The Edo Files (Japanese Urban Fantasy)

A little flashback interlude as I work on the next update:
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"Have you ever thought about what moves the clouds, Kinjo?" You turn to look at your friend Enya as he lies on his back, staring up at the sky.

You turn from where you are swinging your bokken, going through the practice forms with determined intensity. "I guess it's the wind, right? Why worry about that stuff?"

"Sure, it's the wind, but like… what moves the wind? My dad says it's the sun. He says the sun heats the air, and the air moves, and that makes wind. And the sun makes clouds, too, and the clouds make rain, and rain makes plants. And the plants take in the sun and water to grow. Everything breathes. Everything's connected."

When Enya talks like this, you can't take your eyes away from him. It's like something in your chest hurts, but in a good way, like an itch in your soul that's soothed by scratching it, something sharp and fragile and sparkling. You have no idea how to deal with it, so you scoff a little. "Hmmph. That's silly. Plants don't breathe."

"They do, Kinjo. The foreigners, they do experiments on these things. They know all sorts of things. Secrets about the world, about the universe, that we can't even imagine. But we're learning them. I want to learn them all. I want to know how everything connects."

"My master sometimes talks about that stuff," you say. "He says you can learn swordsmanship by watching the water flow in a stream or learning how to do calligraphy, things like that. Doesn't make any sense to me." You execute a three-strike combination, with what you're sure is perfect form.

Enya rises to his feet to look at you, and you see the sparkle in his eyes, for a moment you grasp a secret of your own, something momentous and incredible that makes the whole world makes sense, but it's gone like smoke. Feeling adrift, you toss aside your wooden sword and run over to tackle Enya, wrestling him and pinning him effortlessly with swift movements. He looks up at you, face flushed, panting slightly, and you see the secret again, and this time it doesn't go away.

"H-hey! No fair Kinjo! You know I don't have samurai training!" Enya tries ineffectually to shake you off, and you let him, your face flushed with the knowledge you can't ignore anymore. He stands and brushes himself off, light shining on his hair as he runs a hand through it. "Come on, let's go down to the river. Maybe we can catch some fish!"

You are thirteen years old, and you are in love with your best friend.

[] You will seek a general divination using the cracks of a tortoise shell and an inscribed diagram of omens. Anything that narrows down the possibilities or provides a hint may be key in bringing justice and preventing further death.

"Give me a few minutes." Urakama disappears into one of the back rooms of her office, rummaging about with boxes

She comes back with a charcoal brazier, which she sets in the center of the table, odds and ends including a brush and ink, a metal rod, and a tortoise shell cut with markings.

The first thing she does is close the windows, the room is dim. Next she lights the brazier, letting the firelight flicker its light. She throws a handful of something in the flames, and it burns brighter, and a smoky, spicy odor begins to fill the room.

Amaya looks on, gaze steely, as the witch sets to work on the tortoise shell itself. She spends time painting over the cuts, and you see symbols for the five elements, the four seasons, Heaven, Earth, and other words you don't recognize. Urakama's hand movements are practiced and sure, her concentration total. When she is done, she flicks ink into the brazier, which begins to burn a darker color, a red that reminds you of drying blood.

"Shells like this," Amaya comments, "are made by hermits. The tortoise must be raised on special foods and cared for by hand. And when the time comes, they are killed with a knife to the throat, and their bodies carved up."

"And then we carve either a question or a diagram in them and crack them with a metal spear and read the cracks. You get out what you put in," Urakama nods, as she takes the metal rod from its leather sheathe and lays its end in the coals. "In magic as with any other skill. The old Shang did it first, and with deer bones and oxen too. You can do it without all the fuss, but then the bones don't have much power, and you might not get a result."

"It invites impurity," Amaya says. "By using a tool created from death, you stain yourself and us, and who knows what you might call up?"
"It's just a tortoise," Urakama says. "It's serving more of a purpose for us than it ever did in life."

