Realistic or Modern The Detective & Her Ghost

[PauciloquentPumpkin]

It's a beautiful spring day in Manhattan, New York. Claire, a 27 year old detective for the local police department is a workaholic, though today is a momentous occasion. She is preparing for her first day off in years, having been forced to take a break by her superiors. Something lame about how she works too much. Standing in front of her bathroom mirror, finishing her preparations, she sees a woman staring back. Her brown, almond shaped eyes look over her sandy blonde hair, neatly combed and brought up into a ponytail. Gazing down, she notes her olive skin, dry, but free from blemishes. Her body, 5'7", is toned, showing off her athleticism. She takes one last look at her dull yellow tank top and grey sweatpants before heading out.

After a few stretches, Claire takes a deep breathe of the familiar morning air, then begins her daily run. Her route takes her out of her neighborhood, filled with small, one story houses. She runs through a lengthy park path and past the cemetery. Making her way through another neighborhood she notices something odd. There's a house with a broken window. There's no glass outside, leading Claire to believe it was broken from the outside. As she makes her way towards the house, she notices that the front door is also slightly open. She cautiously makes her way to the door and calls out, "Hello, is anyone home?" She hears no response, so she slowly makes her way inside.

"This is detective Affendi, is anyone home?" Claire calls out again... no response. She enters into a hallway with several passages on either side. At first glance, it appears as if little has been touched. She makes her way to the kitchen on the right. Once more, there is no evidence of a robbery. As she cautiously walked back, to the living room across from the kitchen, she calls out again, "Hello, this is detective Affendi. I saw a broken window and wanted to check if everything's alright." Once more, there is no response.

Claire immediately notices a body on the floor after entering the living room. A middle aged Caucasian male. He's laying face down in a pool of blood. His hair is stained crimson with what appears to be a fan, opened, embedded into his head. There's another one, closed, laying on the ground next to the man. It's almost like it's beckoning Claire. She finds it hard to look away, but her training kicks in and she calls her boss.

A booming voice emerges from the phone, "What the hell are you doing calling me? You're not supposed to be working!"
Claire replies in a playful voice, "Is that any way to talk to your favorite detective?"
"What did you do?"
"I'm staring at a dead body," She says nonchalantly.
*Sigh* "Why am I not surprised? Where are you so I can send some unis?"

After finishing her conversation, Claire's gaze returns to the fans. She finds it difficult to pull her eyes away. She feels mesmerized by them. She crouches near the body and reaches to pick up the fan. It's heavier than she expected, and sturdy. Nothing like the paper fans she's seen before. Claire is left in a trance, staring at the fan in wonderment. Something about it just feels right.

 

[Ransokyos]

The phantom was silent, the soft rasp of a whetstone gliding along the edge of the blade. He had almost forgotten who he was, as he could sense that there we souls around, though he rarely had reason interact with them.

He mostly expected ttrue woman to ignore him like everyone else had for so many decades.​

 

[PauciloquentPumpkin]

Claire notices something moving in her peripherals. She looks up so see a man in armor, like a Japanese samurai. Startled, Claire jumps to her feet, holding the fan in front of her. She doesn't have her firearm to defend herself with, and she notices the man holding swords. She holds the fan out towards the man, saying, "I'm detective Affendi with the Manhattan Police Department. Who are you and what are you doing here? Are you the one that killed this man?"

Claire looks down at the dead man, noting the weapon lodged in the back of his head, and back up to the samurai. It seems fairly likely that this man was involved, if not the murderer himself. She knows her fan, as sturdy as it feels, would be no match against swords, so she's careful to take in her surroundings. The paths she can use, possible weapons, such as a nearby lamppost. She looks back to the man, awaiting an answer, but preparing for conflict.

 

[Ransokyos]

His gaze rose, his pale gray eyes meeting the woman's with mild interest as he sheathed his katana. "Ryūjirō Tsukino. You are the first in recent memory, for me, to actually notice my presence. Even he did not notice me, nor did his attackers," his voice was a low murmur. He stood with almost inhuman fluidity, sheathing the katana at his hip beneath the slightly shorter blade. "I do not grasp why people no longer notice my presence, though it is extremely rare that one does anymore. I find myself.... aware... of things that should not be known, though I cannot explain it even in my own mind as it does not feel like one such as I should be aware of it," he murmured in a breathy tone. He stepped closer to the window as the sounds of engines and screeching tires sounded. He tilted his head fractionally. "Comrades of yours, I assume?" was his dry comment. "I find these... vehicles... strange. What has happened to riding a good horse?" he sighed.

"Great, Affensive…. looks like you found some idiot... shit," came the cocky voice of another detective, Jeremiah Clearwater. The only reason he'd managed to get as far as he had was the fact that his father was on the city council. That wasn't to say he wasn't observant... though he was known to have a weak stomach for gorier things.

