The bridge was bustling this morning. The crews were moving the heavy trucks in to do the necessary repairs to the old structure. Old, steel supports were rusted and weary, and it was time to retire and replace them, one at a time. The bridge had been adequate for years. The revenue that the tourist trade had brought into the community had almost doubled this past summer over its predecessors, however. This had prompted the town council to request funding for the purpose of making some changes to the small, river-based town of Sera, MO in order to make it even more attractive to visitors next year.

Sera was a small town. Everyone knew everyone. The town only consisted of about eight hundred people, with the graduating high school class averaging about forty students. The geography of the town was what made it so unique. The Current River ran across the western city limit, while an unnamed creek ran across the eastern city limit. The bridges that crossed these two moving bodies of water were the only ways into or out of the town. The bridges gapped the river and the creek, which made its bustling tourist trade possible.

Those living in the rural areas within eight miles of these borders were still considered members of the community, but the county was what paid more attention to maintenance to these areas. The town council, which consisted mostly of the business owners of the tiny community, concentrated more on the town itself.

Paul had been working on this project for days. One of the only two men who were qualified to drive the two cranes that were used to move the supports around beside the slow moving creek, he enjoyed a special kind of employment insurance that none but the other crane operator had.

The crane lifted the new support, preparing to move it to the bridge. Paul whistled a happy tune, thinking about Jennifer, the lovely girl with whom he had a date this evening. With the face of an angel and the body of a goddess, she was every one of the workers’ desire. But she’d chosen him. She’d said that she really liked nice guys, which was rare among most women in her league. For once in his life, Paul had been proud that he was a good person, rather than an example of the crude jerks with which he worked. He looked forward to picking Jenny up from her home in the nearby town of Aurthur that evening.

The crane roared to life as it began to swing the metal support toward the bridge. Without warning, a flash of metal shot into his field of vision from behind. A sharp pain later, Paul lifted his hand to his chest and felt something warm and wet. Pulling it away, he found it covered in red, sticky crimson. Blood. His own blood. His vision began to darken and he caught an image of a figure, dressed head to toe in black, move from behind him. In the figure’s hand was a strangely shaped, bloody knife. As Paul watched, the figure turned and seemed to regard him with interest. The figure then reached out with his right hand and grasped Paul by the collar as the worker slipped into darkness . . ..

Bill, the foreman of this operation, was carrying a bucket of rivets toward the bridge, when he noticed the first crane swing wild. "What the Sam-Hill is that moron doing?" he wondered aloud. He started to run toward the crane as it pitched quickly to the right, slamming it’s cargo, a seventeen foot, metal bridge support, into four men, sending them sprawling into the creek. It was now that he noticed another figure, dressed completely in black, pulling Paul from the seat of the crane and dumping him to the ground.

Suddenly, there was mass chaos as more of the figures appeared. Some leapt from the tops of vehicles, while others jumped from various perches upon the bridge. These figures were armed with various weapons which, odd as they appeared, seemed to be quite efficient at the art of killing. A sharp pain shot through Bill’s chest. He looked down to see the braided handle of a knife protruding from his orange work vest. The bucket fell from numb fingers, spilling its contents across the ground.

* * *

As the last of the naked bodies were piled under the huge tarp, one of the black-clothed figures walked up to another. "He lives on the rural side of this bridge, Master?"

The other figure looked out over the creek, seeming to see something that the other could not. "He does." He clasped his hands together, finger through finger, with the two index fingers flat against each other and pointing straight up. "But that is not all." He looked at the younger man, one of his clan’s chunin, or lieutenants, and continued. "She and her uncle, the jonin, live in that direction, as well. If we play this correctly, we may be able to wipe out the Funakoshi’s leadership in one, great sweep."

The chunin bowed respectfully to his master and walked away. The jonin continued to stare out toward the rural area to the east of the small Missouri town. "Tonight, gai-jin."

* * *

Jamie stared at the clock perched above the dusty blackboard. It displayed the time as three o’clock. Five more minutes, he thought. Only five more. He looked around the room, his eyes taking in everything from behind his thick-framed glasses.

