theft of something invaluable from the temple at Mt. Koya. A monk, Jichiei, had been the first to make the discovery, but he had been killed, his head wrenched backward by something with preternatural strength. They had found another man at the scene, physically unharmed but unconscious, most likely an accomplice. It was assumed that the others had abandoned him, maybe there had been an accident during the theft. This had all taken place at two in the morning on June 20, already over half a month ago.
“So, you’re telling me this man has yet to regain consciousness,” Hosuke said.
“Correct.” They wanted Hosuke to dive into the unconscious man’s mind so that he could dredge up his identity.
“Have you notified the police?”
“We have told them nothing.” Enjaku’s fists tightened. “We have no wish to make this public.”
“Why?”
“Because of the nature of the item stolen.”
“What was stolen?”
“I...” The old man’s face twisted in apparent conflict, “...we have not yet reached the point where I can reveal this to you.”
Hosuke was silent.
“We are prepared to discuss it further once you have accepted the job.”
Hosuke sighed. “Sounds fishy.”
He stroked his chin. He had shaved his beard clean off and even combed his hair; all traces of dirt from the mountains had been washed away. His 30 year-old features looked uncomfortable, like he missed the dirt now that it was gone. His thick chest gently rose and fell under a new cotton shirt. He seemed ill at ease in the room, but even more so inside his own clean body.
“You’re not really selling this very well.” Hosuke turned to look at Biku, still watching from his place at the window. He seemed content to stand back and let Enjaku carry the meeting. If anything, it looked like he was enjoying the proceedings.
“Mr. Kumon, please,” the old man entreated.
“It’s just...” Hosuke relaxed back into the sofa, releasing some of the tension from his shoulders
. “...look, I hate all this secrecy crap. If you can’t tell me what was stolen, I can’t give you my answer.” He reached up and began to scratch his scalp. He had been resisting the urge the entire time. He ruffled his hair into a mess.
“If you do not deem the compensation sufficient, we are able to further increase the amount discussed.”
“That’s all well and good, but it’s not about the cash.”
Enjaku looked deflated.
“I mean...why me?” Hosuke sat up again, leaning forward. “I’m sure there are other people that would dive to your heart’s content, especially for the amount you’re offering.” Why had Biku gone to go to all that trouble to search for him that deep in the mountains? If the job was as simple as the old man made it seem, B or even C-grade Divers would suffice. Why had they gone to such lengths to seek out an unlicensed Diver?
“Actually,” the old man sucked in his cheeks, “we already sent someone in.”
“You what?”
“And”
“And?”
“He hasn’t returned.”
Hosuke raised an eyebrow.
“He is A-grade, Mr. Kumon, and he is still in there. I am sure you know what this means.”
3
Psyche Diver: A person who is able to send his or her own consciousness directly into another person’s mind to gather information; this can be used, for example, in the treatment of mental disease.
Anyone can dive into a human mind with the use of a Psyche Converter, but not everyone can retrieve useful information. Information in the human mind exists in a state of constant flux. It mutates and warps, merging with other chunks of data to leave an impression without meaning in any conventional sense. Depending on the mental state and character of the Diver and host, the same object can appear in an almost unlimited number of forms. The word ‘appear’ is used metaphorically, it would be more accurate to say the object takes on a feeling.
Imagine someone with no experience hunting or being outdoors asked to hunt for a specific animal in the mountains, a unique type of antelope, for example. Not just any antelope, but this antelope. The task would be next to impossible. If this example was transposed from the mountains to the mindscape of the human subconscious, there would no longer be any guarantee that the antelope would even resemble its original form. The hunter would be tracking a shapeless object with only fragments of awareness such as a day old footprint or some excrement as a guide. On top of that, a dive is much like injecting a foreign object into the host’s body. A tiny grain of sand forced into the flesh is enough to be painful and cause the immune system to react. Just like the skin, the same is true for the mind, it mounts resistance against intrusion. For this reason, Divers often face real, physical danger.
Extended dives can affect a Diver’s very personality. A Diver could become permanently crippled if he was stranded without a protective psyche suit for a period of days, even if he were able to eventually resurface. Divers are physical laborers of the mind. They are required to exhibit a high sensitivity to their surroundings, yet possess a mentality as tough as steel. Only a select few have what it takes to be successful Divers.
Now, an A-grade Diver had been trapped inside someone’s subconscious for over ten days. There was an edge to the way the old man presented the information, as though he was trying to provoke Hosuke to rise to the challenge.
“And you think I would be able to pull it off,” Hosuke said after a period of silence.
“Exactly.”
“I wouldn’t want you to overestimate me. You know what A-grade Divers are. You can’t get to that level through training. You need to be born with talent and graduate an impossibly tough regimen. A-grade Divers aren’t like normal people; their skill borders on superhuman. Why would you imagine an unlicensed Diver like me could succeed where an A-grader failed?”
“Come now Mr. Kumon, I am sure you are perfectly aware of your talents.” The old man fixed his gaze on Hosuke, eyes improbably astute for his age. “We have taken the liberty of researching your history. People still talk about your work at NASA; I can only imagine the skill it must have taken to cure Colonel Jones’ mental condition after the Psyche Converter failed in the middle of the dive, and you still enjoy a fine reputation in France after the exorcism you performed two years ago. Professor Rozimoff’s...eccentricities...have much improved in the time since. I believe that was when you pioneered the technique that has since become known as the Pearl Treatment.”