She pulls out the metal rod, now glowing cherry red, and sings out in a wordless, keening cry, passing the tip forth in calligraphic swirls.

The darkness in the room is heavier, the fire hotter. The smoky smell is growing more and more bitter. Contrary to all logic, the tip of the rod doesn't fade now that it's removed from the flames… if anything it grows brighter. The hairs on your body stand up, one hand drops to your katana's hilt without any conscious thought.

With a final cry, Urakama drives the rod into the center mark on the shell. As smoke pours forth, there is a thunderous cracking sound, like the shot of a rifle.

You are too far away to read the way the cracks flow through the prepared diagram, but Urahara clearly does. "Blood!" Urakama calls out, her voice hoarse as though it is being ripped from her throat. "Blood and vengeance!" The smoke doesn't dissipate, instead gathering and swirling in the center of the room. "Vengeance yet unfinished!" The last cry is almost desparate.

Her body suddenly spasms, eyes rolling back in her head as she straightens like a rod, hands curling into claws. Amaya makes a sign with one hand and begins chanting. The smoke swirls faster and faster in the center of the room, and you can see points of light in it, like glowing, ethereal eyes.

Your hand goes to your sword, but there's no space in this small room to fight, even if you were sure you could strike effectively at whatever force is gathering in that cloud. Instead, you keep your eyes focused and gather your weight to spring if needed.

Urakama starts to laugh with another voice, a deep, rich thing like honeyed fruit. "A priestess, a half-witch and a samurai. Are these my enemies?"

Urakama's body gestures with those claw-like hands, and the smoke shoots out at you like a jagged serpent. Amaya steps in front of you, hands raised, and a shimmering shield deflects it off to the sides like liquid hitting a stone. "Be cleansed!" she cries out, two fingers raised in front of her, and a radiating shine cuts into the smoke like sunlight into a dark room. A cry of pain booms out, something bestial and inhuman, but it doesn't seem to be going away, and whatever Amaya is doing is clearly straining her, based on the drops of sweat forming on her forehead.

Urakama groans in her normal voice, and seems to be fighting her way through the possession. "You… bitch!" She jerks, body spasming and slamming itself onto the table with thumps and cracks, fighting whatever force is inside her. You can't tell who is winning.

Amaya chants further, and glowing orbs appear in the air around the smoke, crowding it, but it's clearly fighting her and whatever kami she's managing to call on. No doubt the lack of spiritual purity here in this dusty room isn't making this her ideal battlefield. And even if she wins, you're not sure she can do it in time to prevent Urakama from beating herself into a pulp.

Not willing to leave things to chance, you spring into action.

"Good, go get help!" Amaya says as you dodge out the door to the main shop, not bothering to correct her… and spring back in a few moments, and throw something in the brazier.

A pair of Seven Treasures incense sticks.

Within moments, the flames in brazier begin to glow bright white. A scent cuts through the air, a sort of cleanliness that dissolves the bitter tang.

Urakama's body lets out a cry of intense frustration, and she nearly slams her head on the table, gritting her teeth, before you see the muscles relax as whatever force holding onto her begins to depart. Her eyes seem to blaze with an inner fire as there is a soundless, forceless push that travels through the room.

The smoke writhes and collapses in on itself, then erupting forth in a perfectly mundane cloud of ash.

Urakama coughs. "Hmmph. Spiteful little thing. Well, she'll be feeling that for a while." She collapses onto the table, then looks at the two of you. "Good work. I'll charge your office for the incense, though."

You decide it's best not to argue with that. "So that was our witch?"

Urakama throws salt and water on the brazier, letting out a cloud of steam. "Seems that way. Must have set her familiar to wait for anyone who came looking into the murder. She packs a punch, that's for sure."

"And you invited it into our laps." Amaya said. Urakama stares at her but holds her tongue, puffing on her pipe held between bloodstained lips. You raise a hand between them. You made the call after all, and there was no point in inviting discord between your allies

"Blood and vengeance, yet unfinished." You repeat. "What kind of bloodshed could our landlord have committed? Some crime in his youth?"

