Arrival
Katherina
Sweat dripped down her face, matting a few rebellious strands of hair to her forehead. Her lungs burned as she struggled to take in the much-needed oxygen. Though she had not necessarily set out to do so, she felt her speed was improving vastly over the past few months. Incorporating sprints and weights to her twice daily runs had found her significantly quicker and lither than she could ever remember being in the past. It filled her with satisfaction, even if there was no reason in particular she was attempting to improve.
At 24 years old, Katherina Clare was in the prime of her life. Though she had experienced more than her share of hardship, she was a living, breathing example that life does indeed go on. After losing both parents at a young age and being left alone in the world, she often felt that loneliness would consume her. But the more years that passed, the more she reveled in her solitude. She truly didn't mind being alone. Not anymore.
It was mostly by choice, anyway. She had no desire to put herself out there, to invite others into her space and allow them to insert themselves into her life. To force their way into her thoughts. To impact her decisions. To demand of her. To disrupt her peace.
She could do without it.
And it was on cool evenings such as this one that she felt the most alive. Running was her companion—it made her feel. It brought to life all the emotions she sometimes wondered if she still possessed. It kept life simple, and she was free.
Plus, she was excellent at it, so what better outlet for life's inevitable frustrations?
The current source of her frustration was likely vibrating away somewhere in her house, in the form of a cell phone she rarely used. Though she now mostly accepted and preferred being by herself, it had not always been this way. Ironically, when her parents were still alive, she found that she often felt lonely all the way out here by herself. As the time passed, she grew used to it and struggled to force herself out of her solitude long enough to go shopping or out to eat.
She was living in the very house, situated on the same chunk of land that she and her parents had occupied together. Upon their untimely demise, Kat learned that they had left behind a will. This will decreed that, in the event of their deaths, their only living family member would inherit all their worldly possessions. Their sixteen-year-old daughter, Katherina.
There wasn’t much money, as her parents did not have an active savings account she had later learned. But the house her father had many years ago built, the many acres of land it lay on (which he had inherited from his late parents), and her mother’s car and father's motorcycle were included.
Nothing had much changed since her childhood days. It was almost like living in a crypt. A crypt overflowing with her many memories as a child and adolescent. The same compact kitchen and cozy living space. The same white cabinets her mother had redone years ago to go with the walls she painted a sunny yellow in her determination to give the room a touch of warmth.
It had hurt so much to be in that room after her mother was taken from her. Yet she could never bring herself to leave this place for very long. It was her home. She had grown up here. Her father had built this beautiful, if modest, home with the intention of watching her grow up in it. It was all she had left.
And she could not stand to think about doing anything different. The land that she had grown up exploring and memorizing had been in her family for multiple generations. It was her birthright. She had refused to leave, not even when social services became involved.
At nearly seventeen years of age, she had been considered a minor by the courts. Thankfully, she was able to convince a judge that since there was no mortgage or car payment to maintain in the wake of her parents’ passing, she could support herself and manage the few bills she would have to take on alone.
With internet, she did not require cable or a home phone. Electricity, cell phone, internet, and car insurance were not too expensive for her to manage. Thankfully, with the house situated as it was, her family had always relied on well water. This saved her quite a bit of money and trouble. She had been left with whatever money remained in her parents’ respective checking accounts if she were to need it, as well.
Despite this, she had immediately opened a savings account and resolved not to ever touch it unless she found it unavoidable to do so. She was determined to build up her savings, something her parents had not done. Taking on a part-time job working a few days a week at a small local bookstore covered any expenses she incurred.
Upon being presented with these financials—in a spreadsheet Kat herself created and presented to the court in the form of a monthly budget, complete with monthly earnings and a comprehensive list of all monthly expenses— as well as observing the resolute insistence from Kat that she would be fine on her own, the judge had been impressed, but unsure.
However competent the girl seemed, and despite her outstanding presentation, she had still been just that—a girl.
She had panicked upon hearing this, adamantly refusing to be placed into the foster care system, well aware of where that path led so many other innocent children. She had implored the judge to look over the documents she had provided once more, to see how she could make this work for herself.
