A man entered the room. He was a moderately tall oriental man with a medium build, and he was dressed in a white T-shirt and a pair of navy blue sweat pants. He walked briskly through the half-painted wooden doorframe that served as an entrance to the room, paying no attention to the chill that struck his feet. The cement floor seemed eager to share with his warm barren feet the coldness that it had acquired during the long night, however, he paid it no mind. He had no time to worry about trifle discomforts, and the look on his face showed it. His brown eyes gleamed with their usual spark of determination. It was a look that came after years of diligent training. At times, it had seemed to him that he had been training all his life, and in a sense this was true.
Terada had been born in Japan. His formal training had begun shortly after his fifth birthday, but his father had brought him up in the ways of the ninja since the day he was born. His father was, himself, a ninja master, and it pleased him greatly to train Terada in the ways that his family had held so dear for generations. At the age of thirteen Terada moved to America with his father, mother, and younger brother Yan. The move was difficult especially when it came to the training, but he persevered with his studies, all the more. When his father had taught him all that he knew, Terada set out to find his destiny in the world. Now, three days until his twenty-eighth birthday he was in the process of putting the final touches on what he believed to be that destiny.
Terada stopped in the center of the room and looked all around him at the barren walls. He closed his eyes and with the absence of that gleaming determination, his face seemed to be at peace. He opened his mind’s eyes and looked at the room. The room was no longer bare, but was decorated like the temple where he had trained as a youth. The walls were painted with designs that only a true ninja master would be able to appreciate. Incense burned in a bowl that was placed on an ornate table at the end of the room. A noise woke Terada from his dream like state and his eyes were on the front door before the man outside was able to fully turn the handle.
“I hope that I’m not disturbing anything,” said Mayor Tannen as he entered the Dojo. The gaiety of his step told Terada that Tannen was still in high spirits from his electoral victory. This was his sixth term as the mayor of Podunk, and as always he was unopposed. This, however, did not detract in any way from the satisfaction he received from his great political victory.
“Not at all,” Terada replied in a voice that was soft spoken yet full of authority. “I will be with you in a moment.” He quickly jotted down some notes on the clipboard that he had been forced to carry with him for the past few weeks. He found these administrative duties to be a pain, but they were a necessary evil. He would have to play the part of businessman before he could help to mold the youth of Podunk into men and women of truth, fortitude, and honor.
“Well, Mr. Terada,” said Tannen after gaining Terada’s attention. “I just wanted to stop by and see how everything was going. I also wanted to take the opportunity to thank you once again for choosing our small town for the location of your wonderful training center.”
“Thank you, Mayor Tannen. If not for you this would only be a dream.”
“Yes,” said Tannen thoughtfully as he gazed just over Terada’s right shoulder. “I can see this doing great things for our children, as well as our town.” He raised his hand as if to point out to Terada the great vision that he saw. “I can see a community in trouble with the threat of outside influences. I can see little Tim struggling to make a decision that could send his life down the dark path of despair and degradation. I see a man standing beside him whispering the secrets of life to him. That man, that ninja, is you Mr. Terada.
“As a part of my plans for my next term in office, I want to change the high school’s mascot. What do you think about the Podunk Fighting Ninjas?”
Terada began to blush a little, but quickly regained his composure. “That is quite an honor, too great an honor. Perhaps there is another who would better deserve such an honor.”
“Well something needs to be done. Being the mayor of the dung beetles is embarrassing.”
“Dung beetles?” Terada’s face filled with bewilderment, as his mind was flooded with absurd visions.
“We’re dung beetles,” Tannen replied in a voice void of the joy he had entered with. “When the public high school was built, long before I was born mind you, the athletic teams were not funded by the state and they required private donations. An eccentric fellow by the name of Bailey, a real sports nut, paid for all of the athletic expenses. His passion for sports was matched only by his love for the dung beetles that he raised. His one condition was that the school mascots be named after his beloved insects.”
Terada stood quietly, restraining the snickers that were swelling in the pit of his stomach. “I see,” he responded at last.
“The people seem to be stuck on traditions, but once they see the difference that you make for our community, I’m sure that they’ll be behind my idea all the way.”
“I am sure they will.”
“Well, I need to get to my office, and it looks like you have your hands full here. I’ll see myself out, and thanks again.”
Terada bowed slightly as Tannen turned and left. Terada glanced at his clipboard, and then looked up at the half-painted doorway that he had entered through. His notebook was filling up, and his time was running out. He immediately got back to work.
About an hour had passed when Terada felt a small cool breeze on the back of his neck. He turned suddenly, his eyes darting in every direction, but he saw nothing out of the ordinary. When he was satisfied that he was alone he continued on with his painting, but he could feel the presence of eyes. They seemed to be watching him, studying his actions and evaluating them.
A voice came from the adjoining room, the one that served as a makeshift sleeping room. “Tell me, Ninja, what is it that you seek?”
Terada turned quickly, but he saw no one. For a moment he remembered back to the time when he was still a young boy, and he had heard what sounded like voices in the wind. He thought back to what his father had told him that day, “They talk to us Terada. They guide us and ask us never to forget them.”
“Who, father?” Terada had asked with the kind of enthusiastic curiosity that can only be found in small children.
“Those who have come before us, our ancestors. They ride on the four winds and when they speak, they speak like the wind. The wind is soft, but it is a power beyond comprehension. When they speak listen. When they guide follow. When they command obey. Do not forget the wind. Do not forget the voices of the ones who have come before us.”
Terada had heard a voice, but it was not a voice of one who had come before him. It was a man’s voice, and it was near. He looked into the darkness of the next room, but saw nothing.
“Who is there?” he asked.
“Tell me what you seek, Ninja,” the voice prompted once more. Terada scanned again. The voice betrayed its master by giving away his position. At first, he saw nothing but two eyes shining fiercely in the darkness. The eyes burned a bright blue, or were they in fact frozen like ice? Terada could not tell, and at that moment, he knew that the eyes belonged to the one they called the Great Ninja Master.