Chapter 5 - Slaughter

Kyoto City Hall
Nakagyō Ward, Kyoto
6:08 p.m.

The city was on fire.

Eleven screens lined the wall of Kyoto City’s emergency operations room, one for each ward. Some showed ward chiefs seated calmly behind conference tables. Others flickered through smoke, alarms, and shouted reports from staff moving beyond the cameras.

Three screens remained black.

The mayor stared at them. “Where are Fushimi, Higashiyama, and Yamashina?”

“Communications are down,” the crisis-management director said. “We haven’t heard from any of them in six minutes.”

Masato Takahara rubbed his hands together so hard that his palms were beginning to feel raw.

Damn it. What the hell was going on?

“Takahara-shichō, my ward is a bloodbath!” a haggard man in glasses yelled from one of the monitors.

It was Morikawa Shunichi, chief of Kita Ward.

That opened the floodgates. The other ward chiefs began shouting over one another.

“Please! Not all at once.” Takahara raised both hands. “This isn’t getting us anywhere. Do we know anything definitive?”

After a moment, the ward chiefs settled down.

“Right now, we’re having difficulty separating fact from fiction,” said Kuroda Reiko of Shimogyō Ward.

“Men and women who can defy gravity and bullets?” Nakamura Kenzō snorted. “It’s utter nonsense.”

Ueda Sachiko, chief of Nishikyō Ward, rolled her eyes. “Typical intellectual asshole. Have you seen what’s happening in the streets? Have you seen the footage from the Silver Pavilion? Sakyō—your ward—is drowning in blood, so you’d better start finding some belief!”

She was halfway out of her seat, white-knuckling the edge of her desk. Her nostrils flared as she breathed, and her fury was plain for everyone to see.

“I’ve seen it.”

Matsuda Tomoko of Ukyō Ward spoke quietly, but her voice cut through the tension gripping the room.

“I’ve watched the livestreams and the traffic-camera footage.”

Tears gathered in her eyes.

“I watched brave officers of the Kyoto Prefectural Police empty their weapons into those things. They didn’t stop. I watched them snap police batons in half. They just kept coming.”

The mayor buried his face in his hands and leaned back in his chair.

What in the hell were these things?

A loud crash erupted from one of the monitors. Everyone turned toward the screens.

The sound had come from the office of Hayashi Daisuke, chief of Minami Ward.

Through his camera, the mayor and the other ward chiefs watched the office doors splinter like rice paper and tear free of their hinges.

“Knock, knock,” a dark voice said.

Hayashi-kuchō rose, facing the ruined doorway. His assistant, Tarō, hurried to his side.

Three Japanese men in expensive black suits stepped into the office. All three wore sunglasses. They reminded Hayashi of yakuza enforcers.

Each carried a kodachi.

***

Hayashi-kuchō struggled to maintain his composure. Instinct screamed at him to run. Logic reminded him that there was nowhere to go.

Tarō stood beside the ward chief, one hand trembling at his side.

The man in the center stepped forward. His suit was black, but his tie burned a fiery orange.

Hayashi quickly noticed that the intruders, though otherwise dressed alike, wore different-colored ties. One was orange, another chemical green, and the third neon blue.

Behind them, Hayashi could see at least a dozen members of his staff and several police officers lying in pools of blood across the outer reception area.

“Good evening, Hayashi-kuchō,” said the man in the orange tie. “We tried to make an appointment, but we heard you were busy.”

“Yeah,” said the man in the green tie, “because there was some kind of emergency!”

He broke into maniacal laughter.

The man in the neon-blue tie smiled. “We stopped by your house. Thought we’d pick something up and give you a hand.”

He tossed something at the ward chief.

It bounced off Hayashi’s chest and struck the floor with a wet slap.

Hayashi looked down.

It was a woman’s severed hand.

Then he saw the wedding ring.

“Th-that’s— That’s my wife’s—”

The man in the green tie doubled over with laughter.

“Azure,” said the man in the fiery-orange tie, “I believe the ward chief needs a little air.”

“You got it,” Neon Blue replied.

