Ronin for Hire
Daniel stared blankly at the closed door, shook his head to snap out of it, and pounded on it with a thud.
"Hey! Wait a sec, hear me out! Hey!"
The racket brought the door open again, chain still latched. Roque's black eyes peered through the gap.
"Shut up. Keep it up and I'll file a complaint."
"C-complaint..."
Daniel faltered at the word, and Roque slammed the door shut. The metallic clang jolted him back. He pressed against it, yelling.
"Goddamn it! This isn't about complaints! You—you ronin! Think I can't get a warrant? I held off on purpose! Pinning suspicion on you takes a mountain of red tape! I know you're tied to that factory fire yesterday—"
The door flew open, chain off. Roque stood in the center. Daniel stumbled back.
Roque's black eyes fixed on him silently. Daniel retreated until his back hit the corridor wall.
Roque spoke.
"Threatening me?"
"Y-yeah. If I have to. Depends on what you do. But right now, only I know. Well, my senior too, but he's in a coma..."
Daniel clamped his mouth shut. He'd just blurted out his leverage in front of the target. In Midland.
Roque's gaze deepened.
"Not cut out for negotiations, detective."
"...What?"
The next instant, Daniel locked eyes with Roque's blacks. He hadn't meant to. But that bottomless well dragged him in. Cold sweat soaked his back. His right hand drifted to his hip holster.
"You... you kill a cop and..."
Daniel's pupils dilated. Something gleamed beyond those black eyes—a chilling gray in the pupils. A lone star of death in a pitch-black night sky.
His hand froze on the gun. A glint flickered in Roque's eyes.
"Good instincts, detective."
Released from the eerie pressure, Daniel slid down the wall in a heap. Slumped on the floor, he stared blankly for a moment, then twisted his face. Hands over his eyes, he started sobbing.
Roque's face showed bewilderment at the sudden breakdown.
"Hey."
"Sniff... goddamn it. Hic..."
No answer, just crying. Roque thought, What the hell is this guy on? His posture slouched. For an MLPD detective—tied deep with corps and gangs, sometimes called a mega-gang itself—this was pathetically soft.
Someone tugged his clothes. Elizabeth looked up at him.
"Why."
"Tea ready."
"What?"
She turned back to the kitchen. Roque watched blankly, sighed, rubbed his eyes, and stepped aside.
"...Come in."
Daniel looked up, snot streaming.
"Huh?"
Roque stared silently. Daniel scrambled up and entered. The door clanged shut again.
Sitting in a chair, wiping tears, Daniel took the warm mug from Elizabeth and bowed his head.
"Th-thanks."
He slurped steadily, then glanced at her.
"...Didn't know you had a daughter."
"Not daughter."
"Huh? Niece then?"
Roque, arms crossed against the sink, eyed him dangerously.
"Curious?"
"...No. Not at all."
Daniel shook his head fast. Suddenly, the detective gig felt pointless. His nose twitched. Elizabeth offered tissues.
"Th-thanks."
Roque watched the dimwit blow his nose. No corporate or gang stooge would act this dumb.
He said, "How'd you find me?"
Daniel wiped, switched to serious—though his dignity was shot from the hysterics.
"Aura Master turned mercenary in the back alleys. Rumor's spreading in Midland. Sharp ones know it's real. Me too, from insights across countless crime scenes..."
"Cut the bullshit."
"...My senior told me."
"Who's that."
"Detective Harry Welsson."
Roque rubbed his chin.
"Don't know the name."
"He knew you. Said he's seen your sword marks for years..."
A detective piecing together sword traces. Roque figured it made sense. He'd been active long enough. Even in Midland—world's biggest metro, population over 30 million—folks like that mage who'd craved his body would catch on.
He'd never planned to ghost forever, never hidden much. Just few survived seeing his Aura Blade. And he differed from other Aura Masters.
Snapping from thought, Roque asked, "Why you, not him?"
"Senior's... in a coma now..."
Daniel gripped the mug, face gloomy.
"He nearly died this time. Orc-style, charging Valhalla or whatever..."
"Explain. How'd it come to this."
Daniel nodded at the questions, gathered his thoughts, and spoke.
"You see the news? MLPD's chasing 'Tree's Children' terrorists. Stirring shit for weeks. Me and senior tracked 'em from the first case. Last week, we had a lead. But..."
