Night Sword Detective Complete First Season Box Set Read online

  The Night Sword Detective

  The Complete First Season

  M.W. Arita

  Dedication

  To Family, Friends, My Wonderful Partner Yukari,

  My First Fan Sandra,

  And All Current and Future Readers Everywhere.

  Let Us Have the Courage to Chase Our Dreams

  And Change the World.

  I would also like to express my deepest gratitude to my editor, Amanda, and Alex, Diego, DeOnn, Drew, Justin, and Korravai for their insight, expertise, and encouragement that made these books possible.

  The Night Sword Detective

  The Complete First Season

  An Aeonian Covenant Universe Collection

  M. W. Arita

  The Night Sword Detective is a work of fiction.

  The characters, stories, and worlds portrayed in these novels are creations of the author’s imagination. Any resemblance to actual persons or events is purely coincidental.

  Copyright © M.W. Arita

  Cover by Yukapi III

  Cover copyright © Aeonian Entertainment

  The unauthorized copying, distribution, or sale of these books is an infringement on the author’s intellectual property. If you wish to use material from these books, please contact the author at [email protected].

  First U.S. Edition, December 2019

  Version 1.0

  The Aeonian Covenant Universe and related content are copyright © 2019 by M.W. Arita and Aeonian Entertainment.

  Contents

  City of the Night Sword

  Herald of the Night Sword

  Spirit of the Night Sword

  Flight of the Night Sword

  Blood of the Night Sword

  Serpent of the Night Sword

  City of the Night Sword

  The Night Sword Case Files #1

  Contents

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  1

  Reiko Shirakawa knew right then and there, during her engagement party, that she wanted to kill herself.

  She knelt on a set of cushions at the head of an elongated wooden table that rested low to the ground. The beaming faces of her girl friends surrounded her. Chatter and raucous laughter from other parties resounded through the air at the izakaya1. A grilled, smoky scent wafted from the yakitori2 and kushiyaki3 that lay scattered on small, round china plates. The perspiration on her (non-alcoholic) lime cocktail glass dampened her fingers, cool to the touch. Yes, that’s how she’d do it.

  Her best friend Airi Wakamoto, a charming, upbeat girl with light-brown highlights in her shoulder-length hair and a beauty mark on her left cheek, rose and inhaled.

  “Thank you all so much for coming,” she said in a cheerful tone, then turned to Reiko. “Rei-chan4, once again, I wanna say congratulations! You’re a lucky lady since Kurimura-san’s5 such a sweet guy…but he’s an even luckier man for finding you.”

  Reiko flashed an embarrassed smile, burying the truth. If only they knew.

  Airi finished her speech, tossing in an anecdote about how much Kurimura-san resembled the “ideal man” Reiko wrote about it her diary when they were kids, right down to his career. Reiko had wanted to marry a doctor, and Kurimura-san was an esteemed physician at the Fukuoka Central Ward Hospital. Chiseled good looks, a snazzy dresser, sensitive to her needs, and with a secure, high-paying job. The stuff of fairy tales brought to life.

  The party of girls stood and raised their glasses. About a dozen people in all, dressed in casual clothing and hefty amounts of make-up for a Sunday night out.

  “Congratulations, Rei-chan!” Airi cried. “Kanpai!”

  “Kanpai!” the others cheered. They clinked their glasses together then sipped their cocktails. Reiko drained her own cup, enjoying the citrusy flavor and brief respite from the voice screaming in her head. The girls set their glasses on the table and clapped.

  “Okay, Rei-chan,” Airi continued. “Your turn. Speech time.”

  The drink trembled in Reiko’s hands. She ignored her friend’s voice and kept gulping it down.

  “Uh, hello? Rei-chan?”

  Reiko finished emptying her glass and let out a refreshed “ahhh!”

  “Wow,” Airi giggled. “That good, huh? Want me to order you another one? Our nomihōdai6 time’s still good for another hour and a half or so.”

