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Resolution time, folks.

Previous Chapter

Part Five: Day Four

After confirming that the information we had been given was genuine -possibly starting an international incident in the process- I called Miss Sakamoto to give her the good news. This time I was stuck with Miss Sakamoto’s voicemail, so I left a quick message saying we had good news, and she should come over to the office sometime in the coming afternoon. Kenji called me during lunch the next day and said she was coming by after school ended, so I headed over to the office as soon as I could. She hadn’t arrived yet when I got there, so I settled into my usual seat and waited.

Kenji had placed the information we had received inside a standard manila folder, with Miss Sakamoto’s named scrawled on it, so all we had to do was hand it off and we were done. The novelty of a job that was a pain in the ass without involving me getting shot in the ass had worn off last night, so I was glad it had been wrapped up, especially with a happy-ish ending.

“So, how did the info check go?” Kenji asked as he fiddled with some papers.

He had left last night shortly after Hanako had picked up Lilly. He said he had to get back to his wife, but I’m pretty sure he just wanted to watch Lilly ride a motorcycle with Hanako. I could hear the screaming from the office.

I groaned and glared at the ceiling, “I don’t wanna talk about it.”

Kenji looked up and raised an eyebrow at my right ear, “nothing serious happened, right?”

I shrugged, “I don’t think so. All I know for sure is a Humvee caught fire, and we may or not be billed for the damage. Oh, and the US may have accidently declared war on Australia.”

Kenji blinked a few times, then shrugged and returned to his work, “these kinds of cases are always more hassle then they’re worth.”

“At least we’re not getting shot at,” I said.

“True,” Kenji conceded, “though I’d prefer that then all this damn phone tag.”

A few minutes after our griping had trailed off, Miss Sakamoto stepped into the office. She was wearing the same suit as before as she slowly settled into the free chair. Her eyes wandered longingly to the envelope, but she kept them fixed on Kenji once she finally spoke.

“Mr. Nakai said you had good news? Did you find him?” she asked.

Kenji nodded, “we did,” Kenji slid the folder toward her. She flung it open and grabbed the papers inside. She eyed them for a while, and when she was done, she looked back at us.

“Thank you,” her face was neutral, but the gratitude in her voice of obvious, earnest, and adorable, “both of you. Do you have a bill?”

I pulled out the invoice I had printed last night and handed it to her, “here you go. The rest is up to you, now.”

After she paid, she kept sitting in the chair, staring at the papers. I knew that look: fear. She was afraid of taking the next step in contacting him. I could understand the feeling. Would he remember her? Did he still have feelings for her? All those other sappy, high school emotions were probably swimming around in her head. Well, at least I could offer some advice in that regard.

“It’s not my place,” I said, getting her attention, “but from personal experience, if you still have feelings for him, you should probably call him, not send an email or letter.”

“And tell him to get a Facebook page,” Kenji added, “I don’t care if the internet cuts into my business if it keeps me from getting swarmed by Army Rangers.”

“Hey, I’m the one that almost burned Guam,” I stated.

“Wow,” Miss Sakamoto stated, “I had no idea it would be such trouble.”

I shrugged, “it wasn’t that bad. It was odd that I had more trouble finding him on his own base then finding where he was stationed, though.”

Miss Sakamoto smiled and stood up, “thank you, both of you.”

“You’re welcome,” we said, and with a bow of farewell, she left the office.

Kenji sighed. I glanced over and noticed he was smiling. He always did enjoy a case with a happy ending. I wasn’t too surprised when he pointed a finger at me and demanded I tell him what happened last night.

I sighed, “all right. Long story short, some idiot was careless with where he kept the tracers. Takeda was working on a Humvee, the supply sergeant I was stalking with was in a hurry, and next thing I know the Humvee’s on fire and everyone’s shouting like they’re at Normandy.”

“Wow,” Kenji was grinning, clearly proud of my ability to cause collateral destruction.

I returned his grin with a grimace, “yeah. When they had put out the fires, most of the Humvee was scrap, Specialist Takeda was missing an eyebrow, and the Sergeant was not in a good mood.”

Kenji’s grin broke out into a laugh, “wow, man, you really know how to make an international incident.”

“Gee, thanks,” I slumped into my chair and sighed, clasping my head in my hands.

“Well,” Kenji said after a while, “it worked out alright in the end.”

“I suppose,” I said from between my fingers.

“If nothing else,” he said, “Lilly got the adrenaline rush of a lifetime.”

“Yeah,” remembering her screams of terror, I started grinning myself, “You know, Hanako said once she stopped screaming, she had a good time. Though she says that every time, and every time she screams like the woman in the original King Kong.”

“Glad she enjoyed it,” Kenji said, “I’d hate for her to come after us with that claymore we gave her.”

END OF MYSTERY TEN.

+++

Well, I wrote a mystery that didn’t involve shooting, the mob, or guys in suits with swords. Somehow it still involved an explosion, but that was Hisao’s fault, not mine.

