Hisao and Kenji- Master Detectives! Conclusion? Update

[Hoitash]

Moar Soundtrack

Previous Chapter


(Credit to CptSalsa for the image, for both it and he are awesome.)

Part Five: Worthy


I fired three shots and raised my sword in a defensive stance, waiting for the Hunter to attack. He didn’t disappoint. After taking a moment to dodge the gunshots –one managed to hit his torso- and roar at me, the alien charged forward, its left wrist blades above its head and parallel to the floor, the right wrist blades low and ready to jab up when he got close.

I lifted my right arm up and sliced with my sword, forcing the alien to dodge to my left. He swiped at my left arm and managed to make some impressive scratches. I pivoted on my heels to swipe at his right arm before he stabbed it into my chest. The sword’s whirring teeth ground against the wrist blades as they made contact. I fired a shot at the Hunter with my other hand and it grabbed my wrist with its free hand. We entered a duel of strength, my suit trying to compensate for the alien’s sheer power as I tried to break my sword free from the blades, and my wrist free from its grip.

I forced my hand towards its head and it tried to headbutt me. This broke us apart, as we were both prepared for a blow to the head that didn’t come and reflexively jumped back. I fired two more shots at it as it stabbed at my torso with its left hand. I parried with my sword and punched away his other fist. The alien growled at me and stabbed at my shoulder, forcing me to side-step to the right as I swung at its head with my sword. It deflected the strike and scraped against the side of my torso with its other hand, making two long scratches along the side of the armor. There goes my deposit. We started a series of strikes and parries, my chainsword swiping at his chest and head while dodging his swipes to my sides. After a few minutes of this, the alien stabbed for my left leg, forcing me to dodge and giving me a chance to slice at his chest. One of his wrist blades punched into my armor, but I managed to slice at his torso. My sword whirred and started grazing and chewing into the side of his abdomen. The Hunter roared in pain and fury as he fell back a few paces. The wound wasn’t deep, but it was there, and the alien did not look pleased with that.

My heart was pounding hard by now, so I kept the alien back by firing the rest of my ammo clip, which allowed my heart to calm somewhat. I didn’t see a chance to reload coming up any time soon, so I grabbed the barrel for when I got close enough to pistol whip him. The Hunter obliged me, charging at me with one wrist low and up for defense while the other was aimed at my legs. I went left at the same time he pivoted to stab me with his higher hand. Fortunately I had my sword up, and we entered another strength battle. The alien stabbed my left shoulder with his free hand, imbedding both blades into the top of the armor while fortunately avoiding any flesh or bones. It pulled the blades out and I managed to push him back before he could go for my head, but I managed to get a swipe at his right arm in the process. For the second time that night, my blade dug into the aliens hide, chewing a thin diagonal line along the arm past the elbow as I stepped back. The alien roared at me again as green blood started to slowly seep from the wound.

The Predator jumped for a nearby stack of palettes and pounced on me, both blades ready to slice or stab. I tried to dodge but the alien was too fast and we both landed on the floor. His blades missed me but his weight slammed us both to the floor. Not good for my heart, but the armor managed to cushion my fall. I was still breathing hard when I shoved the alien off of me, and I didn’t have a chance to get up when he lunged down to stab my head from my left side. I lifted my left arm up defensively and his blades stabbed through, grazing my skin this time. I dropped the pistol and swiped with my sword at his free hand before it could stab at me, once again making contact with his blades, grinding and whirring as metal met metal.

His strength was preventing me from getting up, and I was losing this test of strength as his left arm’s wrist blades inched closer to my head, my body wearing out and unable to hold him off for long. I had an idea, so I used what strength I had left to twist my left arm to the left and push forward. That brought the Hunter twisting to the ground and away from me, and freed my sword from his blades. I quickly hefted myself up and placed an armored foot on the alien’s right arm just as he was trying to get back up. It roared again and moved to push me off, but I used my free foot to kick his arm away. Before he could stab again I sliced at his arm, trying once again to fight his wrist blades with my chainsword. Instead I ended up slicing his hand off just below the toothy bracelet. The Hunter’s roar of pain and rage was intense and made my ears ring, but it still tried to force me off of his arm by awkwardly attempting to heave itself up and towards me. I brought the blade of my chainsword up to its neck as it tried to get up, the alien now settled awkwardly on its right arm. When it stopped moving and started glaring at me with those beady, alien eyes, I lifted my foot and stepped back.

