Chapter 1: Tachibana Aoto |
He held many titles—“Benevolent King,” “The Shogunate’s Peerless Sword,” “Pillar of the Nation,” “Friend of France”… Yet before acquiring all those glorious titles, he was merely a low-ranking government official scornfully nicknamed “Dull Aoto.”
—Volume 1 “Aoto’s Detective Records” Preface
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Ansei 7th Year (1860 AD), January 12th, night—
Edo (the ancient name for Tokyo), North Town Magistrate’s Office—
“When we storm in later, surrendering enemies will not be killed; resisters will be executed on the spot. That is all.”
That deep male voice entered Qin Deng’s ears.
Qin Deng looked blankly toward the owner of the voice.
He had thick eyebrows and large eyes, a righteous expression, dressed in a kimono with a straw hat, his wide kimono sleeves tied tightly with a thin sash, and two samurai swords—one long, one short—at his left waist.
—Where am I?
Qin Deng’s confused gaze swept around.
He found himself in a spacious room. Although it was night, candles were lit throughout, making the room fairly bright.
He glanced down at himself—he was sitting on a small folding stool, wearing a crimson haori as the main color theme, with the haori and the kimono sleeves underneath tied together by a thin sash.
At his left waist were also two samurai swords, one long and one short. At his right waist was a strange-looking weapon.
Looking at the odd weapon on his right waist, a word popped into Qin Deng’s mind: jutte.
[Note: Jutte—A short weapon used in Japan, resembling an unusual iron baton. It was standard equipment for Edo-period “police” officers, similar to a police baton.]
Qin Deng felt his body was unusually heavy. He raised his hand to his chest and found he was wearing chainmail under his kimono.
—What on earth… is going on…?
His eyes filled with confusion, he looked around again.
On both sides sat young men dressed similarly to him, each with a samurai sword and a jutte at their waist.
One had an ordinary face, eyes half-closed, looking half-asleep.
The other was handsome, eyes wide open, appearing lost in thought.
In front of him stood about twenty people. Unlike Qin Deng, none had seats; they all stood, holding various weapons.
Qin Deng slowly began to understand the situation.
—Am I… in ancient Japan?
His mouth slowly opened in shock.
“Tachibana-kun, what’s wrong? Why do you look like you’ve seen a ghost?”
Tachibana-kun—a name both unfamiliar and strangely familiar.
Hearing his name called, Qin Deng instinctively turned toward the voice.
The caller was the thick-browed, large-eyed, righteous young man from before.
Seeing him, a name popped into Qin Deng’s mind: Arima Hidenori. A yoriki of the North Town Magistrate’s Office and Qin Deng’s direct superior.
[Note: Yoriki—An official rank in the Edo period, roughly a mid-level government officer.]
“We’re about to storm the ‘Righteous Crowd’ den,” Arima said seriously, “Stay sharp.”
Though Arima spoke fluent Japanese, which Qin Deng had never studied before, he could clearly understand everything.
“Sorry,” Qin Deng said instinctively. “I’m a disgrace to you.”
He spoke fluent Japanese without hesitation.
Arima looked at Qin Deng suspiciously a few times, then ignored him, crossing his arms and closing his eyes to rest.
Qin Deng was still in chaos, struggling to adapt.
He took several deep breaths, trying hard not to panic.
Just as his mood calmed slightly, memories suddenly flashed in his mind—
His name was Tachibana Aoto.
He was 18 years old this year.
He was one of the constables of the North Town Magistrate’s Office in Edo.
The North Town Magistrate’s Office—also called “North Station”—could be understood as Edo’s city government.
Constables were responsible for maintaining city security.
The rank of “constable” was below yoriki and was a grassroots government position.
So “North Town Magistrate’s Office Constable” meant he was a low-level officer in charge of city security—a grassroots police officer.
His mother had died of illness when he was young.
His father had also been a constable in Edo but sadly passed away six months ago. Aoto inherited his father’s position and became the new constable.
At this moment, he was preparing to storm the den of a bandit group calling themselves “Righteous Crowd,” aiming to wipe them out entirely.
Though “Righteous Crowd” sounded noble, they were actually ruthless criminals who burned, killed, robbed, and committed all kinds of atrocities.
A month ago, the government began tracking their movements and finally found their den recently. Tonight, forces had gathered to eliminate them in one sweep.
Qin Deng was assigned as part of this operation.
While processing these memories surfacing in his mind, the door of a nearby room suddenly flung open—a large, fair-skinned, plump man entered, accompanied by several attendants.