 

[PauciloquentPumpkin]

"Great, Affensive…. looks like you found some idiot... shit," says Jeremiah, completely oblivious to the samurai. Claire looks at Jeremiah incredulously, to the samurai, then back to Jeremiah.

Ignoring his comment, Claire shoves her arm towards the samurai, holding the fan pointing at him, saying, "Well? Aren't you going to arrest this guy?"

Jeremiah looks at her arm, then back down at the dead man. Tilting his head he says, "Uh, I'm not putting a dead guy in my car. And I don't think he needs cuffs." Police sirens sound in the distance, indicating the arriving officers. Jeremiah says, "The hell's wrong with you? You're not needed here anymore, the boys are here."

Claire looks at the samurai, then back at Jeremiah. With a huff, she says, "Whatever, I hope he kills you." She throws her arms up in the air in frustration and decides to leave him to his fate. With that, she leaves, nodding her greetings to the officers on her way past. She walks for a few minutes to the coffee shop at the end of her running route, Java Hut. As she was waiting in line to order her coffee, she realized she was still holding onto the fan. She thought to herself, Shit. Whatever, I'll just bring it into the office tomorrow. After ordering her favorite coffee, hazelnut, she sat down to enjoy it before returning home. Pinching her brow in confusion, she thought, I definitely drank too much last night.

 

[Ransokyos]

Ryūjirō Tsukino hummed thoughtfully, watching the woman detective, as he'd heard them called, leave the premises. "Hmmm. Unfortunate that stupid fools still exist," he sighed, rolling his eyes as he exited the home. He knew what the police would soon find out: that the attackers had worn gloves. The attackers had also relied on weapons he was quite familiar with - shuriken. The deceased had intrigued him as he had some talent as the evidence would reveal a sizable struggle within the domicile.

He spotted the detective, tilting his head slightly, watching her. "I do not recognize that drink, whatever it is, though the scent is appealing, if somewhat bitter to the nose," he commented dryly.

​

 

[PauciloquentPumpkin]

"I do not recognize that drink, whatever it is, though the scent is appealing, if somewhat bitter to the nose," came a voice.

Claire replied, "It's hazel..." Her voice lowers to a whisper as she looks up to see the samurai, "nut." She jumps with a start, knocking her chair backwards. Her heart rate rises as her mind races with thoughts. How did he get past Jeremiah and the cops? Why was he here? Is he following her? Before she could speak, she notices people were staring at her. Though it seems that not a single person was paying the samurai any attention. Just like Jeremiah. She can't shake the strangeness of the situation. It feels like a dream.

She reaches out to the samurai, trying to grab his arm, but to no avail. Her hand goes straight through him, leaving a warm sensation, like static electricity charging her hand, though it dissipates as soon as her hand passes.
"What the fuck!?" She whispers, stress audible in her voice.
A nearby woman asks, "Are you OK?"
"Yeah... Uh, yeah, sorry. I'm fine, sorry," said Claire shakily. She picks up her chair and sits down to avoid further stares. She looks up at the samurai, and in a whisper, "What the hell is going on? Who are you? Am I dreaming?"
The nearby woman looks at her worryingly, but leaves her alone.

 

[Ransokyos]

Ryūjirō shrugged nonchalantly. "Ryūjirō Tsukino. As to what I am.... I do not know," he sighed, disliking the fact that he did not know what the reason nobody was able to touch him nor see him could be... such as the fact that he was dead. He pushed the shinobi-no-o beneath his chin that held the kabuto to his head before releasing the small clasps that held the mengu that covered his face before he removed it in its two pieces, the chin and lower 'jaw', followed by the upper part of the face, revealing his skin, which was like caramel with a hint of milk in tone. His pale gray, almost silver eyes, were keen and cunning, watching her. "You are the first in many, many years to actually acknowledge my presence in some fashion," he said bluntly.

. "," .

​

 

[PauciloquentPumpkin]

"Ryūjirō Tsukino. As to what I am.... I do not know," said the samurai, "You are the first in many, many years to actually acknowledge my presence in some fashion." He removes his helmet to reveal the face underneath. His eyes show intelligence.

In shock, Claire stands up. "I'm losing my mind," she says tentatively. She looks at Ryujiro and continues, "You're not real. You can't be." Making up her mind that this is all just some sort of trick of the mind, she begins to leave for home, leaving her coffee behind in her stupor. Still dazed, she begins her walk home.

