And now, Gentle Reader, we must take our attention across town, for odd things were afoot at the Kamiya residence as well.
The Kamiya residence was on the outskirts of town, an old, large farmhouse painted in green and on the very verge of seeming run down. Katie kept up what repairs she could afford, but those were not many, and often it came down to a choice between repairing roof leaks or putting a new coat of paint on the steadfast old home's exterior. Katie's grandparents had left the home to her when they'd died, and her parents, far away on the West Coast, were happy to let her have it.
It was surrounded by trees and left back from the road, accessible through a narrow gravel driveway that most would miss if they did not know what they were looking for. The wind rushed through tree branches and cast dancing shadows across the porch and through the windows -- but this was a sight that Katie was perfectly accustomed to.
She had settled in for the night. She was, in fact, stepping out of her shower and wrapping a towel around herself when she first spotted the prowler.
The remoteness and natural privacy of her home meant that Katie didn't worry too much about whether or not her windows were covered. Nor did she often worry overmuch about things like prowlers and burglars. For all of her concern over Kenneth's nocturnal walks, it had never once occurred to Katie that her home was anything but safe.
So she stood there, dripping, blinking, trying to process the idea of a quite unmistakable dark human shape looking into her window -- and then, swiftly, as if realizing he'd been seen, running on.
That is when she got angry. She grabbed her robe off its bath hook and threw it around herself, tying the robe belt exactly as she tied her gi belt at the dojo. Then she slammed her feet into her fluffy white bunny slippers. This fellow was going to get what was coming to him!
She stormed out into her bedroom. Her television was on, turned low, but on. Katie did not like to be alone, though she'd rarely admit it, and so often kept the television on just to hear the sound of someone else's voice. Now something else caught her attention and made her stop short. The something else, as you, my friends, might already have guessed, was the sight of Kenneth Shane's face on the 11:00 news. Now the only attention she gave to the prowler was to keep one ear open for the sound of anyone trying to get into the house. The other ear was directed towards the television, which she turned up.
She listened to the report on Kenneth's house fire with growing horror. She filed away small facts (for example, she'd never known Kenneth had a brother), and made small, subtle connections (the odds that her first prowler ever showed up on the same night that Kenneth's apartment caught fire) while she ran an absent hand through her hair, shaking locks of it to help it dry out. The fire chief was adamant that it had been some form of arson.
Katie grabbed a pair of sweat pants and slipped them on under her robe. Frowning, she did a quick circuit of the house to make sure the prowler had not come in without her hearing. Finding nobody, she returned to her living room, where she had placed the sakabato upon arriving home.
She'd hung it on the mantle right beneath the Kamiya sword. The Kamiya sword was an actual katana, still deadly sharp. It had been the last sword wielded by any Kamiya. Kamiya Keisuke, the founder of their art, had killed with that sword during the Meiji Restoration even as he left his daughter, Kamiya Kaoru, to continue what he'd started: an art that brought out people's potential, an art that defended others, and most of all an art that strove never to kill. Killing sometimes happened anyway, once or twice, generally with the lower rank students who got into trouble and panicked. Any technique could be lethal if there were enough force behind it and it hit the right places. But in order to master Kamiya Ryu, as Katie had, one had to prove a mastery of one's own emotions as well.
Her parents had given Katie the Kamiya sword when she'd come to the East Coast to claim her grandparent's home and start her own school. She could trace that blade's history in her sleep: she knew the names of the hands it, and the symbolic duty to continue and promote Kamiya Ryu, had passed through, for how long each person had held it, and what they had done while holding it.
By contrast, the sakabato was a complete mystery. A mystery that seemed to bring trouble with it. Because of the reverse blade, the blade of the sakabato faced the blade of the Kamiya sword. They looked as if they were staring one another down, or perhaps dueling, or kissing. Someone had wanted Kenneth to have the sakabato, but she'd ended up with it instead. For a moment she considered taking it down and bringing it to a safe deposit box in the morning -- but the thought made her scowl. She'd taken that sakabato in, and it was going to stay, and that was that.
Still, she had a prowler to go look for, and a drive back across town to make, because she was not about to let Kenneth and his baby brother live out of a hotel, even if they could afford to, which she doubted.
She grabbed a heavy flashlight. She could have taken one of the swords -- but she still wasn't terribly comfortable with the idea of using a sword, even a reverse bladed one. It just wasn't something she specialized in -- she'd be better off with her hands, and perhaps the flashlight if she really needed a weapon.
She made three circuits of the outer house before she decided the prowler was gone with no trace. She made two more circuits of all the rooms in the house, pulling open cabinets and closets and yanking back drapes, to make sure he hadn't slipped in while she was out looking for him. She found nothing.
Katie exchanged her flashlight for her car keys, then. She took the swords off the mantle and wrapped them in one of her coats. They were the only things of real value in her home -- if it was just a burglar looking for something to steal she supposed she could always replace her television. It was a cheap television, pawnstore variety, and those were a dime a dozen. She locked the door.