Next time on Hisao and Kenji- Master Detectives!

Yet another former schoolmate looks to Hisao and Kenji for help. With trouble not too far behind, the two will have to think fast to not only help their old schoolmate, but to make sure they’re one step ahead of trouble. As usual, trouble isn’t in a friendly mood, but for once, it’s not their fault.

Tune in next time, for Mystery Eleven: Lending a Hand

Same thread, same forum!

I was slightly confused at the transition from day three to day four (The last two chapters)..
I had to re-read them a couple of times, but what I understand so far is that they went to the base to verify the information, with hanako, hisao and lilly on a motorcycle. The humvee blew up or something, and they got away (With the girls screaming the entire time of course)..

Other than that misunderstanding, I'm loving this series and I think it's pretty great! Although I was a bit skeptical at first (especially when I saw the predator mystery), but in the end you managed to make a great series. Looking forward for future episodes!

LegyPlegy wrote:I was slightly confused at the transition from day three to day four (The last two chapters)..
I had to re-read them a couple of times, but what I understand so far is that they went to the base to verify the information, with hanako, hisao and lilly on a motorcycle. The humvee blew up or something, and they got away (With the girls screaming the entire time of course)..

Sure why not They sold the idea to Michael Bay and he made it the sequel to Apocolypse Now.

Other than that misunderstanding, I'm loving this series and I think it's pretty great! Although I was a bit skeptical at first (especially when I saw the predator mystery), but in the end you managed to make a great series. Looking forward for future episodes!

Thanks, glad you liked it. The Predator episode is one of my favorites, though it coulda gone less nerdgasmy (like I said, at least I know what I'm doing next Halloween.)

I've also gone and built a world, which means I can write other stories in that world. The possibilities boggle the mind! KNEEL BEFORE ZOD!

...Anyway, thanks for reading

It is the 21st millennium. For more than two decades the Emperor has sat immobile on the Golden Throne of Earth. He is the Carrion Lord of the Imperium for whom a thousand fan fictions are written every day, so that he may never truly die. For in the grim dark future, there is only…


Mystery Eleven: Lending a Hand


Part One: Uninvited Guests


For some reason, strange things always happened to me during summer vacation. Over the last three years, I’d done a lot of things I didn’t want to think too much about. One summer had involved a Secret Society and a former Yakuza member getting chained up in a broom closet. Another involved a super freighter and a former member of the United States Department of Defense. Last year I and the sister of my wife’s best friend had slain a werewolf.

Despite the sheer lunacy of what I had done, I couldn’t help being proud of most of it. Still, as another summer once again had settled across the land, and I was working in Kenji’s office one evening, I couldn’t help but watch as he carefully rubbed his spleen.

“Something up?” I asked as I looked up from my magazine and across the desk.

I hoped not. It was a quiet evening, just him doing paperwork and working on our latest adventure novel, his face a few centimeters from the laptop screen he had perched atop his large, dark wooden desk. While he did that I ate pizza and offered occasional input while flipping through a science journal. As his partner in his private detective agency, we probably should’ve been working on a case. Except we didn’t have one at the moment. So while he worked, I did my best to ignore the office’s horrible mustard yellow paint scheme while skimming various articles about new and exciting theories and technologies involving thorium.

“I dunno, man,” Kenji grunted, leaning back in his chair to adjust the red and gold scarf he had perpetually draped around his neck, “ever since Hisato was born it’s been acting up pretty often.”

I shrugged, “makes sense.”

Kenji’s eyes narrowed behind his thick round glasses. Running a hand through his unkempt black hair, he started to gaze at the front door as he muttered, “Yeah, but this time I think it’s…”

Kenji trailed off, shook his head, and readjusted glasses. Before he could get back to typing on his laptop, the door to our office was slammed shut. Looking up, I saw a slightly taller than average woman with long dark hair frantically forcing every one of Kenji’s many locks shut. She was wearing blue jeans and a blue t-shirt, and had tanned skin and an artificial left hand.

I knew it was artificial for two reasons. First, it was slightly bulkier then her right hand, and didn’t catch the light the same way the rest of her skin did. Second, I recognized who she was, and the last time I had seen her, her left arm had ended in a bandaged stump.

“Miki Miura, welcome to Setou and Nakai Private Investigative Services, how can we help you?” I rattled off.

“Yeah, hey Hisao. It’s Akiyama now, but never mind that,” she quickly bolted from the door to stand next to me in front of the desk.

“Who?” Kenji asked, standing up to lean closer to Miki so he could see her.

“Former classmate from Yamaku,” I told him, “she was on the track team, and the last I remember, she was missing a hand that she is no longer missing.”

Miki waved the mentioned limb, “yeah, got a new augmetic prosthetic. Long story. Right now, I need less questions and more hiding, ‘kay?”