Azure slid his kodachi into his belt, bent down, and lifted the body of one of the secretaries.

“This should work.”

Hayashi and Tarō scrambled aside as Azure hurled the body at the bay window behind them. Glass and blood erupted into the evening air.

“Nicely done!” Green Tie shouted.

“Thank you, Chartreuse,” Azure replied.

Fiery Orange raised one hand. “Enough, gentlemen. We’re here to establish order.”

“Right as always, Sunset.” Chartreuse struggled to suppress another laugh.

“Now,” Sunset said, “pick yourself up, Hayashi-kuchō. We have much to discuss.”

Then he noticed the monitor—and the camera mounted above it.

“Oh. Did we catch you at a bad time?” Sunset approached the desk. “Are those the other ward chiefs? And could that be the mayor?”

His smile widened.

“Gentlemen, I do believe we’re live.”

Chartreuse laughed hysterically. “Don’t be jealous that we’re giving all our attention to Hayashi-kuchō.”

“Not at all,” Azure added. “We have friends coming to visit every one of you.”

Sunset pulled the webcam from its mount and stared into the lens.

“See you soon, Takahara-shichō.”

He tore out the cable.

Hayashi’s screen went black.

***

Takahara-shichō was doing his best to keep the situation under control, but after what had just happened, he knew he was fighting a losing battle.

“Look,” he said, “we can’t just—”

“Fuck this! To hell with protocol, and to hell with manners! They threw a body through a plate-glass window. I’m finding the deepest hole I can and pulling the dirt in after me.”

Takeda Masayuki of Yamashina Ward was already sweeping documents into his briefcase.

“Takeda-kuchō, what about the people in your ward?” the mayor pleaded.

The ward chief stared into the camera, sweat streaming down his face. “If they’re smart, they’ll do the same damn thing. We need to hide!”

“Coward!” Kuroda-kuchō shouted.

Takeda froze for a moment, his hand resting on the lid of his briefcase.

“Maybe. But at least I’ll be alive.”

He slammed the briefcase shut, fastened the latches, and hurried toward his office door.

***

He made it two steps before the doors were torn from their hinges.

Takeda-kuchō screamed as two men in black suits stepped through the ruined doorway. One wore a bright-yellow tie, the other an iridescent-pink one.

The man in yellow strode boldly into the room and struck a theatrical pose.

“Brother Thulian, I do believe we have arrived!” he announced in a high, flamboyant voice.

The man in pink sauntered in behind him, casually spinning his kodachi by the handle.

“Oh, yes, Brother Aurelion, we have,” he replied in a singsong voice. “And it appears we’re just in time.”

The two men were tall and thin, with such similar features that they could only have been brothers. Both wore fedoras. Beneath the brims, their hair had been dyed to match their ties.

Thulian straightened his pink tie and leaned against his brother’s shoulder.

“It looks as though he was making a run for it.”

“I do believe you’re right.”

Takeda dropped his briefcase and stumbled backward against his desk.

“P-please!” he screamed.

“Please what?” Thulian laughed.

Aurelion spread his arms. “We haven’t even done anything yet, and the man is already pissing himself.”

“I swear, Brother Aurelion, is this what passes for leadership in Kyoto now?”

“Pathetic. Absolutely pathetic. Do you remember Tokugawa Ienari?”

“Now, there was a ruler. How long ago was that?”

Aurelion considered the question. “A little over two hundred years, I believe.”

“Seems like yesterday. I miss those days.”

Aurelion smiled. “Anyway, Brother Thulian, we have a job to do.”

“You’re absolutely right, Brother Aurelion. Was he one of the important ones?”

“Not really. Besides, he was abandoning his constituents.”

“Do you think we should kill him?”

Aurelion shrugged. “If you like.”

And they did.

***

Takeda-kuchō’s feed went dark.

Takahara-shichō cursed. There would be no stopping the panic now.

Was this happening only in Kyoto? Was all of Japan under siege?

“What do we do, Takahara-shichō?” Ueda-kuchō asked, her voice trembling.