 

[Ransokyos]

Ryūjirō cocked an eyebrow. "Foolish girl. I am quite real... as far as I'm aware," he sighed, shaking his head slightly as he slid the pieces of his mengu into its pouch at the small of his back, leaving his face bare as he tilted his head, looking at the coffee, his fingertips passing through the cup as he watched ice beginning to form as the coffee cooled much faster from him absorbing the heat from it, though he didn't realize it. "She doesn't know that as long as she has my Tessen, I can follow her," he sighed bluntly as he pulled his fingers from the almost cold coffee before absentmindedly swiping at the nearly frozen drink, not noticing that, to the patrons, the abandoned drink abruptly shot off the table and narrowly missed a guy that had just sat down.

Would it be just his luck that the woman had gone in a direction he didn't know. "By the gods... women are frustrating no matter how long they are dealt with... even if they don't bloody know you're there," he muttered to himself. For a time, he admitted, he had protected families from more dangerous, hostile spirits that were borderline inhuman.

​

 

[PauciloquentPumpkin]

Claire hopes the new day would help clear her head. Yesterday felt like a dream, and today she dismisses it as such. She goes about her day as usual. She starts with her daily run, just as the Sun starts peaking over the horizon. She orders her usual coffee, to go, and makes her walk home. She feels hazy as she took her shower and dressed in her grey work suit, drained from her encounter with Ryujiro. Her boss summons her to his office when she arrives to work.

Claire's boss, Frank Moriano, is a short, stout man. He says to Claire, "Mornin', hope your day off was good. You should take more. Your vacation days are stacking up."
Claire replies jokingly, "Ha, well, I found a dead man, so, yeah, a pretty good day off."
"Ah, glad you brought that up," says Frank. "I want you working that case."
Claire gazes away, and for a brief moment she thought she saw Ryujiro out of the corner of her eyes.
Frank looks at her, squinting his eyes, "You alright there? You should be happy, you've been wanting a homicide case. This'll be a good chance to show your stuff."
"You're right," replies Claire with a smile, dismissing the image. "I'm happy to work the case."
"Good," says Frank, "You can get the details from Clearwater."
Claire looks distressed, "Fuck me, can I just go back on vacation?"
With a chuckle, Frank says, "You're dismissed."

Claire greets a few officers on her way to Jeremiah's desk. Before she gets there, she could have sworn, yet again, that she saw Ryujiro, for just a moment. Jeremiah sees her and calls out, "Hey, the hell you looking at, Princess?" Jeremiah looks in the direction Claire is looking in, but sees nothing of interest. He shakes his head and mutters to himself, "I work with a bunch of idiots."
Claire snaps to, "You have some files for me, Clearwater?" she says with disdain.
Jeremiah holds out a manila folder filled with papers. "Get this, the weapon used was a Japanese war fan, known as a tessen. Only one group I know of that uses weapons like these."
Claire remembers the other tessen, the one she took for some inexplicable reason. She carries it, even now, in the inside pocket of her suit jacket. She still can't seem to let it go. She looks at Jeremiah. "You think the Hamayasu family is involved? Well, shit," says Claire, grabbing the file from Jeremiah.
"I did all the hard work, Affensive," says Jeremiah, "even you should be able to close this case."

As usual, Claire ignores Jeremiah's comments. It's the only way she finds she can work with him. On her way to her own desk, she thought she saw Ryujiro, again. And again, she does her best to dismiss it. She sits down at her desk to look into the files. She looks at the photographs, the paperwork, testimonials and various pieces of evidence. Indeed, it does look like the work of the Hamayasu family, a local Japanese gang known for using weapons like the tessen, swords, bows and arrows, and other unusual weapons. A few more minutes of poking around and she decides to visit the crime scene again. This time in a more professional capacity.

At the house of the murder victim, Claire takes her time to look around. The house is taped off, markers for evidence are strewn about. An outline is left where the body was, the blood still staining the plush, blue carpet. She walks over to the broken window, glass littering the floor, reflecting a disco of lights across the room. She glances out of the window, and other than a cleanly manicured lawn and a tree outside, there's nothing of note. Turning around, she's met with a vision of a man. Something she's nearly convinced herself was nothing more than a hallucination of sorts. Claire says, "Yup, I'm losing my mind." She's not sure if she should pull her gun on him or not. Bullets probably wouldn't work anyways, and she'd have to explain why she discharged her weapon here. So she just stood there, dumbfounded.

 

[Ransokyos]

Ryūjirō hummed softly, thoughtful. His gaze was on the home of the deceased. "Losing your mind? Doubtful," he commented. "Sometimes it isn't always what you see simply with your eyes. Clearly, however, that fool who insulted you yesterday did not tell you that no less than fourteen shuriken were found in various areas of the home, implying that there was a significant struggle. One had.... what I believe... you would refer to as a 'partial fingerprint'," he said as he half turned.

He tapped a slightly diamond shaped mark. "This one," he muttered.