“Excuse me?” I asked, standing up.

Miki sighed, “some people are after me, and while normally I could handle it, these people are very intent on severely hurting me.”

I raised an eyebrow, “what did you do?”

Miki rolled her eyes, “I can explain later, for now will you cork it and hide me?!”

“If you want sanctuary,” Kenji said, “go find a church.”

“There’s no time, they’re right behind me!” she retorted, gesturing wildly with her left arm.

I sighed and cupped my forehead in my palm, “do you make a habit out of asking former classmates for help?”

“No, but I work at a bar a few blocks down the street from this office. I saw the sign out front while I was running and dove in. Seriously, I need help and I need it right fucking now!”

“Alright, alright,” I said. No sense arguing with an angry woman. It only ends in tears and bite marks, “what do you need us to do?”

“Hey,” Kenji said, “shouldn’t we discuss this?”

Miki reached out with her left hand and grabbed Kenji by the collar, “help me or I’ll shove that lame-ass scarf so far down your throat you’ll shit it out!”

Kenji sighed and raised an eyebrow, “point taken, Mrs. Akiyama.”

“Miki, please. And hurry!”

She let go and Kenji and I quickly cleared the desk. With a grunt and a heave between us, we eased it onto its side, so that the top was facing the short hallway that led to the front door.

“Hide behind this,” Kenji instructed.

Miki folded her arms over her impressive chest, “yeah, that’ll help.”

“It has a bullet proof layer built in,” I retorted, “so yes, it will.”

Miki raised an eyebrow and ducked down behind the desk. Before we could join her she hopped back up, “you two know there’s a shotgun down here, right?”

“Don’t touch Matthew,” Kenji and I instructed.

We quickly ducked behind the desk barricade. Kenji grabbed the sawed-off shotgun and checked to make sure that it was loaded with slugs. Meanwhile, I grabbed something else under the desk. Besides the gun and some ammo for it, he kept a small periscope under the desk as well. I grabbed the small black device and laid on my back while waiting for the supposed Miki chasers.

I didn’t have to wait long. I had barely had time to get on my back before someone started loudly knocking on the door, “Mr. Nakai, Mr. Setou, this is the police, open up!”

“They’re not cops,” Miki hissed, “they’re lying!”

Before I could decide if she was telling the truth or not –though I didn’t really doubt her- whoever was knocking forced the door open. I suppressed a sigh with difficulty; it seemed no matter how many locks we put on that door, someone always managed to break through. I blamed Resident Evil.

Carefully raising the periscope just over the desk, I was able to see three men in dark gray suits. All of them were holding black pistols firmly in both hands, their eyes alert and focused –obviously not focused enough to see the periscope. One was searching the bathroom in the hall, one was watching the door, and the third was scanning the office, his head slowly turning to appraise the cabinets and shelves, as if we were hiding behind one of them, and not the overturned desk.

I lifted my free hand slightly and quickly started signing to Kenji in hand signals Three unknowns. Armed. Presumed hostile.

I stuck out my palm and waited for Kenji to respond. Using deaf-blind sign language, he responded [course of action?]

I held up the wait signal. No sense rushing anything. As the man scanning the office crept closer, he was joined by the one who had checked the bathroom. The one by the door turned to face the room.

“Stop hiding and pay up, you bitch!” he shouted.

[Course of action?] Kenji tapped out again.

They had guns. They wanted Miki. I had to make a decision. Once again repressing a sigh, I responded subtle, but direct.

I lowered the periscope to cover Miki with my body. While I played human shield –being a perfect gentleman the entire time, I might add- Kenji carefully raised the barrel of Matthew above the desk. Mounting it slightly on the tip of the desk, he took careful aim. His hand on the trigger, I could barely hear him whisper, “say hello to my little friend.”

With that pronouncement, he fired, and Matthew belched out a slug as the three men jumped from the noise. Having fired once, Kenji quickly started blind firing –sorry, legally blind firing- the shotgun from over the desk. I heard a grunt-like groan and saw Kenji briefly peer above the desk for a second. Something cracked or splintered behind me and I reflexively lowered my head. Miki was squirming under me, probably not happy with our current situation. I covered her mouth when something slammed into the desk and she gave a reflexive gasp.

“Shh,” I instructed, “they don’t need to know you’re here. Oh, and yes, he is insane.”

As I said that, Kenji was propping Matthew on the edge of the desk so he could fire one handed, using the other hand to pump in fresh shells. I wished I had a gun, but they were all in the desk drawers, and I couldn’t get at them without getting shot. Something told me I needed to keep Miki down, anyway.

Bullets pinged and cracked into the desk and surrounding furniture as Kenji and the intruders continued their exchange. Fortunately the office had been soundproofed, and the building was mostly abandoned at this hour, anyway. I wasn’t about to lift my head to see what was happening, but after the sixth and final shot from Kenji’s shotgun, he stood up.