The mayor stood and faced the camera, tugging his suit jacket straight.

“Run. Evacuate your offices if you still can. If you can’t, barricade yourselves somewhere secure.” His voice faltered. “I’m sorry, but I don’t know what else to tell you. We don’t know how large this attack is or how far it extends. The governor is trying to contact the Self-Defense Forces, but until help arrives, protect yourselves and your families. Go. Now!”

As he spoke, he saw the doors to Ishikawa Naoko’s office burst inward.

***

A man in a black suit and sunglasses entered the office. His tie was a brilliant purple, and a drawn kodachi rested casually across one shoulder.

He looked at the ward chief and smiled.

Then he bowed deeply, lowered the blade, and slid it into the saya at his belt.

“Madam Ward Chief, my apologies for the intrusion. You may call me Amethyst.” His smile widened. “The rumors understated your beauty.”

Ishikawa-kuchō trembled. Tears gathered in her eyes, but she forced herself to remain standing.

Amethyst’s expression softened into something strangely sad. He reached up slowly and removed his sunglasses.

His eyes were a deep, liquid purple.

“I’m not going to kill you,” he said.

“Y-you’re not?”

“No.” His smile was warm, almost reassuring. “A beauty such as yours should never be made to suffer.”

He moved closer until he stood directly in front of her.

Ishikawa was shaking so violently that she feared her legs would give way.

Amethyst raised one hand and gently stroked her cheek.

She turned her face away with a frightened gasp.

“It’s all right,” he murmured. “I’m not going to kill you. I promise.”

He leaned across her desk and shut down the conference terminal. The blue power light faded, cutting her off from the others.

“There. Your friends are gone. Now we can speak privately.” He glanced across the office. “I see you have a bar. Why don’t we have a drink?”

Ishikawa kept her eyes on the sword at his hip.

“You’re really not going to kill me?”

“No. And when this is over, who knows? Perhaps we could go on a date.”

She stared at him. “I’m sorry?”

“A date. An opportunity to get to know one another.”

“But you’re—”

“Now, don’t ruin the moment.” His pleasant expression never wavered. “Besides, perhaps you’ll decide that you want to become one of us.”

He spread his arms slightly, inviting her to admire him.

“I look rather good for two hundred and twelve.”

Ishikawa stared at him, momentarily too stunned to speak. Her terror had not disappeared, but confusion now competed with it.

Amethyst gestured toward the bar.

“Now, how about that drink?”

***

One by one, the monitors went dark.

Some ward chiefs had fled. Others had hidden. Takahara-shichō had no way of knowing how many were still alive.

He lowered his head into his hands.

How long would it be before they came for him?

The emergency operations room had been designed to withstand earthquakes, fires, and terrorist attacks. But the impossible sounds echoing through Kyoto City Hall had not been part of any emergency plan.

Seven staff members remained at their stations, struggling to keep pace with the reports flooding in from across the city. Their faces had gone pale, but their hands continued moving across keyboards and control panels.

The security officer stationed beside the reinforced door rested one hand on his holstered pistol.

His radio squawked.

An unintelligible voice screamed through the speaker.

The officer snatched the microphone from his shoulder.

“Say again! I couldn’t understand you. Repeat your message!”

Only static answered.

He tried again.

“Security control, this is Nozaki. Respond!”

Three thunderous knocks shook the door.

Nozaki drew his pistol and stepped back.

“What the hell?”

Takahara shoved his chair away and stood.

“Everyone, use the emergency exit behind the broadcast podium. Go!”

The staff instinctively reached for bags, phones, and laptops.

“Leave everything!” the mayor shouted. “Move!”

They abandoned their belongings and rushed toward the podium. Two of them pulled aside the backdrop curtains, revealing a narrow emergency passage concealed behind the wall.

Nozaki remained beside the mayor, pistol aimed at the entrance.

Takahara glanced at him. “Go with them, Nozaki-san.”

“Not today.”

The door groaned in its frame.

Everyone froze.

“What is wrong with these people?” Takahara whispered.

Metal shrieked.