  “It’s okay,” Reiko shook her head, staring at the tatami floor. “I’ve had enough.”

  “You all right? You’re lookin’ a little pale.”

  “Hmmm?” Reiko mumbled.

  The voice in the dark crevices of her mind began shouting louder and louder. “Do it now! Right now!”

  “Yeah, I’m fine. A speech, right?”

  Reiko got on her feet and gazed at her friends around the room. Their eyes were mirrors, reflecting a mixture of admiration and envy.

  “Thank you for showing up tonight, everyone,” Reiko said, brimming with pleasure and pride. “I’m so happy I could burst! I really could.” She glanced at her best friend. “But your time and kind words are wasted on me. It’s time to silence the voice.”

  In a seamless blur of motion, she smashed her empty drink against the table. The crashing sound of the shattered glass rang through the air, as did the screams of the startled girls.

  “R-R-Rei-chan?” Airi stammered. “What’re you—no!”

  Before her friend could stop her, Reiko snatched a jagged shard of the broken glass and slit her naked throat along her Adam’s apple. The clean cut severed her carotid arteries, causing fountains of blood to blast from the wound. She bathed the room in a sea of red as she collapsed and knocked over plates of food.

  The screams erupted louder around her as her consciousness faded.

  “Oh, my god!” Airi shrieked, holding her best friend and trying in vain to stop the jets of blood with moist towels. “Somebody, help! Quick! We need a doctor!”

  A doctor, huh? Reiko’s final thoughts echoed through her dying brain. How ironic.

  Her blood pressure plummeted as she bled out. She could no longer hear her friends’ voices panicking over her. A bright light pierced her field of vision and tore through her consciousness, beckoning her to the other side.

  At least the voice finally stopped yelling at her. She’d finally have peace.

  2

  A week later, Airi found herself wandering the streets of downtown Hakata Ward. Firm gusts blew from the harbor nearby that faced the Sea of Japan. Her ears pounded from the drilling of the construction work happening on the right side of the road. Older men in bright-blue uniforms and white hard hats waved for her to cross the street.

  The humidity of the wet August weather soaked her forehead and clothing in sweat. Her short-sleeved white blouse stuck to her tanned skin as if she’d just jumped into a pool. Japanese summers, especially down here in Kyushu, were simply oppressive. The air itself weighed down on your shoulders. Towering palm trees lined the grassy divide in the road and swayed lazily in the ocean wind. The greasy, oily smell of tonkotsu ramen1 wafted gently through the vents of the noodle stand as she passed it.

  She was getting close. She’d made her way from the main Tenjin shopping area to a busy intersection. Flashy, colorful lights and video screen advertisements from the pachinko parlor across the road nearly blinded her…even in broad daylight. Their electric bill must be insanely high, she thought. The light changed to green and played the usual chime. At the other end, she came to a tall, worn-down, multi-story building with glass double-doors. The plastic handle on the left door had been broken off.

  The first floor contained an animal hospital and veterinarian clinic. Cute, cartoony drawings of happy, healthy mascot dogs and cats were scrawled on the walls, clashing with the suffering of the real animals inside. She continued beyond the clinic and up the narrow flight of stairs. The steps were uneven and almost tripped her as she made her way up. She kept going past a beauty salon and snack bar until she reached the fourth floor. A simple sign on the door at the end of the hallway read, “Ryūsei Uchida, Private Investigator.” It had been printed out on card stock with Times New Roman font, and the ink had been slightly smeared.

  “This must be the place,” Airi muttered to herself and examining the business card she carried. She double-checked and compared the sign to the card in her hand. “Ryūsei Uchida, the Night Sword Detective. Address is Tsumashōji 11-11, Hakata Ward. Yup, this is it!”