Looking closely at it, I noticed several bullet wounds on its legs, torso, and arms- I had managed to hit it, and it was only now that the alien’s body had been sufficiently weakened to allow me the edge in battle. It was probably so focused on finishing me off it had forgotten one of its arms was locked with mine. Maybe it hadn’t expected me to risk dislocating my shoulder to get the advantage. Either way, we were both bleeding- red was starting to pool in my armored arm’s punctures- and according to this alien’s code of honor, I was supposed to slice of its head and mount it on my wall. Something I don’t think my wife would’ve appreciated. Mr. Hakamichi probably would’ve, though.

As much as their code of honor demanded I do that, I refused to stoop to such a level as killing a defenseless… person. I’d make a poor member of the Ordo Xenos; that much is clear. I kept my sword aimed near its head, and its eyes glared at me as it roared a challenge that once again made my head ring lightly.

“No…there’s been enough killing,” I declared, and pointed at the alien’s bracelets as I panted for breath, “I don’t want a trophy; I just want to be left alone.”

The Hunter stared at me for a while, then slowly nodded its head. As it did so, it propped itself up more comfortably. I tensed, but it didn’t do anything more, except turn its head longingly at the office door.

“If you want him, you’ll have to go through me,” I took a step forward and waved the still running chainsword for emphasis.

The Hunter growled at me as it reached for the bracelet on its bleeding stump and pulled it off. It used its teeth to do the same with the other hand. It slowly stood up and tossed both bracelets at my feet.

“Both…worthy,” that was not a recording- it was a low, slow, gravelly voice.

Before I could think about what it had said, it jumped onto a stack of palettes, to the nearest beam, and up through a ceiling fan. I waited for a while, but when it or another alien didn’t come after me, I finally turned off the sword and sheathed it. I didn’t want to, but I had to pick up the bracelets. Ignoring the pain and stress on my heart as the adrenaline started to wear off, I stumbled for the thin metal door to the office and banged on it three times.

“It’s clear; you can open the door now,” I shouted through the metal door, my breathing more or less under control by then.

The door didn’t open, even after a second series of knocks, so I kicked the door in with my power armored foot. The door bent and twisted slightly as I forced it open. It banged against the wall and I used my right arm to prevent it from closing back again. My nervousness at being ignored changed to bemused annoyance at the sight in front of me.

Kenji and Mr. Hakamichi were arm wrestling on the office’s desk, the laptop shoved to a corner as Mr. Hakamichi slammed Kenji’s arm.

“Disgraceful!” Mr. Hakamichi barked in triumph.

“You got lucky, man,” Kenji retorted, “let’s make it best 23 out of 45.”

I cleared my throat and they both turned to me, “hi,” I said, waving my red stained, armored arm in greeting.

Kenji leaned forward and smiled, “oh, hey man, how’d it go?”

I sighed, “You do realize that if I was that hunter, you’d both be dead right now?”

“We knew it was you, sweater-vest,” Mr. Hakamichi grumbled.

“If you say so,” I tossed one of the bracelets onto the desk. Mr. Hakamichi flinched back from it once he noticed what it was.

“What is this?” he asked, the revulsion on his face obvious.

“It’s your ‘avoid being decapitated’ card. I have one, too. You get any good data?” I asked Kenji.

Kenji nodded, “sure man, but when you lost the feed there wasn’t anything for us to do, and I could see if anything went wonky with the tech –not that I could do much without the helmet link.”

I didn’t feel like arguing the point- blood loss and fatigue will do that to a person, “fair enough, I guess. We better get Mr. Hakamichi home, and then we can drop this stuff off on the way to our own homes… Once I find some bandages.”

“I don’t have to wear this, do I?” Mr. Hakamichi asked, still obviously put off by the grizzly trophy.

“I’m not sure, honestly,” I responded, wishing we could just move on so I could bandage my arm and sleep, “you do need to hang onto it, though. Those hunters may be back, but hopefully they’ll come after me first.”

Mr. Hakamichi grunted at that before heaving himself up, “well, it seems I must once again thank you for saving my life. Disgraceful. However, I thank you,” to my great surprise, he bowed lightly, though he apparently couldn’t resist smirking and adding, “I also feel sorry for your wife- you seem to have an obsession with putting yourself in mortal peril to help others.”

I shrugged, “occupational hazard of having a conspiracy theorist for a best friend.”

Kenji chuckled and I glanced at him as the dim starlight reflected in his glasses, “only when he’s proven right, man.”

The Hunter’s never came after me again; though one did give Mr. Hakamichi and Kenji some trouble a few years’ later –poor bastard. Sometimes, though, during a heatwave in later years, I could swear I saw a shimmering figure lurking outside the window of a high school classroom sometimes. When I saw that, or thought I saw it, I’d wave around my left hand, which bore a certain bracelet that I insisted was made of porcelain and was a gift from a grateful dentist client. The shimmer would go away after that, if it had ever been there at all.

