Destiny: Unknown

Prologue: In Which My Destiny Can Go Screw Itself

Destiny.

One word. Seven letters. And yet, that small word has such a profound impact on our lives.

Some people don't believe in destiny. Others wholeheartedly do.

Me? I believe in it.

...doesn't mean that I like it.

~~~~~

My name is Cole. Cole Brookstone.

Sound familiar? It's probably because of my dad. His name is Lou Brookstone. He's the leader of the singing and dancing group The Royal Blacksmiths. They're pretty popular around the city area, and some might say that the members are the best singers and dancers to come out of tiny little Jamanakai Village.

My dad was really proud of being a Royal Blacksmith. When he wasn't on stage performing, he was rehearsing with the other members. When he wasn't doing that, he practiced his part on his own in the little studio he had in the house. When he wasn't doing that...actually, that's about it. My dad lived and breathed dancing. So I guess it's only natural that when I was born, he had these high hopes that I would follow in his footsteps.

I can only imagine how disappointed he was when this was not the case.

~~~~~~

You know that one phrase most parents love telling their kids? You can be anything you want to be!

I never got that.

Instead, I got this: One day, when you're old enough, you'll be the new leader of the Royal Blacksmiths. You'll be the greatest dancer Ninjago has ever seen.

That was it. I couldn't be anything else. It didn't matter if that's not what I wanted to be. From the time that I could walk, my dad automatically assumed that this was what I was meant to do. Who I was meant to be.

I guess you could say, it was my destiny.

Hey, that rhymed!

~~~~~~

If you think that I was joking when I said that I was dancing since the time I could walk, think again.

My dancing career began not too long after I turn four. At first, it was actually kind of fun. My dad homeschooled me, which was pretty cool at the time. As soon as my lessons were done, we were in the studio, dancing. I remember how much fun I had putting on my first pair of tap shoes and copying my dad's movements, giggling whenever I tripped over my own feet. My dad would try to scold me a few times, but he was usually smiling and laughing along with me.

Two years passed, and, unfortunately for my dad, I started to lose interest in dancing. I wanted to spend more time outside, playing at the park and just being a normal kid. Instead, my dad forced me to spend hours inside the studio, running through the cha-cha, the waltz, even the tango.

I didn't like the fact that my dad wouldn't let me choose what I wanted to do. I started rebelling as only a little kid could. I hid my dance shoes around the house and claimed that I couldn't find them when asked about it. I threw tantrums whenever my dad dragged me off to practice. Sometimes, I would hide in the closets or underneath my bed in order to avoid practice.

It never worked. My dad soon figured out where all of my hiding places were. Shoes that I had hidden the day before would always appear in my room by morning. Throwing tantrums only resulted in longer practice hours, and my dad would always find me within ten minutes whenever I tried to hide.

Needless to say, I was kind of miserable.

~~~~~~

Things went from bad to worse when I turned seven.