“I put your clothes in the washing machine.”

  “Yes, Master,” Sean said quietly.

  “I went through your things. Why are you not at school? You have a meal card, a room key. Why are you not there?”

  Sean hung his head down. “They know.”

  “They know what?”

  So Sean told him everything. Not just what the school knew, everything.

  When he’d finished, the man sat there and looked at him, pondering something. After a long while, he said, “How long has it been since you have eaten?”

  “Two days, I think, Master.”

  “Take this money, go down to the corner, order whatever you want, and bring me back a burger and a Fresca.”

  Sean came back with quite a bit of food; he hadn’t realized just how hungry he was. He ate his food quietly while the man ate his burger.

  “Today is Sunday. Tomorrow I will talk to this Riemert person, and this Harris. I will see this straightened out so you can go back to classes.”

  “I’m not going back!” Sean said defiantly, then seeing the look the man was giving him, he lowered his head. “Master.”

  “You are my student now; you have asked three times and called me Master. You will do as I say, or I will punish you, understood?”

  Sean cringed a little, but nodded slowly. “Yes, Master.”

  “You will be returning to school, but you will be living here. Education is important; you will get one. And scrubbing floors is important, too. When you finish your dinner, you will find a bucket and a scrub brush in the back. I want the whole floor scrubbed. I will put out a pallet for you to sleep on. Good night.”

  Sean blinked as the man got up and left the room, going up a set of stairs to an apartment that was obviously above the studio. Deciding only took a moment, and he went and got the brush and the bucket and spent the next two hours scrubbing.

  "Wake up! It is time to begin for the day."

  Opening his eyes, it took Sean a moment to realize where he was. Scrambling to his feet, he looked at Miyamoto, who was wearing a gi.

  "Good morning, Master."

  "Put that on," Miyamoto said, pointing to a neatly folded white gi sitting there on the floor, "then join me out in the main room for instruction."

  Sean blinked. "Master? What about school?"

  "I will deal with them later. Instruction comes first."

  Miyamoto turned and left Sean to quickly get dressed. Heading out of the small room, really no more than a broom closet, Sean found Miyamoto waiting for him.

  "Here is your starting belt," Miyamoto said, handing Sean a white belt. "This is how you wear it."

  Sean watched carefully as Miyamoto showed him how to tie it.

  "First we will stretch."

  Sean paid careful attention as Miyamoto taught him each of the stretches he was to do before working out. Next he taught Sean one basic routine, followed by one punch and one kick. Then he left Sean to practice for the next half hour, while Miyamoto did his own morning exercises.

  That was when Sean got his first painful lesson. He started slacking a little bit as his attention drifted off his work. Next thing he knew, he was face down on the floor with his arm bent behind him in a submission hold.

  "Pay attention to what you do!" Miyamoto said in a stern voice. "Focus on the act, do not let your mind wander."

  He gave Sean a 'love tap' on the side of the head and went back to his own routine.

  Sean paid a lot more attention to what he was doing until Miyamoto signaled an end to the morning's exercise.

  "Now, come here and I will teach you the student's bow. We bow in before each workout, and we bow out when we are done. Pay attention."

  Sean nodded and did as he was shown, making sure to pay attention to the placement of his hands, as Miyamoto put extra emphasis on that.

  "Good. Now clean the floor, put your stuff away, and shower."

  "And school, Master?"

  "As I told you, I will talk to those involved. Clean up while I prepare."

  Sean just nodded and again did as he was told. While he was finishing up with his cleaning, Miyamoto showed up, only this time he was in a fine silk suit with a briefcase and a document in hand.

  "Sign this, please."

  Sean nodded and gave it a quick glance; it said 'Power of Attorney' on top. He looked at Miyamoto. "Master?"

  "While I do not practice anymore, considering myself to be retired, I am still an attorney, Sean. I am a former prosecutor for the city and have several friends now sitting on the bench as judges. I do not expect much trouble. Now, please sign."

  Signing it, he handed it back to Miyamoto, who put it in his briefcase.

  "This should not take long. Stay in here, do not answer the door. There is cereal set out on my desk for breakfast."

  "Yes, Master," Sean said and nodded his head.

  As Miyamoto left, Sean put the cleaning tools away and showered, then went to Miyamoto's desk. There was cereal there, one of the better brands, not one of the typical cheap sugar-infested store brands. He ate and then cleaned up. After that, he sat on his pallet and thought about his situation.

  He’d handled Coach Harris badly, he knew that much, but he had no idea how he should have done things, how he should have dealt with the man. Then there was that lady at the school. He'd never thought to find out what information his high school had sent over with him. But then, why would he?

  Then of course there was his temper. That had made things even worse. He shook his head as he thought about that. He lacked experience when it came to dealing with people; hell, he lacked experience when dealing with most things.

  And when pressed or cornered, he simply lashed out.

  In high school, that may have worked, but not in college, and certainly not here with Miyamoto. Miyamoto wasn't afraid of him, even knowing everything about Sean, the Cat, and his history. Miyamoto still wasn't afraid.

