Author's note: If you've seen it on Danny Phantom, I don't own it. Any original characters, however, are all mine. Here's to Butch Hartman, for inspiring this story and creating Danny Phantom, and to my karate sensei, whom has always forced me to work hard, or suffer for it.

Part One: Japan

Chapter 1 (The Start)

"Morning, Tir!" my sister roared happily as she flung open the door to my room and ran to my window. "Time to wake up and embrace the new day!"

I opened my eyes, unfortunately just as she threw open the blinds on my window. The light streamed in, taking a split second to ricochet off the bright white walls of my room before entering my eyes and burning them to a fine powdery crisp.

"Agggh! Go away, Ron!" I bellowed as I threw my rock-hard pillow at her head. "Leave me to what little peace I have left!" She grabbed my pillow in midair and threw it back, nailing me in the head and effectively stunning me.

She opened the blinds wider before she said, "Don't call me Ron, Tirrell. You know I hate to be called that. Besides, mom and dad told me to get you up and out of bed by whatever means necessary."

She was interrupted as dad called through the door, calling, "Tirrell, Ron! Your mother wants to leave soon, so get up! You know how testy she gets when she's kept from her studies!" The smile immediately faded from Veronica's face, replaced instead by a rather dejected grimace.

"Ah yes," she groaned sarcastically, "Another joyful school-less Saturday dawns on the Morgan family." She turned and was about to leave when she turned to me and said, "Just get up and dressed. Please Tir?" I sighed, then got up and started getting dressed.

She smiled, then left. I grinned slightly, then turned and looked out my window, as if I would find an answer in the sky.

My name is Tirrell Morgan, Tir for short. I'm about fourteen and a half years old. I'm about five feet, ten inches tall, and weighing in at about a hundred and forty-five pounds. I'm certainly not overly muscular, but I'm not exactly out of shape either.

I've got fairly long, dark brown hair, and brown eyes with small flecks of silver in them. My nose is a bit broad, but rounded, and I have a well-defined chin. My skin is fairly well cared for, and slightly tanned. Not a very conspicuous complexion in Amity Park, Indiana, perhaps, but in Hitori, Honshu, Japan, you get noticed. Very noticed.

I respect the Japanese people, I really do, but every society, nah, every school, has at least one bully. And unfortunately, in Japan most of the bullies are well trained. I've got the odd broken bone to prove it. I've got better odds, however, than a few of their victims.

Ever since my family moved to Hitori from Amity Park about five years back I've been honing my skills in the martial arts, especially Shotokan karate. Those classes have saved me from serious injury on many, but not all occasions, and I'll be testing for my first-degree black belt in about two months time. That is if I'm able to get in enough classes with all the running around my parents do.

Speaking of all the running around my parents do, I barely had enough time to drag myself downstairs to eat something for breakfast before we were off to Hokkaido, the most northern of Japan's four main islands, for one of my mom's research leads.

Most people have normal jobs. My uncle, Frederick Lancer, is a vice principal back home. My aunt, Katherine Morgan, is an accountant for one of the many "Nasty Burger" fast-food joints all across the globe. Even my sister is a waitress at a local Japanese restaurant. Are these jobs relatively normal? Yes. My mom, Sandra Morgan, however, is most definitely the family black-sheep.

She studies and researches ghosts. Ghosts! Honestly! And believe it or not she was introduced to ghost research by my dad, Hal Morgan, whom ironically is now not half as obsessed as she is with all things ectoplasmic. He once tried to get her to take one Saturday off to spend some time with her family, and she chewed him into a pulp!

She's maybe half his size, with green eyes and blonde hair, and she still chews into him like that! My father is a good, brave, caring man. He once threw himself between an angry, eight-hundred pound mother grizzly, and us when we were on a hike in some national park in western Canada, once again because of my mother's obsession with ghosts. He spent close to a year in the hospital, recovering from his considerable wounds.

Getting back to the story, we were on a ferry that would take us to Hokkaido across a small strait between Hokkaido and Honshu, Japan's main and largest island. As lousy and probably boring as I knew the day was going to be, I couldn't help but enjoy the nice weather. The sun was shining brightly, little wisps of cloud scuttling across the boundless blue, whilst the wind created a gentle breeze, salty, yet very refreshing.

