Information

Ninja has a minion!

Stealth the Tianlu

Ninja

The

Nostalgic Paralix
Owner: Pureflower

Age: 5 years, 6 months, 3 weeks

Born: September 5th, 2020

Adopted: 5 years, 6 months, 3 weeks ago

Adopted: September 5th, 2020

Statistics

Level: 123
Strength: 287
Defense: 10
Speed: 10
Health: 10
HP: 10/10
Intelligence: 389
Books Read: 369
Food Eaten: 0
Job: Green Energy Lobbyist

Year of the Dragon

The small paper dragon rode the air currents joyfully, the direction of his flapping wings determined by the motions of the small wrist clutching his string. The boy below pretended he was a real dragon making haste to return to his treasure trove after a hunt.

The boy's mother had wanted a cheap distraction to keep the child busy while she browsed the market stalls.

The boy had a big heart for one barely out of diapers. He smeared candy over the dragon's painted smile and half-crushed paper wings in an affectionate hug. His beloved new pet no longer flew but began to drag on the ground.

The rain started unexpectedly, forcing the shoppers to hastily retreat to their cars. The boy's mother took one look at the soggy remnants of the toy and pointed an authoritative finger at the nearest trash can, overflowing with litter. She ignored the outraged wails, clipping her son into his car seat in a business-like manner.

The paper dragon slithered down the side of the basket, one of the boy's tears still shining on his melting cheek.

In the darkest hours of the night, when all the paper lanterns had been extinguished, the rats came. They smelled the last remnants of sugar and syrup. The boss rat made short work of those last scraps that had recently fueled a child's daydream.

He squealed in terror and fury as his body began to lengthen, shedding fur for scales.

For it was not the year of the rat.

It was the year of the dragon.

***

The small dragon raised a groggy head. Half-shaped memories of rising and falling, followed by a vicious attack from creatures of the night.

Paper skin and rats...that was a new one.

The details changed every night. The dreams never ceased.

He poked his snout over the dumpster lid, sniffing cautiously. No humans were around, of course. The Golden Dragon had done one of its famous three-for-one meal deals the night before. Confident that he wouldn't be interrupted, he tucked into a cardboard container of beef lo mein an elderly lady hadn't been able to finish.

He was still somewhat refined in his tastes, despite being reduced to eating out of the garbage. Only fresh food passed his lips. Nothing older than a day or spoiled. Meat dishes were his preference but he'd settle for egg rolls if the filling was spicy enough to make the flavor interesting.

That first night, he had mistakenly believed himself to be a real dragon.

Traffic, stray dogs and a nasty group of teenagers with firecrackers had cured him of that conviction. Yes, he had wings, scales and a magnificent tail. He could even breathe fire...just enough to rival a matchstick.

City Salamanders were more intimidating...and twice his size. They were a common nuisance, capable of reducing a city block to ash in a matter of minutes if their appetites weren't controlled.

He kept hoping the dreams would lead him to something...a haven where he could live, a wise sage who would recognize him and welcome him in.

So far, he had a cardboard condo next to a dumpster.

He sighed.

The first dream had been the only one that struck a chord. He had been the wind, circling around and around a beautiful lady in a kimono patterned with cherry blossoms. The more he howled, the less she could understand. The more she cried.

A man in a wolf-skin cloak had come to claim the lady. He'd spit into the wind, outraged when the spittle flew back in his face. He had swung his sword, helpless with rage, as the wind laughed and laughed.

That laughter died when the woman was carried down the mountain. The wind remained trapped, unable to follow.

The little dragon shuddered. He was not the wind. The woman probably wasn't real...just another dream-symbol he couldn't interpret.

He scurried over the side of the dumpster with a squawk of protest at the beep-beep-beep of a garbage truck. He was planning to follow his usual routing...hide in his lair of shame until darkness fell, then go scouting for some pot stickers or (if he was lucky) a container of orange chicken.

Then he scented the girl.

Her black hair was lank and greasy. She wore an old bomber jacket, shredded black jeans and faux leather boots. She had no poise, no elegance, nothing to recommend her. And yet...

The slight smell of cherry blossoms hovered around her.

Her apartment hadn't lost that stale chips smell left over from the last tenant. She shared the unit with only one roommate. Nobility, her bearded dragon. He was a mellow reptile, totally chill.

Usually.

He didn't touch his insect buffet. She picked him up and gave him a once-over, worried. Nob was never off his feed.

She took no notice of the shadow that detached from the murky space behind the oven and the wall.

"What's up, boy? You not in the mood for stinkbugs? You usually like them. I can't afford crickets right now."