After the last speech had been given in this Advanced Speech class (and after Mr. Brown, the instructor, had left the room to go and talk to his wife, the business teacher), the room had erupted into chaos. The boy listened as Amy Johnson, the school flirt, told a dirty joke. John Bowers, the captain of the basketball team, and the biggest jerk in the school (at least as far as Jamie was concerned), kept the rest of the class entertained by pointing their attention to Freddy Jenks, his lackey. The Bowers wannabe tilted his head back and emptied an entire can of squirt-cheese into his mouth. The guys who watched cheered as if he’d cured cancer. Jamie rolled his eyes and looked back at the clock. Two minutes had passed.

"Nickel for your thoughts," came a familiar voice from beside him.

Jamie turned to look at his friend, George, with a smirk. "I though that it was supposed to be ‘penny for your thoughts.’"

"Well, you know how it is," smiled the curly, blonde-haired teen. "Inflation and all that."

Jamie looked back at the clock. Barely a quarter of a minute had passed since his friend had spoken. "What is it about an act of total stupidity that makes the person who does it so popular?"

George and Jamie both looked back at Freddy, who grinned like an idiot, cheese running disgustingly down his chin. When he noticed that the two were staring at him from the front of the room, he whipped both hands up, an obscene gesture on each.

Jamie and George both shook their heads in pity and turned toward the front as George muttered, "I think, at least in this case, it’s just because he’s friends with John Bowers."

The door opened and Tim Brown walked into the room. All conversation stopped. While Mr. Brown was respected, having been declared Favorite Teacher in the yearbook all four years that he’d been in this school, the students knew better than to push their luck with him. The young teacher looked back toward Freddy, apparently noticing the mess that was the bully’s face, and said disgustedly, "Freddy, go to the bathroom and wash that stuff off."

Freddy climbed from his desk, an idiotic smile on his face, and walked toward the door. As he passed the teacher, Mr. Brown asked him, "Did your parents do a lot of drugs in the sixties?"

All fourteen students in the class laughed, Jamie and George most of all. Jamie watched as Freddy walked from the room, lingering in the doorway and shaking his fist at him. Jamie rolled his eyes again and looked back at Mr. Brown.

The teacher had already grabbed a novel from his desk and was thumbing through it. He looked down at Jamie and George and asked, "Are you guys coming to the dance tonight?"

George curled one side of his mouth upward into a crooked smile. "I’ll be there, if just to tick the preps off." The odd thing was, George could have easily been a member of the in crowd. His parents were among the wealthiest in the town. George lived in a big house on the riverfront, and he wore nice, name brand clothes. But his lack of popularity had been his own choice. He chose his friends from among the less than accepted kids; something that Jamie had never been able to fathom.

Mr. Brown smiled. Looking at Jamie, he prodded, "And you?"

"Nope." Jamie quickly placed his notebook into his backpack. "I’m having company tonight."

"Really?" Mr. Brown marked his place in the book with his index finger and inquired, "Friends or family?"

Jamie smiled at the diversity of those whom he would see this evening. "Both. Although all of them are as close as family."

"We’ll miss you," commented Mr. Brown as the bell sounded through the hallways.

Jamie slung his backpack over his shoulder as he followed his friend from the room. "Am I going to get to meet your Jameston friends this weekend?" inquired George.

"Are you busy tomorrow?" asked Jamie as the two walked down the stairs.

"Mom wants me to rake the leaves in the front yard, but I could do that in the morning."

"Then come on out tomorrow afternoon." The two reached the bottom floor. "My dad’s going to try to barbecue."

"Won’t the smoke bother his emphysema?"

"That’s why I said try. If he doesn’t finish, Mom’ll probably do it . . . that is, if she can pry the barbecue fork from Buster’s hands."

Jamie’s Sera friends had actually met Buster, as well as Jamie’s perverted cousin Zack. They all agreed that Buster was a more likeable person than Zack. Buster was going to college next year to prepare to go into the ministry. Zack, on the other hand, was constantly hitting on girls, who didn’t seem to like him very much.

"Buster’s going to be there?" asked George as they walked by the science room. The pungent smell of formaldehyde filled their nostrils as they passed.

