Post by God Mike on Mar 7, 2013 5:38:33 GMT -7
Michael Andersson, now a 25-year old orphan, wasn't always the happy-go-lucky joker he is today. There was a time, when he was very young, that he was an incredibly serious boy. He was a troublemaker, but not the good kind. He got into fights at the orphanage whenever he could, simply because he needed to vent his frustrations.
Mike was a rather scrawny kid who dressed in a pair of tattered, beige pants (his only pair), and a pale green T-shirt. His hair was very messy, as he tended not to wash it very often. It hung down in front of his face, covering most of his right eye, which was lucky at this moment, as he had a black eye. He had three band-aids on his face, one on his left elbow, and several of them on his upper body.
Currently, Mike had sneaked out of the orphanage again, and was sitting with his back against a building in Stockholm. He liked to come here sometimes. This was the place where his parents had died. He somehow felt at peace when sitting here. He was just thinking about how his future might look, when a voice said, “You know, it is very saddening to see a lonely little boy sitting on the sidewalk.”
Mike looked up at the speaker. It was an old, Asian man. However, he didn't at all dress very Asian, or old, for that matter. He was actually dressed very youthfully, wearing a pair of sneakers, baggy black pants, and a black hoodie with the hood up. His beard, pure white, was tied into a single, thin braid.
Mike stared at the stranger, who was staring down at him in silence. They maintained the silence for a good minute, with Mike waiting for the stranger to continue. When he didn't, Mike said, “Why don't you take a picture? It'll last longer.” The man, contrary to what Mike believed, didn't get upset by his cheek, but instead just chuckled. Mike tried harder. “Why do you dress like a teenager, old fart? You trying to fool yourself?”
“Fooling criminals, actually,” the old man said with a smile. When Mike blinked, the old man's smile widened, and he sat down next to him. It was night, and very dark. It was also late Fall, so it was rather cold. Seeing that Mike was still looking at him in confusion, the old man explained, “If I dress and look like a frail old man while walking around at night, criminals will surely target me. If I dress like a delinquent, however, well, they tend not to bother, as it would be more trouble than it's worth.”
Mike scoffed with a cocky smirk. “I'd like to see a criminal try to take me on...”
“He will win who, prepared himself, waits to take the enemy unprepared,” the old man spoke. Mike blinked in confusion, then looked up at him curiously. The man elaborated. “If I want to take down any criminals, I should do so when they do not see me, not when they want to rob me.”
“And you could do such a thing?” Mike asked skeptically. “You don't look like much, old man.”
“Of course I don't. Deception is key to being a ninja.”
“Ninja?” Mike repeated, blinking.
“A ninja, or shinobi, was a covert agent or mercenary in feudal Japan who specialized in unorthodox warfare. The functions of the ninja included espionage, sabotage, infiltration, and assassination, and open combat in certain situations,” the old man explained. “I am a descendant of the Iga ninja clan. In honor of that clan, I have taken the name Iga Tsuyoshi. What is your name, little one?”
“Mike,” the boy said immediately. “Well, Michael Andersson. Nice to meet you, Iga.”
The old man chuckled again. “No, no, I introduced myself in the Japanese way. There, you say your surname first. Here, I guess I should introduce myself as Tsuyoshi Iga.”
Mike's brow furrowed as he stared at the old man. “Tsu... Tsu... Your name is hard... I liked Iga better.” When the old man just chuckled, Mike continued. “So, you're a ninja?”
“I am. And I am looking for an apprentice. Do you have any family, Michael?” Tsuyoshi asked, and Mike shook his head. “I take it you live at the orphanage not too far from here?” Mike nodded this time, and Tsuyoshi smiled. “Well, Michael, how would you like to come with me? I can teach you to be a ninja, if you want?”
Tsuyoshi got to his feet and looked down at Mike, who stared up at him. He had always been told not to go anywhere with strangers. But this old fart seemed pretty cool. And he could teach him to be a ninja! Slowly, Mike got to his feet. Then, he nodded.