“That’s right, bitches! Shop smart, Shop S-Mart!” He sighed and crouched back down, “all clear.”

So much for fatherhood mellowing him out; I should’ve figured it would just make him tenser. I stood up and back from Miki, who slowly rose above the desk. We both scanned the office with some trepidation. The three men were sprawled out along the office floor, blood pooling across the wooden planks and splattered along the front walls; thank God it wasn’t carpeted. One of the brown, rolling leather chairs had several large bullet holes in it, as did the back wall. The hallway, meanwhile, had several large slug holes in the walls, though the front door was undamaged. The desk had taken quite a few hits, dented, scratched, and even a little cracked, but it still looked to be in relatively good shape.

“Holy shit,” Miki gasped, her hands on her hips, “you two do not play around.”

“Partial credit for being direct, I guess,” I said to Kenji, who already had his cell phone out, “you can take care of this, right?”

Kenji nodded, “one Being Human style cleanup comin’ up.”

“Good,” I quickly moved over to the door to close it, “I don’t suppose we could repaint the place?”

Kenji shook his head as he dialed, “Nah, they can just touch it up.”

I sighed and closed the door. Even an assault from armed men couldn’t get him to change the paint color. I turned around and jabbed a finger at Miki, “you. Explain. Now.”

+++

Yes, I gave her a prosthetic. I regret nothing.

Yay, deep characterization. I… think I know how to do that.

Someone tried to cut off my internet in an effort to thwart me, but I was able to stop them with a pair of tongs and a cupcake.

Previous Chapter

Part Two: Exposition


Somehow the coffee pot survived the firefight. By the time we had a pot of coffee ready, mysterious figures in hazmat gear were roaming around the office, cleaning up and taking the bodies somewhere I really didn’t want to know. They wanted to take the chair that had absorbed the brunt of the fire, but Kenji insisted on keeping it. Though if either of our wives saw it, we’d be the ones needing to be cleaned up –assuming they didn’t drop dead from heart attacks, that is. When the crew finished in an insanely fast amount of time, I placed three mugs of coffee on the desk. I took the bad chair while Kenji added a shot of whiskey to both our mugs. When he offered it to Miki, she declined.

“So,” I said, sipping my coffee, “explain. Please.”

Miki sighed and nodded, chugging her coffee and getting up for more; seeing the aftermath of the fight had probably shaken her more then she let on, “you want the long version, or the short version?”

“The long version,” Kenji responded, “I sense you want us to help you some more.”

Miki shrugged and sat down with a fresh cup, “alright. Well, my glorious tale of suck and unsuck begins shortly after high school graduation. My parents were bugging me to go to uni. I managed to scrape together the grades to get accepted to some place in the middle of nowhere. My dad wanted me to go into business, like he did. I was never good at book learning, and after a while I cracked and dropped out. Well, I was expelled, but I picked that fight on purpose.”

Miki paused a moment to shake her head, her amethyst/gray hair flying wildly and her dour look reminding me momentarily of my wife. After a moment Miki plastered her normal upbeat look on her face and continued, “I spent a while wandering around Japan. My dad disowned me, and my old school friends had lives I didn’t want to impose on,” Miki glanced at me, “including you and Hanako.”

Near the end of our senior year, Hanako had invited Miki to a few of our tea lunches with Lilly. It wasn’t very often, but the two got along rather well. Miki’s carefree attitude could be contagious, and she was a lot of fun, though it had taken Hanako some time to get used to her energy, even after dealing with Naomi at the school paper. The fact she didn’t come to us when shit hit the fan was more a failing on our part for not keeping in more thorough contact. We had drifted apart during college, and had been too distracted to stay in contact.

“Well, I did temp jobs every now and then,” Miki continued, “usually I’d spend the money getting drunk at some shitty bar. Then I’d get in a bar fight. Then I’d get fired for coming to work hungover and bruised- when I went back. I did that for a few years, until one time I got into a slightly more aggressive fight. They had it comin’, though! Calling my ‘stumpy,’” she paused to grin, a malicious grin I didn’t think her capable of that made me ease away from her, “Bastards deserved that chair leg up the… never mind.”

She sighed and chugged her coffee again, the grin vanishing as she drank. When she had drained the mug she continued, “Well, the owner demanded I work off the damage to his place,” she set her coffee down and shrugged, “after that it gets pretty cliché fairy-tale sappy. The owner’s kid worked at the bar, too. We fell in love, he took over the bar, I married him, became part owner -always was a people person- cranked out two sons, and boom, happy ever after!”

She sighed and stared at her left hand, which had been holding the coffee cup until she set it down. Miki flexed the hand, closing it and opening slowly. The tiny servos whined slightly as she did so.