The waves very slowly and gently caressed the boat, rocking it ever so gently. I was just about asleep when my dad walked over. He was holding two cups in his hands. He passed one to me and sipped his own cup of hot chocolate as he leaned on the rail beside me. "Thanks," I said, taking a sip of my drink, "It's a bit cold out on the seas this morning." "I know," he said wisely, not taking his eyes off the waves, "I thought you might like some. Sure beats coffee in the morning. Hate the stuff myself."

"Same here," I agreed, turning to him. Despite the fact that I saw him every day, there was always something about him that impressed me. He was a fairly big man, tall and well-built, with short dark hair, thinning and flecked with grey in some places. His mustache and eyebrows, however, were undiminished, dark and quite far from thinning. His dark eyes, so I thought, reflected the sea, calm most of the time, but when angered could become very dark and angry. I've only ever seen him like that once, and I swear that as long as I live I never want to see that look on anyone's face again.

He turned at that moment and said, "Today might not be so bad, you know. Even a little good can come from something that seems bad. "Just try and keep an open mind, okay?" and he walked away. I stayed where I was, staring out to sea and admiring the late summer sun. Seabirds shrieked by overhead, and very distantly I saw a cloud of steam erupt from the waves. It was soon joined by another, and another, until I could pick out an entire pod of whales, calling to each other and breaching, throwing themselves surprisingly high into the air, then crashing back into the surf to rejoin their friends and family.

Despite how much technology has taken over our lives, I can still enjoy nature. Whether I'm out traversing the hills behind our house after school, or scaling a mountain looking for one of my mom's many research opportunities, or even now, witnessing the life of the open water, I can enjoy the simplest aspects of life. I can satisfy myself with just being alive to enjoy life, rather than being discontent at what I can't enjoy because I don't have it. The simplest thought can enter my head, and it will lift my spirits and cause me to remember, that sometimes life really isn't all about having, so much as just being. Being alive to live through the things in life that really do matter, like working hard and faithfully and honestly to earn something.

The captain called out, and I looked to the front of the boat. I could just barely see the shores of Hokkaido up ahead, and couldn't wait for the two or three hours of free time that we'd have before mom would force us up into one of the few remaining wildernesses in all of Japan. We docked in a small inlet on the southern side of the island. About an hour after we had set sail from the northernmost port on Honshu, we were in a small town with some long name that I had no idea how to pronounce. Most of the people here were either tourists or shopkeepers, trying to sucker people into buying their redundant junk.

We separated for a while, mom to arrange/prepare a trip into the mountains, dad to look for any good junk, and Veronica to look for any bad junk. Me, I went to find some food, which could be considered a type of junk within itself. "I cannot believe it," I groaned after a while, "What do people eat here, money? rocks? green peppers?"

Just for the record, no, I do not like green peppers. Although I do like the spice pepper, which really makes very little sense in itself.

Anyway, I was still looking for a place to eat when I ran into him. Tai Fenbutsu, the school jerkwad. Two hundred pounds of solid, well-toned and well-trained muscle and pure spite, what some might argue as the "perfect" bully. In my opinion the perfect bully leaves you alone and picks on somebody else you loath.

I barely had time to realize who he was before stars exploded behind my eyes. I hit the ground like a half-stunned cat, hard, and on my back. To say the least it did not help that I landed in a puddle of water up to my ankles. "It has been my honor, loser-san," he bowed, grinning maliciously, "To ruin your bad day even further. Saiyenara!" I lay there for a moment, letting the water soak into my skin, as I stewed in my own anger. One day I'd show him what it's like to be on the receiving end, but until then I'd be his punching bag and punchline rolled into one.

"Need a lift?" someone asked as they kneeled over me. I accepted and was helped to my feet.

"Thanks," I said dryly, "Pity you weren't here a minute ago. I could've used a little support back there."

"You can take care of yourself. Remember when you were free-styling with that three-hundred pound juggernaut? He probably could've squashed you between his thumb and index finger and you still won that match. Didn't you get like, a silver medal in that tournament?" It was only then that I realized that the person who had helped me up was Veronica.