​

 

[PauciloquentPumpkin]

"Losing your mind? Doubtful," said Ryujiro."Sometimes it isn't always what you see simply with your eyes. Clearly, however, that fool who insulted you yesterday did not tell you that no less than fourteen shuriken were found in various areas of the home, implying that there was a significant struggle. One had.... what I believe... you would refer to as a 'partial fingerprint'," He motions towards one of the shuriken, "This one," he muttered.

Skeptically, Claire listens to Ryujiro. When he mentions the shuriken, Claire walks closer, looks Ryujiro in the eyes and says, "We know about the shuriken. A staple of the Hamayasu family." She reaches Ryujiro and the shuriken and experimentally waved her hand through him. Like before, her hand passes right through, leaving a warm, tingly sensation. She brings her hand to her chest, inspecting it. She looks down at the shuriken again, noticing something odd. Looking around the room, she spots some other shuriken. All the others have evidence markers, and a few markers are missing the shuriken that were taken into the lab. Incredulous, Claire says, "Did the boys really forget one?" She crouches, pulling a clear baggie and blue latex glove from her jacket pocket.

After bagging the shuriken, Claire stands and looks to Ryujiro, "You say this has a print on it? What makes you so sure? The Hamayasu family is notoriously thorough." She looks away for a moment, looking confused, "Why am I talking to you anyways? What are you, a ghost? Are you dead? And why are you following me?" Claire was starting to get flustered, feeling like she was losing her mind. A feeling that was becoming a little too familiar.

 

[Ransokyos]

Ryūjirō shrugged. "Just because a group has a particular reputation does not mean they are perfect. You know this. There is always evidence left behind, however slight," he commented, knowing his tone firmed and sharpened; he had vague memories of similar experiences to this. "It is never easy, though the Shinigami comes for us all in time," he said as he half turned.

He sighed at her question before shrugging. "I do not know. I do not know what a ghost is," he muttered.

​

 

[PauciloquentPumpkin]

"Just because a group has a particular reputation does not mean they are perfect. You know this. There is always evidence left behind, however slight," said Ryujiro. Claire doesn't quite like his tone, talking to her like she's inexperienced. Her eyes narrow as she replies, "The department has been dealing with the Hamayasu family for decades. They've never, not once, left a fingerprint. We've caught a few of their members before, thanks to their showmanship." She gives a slight wave to the bagged shuriken, "This just doesn't feel right. Hopefully I'll know more when this gets tested."

"I do not know. I do not know what a ghost is," mutters Ryujiro.
Claire pinches the bridge of her knows in frustration, muttering under her breath, "How does he not know what a ghost is?" She sighs, speaking up, "A ghost is basically the spirit of a deceased person. They're not really real, I don't think, unless you are one." Claire takes a deep breathe, "I've gotta get this to the lab for testing."

 

[Ransokyos]

Ryūjirō hummed. "I have not heard that before. Though recently, I do not remain in one place for too long," he commented thoughtfully, not mentioning that his essence was tied to the combat tessen. "Though I find the idea of not being very real rather stupid. After all, I have heard some claim they sense spirits, but more often than not they are charlatans," he said as he half turned, tilting his head. "What sort of lab is it? Hmmm," he muttered, admittedly curious; it had been quite a long time, if he remembered correctly, that anyone had caught his interest.

​

 

[PauciloquentPumpkin]

"Though I find the idea of not being very real rather stupid. After all, I have heard some claim they sense spirits, but more often than not they are charlatans," says Ryujiro.
Rolling her eyes, Claire replies, "Yeah, I'm sure that's what schizophrenic people think about their hallucinations." Questioning her sanity was starting to become a routine.
"What sort of lab is it? Hmmm," asked Ryujiro.
Claire answers, "Uh, well, it's for forensics. To find out more information on things like fingerprints. We can find information out from all sorts of things, like blood left on the scene, fabric, shoe or tire tracks, and a lot more." She starts walking towards the door. Turning back, she says, "I, uh, have to take care of this. I guess if you're around, I'll see ya. But, uh, I'm not talking to you in public anymore. Our exchange at the coffee shop was a little embarrassing." With a deep breathe, Claire began making her way out, to her car.

 

[Ransokyos]

Ryūjirō tilted his head. "As long as you have Daedon you will be able to contact me through his Gift. Once one links through Spirit and Blood, they are able to speak through what you would know as telepathy," he commented thoughtfully, knowing she would likely be startled by the shift in communication. "Whilst you use your.... forensics.... I will seek out those who committed the murder in my own way," he said as he half turned, tilting his head, "Though if your claim that this family 'never makes mistakes' is true, it could be just as likely that someone could be attempting to make it look like they are responsible," he muttered, admittedly curious; it had been quite a long time, if he remembered correctly, that anyone had caught his interest.
(.)​