In the end, despite his initial reservations, he had agreed that it appeared she could make financial ends meet without adult interference. She was, however, ordered to attend grief counseling with a court appointed therapist until she came of age.
Kat accepted this stipulation graciously, relieved beyond measure that she would not be displaced into a home of strangers. And thus, she was ruled legally emancipated by the state. This allowed her to officially put all the bills under her own name and file/pay her own taxes. All the obligations and responsibilities that her parents had warned her would come along with adulthood were now hers.
Unable to continue dealing with coming to school and facing the wary, doleful stares of her peers and the murmured condolences from the teachers and staff, she made the decision to quit traditional school shortly after being emancipated.
She promptly enrolled in the high school diploma program offered online by the local community college and began finishing her studies online at her own pace, which was significantly faster than what she had expected. Since her parents were deceased and she fell into an unfortunate financial bracket, she was able to do this free of charge and even managed to obtain an associate degree exactly one semester after her former classmates received their high school diplomas.
Attending school at her own set pace also allowed her to work more often than a traditional high school student, helping to build the savings she was determined to maintain.
When she showed interest in transferring to a four-year university, she was presented with an opportunity to study abroad, which she accepted immediately. Though she was conflicted about leaving this place, which to her represented her successful transition into a self-sustaining adult, she had always wanted to see the world.
She spent four happy years in Japan attending university, and ultimately obtaining a bachelor’s degree in English with a master’s in communication. As she worked toward this, she spent her free time sightseeing nearly the entire continent of Asia, eating wonderful food, passing time with the most interesting people she could find, and soaking up the beautiful culture that surrounded her.
When it came to an end, she found herself melancholy with the idea of leaving this free-spirited, almost nomadic life of hers to return home.
She fell back into her old life with ease, forever grateful for her time and experiences abroad, but happy to be home. She took on a job as a freelance journalist, which allowed her to be her own boss for the most part and work at her own pace.
On location, or working from home, it didn’t matter much to her since she managed her own time and rates for each piece she took on. After doing this for some time, she also took on a more minor second job as one of the assistant editors for the local newspaper, which she wrote the occasional article for. Together, the jobs paid decently well, and she was happy to have such an unhurried career that she could enjoy.
Once some time had passed and she found herself settled and comfortable with her life, she began dating. One guy in particular—Chase Arrington, the guy who she had nothing in common with, but regrettably decided to give a chance to anyway. He also worked as a writer for the local paper, though he did so full time and had a regular column. Sports, naturally.
He seemed alright at first glance, and he was clearly interested in getting to know her better. She hadn't been able to see the harm. Later, she would admonish herself for not looking into the guy more before allowing him into her life.
After a few texts getting to know each other better, Kat agreed to a few casual, noncommittal dates with him to see how things went. There certainly had been no real spark between them, at least not if you asked her, but he was nice enough and didn’t showcase any obvious red flags, so she continued to see him for the next couple of months.
It wasn’t until she came to the realization that the relationship was going nowhere, and even felt forced at some points, that she invited him out to dinner to let him down gently. She laid it all out—her feelings, or lack thereof, and how she did not want to waste his time or lead him on in any way.
He had seemed dejected and confused upon hearing this, but Kat insisted it was for the best.
She'd ended the evening with an awkward, apologetic hug and a sincere wish to remain friends. After all, she didn’t dislike him. And he was still a colleague she would have to see in passing, at least from time to time. She preferred to keep things cordial. He nodded, bidding her goodbye with a smile that failed to touch his eyes and left.
She had thought that to be the end of it, feeling very pleased with how she handled such an uncomfortable situation. It had been a year since she’d had the conversation with him. They had called it quits after a mere two months of dating, which even to Kat, who had never had a romantic relationship, seemed like an insignificant amount of time.
It didn’t take long for her to be proven wrong in this regard. It took Chase less than a month to stop avoiding the friendly smiles she sent him in passing, trying to smooth over any residual hard feelings, and begin texting her again.