  And that made him feel good. His biggest fears weren't based around the past, about what had been done to him. They were based on what he'd become, what he did, and what others might think of him because of it.

  Miyamoto returned just prior to noon.

  "Master?" Sean asked hopefully, looking at him.

  "All those involved have been rebuked. All mention of your past has been expunged from your records, and the school has agreed to several concessions to prevent any legal action.

  "You may return to school tomorrow. Tonight we will visit your dorm room to retrieve your belongings."

  Sean smiled and bowed. "Thank you, Master! Thank you!"

  "You may not feel so thankful as time goes on. I will not go easy on you, Sean."

  "I know," Sean replied, "but you're not afraid of me. I told you everything, yet you're still helping me."

  "You are my student; that is my task as your Sensei."

  Sean nodded. "I think I’m starting to see that now. But Master, do you really think the others would have done that, knowing what you know?"

  Miyamoto pondered that a moment. "Some would; most would not. Sadly, neither your former coach nor Dean Riemert are among those who would. Go put your pallet away. I must change for my class. We will spend the rest of the day in practice."

  Later that night, after the door had been locked, Miyamoto sat Sean down to talk.

  "I have read your transcripts, all of them. I have even talked to your high school principle and your parents."

  "What?" Sean said, eyes wide in shock.

  "Do not worry; I have kept your secrets, for they are not mine to share. I simply told them I was representing you in a privacy issue that had arisen. Though I did tell your parents you had agreed to my training in learning how to control one's temper."

  Sean blushed at that.

  "Your problem,” Miyamoto told him, “is you have no discipline. No control. Here you will learn discipline and control. You will learn to be focused and honed to a fine edge. Now, it is time for bed; you will attend your classes at school again in the morning, as well all my classes when you are here. Good night.”

  "Good night, Master."

  Sean soon realized that his new master was serious. He was expected to get up every morning at five am. His master would train him for an hour, and then he was expected to scrub the floors and clean up the dojo. Only then was he allowed to eat breakfast, and afterwards was sent off to class or to study. At the end of the day, he had another training session, and then cleanup duty all over again, followed by dinner and studying until lights out at nine pm. There was no TV, no other entertainment. The only thing out of the ordinary was once a week he was allowed to turn into his cat self and slink through the city at night.

  There were other students at the dojo, however they were all paying customers. There were group classes twice a day during the week, and three times a day on weekends. Sean was expected to attend any that didn’t conflict with his classes. He was also expected not to talk with the students before, during, or after the class.

  School, however, went well; Sean never attended another practice or any other track team event. He avoided the team and all sporting events completely, and was happy that they didn’t search him out either. By the end of the semester, when the midwinter break arrived, he had straight A's, and for all that he didn’t have any kind of social life, he was content. The lessons with Miyamoto fulfilled a basic physical need for exercise, and a mental need for fighting, both of which came from the cat.

  He went home for Christmas at Miyamoto's painful insistence, and while he was only there for four days, he found he was happy to have gone.

  When he came back, Miyamoto tested him for his first belt.

  "Tell me, Sean, what is your guiding principle in life?" Miyamoto asked as they were sparing.

  Sean blinked and got hit in the side of the face as he forgot to block Miyamoto's strike. It was the first question he’d been asked since he'd become Miyamoto's pupil several months ago.

  "Excuse me, Master?" he said, shaking off the sting of the hit.

  "What is your guiding principle?"

  This time Sean remembered to block.

  "To find those who prey on children and kill them," Sean answered.

  "Is that all?"

  Sean took a step back and looked at him. "What else is there?"

  Miyamoto stepped back and signaled an end to the sparing, surprising Sean. Then he motioned for Sean to sit on the floor, sitting down across from him.

  "So you have no guiding principles in life beyond that which guides your gift?"

  Sean nodded. "I follow the cat."

  "But the cat is a simple animal," Miyamoto pointed out.

  "The cat is the master of the hunt, the kill."

  "The fight and the kill, perhaps," Miyamoto agreed, "but how much does it rely on you, your experience, your intelligence, your knowledge, to do the things it must do?"

  Sean blinked and pondered that a moment.

  "You are both one, are you not?"

  Sean nodded.

  "Then why would your guiding principle in life come from only half of you? And the least civilized half, as well? You live in a world of men, a world of rational, and perhaps not so rational, thinkers.

  "If you wish to be successful, you must have principles to guide you. Otherwise you are truly no better than the monsters you hunt."

  Sean considered that a moment; his master had a point. Eventually he would have to go back out into the world to live, without the support or guidance of his master's wisdom. Wisdom that had extracted him from a problem he should have been able to handle himself, but had failed.

  "Would you teach me, Master?" Sean asked and bowed his head in respect.

  Miyamoto nodded. "As your master, it is my responsibility.

  "You, Sean, have been given a gift, a great gift, have you not?"

  Sean nodded.

  "Gifts are given in order to be used. You were given yours for a reason; using it to fulfill that reason is your purpose."