"Yep." Jamie waved at Mr. Freedman, the short, balding science teacher, who was in the room cleaning up some kind of a spill. "Zack, too."

"Zack?" George’s tone took on a more disgusted note at this name. "Maybe I’ll pass on comin’ out after all."

"Don’t worry," chuckled Jamie. "My friend Yoshi is going to be there. She can usually keep him in line."

"Are they dating?"

Jamie looked at his friend and cocked one eyebrow. "No, and, if you value your life, I wouldn’t ever ask her that."

"Oh, tough girl, huh?"

The two stopped in front of their lockers and began putting what books that they didn’t need for homework inside. "You could say that," answered Jamie. It was then that George looked up behind Jamie and his eyes widened. This and the putrid smell of cheese breath gave Jamie just enough warning to yank his hand out of his locker before the door slammed shut. The resounding metal BANG echoed through the hallway. Few of the other students paid attention, however, since they always expected such acts of bravado from Freddy Jenks.

"Thought that was funny, didya?" demanded the bully, standing in front of John Bowers, who watched the two with an almost too knowing smirk.

"What Mr. Brown said, or the fact that your parents didn’t try to put you back when you were born?" asked Jamie.

"I’m gonna beat the dog-meat outta you!" barked Freddy as he reared back and swung his left fist in a wide arc straight toward Jamie’s head.

Without thinking, the young man pulled his head backward and out of the way, while grabbing the bully’s moving wrist and using its own momentum to carry his fist painfully into the locker next to Jamie’s. Freddy grasped his hand and howled in anguish. Uh oh, thought Jamie, I’d better do something before I blow my cover. Jamie quickly looked at the locker that Freddy had inadvertently punched, mustering as much of a look of surprise as he could. "Wow," he muttered, trying to sound shocked. He glanced at George, who appeared as surprised as Jamie was trying to look.

"Where’d you learn how to do that?" demanded John.

Jamie decided to feign ignorance. "Learn what?"

"What you just did to Freddy!"

Should I tell him the truth . . . That I was trained by a ninja master in southern Missouri but haven’t told anyone up here because I didn’t want to have to defend myself against every person who felt that they could beat a ninja? "It was just dumb luck, I guess."

"Then you won’t mind if I try the same thing that he did," chided the jock as he took a menacing step toward the young ninja.

Suddenly, an affectionate girl’s voice called out, "John!" Jamie looked past his antagonist to see Sheela Blanton, Shawna Weston and her cousin, Amy Weston (the flirt who told the dirty joke in Jamie’s last class), walking toward them. Sheela was the one who had called out. It was a tradition that the head cheerleader and the head of the basketball team should date, and these two were no exception. However, the whole school knew of John’s violent temper and the fact that he focused it on his lovely, blonde girlfriend. The only person with the guts or will to speak out against John was Sheela’s best friend, Shawna.

Shawna was a bit of a mystery. She was Jamie’s class’s projected valedictorian and seemed to have no respect for anyone who did not take his studies seriously. However, there was a six-month period of time when Shawna had simply disappeared from the school the previous year. Jamie figured that Sheela and Amy knew where she had been, but they weren’t talking.

Sheela approached John, taking his left hand in hers and kissed him gently on the lips. Jamie ran his fingers through his short, brown hair and sighed. Some who had actually noticed the confrontation probably thought that he was relieved, but his sigh was one of incredulity. He couldn’t believe that a girl could have such a low self-esteem that she would stay with a man who beat her on a regular basis. The young ninja looked past the two to Shawna and Amy, who were also watching the public display of affection. Shawna rolled her eyes in disgust, her arms folded sternly across her chest.

John seemed to notice Shawna’s distaste, as well. As the kiss ended, he glared at the female honor student. "What’s’a’matter? Jealous?"

Shawna cocked an eyebrow and declared, "Whatever."

The basketball star turned back to Jamie and said, "Tell ya what. I’m gonna cut ya some slack today, since my girl here needs a ride home." He put his index finger in Jamie’s face and stared down at him. "Just don’t overstep your bounds again, geek. You’re nothin’ around here, and I’m everything." He put his arm around Sheela’s shoulders, leading her toward the building’s front doors, followed by Freddy, who was still cradling his sore hand.