“Go!” he shouted over his shoulder.

The reinforced doors bent inward. Their locking bars tore free from the walls, and the heavy panels peeled apart like paper.

A man in a dark suit stepped through the ruined entrance.

He wore sunglasses and a metallic-black tie. A sheathed kodachi hung at his hip. In his arms, he cradled a creature that resembled a small gray dog—until it lifted its head.

Its enormous ears unfolded like bat wings. A naked tail nearly twice the length of its body curled around the man’s wrist. Bulbous, bloodshot eyes stared from its misshapen skull. When it opened its mouth, rows of needlelike teeth gleamed behind a bright-blue tongue.

The man stroked its fur and surveyed the room.

When he saw the mayor, he smiled.

“Ah. Takahara-shichō.”

“Who are you?” Takahara demanded.

“You may call me Stygian.” He glanced at the wrecked doors. “My apologies for the damage. Your security personnel were reluctant to admit me.”

Nozaki tightened his grip on his pistol.

“What do you want?”

“My brethren and I serve the Regent of the Hollow Moon. He has requested your presence.”

“And if I refuse?”

Stygian’s smile remained perfectly calm.

“You misunderstand. Your attendance is not optional. You may decide only what condition you will be in when you arrive.”

“Why does he want me?”

“Because the people of Kyoto know your face. More importantly, they trust it.”

A chill passed through Takahara.

“What are you planning?”

“The Regent intends to address his new subjects. When the people see their mayor standing beside him, they will understand that resistance is over.”

“I will never endorse him.”

“You needn’t endorse anyone.” Stygian continued stroking the creature. “You need only be seen.”

Nozaki raised his pistol.

“He’s not going anywhere with you.”

He fired three shots in rapid succession.

All three struck Stygian in the chest.

Each bullet flattened against the fabric of his suit and dropped to the floor.

Stygian looked down at the marks. He sighed, set the creature gently on the floor, and drew a folded handkerchief from his pocket.

“Are you do—”

Nozaki emptied the pistol.

The slide locked open.

Flattened rounds lay scattered at Stygian’s feet.

He calmly brushed the residue from his jacket.

“Are you finished now?”

Nozaki dropped the useless pistol and drew his collapsible baton.

With a furious shout, he charged.

Stygian spoke a single word in a language Takahara did not recognize.

The gray creature vanished from the floor.

Nozaki never saw it move.

It struck him in the chest and drove him backward. Its jaws closed around his throat before he hit the floor.

The staff members still waiting to enter the narrow escape passage began screaming.

Stygian uttered another string of strange words.

Nine more creatures bounded through the ruined doorway.

He pointed toward the fleeing staff.

“No!” Takahara shouted. “They’re not officials! You don’t need them!”

Stygian hesitated.

The creatures stopped.

Some stood motionless. Others crouched low, their tails lashing as they stared at the terrified staff.

Stygian studied the mayor.

“An excellent observation.”

He spoke another word and pointed toward the emergency passage.

“Go,” he told the staff members. “The Regent has no use for you.”

They fled into the passage.

One woman stumbled. Another pulled her upright, and they disappeared together behind the curtains.

Takahara watched them go, hardly daring to breathe.

Stygian approached him.

“You spared them,” the mayor said.

“They have no symbolic value.” Stygian’s smile returned. “You, however, are indispensable.”

The first creature released Nozaki and padded back to its master, its bright-blue tongue passing over its teeth.

Stygian scratched it behind one enormous ear.

“Now, Takahara-shichō, shall we go and meet the Regent?”

Takahara looked at Nozaki’s body, the ruined doors, and the creatures surrounding him.

Then he straightened his jacket.

“If I go with you, you leave my staff alone.”

“If they do not interfere.”

“And the people who escaped?”

“Of no concern.”

Takahara swallowed hard.

“Then I’ll go.”

Stygian extended one hand toward the doorway.

“A wise decision, Mr. Mayor.”

Takahara walked past him without taking the offered hand.

Behind his sunglasses, Stygian’s expression was unreadable, but his smile widened.