NEON DRAGONS

Prologue

Norio Akiyama's boss was going to actually murder him this time. Captain Rickson was going to take his standard issue pistol, take Norio's badge and put one between his eyes. He'd only just made detective and life was flipping him the bird, his phone charger slowly saying "sayōnara", and the captain losing patience. (His phone had negated to charge, which meant his alarm hadn't gone off... for the third time that week.) It wasn't his fault iPhone chargers were so expensive. The Ashbury PD building loomed over him as he rushed inside, past Becky, the annoying Chinese-American secretary who tried to befriend him because they were both from Asia. The elevator ride was torturous, and he spent most of it praying that Captain Rickson wasn't in his office. Jesus listened; Captain Rickson wasn't in his office. He was next to the elevator, waiting to go down. Norio exhaled a Japanese curse word that his mother would hit him for saying, and faced the captain with a superficial smile.

"What'll it be this time, Akiyama?" He pronounced Norio's last name in that obnoxious American way, flat vowels and i's that sound like e's.

Norio was about to launch into a textbook English apology with some Japanese thrown in the middle just to soften the deal, but Rickson held up his beefy hand, "you know what? I just realised that I don't care. Get your shit together, detective. Be here at eight tomorrow." Norio sighed, nodded, apologized for his tardiness and approached his desk walk-of-shame style. He heard Rickson turn, and prepared himself for another "you're Japanese, you're supposed to be perfect" with a little "you've got great potential, Akiyama. Don't be a dumbass" thrown into the mix, instead Rickson said, "how are you going to get your shit together here, Akiyama? Go home." With a swipe of his hand and a snigger from detective Olsen, Norio was dismissed. Sometimes he hated the fact that he'd joined the police force instead of the Japanese military.

He took a cab home, and rode in the backseat, all pouty-faced and pissed off, conveniently "forgetting" to tip the driver because he needed a new iPhone charger and tipping drivers wasn't going to get him there. Without work, his life was rather mundane and he spent most of the morning watching reruns of Family Guy while simultaneously consuming every ounce of instant noodles he'd bought at the local Chinese supermarket. By noon, his sister Hiyori had called and told him that their parents were coming to visit next week and that Sean wanted to speak to him. Sean Whittaker, or rather Dr Sean Whittaker was originally Hiyori's work friend, but he and Norio clicked over cheap alcohol and microbiology. Sean was a genius otaku, one of his only friends who pronounced his name right and understood when he addresses a new person as person-san, and his sister as Hiyori-chan.

"Nori," Sean's voice rang through his phone, "I heard Rickson told you to get your shit together, how's that coming along?"

"Honestly?" He heard Sean laugh on the other side of the line, "I've had four noodle cups and watched an entire season of Family Guy."

"Rickson's gonna fire you, Nori." Sean said, slightly serious.

"And Dr Ottoman's going to fire you if you don't start compiling that report." He heard Hiyori's voice reprimand in the background.

"Two minutes!" Sean replied, "okay, I need a favour. I've been attending a writing class with Judd, and just finished the draft for my novel. I need people to look it over."

"I'm a police officer, not a literature critic, Sean." Norio replied monotonously.

"Not like you have anything better to do," Sean remarked, "I'll be at your place at three, and I'll throw in a free iPhone charger." As sad as it was, Norio couldn't say no, he was desperate.

Sure enough, Sean Whittaker stood by his door, still in his white lab coat, fresh from the Ashbury Metro Hospital. He handed Norio a heavy, handwritten in chicken scratch manuscript, and an iPhone charger.

"As promised," he said as Norio muttered a half-hearted "arigatō" under his breath, "now I have to run, Ottoman's smoke break ends in five minutes!" He disappeared in a flash of white, and Norio shut the door, put his phone on charge, and gazed at the manuscript. The Tale of Marcus Yamaguchiya stood on the first page and Norio visibly cringed, as if the first name wasn't generic enough, the last was a mouthful – even for him. He started reading, but couldn't get halfway through the prologue without having a cringe attack. Sean's writing wasn't half bad, but the story itself was awful. He sighed, grabbed his satchel and headed for the market on Roosevelt Street to get a notebook, because he couldn't read five words without having to write a paragraph of criticism. The Tale of Marcus Yamaguchiya would probably be the death of him.

AUTHOR'S NOTE:

here it is y'all!! hope this suffices, the first chapter will get straight into the action, this is just to get you used to the kind of humour i'm gonna use in this novel

w love

dan :-)