Child of Fire

Prologue

Grandpa Channarong sat on Saint's bed as the boy settled down for a bedtime story.

"Grandpa, I want to hear about the dragons!" five-year old Saint demanded, his eyes bright and very much awake despite having played all day long.

Channarong, who is in his mid-sixties, laughed and said, "You always say that, my little Saint. Aren't you tired to listening to that story yet?"

"No!" Saint grinned, showing his white little teeth.  What Saint believes are dragons are actually serpents. They are mythical semi-divine beings that are half human and half cobra.

"Okay, okay..." Channarong relented. 

"Once upon a time, there was a little boy who had a very pure heart. He was loved by everyone in his village because he would always help out whenever he can. One day, a group of barbarians attacked their village. Because their village was mostly inhabited by fisherfolk, they were not able to defend themselves from the invasion. Many people died and only a few were able to run away. The little boy tried his best to defend his family but he ended up losing his sight. The barbarians threw him into the Mekong River thinking he would drown and die. However, a mythical creature called the Naga saved the little boy because it admired his bravery. The Naga brought the boy to its King and the King cured the little boy's blindness. From then on, the little boy lived with the Nagas and grew up protecting the people who inhabited the banks of the Mekong river."

"Grandpa... can you take me to the Mekong River one day?" Saint finally yawned.

"Why?" Channarong gently brushed the hair from Saint's forehead.

"I want to look for the Nagas..."

Channarong chuckled. "Do well with your Muay Thai training and I will take you to the Mekong River."

"How well?" Saint frowned sleepily, Muay Thai was really boring.

"Very well," Channarong said firmly. "Goodnight, my little boy," he whispered before turning off the lights.

Channarong is one of the most respected Muay Thai trainers in the country. He owns several training camps, which were always sought-after by locals and foreigners. He was hoping to leave his legacy to a son but his wife gave him a strong-willed daughter instead.  Just as well.

His daughter, Saint's mother, did not like the violent sport and instead focused on healing people. She became a doctor. She also married another doctor and they both loved to serve the poor. 

Rain, Saint's older sister, was just like her mother. Saint's parents are often away on medical missions and has been bringing Rain with them. Saint, who is too little to accompany them, stayed with his maternal grandparents. 

Channarong fervently hopes he can pass on his love for the sport to Saint.

3 years later

Eight-year old Saint ran as fast as his little legs could carry him, kicking a soccer ball across the muddy ground. It rained heavily last night and there were a multitude of puddles within the public school, where an international organization was conducting a medical mission.

"Nareshia!" Saint shouted as he passed the ball to an African girl.

Ten-year old Nareshia deftly caught the ball with her foot and gave it a mighty kick. The ball sailed high missing the outstretched hands of a flustered goalie and hit the net.

"Goal!" Saint yelled a second later, jumping up and down with glee, splattering himself and kids around him with mud.

With huge grins, Nareshia and her friends joined Saint in celebrating their victory. It has been two weeks since this fair-skinned kid and many white doctors visited their village located on the outskirts of Kigali, Rwanda. Although language was a barrier, gifts were certainly not. Saint brought with him a real soccer ball. Before, the village kids had been playing with homemade balls made out of rags and tree bark. Now, they not only have a real soccer ball but they even have a pair of goal posts with nets as well. Playing soccer was definitely more exciting and more competitive now.