At first, it had been gradual and seemed harmless. Asking about her day, sharing an amusing news story, inviting her out for drinks. (“as friends, obviously"), Kat reluctantly agreed, though only on the occasions which he assured her other coworkers would be coming as well. This proved to be false more often than not, and multiple times Kat would arrive only to be met with a halfhearted excuse for why so-and-so couldn’t make it. She quickly stopped accepting his invitations.
Not that it deterred him.
An entire year later, and in that time Chase had yet to grasp the fact that she just didn't have any romantic feelings whatsoever for him and was soon realizing that she had little to no friendly sentiments toward him either, what with his creepy behavior. The entire relationship had been a dud as far as she was concerned, and she did them both a favor by ending it. What was the point in continuing to see someone who you had no spark with? Someone you knew you had no future with?
Sadly, he had yet to arrive at that conclusion. Not if her phone ringing around-the-clock was any indicator. She had to hand it to him, the man was nothing if not persistent. He had continued to pursue her even after she changed her phone number and even a few half-hearted threats to file a restraining order. Why? She had no idea. He was mostly harmless, but he was disrupting her peace.
With one last burst of speed, she ran past the old oak tree she had mentally dubbed her start/finish point, halting the timer on her handheld stopwatch. Kat’s smartwatch would easily time her progress if she chose, but there was something nostalgic about using the old stopwatch she’d had since she was 11 and first began distance running.
17:38 , she read. Not bad.
Much better than last week's times. Working to calm her breathing, she wandered over to the towel and water bottle she had lying next to her favorite resting spot. As she reached for the towel to mop the sweat from her brow, her eyes wandered to the old tire hanging from the tree's largest branch.
Feeling a wave of nostalgia sweep over her like a wave, she quickly looked away. Some memories were better left buried. Ones of her late father, in particular.
Instead, she focused her efforts on rehydrating herself before she collapsed. Today had been the perfect temperature for running, and she had taken full advantage of the pleasant weather when she arrived home after the monthly meeting at work where she’d had to keep her gaze fixed on the memo in front of her to avoid meeting the gaze of a certain stalker of hers.
Both her morning and evening workouts had proven productive. Stretching out on the grass, she gulped her water slowly, enjoying the feeling of her muscles cooling down after the workout, pushing the thoughts of Chase and all the irritation that came along with him from her mind.
She’d had three solid weeks of peace before this afternoon. No calls, no texts. Radio silence. She had thought he was finally seeing sense, but it seemed that seeing her today had provoked another slew of texts and calls from the fool. And she knew he had glimpsed her even if she went to great lengths to keep her head down throughout the entire hour-long meeting. When it concluded, she had pushed her way swiftly through the crowd and out of the building, not slowing down until she reached the sanctuary of her car.
She was incredibly pissed off at whoever included her updated contact information on the meeting roster, as that was surely how he had gotten her new number. She hadn’t even made it home before her phone started buzzing incessantly. She sighed, thinking that perhaps a job change was in order.
It wasn’t that she felt Chase would actually hurt her. It was more that once he got started, it never took long for him to start imploring her with those big brown eyes of his and trying to work his way under her skin. From there, he’d ask her out, she’d say no, and he’d want to revisit the reasons she previously supplied for why they weren’t a good match. Kat truly despised hurting others feelings, even someone like him, but she was reaching her breaking point.
Maybe the damn restraining order wasn’t a bad idea. Though she had no idea the criteria needed for having such an order put into place. And since he had never threatened her or harmed her, she figured she had very little justification in the eyes of the law.
Closing her eyes against the last rays of sunshine, she rested her head against the old oak's sturdy trunk, dreading what would surely be an obscene amount of missed calls and passive-aggressive voice messages awaiting her. Quietly resting under the rising moon sounded infinitely more appealing. Her last thought before nodding off was how she wished she had thought to bring a blanket.
Katherina
Katherina jolted awake, suddenly overcome by an overbearing feeling that she was no longer alone. The feeling was so pronounced in its intensity that she had to glance left then right to see if there was someone hovering over her.
There wasn’t.
Unable to come up with a justification for why someone would venture out this far away from the main roads, and onto private property, she was immediately unnerved. The sensation that someone was near felt so palpable that she could accept no other explanation. She pondered through several theories as for who could be here, and why.