Jamie could hear Sheela say, "That wasn’t very nice, John."

The basketball star replied with, "Don’t start with me, Sheela . . ." and then their voices trailed off.

Shawna stepped up to Jamie and said, "You know, they say that, if you slug a bully one good time, he’ll usually leave you alone."

The young ninja smiled shyly. "Thanks for the tip."

"Are you going to be at the dance tonight?" asked Amy.

Jamie glanced up at her. "George will be. I’m having some friends up from where I used to live in Jameston. I haven’t seen most of them in about a year."

Shawna smiled at him. "Too bad. I was going to save you a dance."

Jamie rubbed the back of his neck shyly. "Can I take a rain check?"

"Sure," she smiled in response. With that, the two girls walked away.

George slapped his friend on the back. "Why don’t you just ask her out?"

"Are you kidding?" returned the young ninja. "I don’t think she has time to date, with all the studying she does."

"People like that don’t need to study. They learn by osmosis."

"Like Steve Adams?"

"Yep."

As the two approached the front doors, George commented, "She was right, you know. ‘Bout the ‘slugging the bully’ thing."

Jamie didn’t answer him. He had decided to hide the fact that he was a ninja from his classmates at this school because he didn’t want to have to fight all the time. He had even allowed them to verbally ridicule him, although he knew that, if John had have tried to physically harm him, he would have fought back, and might have seriously hurt the jock.

* * *

A lone figure moved across the roof of the high school building. His clothing, a black suit that covered him from head-to-toe, would have appeared out of place in this small Missouri town. He wasn’t concerned, however. He practiced the art of not being seen.

The sinister man’s eyes settled on two figures as they walked out of the school building and began a descent of the small hill that led to the bus-loading zone and parking lot. When they reached the latter, they said something to one another, then separated. One walked toward the student vehicles, and the other toward the end bus. He focused on the second boy. It was him that Master Obata wanted. He was one of the Funakoshi chunin, trained by their leader, Tanemura Funakoshi. The members of the Togakura hated this teenage ninja even more than the others in his clan. Unlike the natural members, who were born into the war, he had chosen to join the Funakoshi. It was a choice that would cost him his life.

The figure retreated into the shadows . . ..

* * *

Jamie sat in the sickening green seat of the bus, anxious to end the ride. To his left sat his friend, Jeremy King, a weird boy who lived in an electric-free and running water-free cabin in the woods and who thought that he was the reincarnation of Robin Hood.

In the seat across the isle sat Jamie’s friend, Steve Adams, and Steve’s little brother, Max. Steve was the projected valedictorian of his own class who enjoyed memorizing fact books and almanacs. Max, much smaller than his brother or just about any of their friends, had begun taking tae kwon do lessons when he was nine. Now a red belt, he didn’t share his brother’s interest in little-known facts. While he was capable of defending himself physically, he used the keen intellect that he shared with his sibling for another purpose. His specialty was the insult. He could make a person so angry, by twisting words to the proper effect, that the person wanted nothing less than to kill him. Jeremy, in his weirdness, often said that he felt that this was a supernatural trait. Of course, Jamie realized that this was nonsense.

Jamie glanced toward Jeremy, sitting next to the window, and asked, "Is Deck going to be at the dance tonight?"

Jeremy looked at the young ninja and, fishing through one of his many coat pockets, replied, "I think so. He was subbing for Mr. Jackson today in my art class. Said he’d be a little late. He’s gonna put some new traps around his ‘house’ first." He produced a deck of playing cards and began flipping through them.

Deck was Jamie’s friend who lived in a wooded area on the western side of the city limits of Sera, a few miles on the other side of the Current River Bridge. He lived in a cabin in the woods that was built to look like a miniature castle and he had a working forge where he fashioned all sorts of medieval-looking swords, which he sold mail order and at renaissance festivals. To augment his income, he used his sixty credit hours of college to be a substitute teacher for the high school art instructor. It was his main trade, however, that had made him friends with Jamie and his fellow chunin, Yoshi. Their sensei, Tanemura, had commissioned him to make three ninja swords for them, one for Jamie and two for Yoshi, who was quite proficient with twin blades. This also made Deck the only person in Sera, outside of Jamie’s family, who knew that he was a ninja.