END OF MYSTERY SEVEN

+++

Well, hopefully things are getting back to their roots, at least somewhat. If not, feel free to throw a brick through my window. I have a daily line of people wanting to do that already (the joys of being an editorialist.)

Next time on Hisao and Kenji- Master Detectives!

A former schoolmate comes to the Detective Duo with a case they have no business accepting, but the prospect of a case and the pleading clients convince them to do it anyway. As they stare down the rabbit hole of their latest case, they’ll have to once again deal with organized crime –just not the kind they’re used to.

Tune in next time for Mystery Eight: Art Seizery

Same thread, same forum!

[Hoitash]

Here’s how it is: my employment got used up. So, I started writing, and a whole bunch of fan fiction was written. Some of it flush with plotting and characterization; others, not so much. I’m Mr. Hoitash, and I don’t have a day job. You got a job, I can do it. Don’t much care what it is.


Mystery Eight: Art Seizery


Part One: Composition


Autumn is a funny time. The days are cooling, the leaves are changing, and student’s attention starts to peter out as they realize that spring isn’t so far away, so why bother anymore? Because I said so, that’s why. I was used to it though, and I was thinking up ways to counter their complacentness as I sat grading papers in Kenji Setou's and my office. Painted a disturbing yellow and filled with green metal cabinets and cheap wooden bookshelves, Kenji’s private detective agency sometimes seemed more like a farm for paperwork then a job. Still, it was nice to have a secluded, quiet weekday evening together, drinking whiskey and eating pizza, while I tried to make sense of what one student thought was the formula for the creation of acid rain.

“You know man, we should celebrate,” Kenji said, adjusting the red and gold scarf he wore wrapped around his shoulders, “it’s been four months since someone tried to shoot us.”

I looked up from the homework I was grading to look at Kenji, “huh, you’re right,” I raised an eyebrow and added, “we also haven’t had a case in six weeks.”

That wasn’t as bad it sounded, though. Kenji was a writer as much as a private detective, and his wife was a free lance advertising artist. Besides, my wife made more money than me doing her own writing. At this point I think we just liked to hang out away from the wives every now and then. I think, in turn, the wives appreciated some time away from us as well. Though when your private detective agency helps fight Secret Societies and aliens, you tend to make up for quantity with quality in terms of activity and payment.

Before either of us could comment further on our lack of clients, someone stepped through the doorway and into the short hall that led into our office. The person was of average height, with short auburn hair and deep green eyes. They wore a green colored shirt with a black tie and dark brown pants, and the sleeves of the shirt were tied and mostly empty. This was because the young woman shuffling towards us in sandals was without arms. She was flanked by a young man in a black suit and sunglasses, a flat cap perched on his head over his silvery hair. He was holding one of the woman’s shirt sleeves with one hand, and the other held a light, silver cane.

Recognizing the female guest, I stood up and rattled off, “Rin Tezuka, welcome to Setou and Nakai Private Investigative Services, how can we help you?”

Kenji’s head darted around for a second before he noticed the two guests through his thick round glasses. He stood up and tilted his head at me, trying to quickly flatten his unkempt black hair to appear more professional.

“Who?” he asked.

“High school schoolmate, room… 3-4, was it?” I asked Rin.

“Yes,” she responded, before pausing just long enough to make me question if she was done speaking, “it’s Rin Nomura, now,” before I could mention I had forgotten she had married, she continued speaking, “There was this boy,” she closed her eyes as she continued, “in the art club. A blind boy,” she opened her eyes, a somewhat smug smile on her face now, “I married him.”

“Hello,” the young man, presumably Mr. Nomura, said, bowing slightly in greeting and speaking in a soft, quiet voice, “that would be me. Yasuhiro Nomura.”

“Hello,” I said, “I’m Mr. Nakai, and to my left and behind me is my partner, Mr. Setou.”

I gave a few vague directions for Mr. Nomura, and he easily found his way to the brown leather rolling chair I had been sitting in. I’ll admit I was surprised by the two’s arrival. I had followed Rin’s art career after high school indirectly; Shizune Hakamichi was her primary financier. What I knew about her was rather limited; she had had a falling out with Yamaku’s art teacher over the course of her career, and she had opted for a more independent course. Shizune kept her well funded, and her work was well regarded regionally and in some of the niche art scenes in Europe and America. And she had married, obviously. Still, I couldn’t quite fathom why the two were in our office, but you never knew with Rin; her unpredictable predictability made interpreting her actions difficult, and her scatterbrained way of talking could give you a headache if you weren’t prepared for it.