"Maybe so," Urakama said. "But I meant family blood." She looks at the tortoise shell, rotating it in her hand and examining the cracks.

"A relative of the landlord?" Amaya asks.

"Maybe." Urakama said. "A family tie is important, I can tell you that."

"And there will be more victims, if we don't solve this." You look Urakama in the eyes and she nods in confirmation.

You look at your companions. Urakama is beaten and bloody, and Amaya seems pale, no doubt drained by whatever spiritual power she put into the battle in front of you. "Tea," you announce. "Let us have some tea."

The Fire Spice Teahouse is not one of the hidden gems of the pleasure districts, nor even one of the more sophisticated establishments in the samurai quarters. Still, it is a pleasant enough place, of the sort a well-to-do merchant might frequent. You are set in a secluded room in the back, and the strings of a shamisen filter through the thick walls set with hangings, and the tea is of reasonable quality. The best thing is the food - a tray of delicacies sits before you, bites of sushi, sweet rice cakes and more.

You nibble at a rice cake as you stare at the ceiling. "I'm trying to figure out where this man's money went," you complain. "I haven't seen the figures yet, but I bet he brought in plenty. Yet he lived little better than a peasant."

"There are three great vices that work to separate man from the divine," Amaya notes. "Drink, gambling and sexual pursuits."

"Well, there are some pretty interesting things you can smoke, too, plus doctors, fortune-tellers, kabuki, kimono collecting…" Urakama ticks off on her fingers.

"Yes, but I doubt a tenement landlord was collecting extravagant kimono." Amaya says.

"While we can't rule anything out, we also can't chase every possibility," you say. "If our landlord was killing himself with drink, this witch would have had no need to resort to dark magic to kill him. Of Amaya's three vices, that leaves gambling, and the pleasures of the flesh."

"You think the yakuza hire witches to explode their debtors?" Urakama tsks. "I wish! I could use the business. Much cheaper to get a brace of strapping young men with axes or mallets to do it for them."

"Don't be so limited," Amaya says in between sips. "He could have committed a crime because of his gambling debts."

"There was a painting of a woman in his room," you remember. "One of the only notable things there." But it could have been a courtesan, a paramour, or just something purchased from a shop.

You have rested from your exertions, and the tea will soon grow cold. Where do you go from here?

You have determined that the motive is a matter of vengeance, that a familial connection is involved, and that the killer is a female witch with a spirit familiar. You also know that more deaths are on the horizon, that the sun is starting to drift lower in the sky, and that evil tends to strike at night.

Neither Urakama nor Amaya are prepared to do any magical workings after what just happened, but they have both decided to accompany you. (AKA Urakama has joined the party!) However, after what just happened, neither are interested in splitting up.

[] You will return to the Office and lend your hands and eyes to the work of sorting through the landlord's papers. You will sacrifice the initiative, but you will decrease the chance of chasing a false lead.
[] You will return to the tenement house and interrogate the residents as to the landlord's habits. It may take time, but surely one of them would know if he had any romantic partners or if he frequented any pleasure houses.
[] You will seek out one of your yakuza informants, one you know well. You could likely find out quickly if the landlord was in trouble with gambling or crime in any way.
[] You will explore the pleasure houses of the area around the tenement. It will take time to canvas them all, but if you are lucky, you could be in time to prevent the next death.
[] Write-in:

[X] You will return to the tenement house and interrogate the residents as to the landlord's habits. It may take time, but surely one of them would know if he had any romantic partners or if he frequented any pleasure houses.

"Oh, he was a right old ass," the middle aged woman who sat before you said. "He said he would lend us bowls and chopsticks when we first rented from him, but he charged us separately for each chopstick!"

"That old man was always skulking about!" said the neighborhood urchin you were interrogating. They were of indeterminate gender and stared at you with wide eyes. "I don't know where, though. Are those real samurai swords? Can I hold one?"