Then she put the swords in the back seat of the car and drove back off to Kenneth's house at speeds that should have gotten her arrested, save that night luck was with her. No traffic cop appeared to impede her.
She got to his apartments. The fire trucks had gone, and the news crews, but it couldn't have been that long ago as it was only midnight and she'd spotted the report only half an hour before, live on FOX TV news. Now the burned out husk of a building where Kenneth had lived looked lonely: a depressed, sagging mass of wood turned charcoal. She was about to start tramping up and down the sidewalks to demand who might know where Kenneth had gone to when she spotted a flash of red hair through the window of the laundry room across the parking lot.
She dashed over there to find Kenneth and his younger brother picking clothes off the floor and putting them into laundry bags.
"I can't believe someone would throw our clothes on the floor even on the night of a fire," Kenneth was saying, sounding quite unhappy. "My book was on top of the dryer, too."
"We'll dry them at the hotel," Rickie said with a shrug.
"We'll wash them again too, we don't know what's on this floor, that we don't!"
Katie rather suspected that Kenneth's ire came more from having his wash violated while losing his home than the actual floor (despite the fact that he had a point, because the laundry room floor did seem to carry more than its fair share of grime).
"You can wash them at my house!" Katie said, beaming at them.
The Shane brothers paused in the act of stuffing shirts into bags to stare at her. Katie slowly became aware of how she must have looked: damp, disheveled hair, pink bathrobe, black sweatpants, and bunny slippers. And...her bathrobe was hanging a little more open than was strictly decent. She yanked the ends of it back into place.
Slowly, all three of the people in the laundry room began to develop fierce blushes. Abruptly, all three began to speak at once.
"That is -- "
"Miss Kamiya what are you --"
"Are those bunny slippers?"
"I thought maybe you could come to my house to stay!"
"Well that's very kind of you, Miss -- I mean Katie -- but we wouldn't want to impose..."
"What kind of karate master wears bunny slippers out in public?"
"Oh its no trouble at all, I have plenty of room, a huge farmhouse and I'm all alone and I'd love for you to stay!"
"Well if you're sure..."
"And a pink bathrobe! In public!"
Katie began to glower at the younger Shane. "Who are you, anyway, the President of Fashion? I saw the police and came right over, I was trying to be a good friend, you might be a little more polite, you know!"
Kenneth held up both his hands and gave a hasty smile. "We'd be happy to stay with you, Mi -- Katie. It's a very generous offer, that it is. Please don't mind Ricky, he's had a rough night."
"Well of course he has." Katie grumped. "Don't you boys worry, I'm going to find that arsonist and kick his butt!"
If Katie noticed that both of the Shane brothers now seemed to be sweat dropping while their faces grew pinker and pinker, she gave no sign. She merely picked up the last of the plastic bags and gathered up their clothes for them. "And nobody will throw your clothes on the floor at my house. I wouldn't do that. I'd fold them. And I'd make sure they were dry. And it's normally perfectly very safe, though I did have some sort of pervert peeking Tom show up earlier tonight, looks like we've all had eventful nights, though mine is hardly on a level with having an arsonist burn down your home."
And the sweat drops grew as she ushered them into her car, clothes and all.
"Oh, watch out for that coat in the back seat," Katie told Rickie. "I didn't want that guy who was sneaking around my house stealing my swords so it's got those in there."
"Cool!" Rickie said, and reached right for the bundle. A stern look from Kenneth stopped him in his tracks and he sighed, sat down, and buckled his seatbelt instead, uttering a loud, put-upon sigh.
"Are you alright?" Kenneth asked Katie as he got into the shotgun seat. "It had to have been scary, having someone prowl around like that."
"Scary? No, it wasn't scary, it was irritating." Katie declared, getting back into the driver's seat. "You had the scary night."
"It was unpleasant," Kenneth agreed.
Katie chattered happily on as they drove back to her home. Something just seemed right about the three of them together. She also wouldn't have to be alone any longer. In California her house had been full of younger brothers and sisters, several of whom had already found other states to land in to open their own schools and spread Kamiya Ryu. Still, whenever her parents called she told them she was doing just fine. She hadn't wanted to worry them.
Kenneth seemed content to listen to her go on about guest rooms and extra blankets and how much closet space she had. Rickie mumbled something about a Play Station and then fell asleep in the back seat on the drive home.
She turned into the gravel driveway and went up to the house. Then she frowned, stopping the car. She stopped talking, too, all at once as if someone had hit the breaks on her mouth.
There were now three men waiting on her front porch, and she could see a gun in the hand of at least one of them.
"What the hell is going on tonight?" Katie asked.
Kenneth met her eyes. His own violet ones were brimming with worry and confusion. He had no more idea than she.