A shirt went flying between Jamie and Jeremy, landing on the back of the seat in front of them. The two looked back to see that the two eighth-grade punks who sat behind them, Troy Shockley and Tray Peterson, were goofing off again. They had an annoying habit of taking off articles of clothing and throwing them all over the bus. Jamie even remembered a time when Troy’s underwear ended up on the bus-driver’s head.

Jeremy looked at Jamie. "When are you gonna get your license so we don’t hafta go through this every day?" He grabbed the shirt and nonchalantly through it out the window.

A few seconds later, Tray looked over the seat and asked, "Either’a you two geeks seen my shirt?"

Jeremy looked back at him and replied, "Yep."

Tray looked annoyed. "Well, where is it?"

Jeremy looked back at them and smiled. "About a mile back."

"WHAT?!" exploded the eighth-grader. "It flew out the WINDOW?!"

Jeremy snapped his fingers in mock-defeatist style. "Wind took it."

"Oh, great! My mom’s gonna kill me!" The eighth-grader plopped back in his seat and angrily folded his arms across his bare chest.

Being sixteen years old, Jamie really wanted to take his driver’s test, considering what he and his friends often had to deal with on the bus. However, his birthday had been in March and, for months before then, and ever since, the town had used his country road to store a four-foot pile of blacktop that ran most of the length of one lane of the paved road, so he hadn’t had much time to practice. His understanding was that they were going to use that mound of black rock and tar to fix the roads in the town, although he doubted that it would be used on the many potholes that covered the road upon which it was being stored. After all, Jamie’s road wasn’t essential to Sera’s tourist trade.

Jeremy thrust out both hands, the cards fanned out. "Pick a card . . . any card."

Jamie cocked an eyebrow and guardedly pulled a card from the deck. Looking at it, he noted that it was the eight of clubs. Jeremy placed his hand on the young ninja’s head and began humming, as if in meditative concentration. Jamie could see Steve and Max, just inside his field of vision, watching with bizarre fascination.

Now Jeremy opened his eyes and instructed, "Let me see your card." Jamie, his eyebrow still cocked, flipped the card over so that his eccentric young friend could see it. "Yep, that’s what I thought it was." The young ninja rolled his eyes. He knew that Jeremy was just being playful, but he couldn’t help but wonder if the young Robin Hood fan wasn’t really walking on the edge of insanity.

As the bus crossed the bridge that ran over the creek and city limit of Sera, Jamie noticed that the construction workers were still on the job. "I thought the bridge workers were only supposed to be working until three o’clock on Fridays."

Steve was reading an almanac. "Maybe they’re trying to get a little ahead so that they don’t have to come in as early on Monday."

Max, who had been unusually silent during this trip, suddenly piped, "Hey, that one looks Asian!"

Jamie perked at this revelation and craned his neck, then climbed to his feet and leaned over Steve and Max’s seat, trying to see this Eastern construction worker. Sure enough, there stood a man on the walkway of the bridge, his slightly slanted eyes showing his Japanese heritage. The man looked curiously at the bus as it passed, then seemed to see Jamie behind Steve. As his eyes settled upon the young ninja, they narrowed and the young man felt a cold chill run up his spine. Why did he look at me like that?

"There’s somthin’ you don’t see everyday in this area," muttered Max as he regarded the man.

"Maybe he’s related to that Yoshi-girl on the Aurthur quiz bowl team," suggested Jeremy. Jamie knew that this wasn’t correct since Yoshi’s only living relative was her great-uncle, and his sensei, Tanemura. He said nothing, however.

After the bus had passed the bridge, Jamie settled back into his seat. Steve got his attention. "Quiz bowl tryouts are next week." He was looking right at Jamie.

"I know," replied the young ninja. Quiz bowl was a quiz show-like competition in which all of the local schools competed. The teams were filled with the most intelligent students of the school; at least those who wanted to compete. Steve had been hinting that he wanted Jamie to try out for the Sera team.

"Are you ready to try out yet?"

Jamie pushed his right hand up under his glasses, rubbing both eyes wearily. "I dunno."