He looked normal. No eye crusts, no loose scales and his coloring was vibrant. Maybe it was the heat. She was already on her third tank top. At this rate, she'd use up her quarters a week early and have to settle for ramen three nights in a row. The cheap kind. With the flavor packet that would probably cause cancer when she got older.

She'd die young so her beardie could live an extra year or two.

Story of her life.

She whipped her head around as something shifted in the corner.

Cobwebs behind the fridge. She really needed to get around to cleaning, one of these days.

She put a couple ice chips in Nob's water bowl, hoping he'd feel better soon. She couldn't afford rent and a vet bill.

She tossed and turned all night, the wheezing fan as much a culprit as the heat.

The soft scrape of claws. Most people would suspect a mouse. Which this wasn't.

She groaned and rolled out of bed. Nob was way too smart for a lizard. The last time he'd worked the lid off his tank, it had taken her three hours to get his body unwedged from under the fridge.

It was weird she hadn't heard a sound. She'd stacked several books on top of the tank.

She grabbed the mini flashlight out of her purse, shining it against the side of Nob's tank.

His back was to her, flanks rising and falling in sleep. She swiveled the light to the slender form that had just shimmied up the edge of the bed.

Her eyes widened.

Most girls would've screamed, suspecting a salamander, and gotten their apartments burnt down around their ears.

She wasn't most girls.

"Hello, Gorgeous. Where did you come from?"

The dragon flicked his tongue at her. The smell of cherry blossoms was overwhelming his senses. His desire to close the gap warred with his natural wariness for humans. Few human-dragon encounters had ever ended well for the dragons.

Her palm was soft as cherry petals on his cheek.

Miko was beautiful in the moonlight. So beautiful, she literally glowed.

"You have to marry me now, Kiro. My handsome ninja warrior."

He smiled, but it was a strained smile. He couldn't be a true ninja. The last of them had died in the time of his great-grandmother. He'd studied their ways, followed their meditation patterns and tried to live by their code.

Miko made him feel important despite his limitations, a man worthy of asking for her hand.

"What secret are you hiding, my blossom?"

That wicked grin he loved so much. "Guess."

He pretended to think. "You've done something different with your hair?"

She swatted his arm. "You wouldn't notice my hair unless I shaved it all off. Maybe not even then."

Their banter ceased at the sound of wolves on the wind.

There was fear in her eyes.

"Please, Kiro. If you love me, go to my father today. Bako grows weary of waiting for my answer. He is a brute...but he is rich."

"If I fail in my vow, then I can never be worthy of you. It was your father who set these terms. I must honor his wishes."

The sound of the wolves grew closer.

"I hate those creatures. Aya told me they are Bako's blood brothers. The four of them shared the womb but Bako would not share his spoils, not even his mother's milk, so he called on evil spirits and had them changed."

"Aya has an imagination to rival the moon. Bako found the wolf pups in the mountain and raised them by hand."

As if their words had summoned him, Bako sauntered into the clearing. "There she is...my future bride!"

The reek of rice wine on his breath was overwhelming, even at a distance.

"You are coming with me, my beauty. Leave the scholar boy to his books. I have offered your father a bride-price so large, I believe his eyes have turned to gold."

Miko placed a hand on Kiro's arm. "Please, Kiro. You don't understand..."

That gentle touch on the arm of a boy who didn't have two coins to rub together...

It filled Bako with rage.

"It's time you learned the power of a real soldier. Then maybe you will stop wasting time with boys."

Miko's cry was heartbroken. The wolves laid back their ears and whined. Even Bako was momentarily stunned by the depth of her feelings.

She threw herself to the mud, heedless of the silk she wore. Her lips, soft as rose petals, brushed the rim of Kiro's cooling ear.

"I carry your child."

Kiko had despised her parents from the day she turned sixteen. Her mother was a washed-up woman who never once stood up for herself. Her stepfather was a mean drunk, always ranting about his life being unfair.

"I was smart enough to survive war. They should be paying me a king's ransom, not making me live in a dump."

He shot a dirty look at his wife. She scurried into the other room and started to sweep.

His lip curled as he considered Kiko. "It's about time you got a real job and quit with those stupid drawings. Doodles won't keep food on the table. Now get out and feed the dogs."

His prized mastiffs. He loved to brag up the trophies that sat in his office, collecting dust. All four of them looked like ferocious guardians of some ancient temple but she knew each one by heart. Soft and creamy on the inside. Those dogs would hide under their sleeping mats at the sight of a mouse and whined like puppies whenever there was thunder.

