It was getting dark out. Crickets chirped as a gentle breeze blew in through the window, stirring Cole's hair. Although he was supposed to be getting ready for bed, the boy sat at his desk in front of the window, head resting on his folded arms. The faint sound of music and father's soulful voice could be heard through the walls. Cole wished he would stop; his father acted like he didn't have a care in the world. Meanwhile, Cole was facing years of humiliation going forward, not to mention the laughter still ringing in his ears.

You can do it, his father had said. It'll be fine, he'd said.

But after just one flip, Cole had fallen flat on his face. Everyone had laughed. And instead of comfort or apologies, his father only offered criticism, saying that he would be able to do it right next time. But Cole swore then and there that he would never attempt the Triple Tiger Sashay again.

Cole buried his head in his arms at the shame of the memory. His father had been disappointed at first, but already he seemed to have forgotten about what happened. He didn't care that Cole had been embarrassed in front of everyone he knew. That tomorrow, Cole would have to go out and face immense shame as he was mocked for his failure, not to mention the disappointment of everyone else in his quartet. He felt his cheeks burn just thinking about it.

"I hate dancing," the boy grumbled to himself.

"Too hard?" Cole jumped and lifted his head at the sound of a stranger's voice. "Or just too humiliating?"

Cole saw that there was a man standing outside his window. In the dying light of the sun, his figure was silhouetted so that Cole couldn't make out his face.

"Umm . . . ."

"I didn't mean to eavesdrop," the man apologized, "but you seemed so upset."

Cole wasn't sure how to respond. His mother had always warned him about talking to strangers. "Who are you?" he asked tentatively.

"Maybe that is a question for me to ask."

Cole wondered if it would be wise to go get his dad. He could still hear the timbre of his father's song in the other room.

The man raised his head slightly, as if he had only just took notice of the sound. "Is that your father singing?"

Cole nodded.

"He seems to be a man of great talent. Let me guess . . . he's forced you into following his footsteps, hasn't he? But it sounds like it's not the life you want. You have different dreams, but no matter what you do, you don't feel like he listens to you."

"Whoa," Cole breathed in amazement. This stranger had really hit the nail on the head, though Cole was somewhat ashamed to say so. It made his father sound bad.

The man outside the window seemed to take Cole's reaction as a 'Yes.' "And does your mother agree with him?" he pressed further.

Cole looked down and shook his head. "She died a few years ago," he answered quietly.

"I see. My father, too, left a great legacy and expected me to succeed him. But I didn't want to be like him. I have my own destiny, my own purpose to fulfill. He could never understand that, though."

"So what did you do about it?" Cole asked, hoping that the experienced stranger could give him some helpful advice.

"As I said, it was my destiny, not his. So I took matters into my own hands."

Cole considered this. If he tried to anything other than performing, his father would probably get angry with him. But the more Cole thought about it, the more certain he was that he did not want to be a dancer for the rest of his life. It felt like there was no way out. He shrugged helplessly. "What can I do?"

"I'll tell you what: there's this little group I've been putting together, a little like a class. It's for boys like you who are trying to make their own place in the world. And you won't have to dance, I promise."

"What do they learn in this class?"

Even in the shadows, Cole could make out his grin. "That's the exciting part. If you're interested, I'll teach you how to fight." He leaned towards Cole and whispered conspiratorially, "That's my place in the world."

Fighting? That certainly sounded like more fun than dancing. Cole looked to his door; his father's voice still reverberated to some unheard tune, but it had grown even fainter, as if he had moved into another room. Cole turned to the man again. "But how will I convince my father to let me go?"

The man outside gave a nonchalant shrug. "Tell him that it's for more dance lessons. If he doesn't listen to you, he won't deserve to know the truth, yet."

Cole winced, still uneasy about the thought of lying to his father.

"Wait, you don't think I'm asking you to lie, do you?" the man asked incredulously. When Cole tilted his head, confused, he continued, "No, no, it's more like a surprise. You can tell him the truth in time, but only when you can show him how good you are at it. Then he'll have to realize how much better fighting is than dancing. That is, if you decide you enjoy it."

Cole glanced one more time at his door, but his father's voice had faded away completely now. He nodded. "I'll do it. Anything sounds better than dancing."

The man outside nodded. "Good. In four days' time, come to the back of your house. You'll know how to find me, it will be obvious." The man was already turning to leave when Cole stopped him.

"Wait! What's your name?"

The man paused and looked back at him. "Wu. What's yours?"

"Cole."

Wu nodded. "It's been a pleasure talking with you, Cole."

Cole nodded, a wide grin spreading across his face as the man began to walk away. "You, too."

By now the sun had almost sunk all the way down and the daylight was nearly gone. Cole paused for a moment and listened. He could no longer hear his father's lilting song. The crickets, too seemed to have grown tired of singing. Instead, silence hung in the air, heavy and deafening, broken only by the occasional breath of wind that stirred the curtains. He hopped down from the seat at his desk, deciding that it was time he really did get to bed.

. . .

Evil!Wu strikes again! Two down, two more to go . . . .