“Good,” Tsuyoshi said, nodding. “Then, my first order as your teacher is... get a haircut.”
Mike was a rather scrawny kid who dressed in a pair of tattered, beige pants (his only pair), and a pale green T-shirt. His hair was very messy, as he tended not to wash it very often. It hung down in front of his face, covering most of his right eye, which was lucky at this moment, as he had a black eye. He had three band-aids on his face, one on his left elbow, and several of them on his upper body.
Currently, Mike had sneaked out of the orphanage again, and was sitting with his back against a building in Stockholm. He liked to come here sometimes. This was the place where his parents had died. He somehow felt at peace when sitting here. He was just thinking about how his future might look, when a voice said, “You know, it is very saddening to see a lonely little boy sitting on the sidewalk.”
Mike looked up at the speaker. It was an old, Asian man. However, he didn't at all dress very Asian, or old, for that matter. He was actually dressed very youthfully, wearing a pair of sneakers, baggy black pants, and a black hoodie with the hood up. His beard, pure white, was tied into a single, thin braid.
Mike stared at the stranger, who was staring down at him in silence. They maintained the silence for a good minute, with Mike waiting for the stranger to continue. When he didn't, Mike said, “Why don't you take a picture? It'll last longer.” The man, contrary to what Mike believed, didn't get upset by his cheek, but instead just chuckled. Mike tried harder. “Why do you dress like a teenager, old fart? You trying to fool yourself?”
“Fooling criminals, actually,” the old man said with a smile. When Mike blinked, the old man's smile widened, and he sat down next to him. It was night, and very dark. It was also late Fall, so it was rather cold. Seeing that Mike was still looking at him in confusion, the old man explained, “If I dress and look like a frail old man while walking around at night, criminals will surely target me. If I dress like a delinquent, however, well, they tend not to bother, as it would be more trouble than it's worth.”
Mike scoffed with a cocky smirk. “I'd like to see a criminal try to take me on...”
“He will win who, prepared himself, waits to take the enemy unprepared,” the old man spoke. Mike blinked in confusion, then looked up at him curiously. The man elaborated. “If I want to take down any criminals, I should do so when they do not see me, not when they want to rob me.”
“And you could do such a thing?” Mike asked skeptically. “You don't look like much, old man.”
“Of course I don't. Deception is key to being a ninja.”
“Ninja?” Mike repeated, blinking.
“A ninja, or shinobi, was a covert agent or mercenary in feudal Japan who specialized in unorthodox warfare. The functions of the ninja included espionage, sabotage, infiltration, and assassination, and open combat in certain situations,” the old man explained. “I am a descendant of the Iga ninja clan. In honor of that clan, I have taken the name Iga Tsuyoshi. What is your name, little one?”
“Mike,” the boy said immediately. “Well, Michael Andersson. Nice to meet you, Iga.”
The old man chuckled again. “No, no, I introduced myself in the Japanese way. There, you say your surname first. Here, I guess I should introduce myself as Tsuyoshi Iga.”
Mike's brow furrowed as he stared at the old man. “Tsu... Tsu... Your name is hard... I liked Iga better.” When the old man just chuckled, Mike continued. “So, you're a ninja?”
“I am. And I am looking for an apprentice. Do you have any family, Michael?” Tsuyoshi asked, and Mike shook his head. “I take it you live at the orphanage not too far from here?” Mike nodded this time, and Tsuyoshi smiled. “Well, Michael, how would you like to come with me? I can teach you to be a ninja, if you want?”
Tsuyoshi got to his feet and looked down at Mike, who stared up at him. He had always been told not to go anywhere with strangers. But this old fart seemed pretty cool. And he could teach him to be a ninja! Slowly, Mike got to his feet. Then, he nodded.
“Good,” Tsuyoshi said, nodding. “Then, my first order as your teacher is... get a haircut.”