“Something was missing, though,” she snickered darkly, “five something’s, actually. I got a prosthetic as soon as I could, but it wasn’t the same. The…fingers worked, but I couldn’t feel them. I couldn’t feel anything I touched, and the physical therapy was a pain. Ugh!” she cried, smacking her left fist on the desk’s battered surface, “it wasn’t fair! Emi loses both her legs and she’s a fucking superstar! I lose one hand to a damn saber saw and I end up a useless cripple.”

She glared at her hand for a few seconds, likely trying to calm down. She started to use the fingers to trace the outline of the coffee mug. The augment could feel where a simpler prosthetic could not. For a moment, I saw the old Miki of my high school days as she grinned at the simple pleasure of being able to feel the mug.

Kenji coughed to grab her attention, and with a short sigh she continued, “a few weeks ago, Otori Group released a new augmented prosthetic hand. It wired directly into the nerves in a person’s arm. If I had it, I would be able to touch, and feel, and have my hand back- for real this time,” the malicious grin was back again, just as unsettling as last time, “and so I got one.”

I raised a hand and slowly stated, “I think I’m beginning to see the problem.”

Otori was one of the biggest medical supply companies in Japan. If it weren’t for recent anti-trust legislation, they’d be the only one. They were also the primary researcher and manufacturer of prosthetic augments in East Asia. Their augments were second only to Sarif Industries. Which meant…

I groaned and smacked my forehead as my mind started frantically connecting the dots to their logical extreme, “please, tell me you could afford it.”

Miki shrugged, “the prosthetic itself, yes. The physical therapy, the neural surgery, and the neural implant? No.”

“Fuck,” Kenji said, “you borrowed money from the Yakuza, didn’t you?”

Miki snorted and shook her head, “the Yakuza couldn’t loan me the money for a Slurpee. I used an old gambling loan shark I used to know. I thought I’d be able to pay him in time, but the bastard knew how desperate I was, so he upped his interest rate. I can’t afford to repay him quick enough to avoid Haruki- that’s my husband- finding out. So I went to the little weasel and told him to lower his interest rate.”

I raised an eyebrow and couldn’t help smirking, “I take it that did not go well?”

Miki returned the smirked, “You could say that, yeah.”

“Loan sharks want payment, not bodies,” Kenji interjected, “those guys were more than willing to shoot. If they just wanted money, they woulda killed your husband, or broken your legs, or something like that. Why try and kill you?”

“I’m pretty sure they just wanted to kneecap me,” Miki said, “but I like my knees intact, and I couldn’t take the chance. As to why they were after me so passionately…” she grinned sheepishly and rubbed the back of her neck, “I sorta punched the loan shark. In the face. With my left hand,” she smiled that disturbing grin again, “felt good, too.”

“Yeah, except now we have to clean up your mess,” I retorted.

Miki shook her head, “I can handle it. I don’t want to drag you into this. Especially if it involves guys with guns. I couldn’t stand it if I made Hanako a widow.”

I raised an eyebrow, and she elaborated, “Oh, my boys love her writing –they’re huge steampunk fans. Saw she had your name in the author blurb. Congratz.”

“Thanks,” I grunted. Remembering part of what seemed a previous life, I added, “You were invited to the wedding, by the way. We sent the invite to your University, but I guess you had left by then?”

Miki nodded, “yeah; I was expelled sophomore year. Anyway,” she stood up from her chair, “I better go.”

“No way,” I said, standing up and looking her steadily in the eye, “we’re helping you. For free.”

“Excuse me?” she and Kenji asked at the same time.

I sighed, “Look, you were my friend. You were my wife’s friend. You helped us during the beginnings of our relationship, and I think it only fair I repay you.”

Miki shook her head again, “maybe, but I don’t want you involved, and I can’t ask you to do it for free.”

“You’re not asking; I’m insisting,” I countered.

“Besides, we got bigger guns than those punks,” Kenji declared, also standing up. Guess he could tell I wouldn’t let this one go.

Miki stepped back from the desk, her hands held placatingly in front of her, “seriously, I can handle this.”

I groaned and rolled my eyes, “then why did you come here asking for help in the first place? We can help, we will help, and you’ll owe us nothing at the end of the day.”

“Ahem,” Kenji said, “while I understand your altruism, I think we should respect her wishes,” Kenji glanced to Miki and grinned, “our fee for our services in this matter will be two four thousand yen gift certificates at your bar.”

Miki sighed, smiled, and nodded, “alright, fine. If you two insist on helping me, I guess I don’t have much choice but to accept.”

“Good,” I said, turning to Kenji, “we’ll keep this one off the books.”

Kenji nodded and turned back to Miki, “so, where should we start?”

Miki shrugged, “why don’t we just ask that bastard to lower the interest rate again?”

I looked to Kenji, who shrugged, “I haven’t had to pistol whip a loan shark in a while.”

“Let’s try and keep the violence to a minimum,” I said. Even as I said that I was grabbing two silver revolvers from a desk drawer. I grabbed two chest holsters and handed one of each to Kenji.

