The quiet of the house was broken only by the sound of the door softly creaking open. You slipped inside, shoulders slumped under the weight of exhaustion. It had been another grueling day—a double shift at work followed by yet another battle against one of McFist's relentless contraptions. Every muscle in your body ached, and your mind swirled with a mixture of relief and guilt. Relief that you had once again managed to protect Norrisville, and guilt that you were once again coming home late to Randy.

The house was dim, save for the faint glow of a nightlight in the hallway. You moved carefully, pulling off your mask as you made your way toward your room. The weight of the Ninja suit felt heavier than usual, the fabric clinging to you like a second skin—one you wanted to shed and forget, if only for a few hours of rest.

You didn’t notice the faint creak of a floorboard behind you.

Randy stood at the end of the hallway, wide awake. His eyes were wide, disbelief and awe written all over his face as he took in the sight of you in the unmistakable black and red garb of the Norrisville Ninja. He had stayed up late, trying to catch even a moment of your time, and now he was staring at something he had never expected to see.

Randy’s lips parted, his voice barely above a whisper. "No way… You're the Ninja?"