“Where are you going?”
Kyoya was halfway up the staircase when he heard her quiet voice. Sayaka and the golden mask were standing at the top of the stairs. His initial relief that she appeared safe and sound was soon replaced by one of distinct unease, seeing the dreamlike expression on her pale and lovely face.
Kyoya turned his flashing eyes on the masked man.
“Don’t worry. Rama-san is fine.”
His assurances—as if reading Kyoya’s thoughts—only aroused his anger further, and his glare grew all the more menacing.
“She’s hardly doing fine. You’ve got her in some kind of trance. You perform some kind of mojo on her, slip her a roofie?”
“Why don’t you ask her yourself?”
When getting into a brawl, Kyoya was the type who grew calmer as the other guy got hotter. Except that the voice of the mask was as cool as ice.
“Same goes for you, bud. You’re good at not getting to the point. To start with, why don’t you tell us who you really are? Second, why invite all those people here? Lastly, what’s the true reason for this whole charade?”
The mask’s answer was leavened with laughter. “I’m afraid you have watched too many science fiction and adventure shows. This is my home, secured through all the legal and proper procedures. It is only natural that I should invite to my home those people most appropriate to its size and opulence. As for my identity, perhaps you didn’t bother yourself, but I’m sure it’s all there to be found on the Internet. As for my true reasons—”
Kyoya felt himself rising up on the balls of his feet.
“—to throw a party for you all, of course.”
“Why did you kidnap Sayaka—Rama-san?”
“You misunderstand and accuse me falsely. I came here to the terrace to relax. The young lady accompanied me of her own accord.”
“You expect me to believe that?”
“Well.” The mask said after a meaningful pause, “The more unbelievable fact is that you should have come away from your encounter with the three knights in such good health. How about it? Would you mind demonstrating your miraculous powers to me?”
“Let’s have at it,” Kyoya said readily.
He had his dander up. His nen was weak. In this condition, his former opponents would have carried the day. But he was hot-blooded by nature, and anybody who messed with Sayaka was cruising for a bruising.
“What about you? You gonna fight bare-handed?”
“You came bearing that exquisite sword. I am my own weapon.”
“Whatever.”
Kyoya swung Asura. He wasn’t taking his opponent lightly. This young man approached any fight with all due caution. Based on his previous encounter, he had a good idea of the mask’s true powers. This was no time to fold on a weak hand. He wasn’t about to admit the low ebb of his nen, and would rather have died than run.
Kyoya nimbly climbed the rest of the stairs. Observing the size and scale of the pool he exclaimed, “Hey, wow.”
The water level was just below the brim. Here was the source of the raging wave from before. Considering the amount, a lot more like it wouldn’t drop the level an inch.
Kyoya stared into the depths of the blue water, looking for something there, but saw nothing in the deep watery depths. One of those invisibility screens that had hid the knights might be deployed here as well.
“Shall we proceed, then?” said the mask.
“Bring it on.”
They stood ten feet apart. The mask left Sayaka where she was. Kyoya moved to the edge of the pool. The edge of the pool was a good six to ten feet wide, a kind of granite shore. The distance between them stayed the same.
Thirty feet away from Sayaka, they stopped.
Kyoya settled into a right hasso stance, the left foot forward, the sword raised over his right shoulder. Then slowly brought down the tip, aligning it with the mask’s face.
The mask appeared utterly unperturbed. It wasn’t an act. Even if it was, his ability to perfectly conceal the killer aura emanating from his body was on a par with the very best fighters in the martial arts.
The kind of fighter Kyoya was the least effective against. A weakness, a tell, a way in was simply not evident.
And the unarmed fighting style could be a feint. There was no telling what he had up his sleeve—a laser, a handheld missile. Unleash something like that on him right now and it could well kill him.
No problem. Kyoya could live with that. So to speak. He didn’t understand it, but he was okay with fighting and dying here. A little earlier than scheduled, but it wouldn’t be a bad way to go.
Just as that thought expressed itself in a slight smile, an agitated vibe roiled out of the masked man’s being. The young man’s laid-back manner had shattered his icy resolve.
The opening he was waiting for.
With a shout, Kyoya jumped forward, closing the gap between them in a flash. Though the mask managed to duck at the last second, he practically tripped over his own two feet doing so, and couldn’t set up an immediate counterattack.
Damn, too slow. The thought flashed through his mind, but he kept a poker expression and poured strength into his hands, swinging Asura sideways at the mask’s midsection. He wasn’t pulling his punches. If the blow connected, the guy wouldn’t be moving for a month.
He felt a peculiar reverberation down the shaft. Kyoya was thrown backwards in midair. He didn’t have time to execute a soft landing, and broke the fall onto the granite floor with his left shoulder. It was wet, probably because of the water.
Ow.
He kept that reaction bottled up inside too.
“Shit!”
That he shouted out loud. His legs splayed apart at odd angles. He was forced to lean on Asura to stay up.
Rubbing his right hand, the man in the golden mask said, “Had enough?”
He wasn’t rubbing very hard. Kyoya hadn’t hit him any harder than that. The realization sent a cold chill down his spine that soon transformed to anger. One of his better qualities. But no matter how good, it didn’t solve the problem before him.
While still resolved to knock him on his ass, in a corner of his mind, Kyoya contemplated the true nature of the masked man’s riposte. He’d sent exactly the same physical impact and mental power invested in the wooden sword back at him.