“I don’t suppose I get a gun?” Miki asked, her posture and smirk reminding me again of our high school days. The upbeat, carefree tomboy, rather than the cynical reformed alcoholic she had become.

“Probably not a good idea,” I stated, “we don’t need to give the bad guys another reason to shoot you.”

“Besides,” Kenji interjected, “have you ever fired a gun before? Or even held one?”

Miki shook her head, a fluid movement that seemed sadly automatic to her, “no, and you’re right, Hisao. I got a switchblade anyway; if I need it, it’s always been there for me.”

Life had been very hard on you, Miki. I only wish you had come to me sooner. No sense fixating on the past, though; I had a chance to help her, and I was not going to fuck it up. Once our revolvers were loaded, Kenji and I donned the brown fedoras that matched our well-worn suits, and, with me in front of Miki and Kenji behind her in a guard formation, we left the office.

+++
Next Chapter

See, that’s why I haven’t settled down. My wife would be all “stop getting into barfights and join AA,” and I’d be all, “honey, stop arguing and grab that guy’s machete.”

I don’t have a problem; I can stop causing property damage whenever I want.

Man, I am always lucky to catch the newest update on the day it's released...

But then i have nothing else to read for the rest of the day.

oh well.


Oh, and great chapter, btw. Although, I wouldn't think of Miki as the kind of person to settle down so quickly.

Also, just a tip, I think you should involve the other characters more and mix them together, instead of having like an entire mystery dedicated to a single character (Other than the usual Kenji/Hisao). Easier said than done, though, but I can imagine something like a side-story of Kenji's family having dinner with Hisao's family or something. Just a suggestion!

And as usual, keep on writing! I love reading these fics c: (And it has nothing to do with the fact that it's post-hanako route )

LegyPlegy wrote:
Oh, and great chapter, btw. Although, I wouldn't think of Miki as the kind of person to settle down so quickly

Thanks . As for settling down, after a few years of drinking and brawling, settling down mighta been the safe bet.

Also, just a tip, I think you should involve the other characters more and mix them together, instead of having like an entire mystery dedicated to a single character (Other than the usual Kenji/Hisao). Easier said than done, though, but I can imagine something like a side-story of Kenji's family having dinner with Hisao's family or something. Just a suggestion!

I do like writing one shots

And as usual, keep on writing! I love reading these fics c: (And it has nothing to do with the fact that it's post-hanako route )

Thanks again, and sorry for the late response; weekend internet access was really spotty.

I may be late to the party of realizing how fun writing Miki is, but better late than never, I guess.

Previous Chapter

Part Three: Conversations


The loan shark Miki had borrowed from was close enough I didn’t feel like driving. Kenji argued that more people might be after her, and speed would thus be vital. I countered that they wouldn’t attack if she wasn’t alone, since this was such a petty incident -at least until he found out three of his mooks were dead- that he wouldn’t risk an encounter in broad daylight. Besides, we had guns, so if something happened we wouldn’t be defenseless.

Kenji reluctantly agreed with me, so we walked down the street a few dozen blocks. We actually passed the bar Miki and her husband owned along the way. It was a really nice place, built in a style reminiscent of the Meiji Period- western styling with a distinctively Japanese look to it. It contrasted nicely with the surrounding shops without standing out in a garish fashion.

“You two seem to like a good drink now and then,” Miki mused as we passed by, “how come I’ve never seen you drop in?”

I shrugged, “we prefer the Brass Wok.”

Miki snorted, “That dump? That place needs to be torn down and turned into something useful, like a crematorium for all the alkies that live there.”

“Speaking of which,” Kenji said, “I find it interesting someone with your history would end up owning a bar.”

Miki sighed, “It wasn’t easy, that’s for damn sure. When Haruki inherited the place he suggested we sell it and start a café or something. I managed convince him to keep it –selling the family business woulda devastated his mother-, but there were a lot of… close calls, early on. I don’t go into the bar area itself unescorted anymore, actually, and only if it’s absolutely necessary.”

Prudent move, and mentioning her husband prompted me to as, “Speaking of Mr. Akiyama, I take it he knows about the augment?”

Miki nodded quickly, “he thinks I bought it using a payment plan.”

“Why didn’t you?” Kenji asked, his eyes darting around from nook to cranny so fast I was surprised his glasses didn’t fly off.

Miki sighed and clasped her left hand in her other, flesh and bone extremity, “the plan didn’t cover the implants for tactile sensation. I… didn’t want to wait.”

I glanced behind me and gave a sympathetic nod, “that makes sense. So, you said you had kids?”

Smiling gratefully at the change in topic, she quickly started prattling on about her sons and husband, sounding very much like she did in her high school days. After a few blocks of that she turned the question on me.

“So, Hisao,” she started, grinning as she eyed me with her familiar probing leer, “you married Hanako. Her author blurb said you had three kids?”