  She gingerly lifted a finger and pressed the doorbell, then waited politely with her hands folded over her navy-blue plaid skirt. No response. She tried again. Were they closed? No, the lights seemed to be on inside. Frustration building, she mashed the button, filling the office with the “ding-dong!” chime over and over.

  “Hey!” a female voice yelled from inside. “Get up! There’s someone at the door!”

  A deeper, masculine voice mumbled something, followed by shuffling footsteps. Two silhouettes appeared behind the window glass. The latch clicked, and the door opened.

  In the doorway slouched a boy about her age. He rubbed his beady eyes that had dark, baggy circles under them and stared at her. His messy black hair was shaved shorter on the sides and hung over his fo
rehead in longer locks. A lone earring looped around his left ear. His fit, lean torso muscles poked out through his long-sleeved dress shirt. A silver tie dangled from his collar. When he straightened his back, she noticed that he stood only an inch or two taller than her.

  He opened his mouth wide, letting out a big yawn. The girl next to him struck him in the side with an elbow. Since she stood out of the door frame, Airi couldn’t get a good look at her.

  “Oof!” the boy winced. “What was that for?” Airi suspected that he was affecting a deeper voice that wasn’t his natural tone of speaking.

  “We finally get another potential client and you greet them like that? Act more professional, Ryūsei!”

  “Gimme a break,” he scoffed. “That was my third all-nighter straight. And you’re one to talk. While I was studyin’, you were just layin’ around playin’ ‘Fortnite!’”

  “Hey now, somebody’s gotta teach those rude noobs a lesson or two. And it might as well be me.”

  “Um,” Airi spoke up, “Excuse me? Am I at the right place? I’m here to see a Mr. Ryūsei Uchida, the private eye.”

  “Yeah, that’s me,” the boy said, rubbing his side. “What can I do for ya?”

  “Wait…you’re Mr. Ryūsei Uchida? Aren’t you, like, my age, though?”

  He shrugged. “I dropped outta high school and this is what I do now. Long story. Anyway, you got a case? Lay it on me.”

  Airi stared at the dusty, cracked tile floor. “It’s, well…kind of a sensitive issue, so…”

  A hand smacked the detective over the head. “What’re you doing?” the other girl snapped. “Let her in already! She obviously doesn’t wanna talk about her problem out here in the open. Geez, Ryūsei, you’re so clueless.”

  “Ow!” he cried. “Okay, okay, fine.” He grinned sheepishly at Airi and motioned for her to enter. “Sorry. I’m still kinda new to this, to be honest with you. C’mon in.”

  “It’s all right,” she said with a bow as she stepped into the office. “And thank you. I just don’t know who else to turn to. I’m not sure anyone would bel—woah!”

  Airi stopped in her tracks and eyed the other girl, now in full view. She had a sporty, athletic build, a skinny torso, and long legs. She was dressed in the exact same school uniform, right down to the navy-blue plaid skirt and black knee-high stockings. Her long, bushy locks cascaded down past her waist. A pronounced nose protruded from between a pair of almond, chocolate-brown eyes. She smiled at Airi with high cheekbones and deep dimples.

  “Hiya, Wakamoto-san,” the girl said in a bubbly, friendly voice.

  “Yagiri-san!” Airi blurted with wide eyes. “What’re you doing here?”

  “I’m this goofball’s business partner,” she replied, pointing at the detective boy. “It’s what I do outside of school time. Think of it as my part-time gig.”

  Now that Airi ran into Tsukiha Yagiri, her acquaintance in Class 3-3 at the Fukuoka Girls High School, a sense of relief, comfort, and familiarity washed over her.

  “I had no idea you worked at a private eye’s office. That’s so cool.”

  “It has its moments,” Tsukiha said, then rolled her eyes. “But the pay could be better.”

  “I don’t even pay you,” Ryūsei retorted.

  “Exactly my point.”