As the large man appeared, Arima suddenly opened his eyes and stood to salute: “Magistrate-sama!”
Others in the room followed suit quickly, standing to salute the large man. Qin Deng also instinctively rose to salute.
His name was Usui Chujiro—the town magistrate of the North Station, effectively Edo’s mayor.
Usui waved his hand, signaling everyone to stand down.
“Tonight, I entrust this to all of you!” Usui loudly declared. “According to intelligence from informants, the Righteous Crowd’s thieves remain at their stronghold…”
Usui rambled for a while, but the gist was to motivate everyone to work hard tonight to ensure a complete victory in the arrest operation.
After the brief rally, Usui gave a glance to an attendant, who handed him some items—dried bonito flakes, squid strips, kelp knots, and a jug of sake.
Usui personally passed these to Arima.
This was a custom of the Edo period: when organizing a large-scale arrest operation, the town magistrate would hand dried snacks and sake to the yoriki in charge to boost morale.
Arima took the sake and snacks, quickly finishing them.
“Tachibana-kun, I wish you a triumphant return,” Usui said, patting Arima’s shoulders hard.
“We will risk our lives!” Arima responded loudly, then handed the empty bottle back.
“It’s time!” Arima shouted to Qin Deng and the others. “Follow me!”
He gripped the sword at his left waist and charged ahead out of the room.
The others quickly followed.
Still dazed, Qin Deng could only run along with the crowd.
They dashed out of the magistrate’s office, riding the cover of darkness, rushing toward Edo’s western outskirts.
After running nearly twenty minutes, led by Arima, they finally arrived at an unremarkable residence.
At first glance, the house seemed ordinary.
But government investigations confirmed—it was the Righteous Crowd’s den.
According to informants, the core members of the Righteous Crowd would be meeting inside tonight.
Standing before the den, Arima drew his long sword without hesitation and kicked the door open with a loud “swoosh”:
“We are government officials from Edo’s North Station! We conduct this search on official duty!”
After Arima drew his sword and charged in, the others all drew their weapons and swarmed inside.
Shouts of shock and cries of pain erupted inside, mingled with the stench of blood spreading in the air.
Qin Deng followed the crowd into the Righteous Crowd’s den.
Shortly after entering, he saw a bald man wildly swinging a blade, attempting to break through the encirclement.
But just as he broke through, a sword suddenly swung down from behind him, cleaving his skull.
Blood sprayed onto the ceiling from the bald man’s wound.
The gruesome scene stunned Qin Deng.
The officers who had stormed the house scattered to chase the Righteous Crowd members in every corner.
As Qin Deng pondered what to do next, he caught sight out of the corner of his eye of a strange black shadow writhing on his left.
Turning left, he saw a middle-aged man glaring, shouting angrily, and rushing at him with a raised blade.
The target was Qin Deng!
Startled, Qin Deng reflexively drew the short sword at his waist—easier to wield in tight spaces—gripping the handle with both hands, quickly assuming a defensive stance.
A strange sensation appeared in his palms.
Though it felt like the first time holding a samurai sword, he clearly remembered how to grip it—and how to swing it!
A window stood nearby.
Bright moonlight shone through the window, illuminating Qin Deng and his sword.
Under the moonlight, his blade reflected a dazzling white gleam.
“Die! Dog of the Shogunate!”
The middle-aged man roared fiercely, swinging his blade heavily toward Qin Deng’s head.
Qin Deng took a deep breath and swiftly tilted his body aside, dodging the strike.
The blade missed. The attacker relentlessly launched another strike.
Having just crossed over, Qin Deng’s mind was still chaotic.
He didn’t know exactly when or where he was.
But he knew one thing—he had to take down this clearly murderous man!
Clang!
Qin Deng blocked the attacker’s blade with his short sword.
The man pushed forward, Qin Deng pushed back, and the two engaged in a brief struggle.
The fight didn’t last long.
After a few seconds, Qin Deng seized an opportunity to kick with his hard kneecap into the man’s abdomen.
A pained scream escaped the man, who curled up like a shrimp, barely able to hold his blade.
Qin Deng pressed the advantage.
He stepped forward and struck the man’s side neck with the pommel of his short sword.
“Ugh…”
The man made a gurgling noise, then rolled his eyes back and fainted, lying on his back.
Seeing the man finally down, Aoto exhaled in relief.
But at that moment, a strange voice suddenly rang in Qin Deng’s mind:
[Beep! Talent detected]
[Successfully copied talent: “Night Vision”]
[Talent description: Able to see clearly even in complete darkness]
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