The most prominent possibility she could come up with was that Chase had taken his stalking a step further and shown up at her house. Though she had never invited him to her home during their relationship, she knew her address was on the work roster, so it wouldn't be too hard to learn where to find her.
But Chase wouldn’t just lurk in the dark without approaching her. The man wasn't exactly known for his subtlety. That theory was out.
She checked her watch, fighting back a shiver. Several hours had passed since sundown and the air had cooled considerably, the last rays of day long gone. Looking up at the sky, she noted the moon hung full in the cloudless night sky. It was nearing eight o'clock, she noted with alarm.
How had she managed to sleep out here all this time? One thing was for sure, it was much too late to entertain visitors of any sort. Not that she ever actually had visitors. No one she knew from work had ever been to her house.
So then, who could it be?
Burglars? The thought made the blood rush to her ears and her pulse kick up a notch. Surely not. She had very few material possessions apart from her car and the house itself. It would be a major waste of anyone’s time to venture into the middle of nowhere only to leave empty handed. Highly improbable.
Finally willing herself to move into an upright position, she tried in vain to calm her paranoia. Maybe it was just an animal? There were plenty of foxes, deer, possums, and other nocturnal wanderers out there. She was practically surrounded by forest from all directions. It was completely plausible that one of the forest critters had wandered into the clearing closest to her house, or even into her backyard to graze at the small garden she kept. The deer were particularly fond of her tomato plants. Though this late in the year, nothing was even growing in the garden.
Taking a deep breath, she slowly rose to her feet, positioning her body away from her house. She had a gut feeling that whatever was out there was in that direction, toward the clearing. Deciding that she would never be able to sleep until she properly investigated, she turned and ran back into her house and grabbed her hoodie off the hook by the door and the flashlight in the top drawer of her entryway table. She took a deep breath as she stepped back out onto the porch and forced one foot in front of the other, heading toward the northern tree line.
Katherina
Just under a quarter of a mile from her house, there was a small meadow, situated near a brook. She moved in that direction quickly and quietly. She could see the break in the tree line just up ahead, leading into the small meadow.
Switching off her flashlight to avoid detection, she pushed past the last of the trees into the clearing. She stood there, still as a statue, listening for any signs of life.
Nothing.
All was silent.
This is what I get for spending all my time alone , she thought bitterly. My brain has resorted to creating imaginary visitors.
Heaving a sigh, she turned away from the empty meadow, mentally kicking herself for getting so worked up over nothing. She trudged back into the woods, flicking her flashlight back on.
As she paused to step over a particularly thick fallen tree, she heard it. It was so quiet that for a moment, she thought she had imagined it. But no, there it was again. A voice. A male voice, to be specific.
And whoever he was, he must've been in pain. There were no clear words formed by the voice, only shallow groans of pain. Her head snapped back in the direction immediately. Feet moving of their own accord, she took off back into the meadow, heading toward the source of the low, masculine voice.
Shining her flashlight around the field, she quickly spotted a dark, crumpled figure on the ground less than 15 feet in front of her. She paused, hesitating momentarily before warily approaching the figure.
Absently, it occurred to her that she should turn around and just call for help upon returning to her house and bolting her door shut. She didn't know this man. She certainly had no idea how he came to be here, in the middle of nowhere so late at night. If she were smart, she would turn tail and run.
But in the end, her compassion won out over her survival instincts. It didn't help that just as she was contemplating hauling ass away from there, the guy let out another heart-wrenching groan of pain. Wincing, she took the last remaining steps toward him, halting three feet away just to be safe.
She studied him under the glow of her flashlight, taking in his size. He was definitely male. Long and lean, dressed all in dark colors, frame almost completely concealed by a cloak of some sort. Though that was all she could gather at this distance. He had long, dark hair that fell over his face, masking his features.
Drawing in a deep breath, Kat walked over to the man, dropping down on one knee. At this proximity, she realized that he was very pale. Whether due to injury and the cold surroundings or simple genetics, she couldn't be sure. She itched to see more of him, to check for injuries, but refrained.
Good Samaritan or not, she was hardly stupid.