I nodded, “two girls and a boy; Akio, Satomi, and Refia.”

Miki smiled, “you got any pics?”

She had already shown us a picture of her kids. They looked a bit like Miki, oddly enough. I pulled out my wallet and showed her the pictures.

“Wow,” Miki said after a few seconds of looking, “your oldest daughter has an interesting eye color.”

I nodded, my face slightly grim, “Hana says Satomi got her grandmother’s eye color; it’s where the blue comes from.”

Miki’s face copied my grim features when she handed the pictures back, but she recovered and turned on Kenji, “what about you?”

“I got an author blurb, too,” he stated, his hands fiddling with his scarf.

The entire time we had been walking, he had been nervously looking around, waiting for an ambush from any and all directions. As the afternoon wore on his paranoia seeped over to me, and I had started glancing around as well. Fortunately we were in a decent part of the city, but how safe we were really depended on how pissed at Miki the loan shark was.

Miki snapped her fingers, “oh, right, the adventure series. Says you got a wife and a kid.”

Kenji nodded and smiled, “a son, actually; Hisato. Looks just like me, ‘cept he’s got his mom’s eyes.”

After another round of picture leering, we were only a block away from where Miki said the loan shark liked to work. He apparently liked to hang around a local café. It was a small, dingy place, the kind of place that you know if you walk into, someone’s gonna try and stab you if you’re not careful. Guess this part of town was rougher than I thought.

Kenji seemed to gravitate to such places. So did people that wanted to stab him. It made for an interesting work environment, if nothing else. We walked in and the small bell above the door gave a feeble impression of a chime as we entered.

The inside was poorly lit, but at least looked clean. Or it was so dark I couldn’t see the grime. A dozen booths partitioned by walls and a small counter with six stools was the entirety of the café’s seating. Except for a young woman behind the counter and shifty looking guy in an old brown suit in the back by an old door marked as the bathroom, the place was empty.

“Welcome, what can I get you?” the woman asked with a wide grin.

Her hair was a dark green that matched her apron, and tied in a long, thin ponytail behind her. Having some experience with people and deception, I could tell the smile was genuine. Her perky attitude clashed with her place of employment so much I couldn’t help grinning as I ordered three coffees. While I ordered I noticed her hair was a few shades darker then the wallpaper.

“Hey, what are you doing here?!” the man called to us. I turned and put a hand on Miki’s shoulder to stop her from marching over to him and turning his face into modern art. She tensed up and placed her hand over mine.

“Let go,” she growled, her eyes glaring at the man.

“Here you go!” the beaming waitress placed three mugs of black coffee onto the counter. Kenji paid and grabbed two of them after some careful hand-eye coordination.

“Calm down and I will,” I growled back.

With women like her, you had to respond in kind, or they’d crush your balls and turn them into a mounted trophy. Okay, maybe listening to Kenji’s drunken ramblings on break before college had been a bad idea.

Miki closed her eyes, slowly inhaled, slowly exhaled, and I felt her body relax. I carefully lifted my hand. When she didn’t charge after the guy and strangle him, I grabbed the third cup. Glancing at Kenji, who had been letting me handle Miki, we strode over to the man’s booth.

“I want a word,” Miki declared when we were close.

“Unless you got my money, buzz off,” he snapped.

The loan shark had graying black hair and the eyes of a man who had done things. Things that he would pay dearly to forget, but couldn’t. I got the feeling he wasn’t all there, and I suspected from his bloodshot eyes and twitchy demeanor he was a current or former user of cocaine or meth. His buttoned shirt was wrinkled, and a cup of iced tea was sweating in front of him. He took a long look at Kenji and me and sniffed.

“You brought some thugs to rough me up?” he grinned, “figured you’d wanna do that yourself.”

I put my hand on Miki’s shoulder again as she drew back her arm for a punch, “please don’t provoke her. You’re making it harder for me to want to restrain her.”

He raised an eyebrow, “who the fuck are you two, anyway?”

I shrugged, “just some concerned citizens who like to help people in need.”

“We also like to sit and chat over coffee,” Kenji added, “so, let’s sit and chat.”

The loan shark glared at us for a few seconds. Eventually he nodded, “alright, since you’re already here. And you don’t strike me as taking no for an answer.”

The booths only sat two people, and the only chairs were the stools by the counter, so Kenji went to grab one rather than sit next to the loan shark. Meanwhile I sat across and to the man’s left. Miki sat across from him, glowering but refraining from physical violence. For the time being, at least.

“You come into my place of business,” the loan shark grunted, “you bring these… associates with you, while I am alone. You punch me in the face, with the hand I helped you acquire. You insult me at every single turn, and you dare to ask me to lower my interest rate –at least, that’s why I assume you’re here. You’re lucky I’m so magnanimous, or I would take more extreme action against you.”

Miki snarled and jabbed a finger at him, “You already sent three of your minions after me; the only reason they're dead and not me is because of these two.”