"It’s not that you’re not intelligent enough," commented the young genius.

"Well, I’m not exactly a straight-‘A’ student, either."

Steve closed the almanac, marking his place with his right index finger. "Grades have little to do with it." He gestured toward Jeremy. "He can barely keep his grades acceptable, but he’s still on the team."

Jamie could hear the young Robin Hood fan shift in the seat beside him as he chided, "Hey! I take offense at that! I could keep my grades up if I wanted to."

Troy looked over the seat and said, "Yeah, a royal person doesn’t need ta do good in school." Leaning halfway over the seat, he continued, "Oh, Jeremy King! Your majesty!" As he said this, he feigned a bow as best he could.

Jeremy’s eyes sparkled with humor. "Does this mean that you’ll obey me?"

Troy performed that same mock bow. "Command me, lord!"

Jeremy puffed his chest out in as much of a kingly fashion as he could muster and proclaimed, "Remove all of your clothing, climb on top of the bus and wait for an eighteen-wheeler to come up behind us. Then jump off so that you land in its path, ending your miserable existence. THIS I COMMAND!!!"

Max chuckled. "You wouldn’t have to command the first part. They like being naked." He gestured toward Troy’s seatmate. "I mean, look at Tray. He threw his shirt out the window."

"Hey!" whined Troy’s annoying friend. "I didn’t throw it out the window! The wind took it!"

* * *

Jamie stepped off of the bus, looking across the road at the old house in which he and his parents lived, with their cat, Linus, and Chihuahua, Chico. The adolescent was embarrassed to let them see this place again. The house was a total mess. The roof leaked in various places throughout and the floor felt as if it could cave in at any moment.

The front door had a footprint indented into the wood from where one of his older brothers, Keith, in a drunken stupor, had kicked open the door on one of his late-night visits because he couldn’t wake anybody up to let him in. Jamie’s father had been angry the next morning when he found the damaged door. He was even more outraged when he found that their two young children, Elizabeth and Kevin, who had been spending the night with Jamie and his parents, had seen Keith and his wife, Diane, in their pathetic state. Even then, with Elizabeth (who liked to be called ‘Liz’) only eight, and her brother only six, the two had known that something was wrong with their parents.

As Jamie stepped onto the flat, concrete slab that served as the front porch, Linus met him. The feline purred contentedly as he scratched him behind the ear. The adolescent held his backpack with his left hand, balancing it on his left knee, and unzipped the pencil pocket, producing his house key. After unlocking the door, he stepped inside, followed by his cat.

The young man closed the door and walked through the living room and into the hallway that separated the kitchen from his bedroom. He found Chico on his bedroom floor, having an asthma attack. After throwing the backpack on his bed, the young ninja picked Chico up from the floor and sat in the old easy chair that served as both his "video game chair" and his "study chair." He gently held the old dog as it wheezed, looking up at the youth affectionately. Linus jumped into the chair and curiously sniffed the dog, but neither was ever hostile toward one another.

Chico was something of a black sheep among the little Mexican dogs. Unlike the majority of the males that Jamie had ever seen in that breed, this little, snow-white one wasn’t, as his mother would say, "a yipper." He was actually a very quiet old dog, unless his asthma was acting up. He actually belonged to Jamie’s dad, Chuck, who himself had emphysema. The older man would often hold the little dog while both of them were having a breathing attack. If Jamie didn’t understand the severity of both of their conditions, the sight of both of them fighting to catch their breath together might almost seem humorous.

When Chico finally calmed, the teen leaned over to gently nudge the old dog’s nose with his own, but the dog affectionately licked the boy’s nose, instead. He gently set the dog on the floor and reached across to turn on his TV, when the honking of a car made him leap from the chair. He ran to the front door and peered out to find a late model Chevy Blazer and a mid-eighties model Ford minivan sitting in his parents’ driveway. Jamie recognized the vehicles as belonging to his Uncle Donnie, and friend, Buster, respectively.

The driver’s side door of the Blazer opened and a large teen with shoulder length, brown hair stepped out. From the passenger’s side emerged a middle-aged man. The two were wearing matching camouflage jackets. "Dude!" called the big adolescent.