She was rather thin, though not to the point of unhealthiness. Even though she was two years the older I was about the same height as she was. She had dark hair, much like dad's, although hers was waist-length, thick and in very good condition. And no, she does not have a mustache. Her eyes are blue, which really doesn't fit into the family eye colours, and her skin is light, not pale, but more to the light side, unlike mine and dad's. And she's fast. Very fast. Both academically and athletically. When she runs the track in gym class she finishes head and shoulders before everybody else. And don't even get me started on her judo and taikwando. She's so fast she's even earned the nickname "Tiger claws." Even her teachers call her that.

Despite the fact that she is better in school and at sports than me, she isn't all that bad of a sister. Sure she rubs me the wrong way sometimes, but what two siblings don't? We've had our differences, but we've always forgiven each other and moved on. We're actually much closer than most brothers and sisters. We watch the same shows, listen to the same music, and so on. Usually if one of us has an opinion on something, the other agrees with it. Sometimes we even spar together in our basement.

The incident that she was referring to happened about a year ago. I did get a silver medal for that. Aside from that silver medal I've received five bronze medals, another silver medal, a gold and a small trophy. And believe me, I've earned all of them. She got me a milkshake, to try and raise my rather low spirits after what happened. It helped. Marginally.

"I wonder what strange ancient ruins we're going to be visiting today," I groaned. "Why can't my parents do something normal? Does anyone in the world have parents that are half as weird as mine?"

"Remember Danny and Jazz from back home?" She countered. It was a good counter. It totally blew a hole in my argument.

"Good point," I admitted, "But still, why can't my parents just try to lead normal lives. Ever since I was three mom and dad have been dragging us across the globe in search of ghosts or records of ghosts. "I have been less than three feet away from lions, tigers, bears..."

"Oh my," Veronica interrupted with a wry grin on her face. "Sorry. Continue."

"As I was saying before I was rudely interrupted, I've been within three feet of more dangerous and highly venomous creatures than Paul Hogan, I've been sick with no less than seven deadly diseases worldwide, and I've never lived in one place for more than a few years! What is the world coming to!"

Passersby had started to stare as I ranted, so when I was finished Veronica said before I could continue, "If you keep on raving people will think that you're nuts."

"I am not nuts!" I shouted, drawing just a little bit more attention to myself.

"More tea, miss?" the waiter said, then he turned to me and said with a small grin, "And will you have anything else, crazy man?" Ordinarily I would have laughed at his little joke, but rest assured I would have lost it entirely if Veronica hadn't grabbed me by the scruff of the neck, turned me around and started walking.

After we had rounded the corner she turned me around and said seriously, "Try not to let people get to you like that, okay? They're not worth it. I'm having a pretty crummy day too, if that'll help you feel better. When you're feeling depressed and angry just try and remember what good things you have in your life." She smiled, then finished, "Besides, if you focus on all the bad things in life, it won't exactly be a life, will it?"

For some reason, whenever Veronica talks to me like that, I feel better afterwards. "Thanks, sis."

"Welcome. Now let's see if we can find mom and dad before we have to get going." We found dad by a shop, talking with the owner in a hushed voice. When he saw us he concluded his conversation, then stormed toward us. I noticed that he stowed something on his inside pocket, but thought nothing of it. "Can you believe it?" he said angrily, "He wanted five million yen for one little silver ring! He tried to rob me blind!"

"What, or who, was the ring for dad?" Veronica asked curiously, though I could tell that what she was trying to calm him down.

"A gift for your aunt Katherine, if you must know," he began, starting to calm down a bit, "She's getting married in two weeks and I wanted to congratulate her. It looks like I'll have to find something else for her before then."

"Ah, relax dad," I soothed, "If there's anyone that can find her something in about a week's time it's you."

He smiled, despite himself. "Thanks, wildcat," he said affectionately, calling me by my childhood nickname as he wrapped an arm around me. "You know what," he said as he raised a hand to his eyes and squinted, "I think that your mother's up ahead at the travel centre. We'll probably be leaving soon. Go have any bathroom breaks now if you need to."

"Dad!" we both scolded at the same time, before Veronica headed for the ladies' room. I was about to head for the men's when I felt a heavy hand descend on my shoulder. "Follow me," he said, pointing to a bench nearby. We sat down and waited for a few moments before dad began speaking. "Son," he said seriously, leaning his elbows on his knees, "Be honest with me when you answer my question. Promise?"