  Airi made her way through the “office,” which appeared to actually be a one-bedroom apartment with an overly large desk sitting under the opposite window. The office seemed to suffer from a split-personality problem, since half of the main bedroom was neat, orderly, and spotless while the other looked (and smelled) like a mossy swamp. The three of them were certainly not the only life-forms in the room. The messy side contained half-eaten plastic bento boxes, empty potato chip bags, popcorn kernels, piles of dirty clothes, open shōnen manga volumes with their pages creased, plastic Coke bottles, cardboard pizza boxes, and mismatched pairs of chopsticks that lay strewn about. Moldy bread sat unfinished on paper plates.

  “Sorry about the mess,” Ryūsei uttered.

  “I don’t mind.” She kept a smile plastered on her face and tried to hide her disgust. It’s obvious whose half is whose, she thought to herself. Ugh, boys. So gross.

  “Here.” He pulled up a rickety, wobbly plastic chair for her, then sank into a swivel chair on the other side of the desk. “So, what can I do for you, Miss…?”

  Airi sat and watched as Tsukiha plopped onto a cherry-red sofa and wriggled her bare toes in the air. The detective’s partner reached for a bag of barbecue-flavored chips, tore it open, and dumped the contents into her mouth. On the same end-table with the rotten food and pizza boxes rested a small high-definition TV with multiple video game consoles hooked up to it. The consoles were covered in thick layers of dust, and the wires criss-crossed into a tangled web on the floor. She grabbed an opened, half-full Coke bottle and chugged it, then belched.

  “Hey,” Tsukiha called. “You seen my Playstation controller?”

  “Probably under the mountain of clothing, I’d wager,” Ryūsei replied.

  She fished around a mess of stockings, skirts, and bras. “Found it!”

  Airi continued watching her classmate in horror. She’d never seen this side of her before. She’d also never seen a girl her age this messy and disgusting before. Tsukiha flicked bits of chips off her blouse, plugged a headset into her controller, and faced the TV. Soon, the sounds of gunshots and engines blared from the speakers.

  “Boom!” Tsukiha roared into her microphone. “Headshot, baby! Take that!”

  “A-ny-way,” Ryūsei said, clearly getting irritated. “You’ll have to excuse my partner. Please tell me your name and your case.”

  Airi snapped herself out of her distracted daze and began her explanation. “I’m Airi Wakamoto. My best friend, Reiko Shirakawa, committed suicide a week ago on August 4th.”

  “Oh, right.” The detective put on a pair of stylish rectangular glasses and fumbled around stacks of documents until he found a copy of the local paper. “I read about that one. The ‘Super Genki’ izakaya, right?”

  She nodded. “We’d just gone there to celebrate her recent engagement to her boyfriend.”

  “Atsushi Kurimura. 29 years old. Recent med school graduate who just opened up a practice here in town.”

  “That’s correct. I’m impressed you know the details so well.”

  He grinned. “All part of the job, really. Cause of death was blood loss from a self-inflicted throat cut.”

  Tears welled up in her eyes. “It was…it was so horrible. I still have nightmares about it.”

  “I’m sorry to hear,” Ryūsei said, folding his hands on the desk. “But the police already investigated and determined it was suicide. Why come to me?”

  “Because she—“

  “Die!” Tsukiha interrupted, screaming into her headset and belting out maniacal laughter. “Yeah, that’s right! I owned you! What? What did you just call me? Listen, kid, you better shut up before I come over there and kick your—”

  “Hey!” Ryūsei snapped. “Keep it down. We’re in the middle of a case. Weren’t you the one who said we needed to act more professional?”

  “Yes, ‘dad,’” she droned. “Geez, it’s hot as eight thousand hells in here. Can we puh-leeze turn the A/C on?”

  “I already told you…we can’t afford it. Just deal with it.”

  She groaned. “Ungh…any more of this and I’m gonna melt like the Wicked Witch of the West. At least she didn’t die of heat stroke.” She sat up and slipped out of her blouse and skirt, then stretched out across the couch in her underwear.