"You're a cute one!" An old lady who peers at you through squinted eyes says. "I have a granddaughter who would be a lovely mistress for you. She has all her teeth, and a lovely singing voice! Yes, I heard the screams, but I'm an old woman; what do you expect me to do about that?"

For what seems like an eternity, you grind through interrogation after interrogation. The residents who were present at the time of the murder definitely remember it - the screams were described in all manner of bloodcurdling ways, as well as the roaring of some creature and the sounds of a (brief) struggle. However, no one intervened. It happened very quickly, over the space of a minute or two, and no heroes dwelt in the home.

It appears that the landlord was a busy-body, often bothering the residents for rent. He supplemented his income by renting out furnishings, utensils and other items, but they were low quality and charged at outrageous amounts. Some accused him of not making it clear that these items came as a rental rather than a gift.

Several of the nosier residents had noticed the landlord's lack of obvious spending as well. His clothes were not ostentatious, his belongings not particularly fine. In fact, aside from time spent bothering and scamming his tenants, he rarely spent his time in the home.

Finally, you start receiving hits.

"Oh, it's funny you should mention that." A young woman with a revealing robe and a eloquent, affected way of speaking says. "I saw the landlord in the merchant's district the other day. He was at the jewelers of all things. Looking at jade pendants. I do so adore jade, Inspector; I think it sets off my skin tone, don't you?" She flashes a wrist bearing a bracelet in front of your face.

"I believe that one would have welcomed a private inspection, Kinjo," Amaya says with a carefully straight face.

"Shopping for a husband, but in the wrong market, I think." Urakama says. "Pity I'm not twenty years younger…"

"I never saw where the landlord went…" the man in front of you said. He was bright-eyed, with a lean laborer's build, wearing the waist wrap that most workers wore in the heat and distractingly little else. "But he did ask me to run an errand for him once! It was to the Honeyed House!" He gets a little misty-eyed. "Man, the courtesans there were something else! I only got a peek but…"

Urakama raises her hand, perhaps to make some followup question, perhaps to make some remark about the laborer attributes, but you are already rising. "We must go," you say, feet propelling you with desperate speed. Outside, you see the sun is well below the horizon, only the hint of light remaining. "With luck, we may be in time!"

You accelerate as you pass down the street, leaving your companions to huff and puff behind you. The crowd is thin at night, which is good, but the lantern-cut darkness makes the footing treacherous, which is not. Your sandals crunch on something - you do not let it distract you from your mission.

You almost draw your sword as you descend down the street of pleasure houses, but you avoid it. The street is unremarkable - a round middle-aged man strolls with a male and female courtesan, one on each arm. Painted lanterns project suggestive images in the shadows along the street's path, shifting gently in the evening breeze.

There - you see it - a shadow that moves. Long and slithering, it seeps under one of the window coverings like a stain across fabric.

Moving like the wind, you propel yourself through the door and enter into a world of silk and flesh. Men and women in a half-dressed state lounge on cushions, drink from bowls of sake and play musical instruments. Paper screens provide an illusion of discretion, but anyone with any interest in privacy is no doubt in a private room further in.

Your entry was hardly subtle, and a woman dressed in a sternly luxurious robe comes to gret you, a hint of annoyance in her eyes. "How may I help you, Inspector…?" She takes in your badge, but doesn't seem intimidated by it.

"There's no time to explain,' you say, "but someone here is in danger."

"I assure you, we have security of our own." The woman says. Indeed, a large man and larger woman appear to be making their way in your direction.

"Not against this," Amaya says. "The danger here is spiritual."

The hostess's eye twitches. "I hope this is not some attempt at lecturing us on the spiritual evils of our trade…"

"It's getting away!' Urakama shouts, pointing. The shadow is darting upstairs.

There is no time to talk down the hostess. You leap past her, finding your way blocked by the two bouncers. "Gonna have to ask you to stop -" the man says.