Once Mr. Nomura was seated, Rin- or Mrs. Nomura, if you prefer- took the seat to his right while Kenji cleared the desk a bit, sending an empty pizza box unceremoniously into the trash bin against the wall. Sitting back down with me standing behind him, Kenji leaned forward, his red and gold scarf sprawling out on the desk as he peered through his thick glasses, “so, how can we help you?”

Mrs. Nomura tilted her head slightly, “there’s a thief. Of art. An art thief. He robbed the studio where we work, and I want him found and the art… recovered, I think is the word.”

Rin had always been a bit spacey, but her ability to make sense had apparently increased. Maybe maturity had helped with that. Or she had a neurological disorder and was getting help. Either way, I cleared my throat to get both Nomura’s attention.

“I’m sorry, but that’s really something for the police to handle,” I stated, “we’re not legally allowed to get involved with active criminal cases.”

Shooting people and blowing crap up was illegal, too, but that had never stopped us. There was a time and place for such activities, especially when such activities need not include the police. And they shot first, so there.

“The police were less then helpful,” a frowning Mr. Nomura chimed in, his face forward and his hands resting on the top of his cane, “they said they’d deal with it when they had stopped the latest gang war.”

Considering Kenji and I had caused the latest gang war, I started feeling a little guilty, but I had to resist the urge to meddle, “be that as it may, we don’t have the resources to handle a criminal case.”

That was a lie, but they didn’t need to know that.

“Please,” Mrs. Nomura said, her expression contorted in despair, “I came to you because I remembered your name from school. They don’t belong to whoever took them. I need your help, to get them back,” she paused to blink slowly, then continued, “The paintings, I mean. They belong to me, so I can use them to tell people what I think. Or try to. I usually fail,” she smiled weakly and glanced at her husband, “but I have someone with me now, so it’s not so bad.”

Knowing just how important mutual support could be in a relationship, I sighed and looked over to Kenji, who smirked and nodded, his glasses catching the light in a mischievous glint. His lack of resistance to their request was a bit unsettling, but maybe he was just bored from lack of work. Or he figured their situation was our fault. Either way, it appeared our dry spell was over. Lucky us.

I sighed again and faced Rin, “alright, we’ll take the case. We just need you to sign some forms and not bring this up if anyone asks. I don’t suppose you have any information to lead us on the right track?”

“I might,” Mr. Nomura said, while Kenji got out some forms and a pen.

We’d have to alter the record a bit, but it wouldn’t be the first time we lied to the government. Mr. Nomura reached into his inside jacket pocket and pulled out a small folded stack of papers, which he placed on the desk after using his pinky to determine the desk’s edge.

“A few other art thefts have occurred in the region,” he stated, “All of them were done in the studios of artists only known at the local or regional level. As my wife’s paintings are well renowned through most of northern Japan, it seems the thief has set his sights higher.”

“Quite possibly,” Kenji mused, groping slightly to find and accept the offered papers while Rin signed the forms with her right foot.

The blank expression on her face had a hint of a smile, and it gave me some confidence that we were doing the right thing. Still, I wasn’t sure about case itself, but I was never sure when Kenji approved of something. With luck, it would be an easy job that wouldn’t get us shot at.

You’d think I’d have known better by then.

+++
Next Chapter

I can live with being predictable and cliché as long as I am entertaining. Whether or not I am entertaining, I leave up to you folks. Towards that end, feedback is naturally appreciated.

[Dumanios]

Yay, it's Rin!

Now we just need to get Emi to appear.

[Mirage_GSM]

Well, I hope there will be more mystery and less shooting in this chapter, but I'm used to my wishes not always coming true...

...as I sat grading papers in Kenji Setou and I’s office.

Something in this sentence doesn't look odd to you?

Besides, my wife made more money then me doing her own writing.

than

[Hoitash]

Well, I hope there will be more mystery and less shooting in this chapter, but I'm used to my wishes not always coming true...

Hmm...

"...as I sat grading papers in Kenji Setou and I’s office."

Something in this sentence doesn't look odd to you?

Sadly, no. Setou's and I's office, perhaps? I can't say our because I didn't mention Kenji yet, and they are partners, so it is their office...

Setou and my office, perhaps? I fail at english so bad right now...

[Mirage_GSM]

I fail at english so bad right now...

Usually you don't. That's why I was so surprised at "I's office"...

[Hoitash]

I fail at english so bad right now...

Usually you don't. That's why I was so surprised at "I's office"...

encouraging; thank you for that vote of confidence

I and Kenji's office?

