Katana in: Two Stories, Two Bathrooms, Two Identities!

Detective Nogami closed the door and stepped carefully away from the windows; certain he wasn't being watched, he leaned against the wall and let it take his weight as he exhaled slow and long, his eyes closing as he let everything out.

"I didn't do too bad out there," he said halfway between a self-reassuring statement and a question to the masked swordswoman who stood across from him.

"You walked into a press scrum barely knowing anything about the case that you're the lead detective on, five seconds after you arrived. Which was later than everyone else."

"I was across town! I skimmed the notes sent to me and someone needed to calm the reporters before they started chasing rumors. I didn't do too bad out there," he repeated, this time with conviction.

"You stood wide-eyed for ten seconds fumbling for words when they asked if the victim was secretly a supervillain."

"And I recovered, carried through, and got everything under control."

"Uh-huh," she said, listening to the press outside still calling his name to try and get him back outside."

Nogami stood up and straightened his suit. "It's not my fault they left out something as important as the victim possibly being a supervillain, so really whose to blame for my performance?" He stepped across the trashed living room, carefully avoiding the overturned furniture marked with little numbered placards, to reach an opened closet. Thick winter coats and seasonal decorations were casually tossed aside and the back wall panel ripped out to reveal a hidden compartment. Inside was a brightly colored costume, helmet, and weapons on a display frame. He paused to look everything over. "Hana Ishida, age 37, homemaker and part-time grocery store clerk, married with a son, no priors, no history of anything, nothing interesting about her at all. Except for this."

Katana moved next to him. "You need to take this seriously, it took three layers of bureaucracy to call me in to consult on this, and I still showed up before you. You ran off to get your face on the news before getting all your facts lined up and made a fool out of yourself."

Nogami didn't answer. Instead, after a several seconds of silence, he tapped his lips and asked, "Do you think it's real?" Katana rolled her eyes at him. "I mean, it could be a sex thing."

"All this setup for a sex thing?"

"Yeah, you don't want anyone to find out about your cape and cowl cosplay, so you have a little secret compartment built in the back of a closet. Could explain the home invasion, she hires a worker or lets it slip she's building a place to hide something, someone busts in thinking it's cash or valuables, Ms. Ishida walks in and gets killed, killer bolts when he discovers its fetish wear."

"Hrmm," she replied examining the costume, a thick one-piece jumpsuit, sleeveless and legless, armored go-go boots, opera gloves, and face obscuring helmet. "This looks like real ballistic fiber," she countered while tapping the stiff panels of the suit, "and these inserts are the right thickness for Level IIIA armor plates."

"You have no idea the lengths or expenses some people will go for their sex fantasies."

"Personal experiences?"

The detective straightened up as his face flushed and he began to sputter until he looked over and saw the wry, sardonic half-smile on the face of the teasing heroine; his composure relaxed and he tilted his head with a smile, "I've got horror stories about my college ex."

"Anyways," she continued, "how do you explain these?" She pointed to the weapons flanking the costume, what looked to be pistols combined with swords in a matching set. This isn't some hackjob. The design allows both the gun and blade to function more or less normally, that's custom engineering and fabrication; these things are in pristine condition, they're even oiled, that's not something shoved into a closet once the afterglow fades."

"I still think it's a sex thing," he shrugged as the pair made their way to the kitchen which bustled with activity as technicians in white coveralls and respirators carefully swabbed bloodstains and bagged evidence under the flash of crime scene photography.

"You shouldn't form an opinion before all the facts are in," she chided as they looked at the drying pool of blood that once belonged to Mrs. Ishida, dripping down off the counter and into a smear of brown on the floor. "You'll start ignoring evidence to the contrary, you'll miss things that are obvious."

"Oh please, when have I ever missed anything?" he asked as he knelt down to examine a bloody kitchen knife with a broken blade before it was bagged as evidence.

He nostrils flared as she pursed her limps, holding her breath for a second before pointing to the photographer. "You missed the fact that crime scene photography comes before forensics and evidence collection, that our photographer here isn't using the right kind of camera, and the number on her ID badge isn't in the right format."

The photographer froze as the detective jumped to his feet. After a few "uhs" and "ahs" she bolted out of the room only to nearly be pulled off her feet by Nogami, reacting fast enough to grab her shoulder.

"Ow, ow, ow," she exclaimed dramatically, "this is abuse by an authority figure and a violation of freedom of the press!"

"Which tabloid?" he asked mockingly as he waved over a uniformed officer. "Keep her in the back until we can quietly take her to booking." He turned back to the vigilante, who stared at him with worried judgement. "Don't say anything," he admonished as he pointed his finger at her, "she slipped by everyone which means it doesn't count. From now on nothing about this case is getting by Kogoro Nogami!"

Katana stared at him blankly, her hands resting on hilts of her sword. "So you're not questioning why the guy behind you swabbing blood is 190cm tall and Caucasian?"

"Have a little respect, I'm not falling for something so obvious." He stood there for a second glancing as hard as he could to the left and right, his neck twisting slightly before he caught himself. Katana raised an eyebrow at him as he rocked on his heels before letting out a quick sigh and spinning around. "You're just messing with m-EEEEE!" He stumbled back as he found himself suddenly face to face with a wall of muscle that stood a half head taller, the grimace on the man's face noticeable through the respirator and safety glasses.

Katana stood there, tapping her palm on the pommel of her sword as she looked the scene over with a bemused expression. "Hello, Batman, what brings you all the way to Japan?