The man looked shocked at what she had said. I wasn’t sure if it was because we knew he had sent someone to rough her up, or because we had killed them. Kenji rejoined us at that point, plopping down a stool at the end of the table and sitting atop it.

“You want to talk about coming into places of business?” I asked, “Your three mooks came into our office, shot at us, and made a mess of our place of business with their blood.”

The loan shark snorted, “fair enough, though you chose to get involved. If you had refused to let her into your office in the first place, you wouldn’t have an issue here.”

“Well, we do have an issue,” Kenji declared, “cleaning up that mess was a pain in the ass, and didn’t come cheap, either.”

The loan shark shrugged, “you didn’t have to kill them.”

Deciding to be the voice of reason in this little endeavor, I nodded, “fair enough. Can we agree we were both a little zealous in our business?”

I felt Miki’s glare attempting to melt my face as I kept my eyes fixed on the loan shark’s, “whose side are you on?”

“The side that get’s shit done,” Kenji stated, leaning forward a bit. The loan shark recoiled slightly at that, but Kenji had likely done it so he could see the man, rather than for intimidation.

The loan shark slowly nodded to me, his gaze also ignoring Miki’s Penance Stare, “you seem like a reasonable man. Why you socialize with these two mystifies me, but never mind that. Still, the fact remains that you have cost me three employees. That in itself is worth maintaining the rate as compensation. However,” he raised a hand when I opened my mouth, “we are all reasonable people- mostly,” he glared at Miki, who glared back, her eyes daring him to deny our request, “given time and some patient negotiations, I think we could come to a new agreement. First, I must attend to other matters.”

He slowly reached into his jacket pocket and pulled out a business card, which he placed on the table. I picked it up and looked it over. The only thing written on it was an address.

“Meet me at that location in…two hours. That will give me time to look over my accounts and see if it’s viable for me to lower your rate.”

He stood up, bowed, and left the café, paying the waitress on the way out. I sighed and handed the card to Kenji. After looking intently at it a few centimeters from his face, he lowered it and sighed.

“I know that place,” he said, “It’s an old lot of office supply stores that went out of business. The wiring’s being brought up to code, so it’s abandoned.”

“In other words, it’s a trap,” I said.

Kenji nodded and grinned, “Exactly.”

+++
Next Chapter

Yeah, you saw that comin’.

I need to think out my timeline of Kenjis’s shift from feminist conspiracy nut to secret society conspiracy nut. Yes, it will be important later. Once this gorram thesis is done and I’m graduated, at least.

I swear to god there must be some meaning to the fact that I always read the newest update on the same day it comes out. If only the same could be said for some other video games.. .-.

Hoitash wrote:Kenji nodded and smiled, “a son, actually; Hisato. Looks just like me, ‘cept he’s got his mom’s eyes.”

I secretly d'awwwwwed (heterosexually >_<) at the fact that kenji named his kid (partly) after hisao.

Hoitash wrote:I need to think out my timeline of Kenjis’s shift from feminist conspiracy nut to secret society conspiracy nut. Yes, it will be important later. Once this gorram thesis is done and I’m graduated, at least.

Why can't we have both? :C

It also feels weird being the first to reply to all the chapters. it's kind of lonely ._.

LegyPlegy wrote: I secretly d'awwwwwed (heterosexually >_<) at the fact that kenji named his kid (partly) after hisao.

I did the same thing with Lilly's daughter and Hanako; rather glad I was able to think that up, too

Hoitash wrote:I need to think out my timeline of Kenjis’s shift from feminist conspiracy nut to secret society conspiracy nut. Yes, it will be important later. Once this gorram thesis is done and I’m graduated, at least.

Why can't we have both? :C

Cuz one is just kooky; the other is offensive to half the human population. Although there are those hardcore feminists that crop up. Hmm...

It also feels weird being the first to reply to all the chapters. it's kind of lonely ._.

It get's lonely on this end, too, so thanks for reading and commenting

the only reason their dead and not me is because of these two.”

Notice anything strange?

Mirage_GSM wrote:

the only reason their dead and not me is because of these two.”

Notice anything strange?

The extra quotation mark?

Mirage_GSM wrote:

the only reason their dead and not me is because of these two.”

Notice anything strange?

Ooh I see it! Their/they're confusion, right?

I'll go fix that now, and thanks for noticing

I need to think out my timeline of Kenjis’s shift from feminist conspiracy nut to secret society conspiracy nut. Yes, it will be important later. Once this gorram thesis is done and I’m graduated, at least.

I'm actually kind of curious about your timeline too at this point. Not just about the conspiracy stuff, but about how long they've been doing the gun crazy merc ... I mean "detective" business and how long its been since graduation.

i just started reading this and i just found this part to be hilarious

Hoitash wrote:
“Hmm, I remember something about the…Yakuza.”

Oh fuck.

laughed for thirty minutes