CHAPTER

1

The streets and side walks of New York City were packed to the brim with people and cars. It was very cold; a gloomy, ash gray cloud dominated the sky, spewing out icy blasts of wind and snow. The never ending racket of voices, machinery and cars filled the frozen air, adding to the stress of everyday life. The massive city was in for a bad winter, and everyone was stocking up on food and water. the shelves in the stores were being emptied as never before, and shipments to replace products being constantly demanded. The economy was bad, and crime was rising to immense heights; you couldn't turn on the television or open a news paper without seeing something about it. Despite all of this, there were some who managed to keep hope in these bad times, and one of these families happened to live in the Bronx.

The Michaels home was no more than a rented apartment, and not a very expensive one at that. It was a two story building, and well kept, with a short flight of stairs leading from the front door to the sidewalk. This front door, out of all the others, looked warm and welcoming, with a strand of year-round greenery running up the rails. Mark and Ann Michaels, along with their two seven year-old children, Ian and Terri, were the occupants of this place, along with their terrier, Molly. This family was very happy here, and although they were constantly surrounded by crime and inflation, they kept their trust in their Lord, and were certain that they would pull through.

This particular day found Ian Michaels, an adorable, blond haired, blue eyed seven year-old up in his room with his twin, Terri, who looked almost exactly like him. He was in his own world, fighting imaginary battles with the infamous bad guys of his dreams, and, of course, winning. All the while he spoke to his sister, who stood by the window, arms crossed and watching dully.

"I'll be the best ninja in the entire world, Terri. I'll kill all of the bad guys and save the good guys. I would defeat the best ninja around. I—"

In his hurry to block an imaginary punch from the black-clad ghost in front of him, he accidentally tripped on his own feet, falling to the floor with a thud. Terri, who had remained quiet up to this point, laughed at her twin.

"Ha! Some ninja that you would turn out to be! Look at you! Tripping on your own feet!"

Ian jumped up, quite indignant.

"Hey! That's not funny! Every ninja makes at least one mistake!"

Terri huffed.

"Yeah, but if you're surrounded by bad guys with sharp swords, there would be no room for a messing up. And you're not even doing real ninja moves."

Ian's face grew downcast, and he swallowed hard. Turning on his heel, he stomped off to the bunk bed at the far end of the room, climbing to the top. Flopping into the covers, he laid face-down, head buried in his arms. His eyes burned with tears that he did not wish to come, and a lump built in his throat.

Just wait. Terri, just you wait. One day, I will be the greatest ninja. I'll learn it all. Then you won't be able to say that I don't know what I'm doing...

His thoughts were interrupted when the twin's mother called from the kitchen downstairs.

"Ian! Terri! It's time for supper! Please come down and help me with setting the table."

Terri put down the little stuffed dog that she was holding and hop skipped out of the bedroom, calling back to her twin,

"Come on Ian! We're having spaghetti tonight!"

The little blond laid where he was for a few minutes, trying to keep from crying. Once Terri had gone, he slowly sat up, wiping a sleeve across his eyes. Coming down from the bed, he walked over to the window, gazing out at the packed street below and watching as a few lazy snow flakes began to fall. Sighing, he turned, walking towards the door. His dad should be home soon, and he would talk to him.

After about forty-five minutes or so, the nob on the front door turned, causing Molly, the little family dog, to jump up from her spot by the couch and run barking to the door. Ann, who was in the kitchen, heard her and went into the foyer, shooing the dog away and opening the door. Her husband, a fine looking man in his late forties, stepped into the house, brushing the few snow flakes from his coat. He was readily greeted by his wife, who kissed his cold cheek.

"Hello Mark."

Before he could greet her back, Ian and Terri came running to his open arms, hugging and kissing him profusely.

"Oh daddy! We missed you a bunch!"

Mark laughed heartily.

"You silly rogues, I've only been gone since this morning!"

He hugged them tightly, and then stood to hug his wife.

"But I am glad that you missed me."

Ann took his coat and hat.

"Supper will be ready soon, dear."

Mark smiled, taking his son by the hand, who stood right beside him.

"Good, I'm starving."

Terri skipped on off into the small kitchen to help her mother, while Mark picked his son up, taking him over to a chair in the corner of the living room.

"Well son, how was your day today?"

Ian smiled brightly.

"Just fine, daddy. How about you?"

Mark hugged his son again, glad to be home.

"Wonderful. Did you do school today?"

Ian nodded, brushing the hair from his eyes.

"Yes. We did a bunch of math and history..."

He was quiet for a few minutes, and then spoke again.

"I...also did some of my own school, I guess."

Mark raised an eyebrow, knowing what was coming next.

"Really? What was that?"

The little boy rubbed the back of his neck, something he had the habit of doing.

"Um...I read some in my martial arts book..."

Mark laughed, scrubbing his blond beard against his son's tender face.

"Did you now? Well, that's good. What did you learn?"

Ian immediately brightened up at this conversation, his blue eyes shining.

"I learned a few more kicks, and there's this one pressure point, but I can't figure it out...it's really hard. Daddy, could you please tell Terri not to make fun of me? She laughed at me today when I tripped."

Mark nodded, putting on a serious face.

"Certainly. But you must remember that you sometimes do the same thing. Remember yesterday, when she was helping to make cookies?"

Ian lowered his head in shame, nodding a little.

"Yes sir."

Mark watched him for a minute, and then smiled, hugging him tightly.

"That's my boy. Come on, let's go see if we can help your mother."

That evening, after supper, Ian sat on the couch with his parents and Terri. A fire burned in the small fireplace and the ornaments on the tiny Christmas tree glittered in the firelight. Ian sat in between his parents with Terri, and he snuggled deeper into the red blanket that he was wrapped up in, lulled to sleep by his parent's soft voices. He dreamed, as he did almost every night, of learning martial arts. He wanted to so bad. It was something that he wished to accomplish in his life. Misty images of unknown people preforming unbelievable moves danced before him, shining blades flashing in the sunlight. Battles were fought and won, warriors triumphed fearlessly...oh how he longed to be like one of them.

Unknown to him, his father had taken both him and Terri, one at a time, to their room, tucking them in bed and kissing them gently, saying a silent prayer over each of them. After this, he had gone back downstairs, sitting on the couch wearily and staring into the fire light. Ann had gone into the kitchen, and now returned carrying two cups of hot coffee into the living room where her husband was, sitting down beside him and handing him one of the mugs.

"So, how was your day at work, Mark?" she asked quietly.

Mark took the offered cup and looked into the fire reflectively.

"It was fine. I got a raise today, too."

Ann smiled brightly, rubbing his arm.

"That's good. How much?"

Mark took a sip of the hot, black coffee.

"About two hundred more than we were getting..."

He paused, and then looked over at his wife.

"Ann, what would you think about putting Ian in martial arts?"

Ann shrugged her shoulders.

"Oh, it would be fine with me. Did you find something cheap enough?"

Mark pulled a brochure out of his back pocket, opening it up to show her.

"I think I may have. On my way back from work, I saw this sign for a dojo down in Manhattan, so I stopped by briefly. The owner of the place is an elderly Japanese man, and has trained many young children. In fact, he's got a nephew about Ian's age. His prices are low, and he seems very nice. The only catch would be that this is a very authentic dojo with strict training, and Ian would have to stay a couple of nights a week. I don't know how he would feel about that."

Ann snuggled close to Mark and smiled.

"It's fine with me if it's fine with him."

Mark laid the brochure down on the table, leaning his head on his wife's.

"I'll ask him in the morning...I'm pretty sure he'll accept."