As she pondered over all the possible reasons for someone to be on her property, she almost missed it when he moved ever so slightly, turning his head to face her. She let out a small yelp of surprise upon seeing a pair of dark eyes focusing on her. She scrambled back a few feet, purposely shining her flashlight into his eyes to blind him.
For his part, he remained motionless, still attempting to fix his eyes on the woman in front of him. She studied his face carefully, not being able to place just where she had seen this man before. His features, though still partially hidden by his hair, seemed very familiar to her. Pallid skin. Full lips. Prominent cheekbones. Large dark eyes, delicate brow. Such familiar eyes.
She was the first to break the silence.
"...Are you injured?"
"I am not sure," he answered quietly. His voice sounded strained, as if it hadn't been used in quite some time. He cleared his throat quietly before speaking again. "Where am I?"
"You're on my property," she answered succinctly. "How did you get here, and what happened to you?"
The man paused. "Could you lower your light? It's irritating my eyes."
Hesitantly, she did as he asked, shining the light away from his face. "You didn't answer my question," she pointed out quietly.
He looked at her then, eyes searching her face for a long moment before turning his attention to the night sky.
"That's because I do not know," he answered simply.
“Who are you?” she whispered. He didn’t move or speak, didn’t even register that he had in fact heard her question. She let it drop. After all, he might not know the answer to that either.
She crawled closer to him. In truth, if he didn't know who he was or how he landed himself here, she didn't know what to say to him. She reached out a tentative hand to rest it on his chest, gently palpating the area as she checked for wounds. She studied his facial expression as she examined him, waiting for a grunt of protest or cry of pain that never came. “So, no chest injuries”, she mumbled to herself, moving on to his torso and repeating her actions.
She had already seen the stranger turn his head toward her with ease, ruling out a potential neck injury. “Are you in pain?” she questioned without pausing her examination of his body, registering the barely there shake of his head. “Can you wiggle your fingers?” He complied. “Move your feet?” Again, he silently angled his feet so his toes pointed outward, then inward, before going still once more.
She continued, checking all his vital points, extremities, and even checking his pulse. All seemed stable and intact.
“Try to follow my fingers with your eyes,” she instructed. “Try not to move your head while doing so." His eyes followed the movement of her left hand as it moved first side to side, then closer to the center of his face and away again. She angled her flashlight downward, once more shining the light into his face, only this time carefully observing as his pupils first constricted in response to the brightness, then slowly dilated as she moved the flashlight away.
All normal.
She was baffled. Of course, she could not be entirely sure that there was no internal bleeding or head trauma, but he was not complaining of any specific pain. There were no apparent injuries to his person. Why then did she find him unconscious in the middle of nowhere after dark?
Could he be homeless? What skin was visible was dirt smudged, and slightly sallow looking, she realized as she studied him closer. His dark hair, she could tell, was long and thick. Currently, though, it lay in oily, tangled knots trapped beneath his neck as he lay supine on the cold ground. His clothes, which looked to be some sort of dark and loose-fitting attire underneath a plain black cloak, were stained and tattered. All except the outerwear, anyway. The cape—or cloak— looked to be wholly pristine. Odd.
He didn’t seem like a drunk. She could detect no pungent reek of alcohol. What’s more, he seemed completely coherent aside from not knowing where he was, or how he arrived here.
As she continued to marvel over the strangeness of the situation, her eyes met his mysterious gaze. His eyes were completely guarded, expression stoic.
“Are you a medic?”
She paused. Medic . Curious wording. Maybe he was in the military, then?
But no…the long hair. She frowned softly, contemplating. Just who was this man?
She finally shook her head, drawing in a breath to speak. "I'm not, but you don't seem to have any obvious injuries. But if you stay out here much longer, you’ll catch something for sure. My house is just up the way, not very far from here," she offered. “If you’d like to go to the hospital, we can call an ambulance,” she added, earning her a raised brow from the soft-spoken man.
She wasn’t sure what made her do it.
He was a total stranger passed out in a field in the middle of nowhere. She was a young woman of no more than typical build and stature, alone, and unarmed in the darkness. It also did not escape her that her cell phone was back at the house on the other side of the woods. There was no one around for miles if she found herself in need of help.
