Dragon's Fang

June 3rd, 2003

Megan gave me this journal for a Christmas gift, last year. I’ve never been one to keep a journal, unless you count my mission logs, during my six years in the Navy. Being twenty six, I felt that I was a little too old to start a diary, but I kept it any way, even though I thought I’d never have a use for it. I find myself admitting that the events of this evening have proved me wrong. If ever something needed to be written down, it would be this.

Me, and Meg, were out for our date night, like every other Friday night, since I moved back to Miami. A phone call earlier from Sonny tried to put a damper on the planned festivities, but I was quick to put a stop to it, real quick. A lot has happened in my life since she was court-martialed, but I’m still her anchor to reality while she finishes out her sentence. The one thing I wish she could accomplish in prison is moving on with her life, without me. She says that she has, and wishes me and Meg the best. Any way, her call was to tell me that the courts were reducing her sentence, and that she would be out in time for the wedding. Of course, her adding the part about standing up and protesting the marriage is what sent me over the edge. She swears that she was joking, but knowing Sonny, as soon as the preacher asks why these two should not be joined in holy matrimony, Sonny would be the one to jump up, waving her arms.

Lucky for me, I was able to blow the whole thing off and return my focus to my night out with Megan. The dinner was good, but only because of the company.

The movie afterwards was terrible, but Megan loves those romantic comedies. She tried her best to convince me that I was wrong as we walked down the street, which actually turned out to be more comical than the movie. Finally, after declaring the debate a draw, we stopped in an ice cream parlor for desert. It was there that we witnessed something that would change my life, forever. Meg thought that the parlor’s old time flair was too cute to pass up. I did my best to enjoy sitting on the uncomfortable wrought iron chairs, around the matching table on the parlor’s front patio, but I don’t think she would have noticed if I stood up and protested the accommodations. Her attention was focused on an old man standing in front of the alley across the street, who she thought was staring at us. I told her to finish her ice cream and pay him no mind. Now days, there are plenty of wackos out on the streets, staring at people. When she became concerned, I had to be concerned, or neither one of us was going to enjoy the rest of the night. Looking up, I saw the old man and quickly deduced that he was no threat to us, at all. What I did find disturbing was the group of hoodlums that were eying the old man as an easy mark.

Before I could react, the gang was forcing the old man down into the alley across the street. Meg begged me not to get involved, but I wouldn’t have been able to live with myself if I didn’t. I assured Meg that everything would be alright and took off across the street. I didn’t hesitate charging right in and displayed my abilities, leaping over the gang to take a defensive stance between them and the old man.

One of the thugs had already taken a shot at the old guy, knocking his cane away before shoving him up against the wall. I took out that guy first, hitting him with a jab to the throat, expecting the rest to turn and run. I wasn’t extremely surprised when they didn’t, but I was ready for them all the same. A few minutes later, I was helping the old man up and out of the alley, as Megan came running over.

His name is Hiro Masamoto, originally from Japan. According to him, he has traveled from afar, to seek me out. Of course, I had to ask the stupid question of how he knew I would be at the ice cream parlor at that specific time. His response was simply, “destiny.” I guess most people would have walked right away from the situation, believing that the old man was off his rocker. Megan first believed that his comments and statements were just rantings of a lunatic, but something intrigued me about him. In fact, I was so curious that I offered him a room for the night.

Megan was apprehensive at first, but the old man quickly won her over with his eastern charm and humble personality. Personally, I think it was his reference to her as a perfect cherry blossom that made Megan swoon. After assuring me that he was good to walk, we set out for home as he kept us mesmerized by his fanciful tales of his past.

They are both asleep, right now. I set Masamoto up in the guest room, and Meg is passed out on the sofa. The crazy old man, I offer him a perfectly good bed, and he rolls out a bed mat in the middle of the bedroom floor. There is something about him that I cannot shake. I mean, during our walk home, he kept bringing up points of interest about me that not too many people know. It’s not so much that I want to know how he knows these things about me. It’s the why he knows that bothers me. I guess we’ll find out tomorrow. According to Masamoto, my training begins at sunrise.