"Promise," I agreed, taking his extended hand and shaking it. I then asked suspiciously, "So what's the big question?"

"Son, do you think that I am a good father?" he asked. The question caught me unawares. Dad had always seemed like a very secure kind of guy. he never let any insult get to him, at least none that I knew of. I tried to be honest and answered, "Well, you can be a bit forceful sometimes. Remember when you got so ticked at me for neglecting my chores that you threw me into a wall?" I had tried to make light of the question, but it didn't seem to sit well with him. I recovered by saying, "I kind of earned that one. Besides, not only did you apologize for it, but I understood why you did it. I really had been neglecting my duties lately, and since you'd had a bad day, I guess I just chose the wrong time to turn sloth."

He started to smile as I continued, "And even if I did resent you for that, there was that time we were hiking after some ectoplasmic doodad or whatever and that bear ambushed us."

"Even when you do something like that for your family, that takes guts, no pun intended." He was grinning with appreciation by the time I finished, "Look, dad, no one is perfect. No one is the perfect dad either. They never say it, but I bet that a lot of people think that their dads are great, and they've probably done a lot less for their families than you have for us." He leaned over and put a hand on my shoulder. I didn't mind.

"Tirrell, I want to tell you something."

"I may not show it all the time, but you really are a great son. You can be committed and focused on something, and strive for it with every fiber of your being. You've always seemed to exert this strong, childlike energy that really can lift my spirits on dark days."

"And believe me I know that it's really hard to put up with your mother sometimes, but both yourself and Veronica have shown an amazing amount of tolerance, and even a little understanding." I was surprised by what dad was saying. I knew that he respected me, but I didn't know that he thought so highly of me. He continued, "There are times that it's seemed like I haven't shown any appreciation for your efforts. But when you earned that silver medal last year, and when you stood up to that bully that keeps bugging you and got a black eye and a broken arm for it, but you still floored him, I was darn proud."

"I know that I've done some pretty amazing things in my life, and in one case I spent several days in the ER and a whole month in the hospital, but the first remotely amazing thing I ever did was when I was nineteen and graduated from highschool with 90+ marks all around. You're only fourteen and you've done, and withstood, some pretty amazing things."

"I've never given you an allowance one day of your life, I've never taken you on holidays, and I've never asked you how your day was at school. Well, here's your reward for a life well done." He reached into his inside pocket and pulled out a small white box about four inches wide and approximately eighteen inches long, tied with a red slip of paper. "Open it," he urged.

I slid the paper off the box and lifted the lid, and my eyes nearly popped out of my head and splattered across the sidewalk. It was the most beautiful weapon that I had ever seen! A ruby as big as the end of my thumb acted as a pommel, with small brass claws securing it in place. The grip was sharkskin, and patterned just like a katana. The hilt of the dagger was black iron, studded with small flecks of quartz. The sheath was rounded and black, lacquered to smoothness, with the Japanese characters depicting my name painted along the side in bright red.

I secured the blade to my hip, then took hold of the handle and slowly drew the blade. It was marvelous! A leaf would be cut by it just by landing on the blade. One foot of solid, honed steel, sharp enough to cut through rock like butter. The balance of blade and handle was perfect. It really was like the blade was merely an extension of my arm.

"Dad?" I asked calmly as I examined the blade from pommel to tip, taking in every little nuance of the weapon in my hands.

"Yes? What do you think of it?" he asked, concern and happiness written all over his face.

"Have I ever told you that you rock out loud!" I shouted, thrusting and slashing vicious arcs through the air. At one point I even tossed the blade into the air, back-flipped, and caught the blade by its tip. I then threw it with deadly accuracy at the sign by the travel centre. There was a muffled "thunk" as it split the "T" dead in half.

My dad walked over to the sign and tried to remove the blade with one hand. Failing, he then tried with both hands and heaved the blade out of the sign. "Good throw, Tir," he said appreciatively. His face then turned serious as he warned, "But if I ever see you do that again you're grounded."

"If that mean that I get to keep this thing, then deal," I exclaimed, sheathing it just as Veronica emerged from the bathroom. "Now if you don't mind, I kind of have to go the bathroom," I said, heading there as quickly as I could.