So what was she thinking?
She would normally never consider doing this for someone she didn’t know. She may have a bleeding heart and no wish to see others suffering, but Kat was no fool. The world was not a kind or fair place, and naïve, trusting people seldom fared well in it.
And yet…she had no words for the feeling she had about this. All she knew is she felt no ill-intent from this man. She was unusually adept at reading others and had been since early childhood. It wasn’t an ability she touted, mostly because who on earth would believe her? She had always been aware of how ridiculous it would sound to others.
She could read people, and therefore typically navigated situations remarkably well. Better than most, she had come to understand. She didn’t know why or how it worked, but she knew when people did not like her or held malintent. Or more infrequently, when they did like her. Over time, she stopped questioning her pronounced sense of intuition—because that was surely all it was—and embraced it as a gift. It was perhaps why she lived alone and chose not to associate herself with many people these last few years. She had learned the world was full of disingenuous, selfish people.
So, while she never acknowledged it aloud, it did not escape her notice that she was rarely, if ever, wrong concerning another’s intentions and general character. It had saved her on more than one occasion throughout the course of her life. And her gut feeling was that this man was nothing more than an injured, confused soul needing help from another. And as she was the only one around...
Tearing her eyes away from him, she retrieved her flashlight from the ground and rose to her feet, dusting herself off before extending him a cautious hand.
He accepted hesitantly and allowed her to help him to his feet. He shifted his weight from foot to foot, as if trying to remember how to use his legs to support his body weight. He gave her a silent nod of thanks. Or at least she took it as such.
This night was certainly proving to be most interesting.
Katherina
As they finally entered her home, she turned to once again examine the man standing silently in the doorway. She knew she was being impolite, but she couldn’t make herself look away, couldn’t shake the nagging feeling of recognition despite being unable to pinpoint where she knew him from. He studied her right back, and for a moment she considered asking him if they'd met before this night.
I know I've seen those eyes somewhere before , she thought, still searching his face. Such a distinct shape they had. A subtle tilt in the upper and lower corners, but still very large.
Mentally shaking herself, she turned away from him, walking through the living room to toss her keys and towel haphazardly onto her coffee table. Distracted as she was, she overshot by a mile, keys soaring past the table and striking the shelf behind it, consequently knocking her entire manga collection to the floor.
Muttering in embarrassment at her lack of grace, she kneeled and began collecting the comics, sorting them back into proper order. As she gathered the last one, she rose to her feet, sliding the volumes one by one into their slot on the cube of shelves beside her couch when she spotted it. There on the cover was the face of her favorite anime character. Uchiha Itachi.
Her blood froze in her veins and she visibly stiffened. Suddenly her tiny home felt much smaller than she ever remembered.
Slowly she turned to face her guest, still situated by the door, unmoving, regarding her curiously. He was scrutinizing her every move as she looked back and forth from his face to the book in her hand. Her jaw fell slack, eliciting a frown from him.
She swallowed with some difficulty and took an instinctive step away from him, wary of his eyes but terrified to look away. He cocked his head ever so slightly to the right at her sudden change of behavior.
She attempted to steady herself only to almost lose her balance completely as he materialized in front of her in an instant, his black cloak falling forgotten to the floor behind him. Her galloping heart stuttered once before impossibly speeding up in her chest.
Idly, she wondered if he could hear it.
She glanced at the doorway he occupied a fraction of a second earlier and back to him. Shunshin , her terror-stricken brain supplied. But no…no, that wasn’t possible.
He stood a scant three inches from her now. Close enough she could take in the faint pine scent clinging to his clothes and the unmistakable metallic scent of blood, despite his confirmed lack of wounds just ten minutes ago. Close enough for his presence to overwhelm her senses. His entire aura had changed in the space of a heartbeat.
No ... she thought numbly. She tried to remember how to breathe. It was impossible. There was no way that this man could be...it just wasn't feasible. But as she studied the lines marring his cheeks, the singular way his long bangs framed his narrow face, the deep black of his eyes...she realized this was where she had seen this man before.
This man was Uchiha Itachi.