You bounce off the balls of your feet, rising in the air, and your sandaled foot snaps out, catching him in the chin. You twist, reaching out with your hands, and send him sprawling, using the momentum to send yourself spinning over to the large woman, who makes a surprised sound but ends up on the ground with you straddling her. You roll off before she has a chance to react and then you are up the stairs, leaving Amaya and Urakama to hopefully patch things up rather than entangle themselves further.

The spirit creature is heading upstairs, you dodge past patrons, your sandaled feet knocking on the wooden floor as you chase up. It slithers between the legs of a man clad in embroidered hakama and you push past, darting towards the closed door which the creature is heading for.

It oozes under the doorway just as you catch up, barging through the door with no care for what you find, which is a well-appointed office, with a woman in well-made but casually fitted clothing and sloppily arranged hair-do. She was clearly in the middle of paperwork and looks up at you with astonishment, just as the shadow coalesces with a sound like parchment ripping in reverse.

The familiar's material form is that of a massive centipede, its many legs forming the jagged marks on the sides of what you thought had been a serpent formed from smoke. You glimpse the same fiery eyes you saw looking out from the smoke before revealed to be compound as they glitter like garnets. Massive serrated mouth-parts look more than capable of the disemboweling strikes you saw performed on the landlord. Its smell is like old paper, dried blood and grave dirt.

This is a poor place to fight such a beast with its long, agile body, but you have little choice in the matter. You draw your katana and leap up and forward, intercepting the beast's strike at the pleasure house's headmistress (or so you assume her to be) with your katana and body.

It slams into you, and you plant your feet on the desk to avoid being thrown into the back wall. Your sword's blade is pinned between its jaws. "Run!" you call out to the headmistress. "There is a priestess downstairs, she will protect you!"

You hope you are not underselling Amaya's skills. Locking the blade in between the centipede's mouthparts, you lure it into pitting force against force, biting on the blade repeatedly. You quietly thank the smith for forging such a well-made blade.

But bearing an ordinary steel katana is not why you were chosen as an Inspector of the Office of Enigmatic Affairs. True, you are reasonably bright, when you apply yourself, and you are uncommonly skilled with a sword in the age of the Great Peace and the samurai bureaucrat. It is also true that you were drawn into one of the Office's cases soon after coming to Edo, and you accounted yourself well in that affair.

But you are fairly certain it is also your second sword that piqued the Office's attention. Placing your hand on the hilt of the blade in your smaller sheathe - by all appearances that of a mundane wakizashi - you draw it forth, and it adopts its true form, that of:

[] A naginata with an elegant crescent blade, black calligraphy marking the blade with the character for "Silver." This blade is said to bear the spirit of a female warrior of old, and it rises to the occasion of martial challenges, granting power to its wielder in proportion to their courage and skill. (Take this weapon if you want to introduce subplots involving martial arts and highlight Kinjo's martial skills against the decadent Tokugawa samurai mainstream).

[] An old katana, stained red with blood. This demonic blade nearly vibrates in your hand with eagerness for battle, in the hopes of being able to devour the blood and lives of its foes. The raw power of this blade cannot be matched, but it is always a test of wills to tame and channel its essence. (Take this weapon if you wish to have a complicated relationship with the yokai you fight - you have a weapon of unparalleled violent power, but is violence the best way to solve situations?)

[] An even more ancient chokuto, a straight-bladed sword, with a beautiful sapphire set in its hilt. This weapon hums with elemental power, the power of the storm. This weapon was said to be the legendary sword of a warrior kami of lightning. (Take this weapon if you want Kinjo's battles to be less grounded, more overtly magical - and to strengthen the roles of the gods and kami in the story).

[] A Western firearm of advanced make, a pistol that can fire many shots with remarkable accuracy and power. The gun has some sort of blessing laid upon it by its makers and the Office has experimented with specialized ammunition for different yokai. (Take this weapon if you want to increase Kinjo's connections with Westerners and want them to play a larger role in the story).