[Dumanios]

How about 'our office'?

[Hoitash]

How about 'our office'?

I haven't introduced Kenji yet in the part, so "our" would be kinda weird. Otherwise I'd just go with that, yeah. I could tinker with it so I could, too.

Hmm...

[Mirage_GSM]

It's surprisingly hard to find a well written source for this...

When one of the possessors in a compound possessive is a personal pronoun, we have to put both possessors in the possessive form...:

Bill's and my car had to be towed last night.
Giorgio's and her father was not around much during their childhood.

If this second sentence seems unsatisfactory, you might have to do some rewriting so you end up talking about their father, instead, or revert to using both names: "Giorgio and Isabel's father wasn't around much . . . ." (and then "Giorgio" will lose the apostrophe +s).

So, the correct form would be "Kenji's and my office".
Since you have "Office" as an object here you need a possessive determiner.
You could rephrase the sentence to "The office was Kenji's and mine", using a regular possessive pronoun instead.
"I" is wrong in either case.
Yes, it sounds a bit clunky, but the alternative is to introduce Kenji earlier and then use "our".
Anyway, I don't really think it's neccessary to introduce Kenji again at the beginning of each storyarc. That the office is Hisao and Kenji's [!] should be sufficiently established by now.

[Hoitash]

Huh, weird. Mystery solved, now on to the next great adventure!

Thanks for that explanation

As to the introduction, I like to use it to set up the feeling. Each Mystery is somewhat standalone, whle still part of an over-arcing story. The closest analogue I could come up with is Sandy Mitchell's Ciaphas Cain HERO OF THE IMPERIUM novels. It sets up the tone and setting quickly while giving new readers a chance to figure out what's going on.

That's my theory anyway. Working on some self publishing stuff has gotten me thinking like a marketer, I guess.

[Oddball]

“I’m sorry, but that’s really something for the police to handle,” I stated, “we’re not legally allowed to get involved with active criminal cases.”

Shooting people and blowing crap up was illegal, too, but that had never stopped us. And they shot back, so there.

This just seems wrong to me. They'll willingly go kill all the Secret Societies in the World, fight aliens, shoot people, and break the law left and right, but when an old school mate wants help with a simple assignment the first response is to turn her down? There just doesn't seem any reason for Hisao not to want to help, especially since they haven't had any cases recently.

I realize he changes his mind, but you wouldn't think he'd have to be convinced.

[Hoitash]

“I’m sorry, but that’s really something for the police to handle,” I stated, “we’re not legally allowed to get involved with active criminal cases.”

Shooting people and blowing crap up was illegal, too, but that had never stopped us. And they shot back, so there.

This just seems wrong to me. They'll willingly go kill all the Secret Societies in the World, fight aliens, shoot people, and break the law left and right, but when an old school mate wants help with a simple assignment the first response is to turn her down? There just doesn't seem any reason for Hisao not to want to help, especially since they haven't had any cases recently.

I realize he changes his mind, but you wouldn't think he'd have to be convinced.

There is a difference. Secret Society stuff is pretty much behind the scenes and beyond the scope of the regular police. An active criminal case could, and should, get the police involved. If Kenji or Hisao gets caught meedling, Kenji loses his job and there's a serious chance of charges being brought (interfering with a police investigation and/or obstruction of justice; not sure on the Japanese law code, but those ae the American charges.)

Plus Kenji has sources in the police force, so he wants them on his side, too.

That was my line of thinking, at least.

[Oddball]

If Kenji or Hisao gets caught meedling, Kenji loses his job and there's a serious chance of charges being brought (interfering with a police investigation and/or obstruction of justice; not sure on the Japanese law code, but those ae the American charges.)

And they wouldn't get charged if they were caught killing lots and lots of people?

[Hoitash]

If Kenji or Hisao gets caught meedling, Kenji loses his job and there's a serious chance of charges being brought (interfering with a police investigation and/or obstruction of justice; not sure on the Japanese law code, but those ae the American charges.)

And they wouldn't get charged if they were caught killing lots and lots of people?

Well, yes, but that's not interfering with an active criminal case.

The main difference here is that one involves the police or will involve the police, while the other is much more clandestine. You won't be charged if the police aren't involved in the first place.

In Rin's case, at some point they will need to be, because at some point Kenji and Hisao will do there job for them, but the cops'll still have to do the paperwork and official arrests. Whereas with the Societies, if the police are brought in, its only after the Spec Ops groups and federal agencies have had their fill.

Hmm, I guess it all boils down to jurisdiction issues, when you look at it like that.