Demon City Shinjuku: The Complete Edition by Hideyuki Kikuchi

glow.
    Manacles and shackles hung from the wall on the right, evidence that the room also served as a torture chamber. The wall on the left showed the marks of a fresh plaster finish. The floor was stained red from blood.
    Here the anguished voices rose nearly to a scream.
    The letter propelled him toward the right-hand wall. The intent must be to secure him with the restraints. But an extra set of hands was necessary. He didn’t know if the Sorcerer himself would make an appearance, but somebody would have to show up to get the job done. At that point, the fight would begin.
    Kyoya walked over and stood with his back against the wall. In the next moment, the shackles and manacles moved of their own accord, snaking out and affixing his feet to the floor and yanking his hands over his head.
    â€œOuch!”
    Despite the surprise attack and raising a throaty shriek, the enemy did not appear. His arms and legs were firmly pinioned and immobilized. A first-rate blunder on his part. Asura tumbled to the floor.
    He jerked his limbs. The chains didn’t budge. The magical forces at play were as strong as an industrial electromagnet. Kyoya bit his lip. Shit, this is dangerous .
    A cold, dark gust of wind. The candle flames wavered. A black-robed man holding a long sword strode into the room. He was tall and lean. More than his chiseled Middle Eastern features, what caught Kyoya’s attention were his crimson eyes gleaming redder and brighter than the candle flames.
    Eyes devoid of pupils. This was the “Hell Eye,” the mark of those who had sold their souls to the Demon Realm and parted permanently with their humanity.
    The Sorcerer Rebi Ra.
    It was a toss up between At last! and Bloody hell! Within three hours of entering Shinjuku, Kyoya Izayoi had met the man he was after, though he could hardly call his present situation “lucky.”
    The Sorcerer turned to where Kyoya was fastened to the wall and growled, “I’ve been waiting for you, Izayoi.”
    Kyoya gaped back at him. That the man was the Sorcerer could not be in doubt. Even the demon coachman hadn’t seen through the disguise. So when—and how—had this guy figured it out?
    With a faint smile, the Sorcerer continued. “I wouldn’t have imagined that you’d disguise yourself as a girl. The face is splendid, to be sure, but is that your doing?”
    Kyoya feigned ignorance. “What are you talking about? Where is this place? What do you plan to do with me? Let me go home.”
    He wouldn’t give himself high marks on that performance. As expected, the Sorcerer’s smile didn’t leave his face. “Enough with playing the fool. I have known your true nature since you arrived in the barouche. However you may pull the wool over the eyes of an inexperienced demon, I am not so easily deceived. You may appear a woman, but the moves make the man. The watchful eyes, the taking of each step—since you showed me the way of the sword in the Himalayas, they have not changed a bit.”
    Damn , thought Kyoya. The guy was a bit off the mark, but his cover was clearly blown. Still, being exposed so quickly didn’t sit at all well with his pride. He might as well mess with him a while longer.
    â€œOh, that sounds so terrible! The Himalayas, where those abominable snowmen eat you alive? No way! Let me go home! Don’t you try anything funny, you perv! Mommy!”
    He blubbered and squirmed. The buttons of the jacket—already stretched to the limit—popped off and rained down on the floor.
    A flicker of doubt rose to the Sorcerer’s face. “The man who trained with me would not deport himself so in the hour of his death. And the frame of the body is smaller. But even a disciple would not so closely echo those movements. Ah, that explains it. You are Izayoi’s child.”
    Even with this insight, Kyoya wasn’t ready to concede. “Yes, yes, I’m Kyoko.”
    The Sorcerer