"Hey, Dave!" said Jamie as he approached the vehicles. "Your dad’s letting you drive? He must be braver than I thought!"

"Let your mom know that I’ll be in Aurthur tonight," instructed Donnie. "I’ll probably get a motel room there."

"Yer not gonna stay here tonight?" asked Dave.

Mr. Isaac looked back at the other vehicle as five more adolescents piled out of it. "I doubt there’ll be room." The middle-aged man patted his larger boy on the back and climbed into the driver’s seat of the Blazer. "You kids have fun." As he closed the door, he looked out the window at Dave. "Watch the fighting, son."

Dave looked confused. "Lemme get this straight . . . Ya want us ta have fun, but not fight?"

Dave’s dad shook his head as the SUV slowly pulled back into the road and drove away.

The big teen turned to his older cousin and scooped him up into a massive bear hug. "I’m . . . glad to see . . . you, too, Dave," gasped the young ninja. "Let . . . ugh . . . me go, please." Dave released his smaller relative. After he caught his breath, Jamie remarked, "Even stronger than I remember. How’ve you been?"

Jamie’s large cousin crossed his massive arms and, a large grin spreading across his face, replied, "Kickin’ butt and takin’ names. Same as always."

Jamie looked at the five adolescents who climbed out of the mini-van. His friend and nunchaku student, Buster, was there. The tall, overly skinny boy with the short, dark hair approached Jamie. "Are we gonna have some time to practice this weekend?"

Jamie cocked an eyebrow as he responded, "Maybe. Did you bring your ‘chucks?’"

Buster gestured toward his car and said, "Both pair are in my bag."

Pete, Jamie’s paternal cousin, was also here. Although generally a good-natured young man, Jamie’s younger, light haired relative always wore black. His philosophy was that his choice of clothing was to show respect toward those whom he had beaten up in his life.

Jack was present. When he was eight, his parents had bought him a pair of dart guns. He had practiced with them constantly until he was an excellent marksman. His expertise didn’t end there, though. He also had developed the skill of making the darts for the gun. His fascination with Western movies was plain to see, as he always wore corduroy and a white cowboy hat.

B.J., Buster’s younger brother, had also tagged along. Jamie had hoped that the youngest member of their fighting arts enthusiast club, which they had named Adventure, would stay home. Not believing that they could actually have children, Mr. and Mrs. Goodman had adopted Buster. But B.J. had come along six years later and his parents had considered him a miracle child. They spoiled him past rotten. The worst part of the whole thing was that their parents forced Buster to take the little, dark-haired boy everywhere he went. And he doted on the boy, too. To do otherwise, he knew, would get him into trouble.

And then there was Zack. He was Jamie and Dave’s cousin, so they did care about him, but he was always getting people, especially those of the female persuasion, angry with him. Pervert was an understatement when describing him. He was arrogant enough to think that he was God’s gift to the world and that all people, especially girls, should like him. Jamie had heard girls say that the blonde-haired young man was attractive enough. But then he would make the mistake of talking. Dave would often have to cover Zack’s mouth to keep him from getting the whole group in trouble.

Jamie looked between Buster and Dave and asked, "How was the trip from Jameston?"

"’Bout the same as always," replied his nunchaku student. "Two hours is just enough time to get road weary."

Jamie chuckled, "I hope your not too tired yet. We’re supposed to pick Yoshi up from Master Tanemura’s and go skating in the Bluff."

"’Ya know," commented Dave, "we did just go through the Bluff on our way here. Why don’t we go somewhere in the other direction?"

Jamie smiled and shook his head. "Because there is nothing in that direction."

Buster regarded Dave. "I guess that’s a good point."

As the adolescents and the child approached the front door of the house, B.J. asked, "What happened to your door?"

"Someone kicked it in trying to get into the house," was Jamie’s polite response.

"Is he in jail?"

Jamie looked down at the younger boy. "No."

"Why?"

"Because my parents wouldn’t have pressed charges."

"Who did it?"

"My oldest brother."

"Keith?"

Jamie opened the front door as he answered, "Yes."

"Is he still smokin’ pot?"