She ignored his order, adding the last few details to the dragon she was shaping. The massive fire-eater crushed Peony Towers, their crappy apartment complex, with savage ferocity. A few masterful strokes gave the creature her stepfather's face.

"Didn't you hear me? I said get out and feed the dogs!"

She shouldn't have smirked.

He'd snatched the notebook from her hands, his face contorting with fury.

He'd ripped her drawings to scraps, one by one.

She'd run. Her first thought was the three baby salamanders she'd been raising in secret. It would be so easy to hide them in Barry's study. They were only half-grown, but they could easily turn the room to cinders.

Only...what if it was her mother, cleaning in there? She may not like her mother very much sometimes, but she did love her.

She'd packed what little was left of the portfolio she'd spent the last two years building and moved out that night. Her mother had watched from the window, sobbing but not trying to stop her.

Who was her father?

How many times had she asked that question?

A nobody. A low-ranking government employee who had stayed in their homeland. Married a secretary or a nurse, probably.

She'd only seen a picture of him once. Laughing at the camera. Brandishing a sword, an ornate piece that looked like it belonged in a museum.

Her mother had kept the sword in a box under her bed. The one secret Barry knew nothing about. A bit of a mother-daughter bond. The locked box was full of womanly trinkets, so Barry believed. Bits of lace and sewing patterns. That sort of thing. Dismissive wave of the hand.

The topic of her real father was one of many not safely raised unless Barry was away from home or passed out.

They both flopped back on the bed, staring at each other incredulously.

"Dad?"

Kiro blinked slowly, taking in this fiery child who had been known to him for only minutes as his life faded.

Not a sword or a well-aimed blow.

A bullet from behind.

Bako (name legally changed to Barry) was no soldier. He was a coward.

Kiro took in his small body in a new light. It was said when a ninja's spirit went to join the ancestors, it was given the option to take the shape of its spirit animal.

If the method of death had been honorable.

Kiro could feel liquid heat running through his veins, heating his bones. He would burn Bako's world to ashes.

That same fire was reflected in the eyes of his daughter.

Building her ninja skills took time. It took patience. It also took a good chunk of her tips, as keeping a real dragon fed was levels above hunting down crickets and mayflies.

Nob had gradually come to accept the intruder, though he no longer tried any midnight bids for freedom.

She knew she could have money beyond imagining if she revealed Kiro's presence. Salamanders were feared. Dragons were desired.

Rarely for wholesome reasons.

Ramen every night wasn't so terrible, really.

***

Bako's bloodshot eyes didn't immediately register her face. He couldn't seem to decide whether to sneer or swear.

"Hey, Miko. Look who's back."

The last two years had not been kind. Miko's hair was brittle, her eyes dull. She gasped at the sight of her daughter.

"I knew you'd come crawling back eventually. A lizard isn't exactly a chicken for the pot, but I hear the taste isn't far off."

With deliberate calm, Kiko slid the sword free of its case. Her mother whimpered at the familiar sight.

"Bako Wife-Stealer, I call you out as a thief and man of no honor."

Kiko spoke but it was in the voice of Kiro. Bako groaned in fear as a small dragon freed itself of the basket the girl had carried in, every scale a miniature fire ready to explode into an inferno.

"You have dishonored the spirit of a warrior who walked the noble path. You have gained a wife through your deceit. Child of rats...become your true form."

The scales of the dragon's outer hide flew across the room, whirling in a red cloud that hid Bako from sight. When the maelstrom cleared at last, a fat, sleek rat stood on its hind legs, whiskers twitching and beady eyes staring at the other reptile in the room.

Nob hadn't minded sharing his basket in the slightest. The dragon's warmth had been as welcome as his typical heating lamp.

For reasons Kiko couldn't explain, Nob had always particularly hated rodents.

Bako shrieked and took off running, the lizard in eager pursuit.

When Nob returned, the last bit of rat tail vanished down his gullet.

Kiko watched in wonder as the pale shape of the dragon with no scales began to grow. A man appeared, human in appearance but for the red scale fixed to his chest.

It was about the size of a bullet hole.

Kiro took Miko in his arms, kissing her with all the sweetness of cherry blossoms in spring. The years of fearing for her daughter fell away. Her beauty was restored as the husband of her soul wrapped his arms around her.

Kiko's graphic novels would go on to become bestsellers worldwide. When asked about her inspiration, she would peg mythology or Golden Dragon's menu or her beardie. (Listed in her dedications as an unusually large pillow hog named Nobility).

She never talked much about her family, only that her parents were blissfully living out their lives on a tropical island somewhere.

A ninja is entitled to her secrets, after all.