He fiddled with the mug, hesitating—debating how much to spill. Then steeled himself.
"As attacks ramped and cases blew up, brass got involved. Showboats and politickers, not real investigators. Factories exploding, people dying, hurt—but they're ass-kissing corp execs. No real probe. Some even sabotaged us. We lost the perps right in front of us once."
Daniel's face twisted in growing rage. His eyes reddened again.
"...Senior's experience kept us on their tail. Two days ago, we cornered their boss. Nabbing him then could've stopped this morning's attack. If backup came faster, on time... If brass trusted senior from the start and sent forces..."
Roque watched the outburst emotionlessly.
"Got the MLPD infighting picture. But why me?"
"The boss who carved senior up. Used an Aura Blade. Glowing heat-whip. That's it, right? Senior said Aura Master needs another to counter. Only one I know... you."
Roque skipped correcting the blade type. Vast gap between Aura Blade and heat weapons, but this rookie wouldn't spot it.
"MLPD has elites. SWAT, mayor's guard. Aura Master in the guard, right?"
"Requested 'em! But... damn, brass ignored me. Too busy elsewhere. Bastards blamed senior's injury on gang hunts, talked discipline. Unconscious guy..."
Daniel slammed the mug down, stared straight at Roque.
"Not asking much. I handle grunts. But that boss—dodging bullets, slicing senior's limbs—I can't. I know where they are. Just face him for me."
Roque shook his head.
"I'm a merc. Sword for pay. Got cash?"
"C-cash?"
Daniel's lips quivered.
"Money... not much, but... think connections. Cop ally. Me first, senior wakes up..."
"Two outcast detectives? Don't need that. No money, drink and go."
Roque straightened, turned to the living room. Daniel gaped at his back, eyes shut tight, then open.
He yelled, "People dying, hurt! Announced victims are one-third! Cops chasing terrorists diverted to bribed corp factories! More deaths coming, corps covering..."
Daniel trembled, dropped to knees.
"P-please. Won't forget help. Not corp terror—save workers, normal folks from the chaos..."
Roque faced away, Daniel knelt staring at floor. Elizabeth sat opposite, sipping warm milk, watching. Roque glanced; she met his gaze blankly.
Roque sighed, turned fully.
"Really not cut out for negotiations, detective."
"Uh? I-I'm new to detective rank..."
"Sure that was an Aura Blade that diced your senior."
Daniel nodded vigorously.
"Sliced implants and rebar concrete like pudding. No vibro-katana does that."
Roque eyed the window.
"Aura Master's been a while. Ten grand upfront. Rest and details after."
"T-ten grand? Fine, break savings..."
"Go."
Daniel sprang up, headed out, paused.
"Meeting informant tomorrow afternoon. Bring cash first, move together."
Roque nodded. Daniel grinned brighter than at the door, thumbs-upped leaving.
Alone, Roque gazed out, pondered. Terror boss an Aura Master? Unclear. Rare numbers meant few knew traits; survivors didn't testify well.
Some mystics faked it with high-output implants. Maybe this too.
Still, success meant cop ties. Better than nothing for an outlaw merc—widened ops.
Elizabeth finished milk, rinsed cup, tugged Roque. Looking down, she blinked slowly.
"Sleepy."
"..."
Roque carried her to bed, tucked her. She snored instantly.
Bedless, he sat on sofa, watched her sleep. Unreadable thoughts crossed his black eyes.
Next day, Daniel arrived with ten grand cash. Hands shook handing it over; Roque took it without hesitation.
They took Daniel's car. Black Knight too conspicuous.
"...Why's the kid coming?"
Daniel eyed the black-haired girl in the mirror. Roque skipped the tears story, pointed left index forward: Drive.
Daniel recalled those eyes, shut up, drove. As long as Roque fought well.
Soon, they reached the old market apartments. Alley teemed.
"There. Let's go."
Elizabeth tried following; Roque's glare stopped her. She sat back meekly.
Roque and Daniel parked, climbed dirty stairs—no elevator.
Daniel led to fifth floor. Far end, figures shuffled, spotted them, froze.
Both halted. Ominous dread hit all.
Someone broke silence.
"Cops!"
Submachine guns and pistols flashed.
Simultaneously, a gray blade surged from Roque's right hand.
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