  Sean looked at him, surprised. The last two times he'd come back from his one night a week out as a cat, he had returned with blood on his fur. He’d been surprised his master had made no comment on it. In fact, he'd noticed his master treated him much differently when he was in cat form. At first he’d thought perhaps he was afraid of the cat.

  Apparently that was not the case.

  "So you're saying what I do is okay?"

  Miyamoto nodded. "The people you hunt are evil; they are a plague upon us. Your gift was given to you by the higher powers that rule us all. It is both proper and ethical for you to use it."

  Sean gave a slow nod.

  "But there are other things you must understand. With strong and powerful gifts come other responsibilities as well. You were made to prey on those who prey on the weakest of our society. To protect the helpless, never to hurt them.

  "That duty, your duty, is to all such members of society: children, women, the weak, the innocent, and the vulnerable. They are to be protected, always, never attacked, never killed."

  Sean nodded. "Yes, Master."

  "Those who save others, who do good deeds in the service of others and society, who perform the right and thankless tasks upon which we all depend, those also are to be treated with respect, honored for their works, and protected."

  "Of course, Master." Sean nodded again.

  "Challenges to others should never be offered, except in the most special of circumstances. To do otherwise will turn your feet from the path of righteousness. Those who constantly offer challenges do so to elevate themselves over their fellow man. Often to aspire to things they are not deserving of."

  "When should I offer challenges, Master?"

  "That I cannot tell you; you will know, should the time ever come. But always remember, in offering a challenge, you are admitting to having failed to find a more honorable path to solve your problem."

  Sean had to think about that a moment. He wasn't sure he understood, but his master was far wiser and more experienced than he was. If he said Sean shouldn’t offer them, then he wouldn't.

  "What if someone offers a challenge to me?"

  "Then you must consider it carefully. While I advise you not to offer challenges, neither should you lightly refuse one. Most challenges in life, especially those I suspect you will one day face, must be accepted and met. There is no dishonor in doing so."

  For the remainder of the night's lesson, Miyamoto gave him the rest of his philosophy of life, most of which was surprisingly simple. He had Sean tell him of the many times he’d lost his temper, and then pointed out how in many of them it was due to a lack of principles and a lack of self-respect.

  When he’d blown up and attacked those other people, he was, in effect, refusing their challenge of words, and offering his own of violence.

  Sean felt his ears and face turning red in embarrassment. His master made so much of it look like the stupid actions of a rash idiot. Which they clearly were, when he thought about them now.

  "The mistakes of our youth serve the purpose of guiding us as adults," Miyamoto said. "If you learn from them, they will lose their power over you."

  Sean nodded, embarrassed more than angry.

  "This is why you must know the principles that guide you, the ethics that bind you, the rules you will live your life by. No man, no government, nothing can make you a good or honorable man. That must come from you, from inside.

  "I have given you my ethics, my principles. They have served me well for many a year, and they serve me well because they come from inside. You must set your own rules in life, Sean, and follow them unswervingly. As long as you do that, let them guide you, you will never be lost. You will know what to do, and when you must do it.

  "Only then will words of others, their actions, lose their power over you. You will see then that all they are doing is trying to push you off of your path and on to theirs. Not giving in to them will hurt them more than any weapon ever will."

  Sean nodded. He couldn't ignore the wisdom in his master's words, especially when so many had struck him to the core. Even the cat could feel the wisdom in them.

  "Stand," Miyamoto said, rising to his feet.

  Sean stood and watched as his master went over to the table to pick up the belt there. Bringing it back, he bowed to Sean, who returned it, and presented him with the belt for his first rank. He waited until Sean had removed his old white belt and tied on the new one.

  "Meditate on what we have discussed. You are dismissed."

  "Thank you, Master," Sean said, and bowed again. Then he went off to gather his cleaning supplies for the nightly floor scrubbing. He had a lot to think about.

  The Jersey Devil

  It was a Saturday night, and Sean was on the prowl. Working solely in his cat form presented a significant challenge, but he couldn't help it, he was constrained by only being allowed out after dark had fallen to do his hunting.

  And he wasn't about to question his master's motives. He wasn't even about to ask him what they were. Lessons from Miyamoto were meant to be lived, and too many questions could lead to a spontaneous sparing session. He wasn't cruel, he just felt students shouldn't question their teachers too much, and pain helped make the important lessons stick.

  Sean suspected if you looked up the phrase 'Old School' in an encyclopedia, Miyamoto's picture would be there.

  So he had to take his time and go the extra distance to find his prey. The kinds of places where little children hung out didn't tend to have children in them after nightfall, so finding those who preyed on said children was made more difficult.

  But he still checked those places out, and looked at the adults who were there with a child. It wasn’t common for most people to take their children out to such places after dark, especially during the summer, when the sunset was late at night.

  So that made it more likely, when he did spot someone with a child, that it wasn't theirs. But he had to be careful. Twice he’d started to follow a promising suspect, only for it to turn out to be an older brother or an uncle.