Hosuke sighed. The ‘devil’ that had possessed Professor Rozimoff had been a deeply buried facet of his own psyche. His problem had been unique. As an infant he had used a knife to cut his mother’s genitalia in her sleep. The memory had lodged itself deep inside his subconscious, becoming a nucleus that underwent a gradual transformation into a demonic presence. After the incident, his mother had poured her energy into instilling in him the teachings of the Bible, but this only worsened his guilt and, conversely, nurtured the further development of the demonic personality inside him. It is a fact that the more devout a Christian becomes, the more prone they become to possession.
When he dived into the professor’s mind, the demon’s face had been a disgusting caricature of the man’s own mother. Fountains of blood poured from oversized genitals between her legs and her anus was blistered with a cross protruding out of it. Hosuke had used brute force to pin the demon down and covered it with secretions of the professor’s consciousness. Finally, he created a river to continue drawing the secretions into the demon. Over the course of a few years the secretions would gradually assimilate the demon, reducing it to a mostly harmless mental scar. In the meantime, the redirection of unnecessary mental secretions would prevent the professor from lingering on dangerous patterns of thought.
Enjaku listed a few more examples of Hosuke’s previous work. “Well, what do you think?”
“Impressive,” Hosuke said looking genuinely amazed.
“We have useful connections. Nothing to boast about, of course.”
“Obviously, I’m no match for you. Wouldn’t surprise me if you knew the number of hairs on my ass.”
“Freelancers are greatly underestimated by the Divers Syndicate in Japan. This is particularly true, I fear, in your case. However, we place you in very high esteem indeed.”
“Quite the honor.”
“Not at all.”
“So here’s the thing,” Hosuke stroked a thick finger along his cheek, still yearning for his beard, “I hate to beat a dead horse here, but I’m not going to give you an answer until you tell me what was stolen. I have my own rules.”
“But you will accept?”
“That’s not what I’m saying.”
“Then I cannot tell you.” The man was stubborn. Hosuke was all but ready to accept the job. The pay was good and he was intrigued by the fact that an A-grade Diver had become stranded, but to accept before he knew what had been stolen would be careless. A man was dead and a Diver was on the brink of being crippled. Yet, despite this, these people wanted to keep everything from the public eye. The last thing Hosuke wanted was to get caught up in some bizarre feud.
“It’s Kukai.” Biku broke his long silence. The blood drained from Enjaku’s cheeks. His face darkened like dried parchment.
“Silence!”
Biku turned to face Hosuke, impassive as though he had not heard the man’s exclamation. “Kukai: the self-mummified corpse of Kobo Daishi, his sokushinbutsu.”
“Well now!” Hosuke blurted out. Enjaku let out a wordless groan. Biku’s crimson lips curved into a smile.
4
Kobo Daishi was born more than twelve centuries ago as Kukai in the 5th year of the Houki era.
In the history of Japanese religion he was a singularly charismatic presence. It was through him that Esoteric Buddhism reached its peak, after its origins in India thousands of years earlier and its gradual transmission to the islands of the Far East.
If Saicho and his other religious contemporaries were l
ike priceless gems, Kukai became the incandescent ball of fire that blazed at their heart. His intense dynamism transcended all previous conceptions of beauty, wisdom and religious awakening.
Esoteric Buddhism had its beginnings with the affirmation of human blood and the belief that Enlightenment was possible even while inhabiting the flesh-and-blood world of mortal existence; this was achieved via a process known as sokushinjyobutsu, whereby the practitioner was able to maintain a link with humanity. Accordingly, Esoteric Buddhism has not, from its inception, negated other religions but has considered them all as different forms of Esoteric Buddhism.
As part of his quest to seek further insight into Esoteric Buddhism, Kukai crossed to China at the age of 31, journeying aboard the same ship as a group that included Saicho, the founder of the temple at Mt. Hiei. When he entered the capital of Chang’an he was accorded the honor of receiving instruction from Master Huiguo of the Qinglong Temple. It was there that he was consecrated under the twin mandalas of the Womb and Diamond Realms. To say that he received instruction is perhaps a misnomer. Kukai’s genius was unmatched; it was as though he had simply absorbed everything Huiguo had to teach. Kukai stayed in China for close to two years. It was toward the end of his first year that he reached the Qinglong Temple and made Huiguo’s acquaintance.
“How excellent, how excellent!” It is said that these were Huiguo’s words as he welcomed Kukai and rejoiced to have finally made his acquaintance. Esoteric Buddhism became Kukai’s flesh and blood; he poured himself into the study with an intensity that suggested he was intent on devouring Huiguo’s very soul. Huiguo passed away at the age of 60 during the December of Kukai’s consecration. Among Huiguo’s many thousands of disciples, Kukai was chosen to pen his epitaph. The only other disciple to have received instruction in both mandalas of the Womb and Diamond Realms was the high monk Yiming, who had already passed away by the time Kukai arrived in China.
At the time, China perceived Japan as backward. It was an incredible turn of events that Kukai, a student from Japan, one that was close to anonymous compared to the likes of Saicho, had not only received instruction in the two mandalas but had also been entrusted, over his other disciples, with the task of composing Huiguo’s epitaph. It was testament to the Kukai’s almost preternatural charm, so powerful that many thought it was a form of magic.
The Psyche Diver Trilogy: Demon Hunters Page 8