Jamie was starting to get irritated and, apparently, Buster had noticed and decided to cut off B.J.’s curiosity. "Hey, B.J., we might go to the big spring tomorrow. Would you like that?"

Jamie moved away, letting the two stand just inside the front door and continue their conversation. Chico had noticed the new people and barked a couple of times, then started sniffing each of their legs, one at a time.

Dave reached down to pet the dog. "Dude, I hope he doesn’t mistake my leg fer a fire-hydrant."

"Doubtful," replied Jamie with a chuckle. He was startled to hear the phone ring. He walked into the kitchen, picked up the receiver and said, "Hello?"

A female voice with a slight Japanese accent asked, "Jamie?"

"Hi, Yoshi." Yoshi was Tanemura’s only blood relative in the clan. She was the daughter of his nephew, having been told from childhood that she was to be trained to lead the clan upon Tanemura’s death. She had resisted at first, wanting nothing more than to be a normal child and training only because her parents had made her.

This had all changed when their ancient enemy, the Togakura, had broken into her house in Jameston and slaughtered her parents. Since she had paid little attention to her training, the other group of ninja would have taken her life, as well, had Jamie and the others not shown up in time to save her. It had been this battle, between a group of teen-agers and a party of trained assassins, that had prompted the elders of the Funakoshi clan to agree to allow Jamie’s admittance.

Jamie was brought back to the present by Yoshi’s melodic voice. "Did the others make it up yet?"

"They just got here," replied the young male ninja.

The kunoichi, or female ninja, asked, "Are we still going skating?"

"I think so . . .."

Jamie was interrupted as Dave placed his hand on the receiver. "Is’at Yoshi?"

The young ninja nodded.

"Gimme the phone, dude," smiled the big teen.

Jamie complied, even though Yoshi had started talking again. He watched in amusement as Dave listened to the girl on the other end of the line, who thought that she was still speaking to her clan brother. Then Dave whispered into the receiver, "I think you’re cute."

There was a long silence, then even Jamie could hear Yoshi yell, "WHAT?!"

The young ninja tried to wrestle the phone away from his larger cousin, but he could have dangled from the big teen’s massive arms, so he knew that there was no way that he could get the receiver from him. Dave was chuckling quietly. "I think you’re the most beautiful creature on this Earth," he continued into the receiver, still at a whisper. Jamie noted that Dave was purposely losing his slang and raising the pitch of his voice so that he could fool Yoshi into thinking that she was hearing this from Jamie.

Yoshi’s words were loud and clear, and she was obviously enraged. "You are about three years too late for this, Jamie Raleigh!"

By now, the young ninja had climbed onto Dave’s back, tugging in vain at the receiver. Finally, Dave said, "Dudette, it’s me!"

There was a long pause, then Jamie could hear Yoshi speak again, although he could no longer make out clear words. Apparently she had calmed down.

Dave responded to what she was saying. "I’m really sorry, Yoshi. I didn’t know it would make ya that mad." Jamie could see true remorse on the big teen’s face.

She said something else, to which he replied, "Okay, here he is." Dave’s solid shoulders slumped in defeat as he handed the phone to Jamie. He then leaned against the wall to wait for his shorter, but older cousin to finish his conversation.

As soon as he got the receiver to his mouth he said, "I’m sorry, Sis."

"For what?"

"For what just happened."

Jamie could hear Yoshi sigh. "He was just being playful. He meant no harm." There was another pause as Yoshi took a deep breath, but it sounded as if her breath shook in her chest. Then she asked her original question again. "Are we still going skating tonight?"

"Yeah, we’ll be in Aurthur to get you in about twenty minutes."

"I’ll see you then." The young ninja heard the click that signaled that she had hung up.

Dave looked hurt. "Dude, I really didn’t mean . . .."

"Skip it, Dave," interrupted Jamie. "She’s not mad."

"What about you?"

Jamie sighed and smiled sadly. "I’m not mad, either." He patted his big cousin on the back and changed the subject. "Let’s get moving. I’ve got to leave my parents a note if we’re going skating."

As they left the kitchen, Dave asked what Yoshi had meant about being "three years too late." Jamie ignored him, hoping that he would assume that he hadn’t heard the question.

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