A/N: I don't own Randy Cunningham: 9th Grade Ninja

Dear Theresa

This all feels strange to me. As I write this letter, I know you're never going to read this or any others I write to you. Debbie told me that would help me get through this, though I honestly don't know how. I can't lie to you, it's been a rough couple of months since the funeral. I still can't think of you in past tense, because I'm afraid if I do that then I'll really know that you're gone and I just can't accept that yet. Howard and Debbie have been nothing but supportive throughout all this and I can't thank them enough for dealing with me. I haven't exactly been on my A-game as the Ninja as of late either. Oh, I still get the job done don't worry about that, but when I'm out there fighting a robot or a demon from the netherworld and there's a crowd of students watching the fight, I stop for a moment and look out to them, almost as if I'm trying to pick you out of the crowd as I always did just to make sure you were safe.

But I couldn't keep you safe, could I? I tried everything in my power to save you and in the end, it was all pointless. Your gone and there's not a dame thing I can do about it. I hated the world, Theresa, I really did. I hated being the Ninja, I hated being powerless to keep you alive and I hated whatever deity decided that you should be taken from this world at such a young age. If there's a heaven, then you're going to have to keep me from breaking God's nose whenever I join you up there. I'm not saying that I've fully come to terms with you not here with me anymore, and I doubt I ever will, but you wouldn't let me sit me on my ass drinking myself to death even if you were gone, not while there was still a world save.

My farther had the same problem for a while. Did I ever tell you that my dad was once a heavy-weight boxer? I think I did at some point during one of our dates. In the ring, Samuel 'Shotgun' Cunningham ruled supreme. They called him 'Shotgun' because when he hit you, it felt like you were being hit be a load of buckshot. Long before I was born, my dad was one of the greatest boxers the world had ever known. In his career, he had a total of thirty-seven wins by knockout and three title belts to his name. But he once told me that it wasn't the wins that made him happy, it was where he spent his wins that did.

There was once a greasy little diner on Corman street. It was closed by the time I was three and has since been torn down to make room for a Mcfist shoe store. Anyway, the point is that whenever my dad won a fight, he'd go down to this little diner, sit on the same stool every time, and always order a beer and a cheeseburger. According to him, the food was absolute crap, but it wasn't the food he wasn't interested in, it was who served him that he was interested in. if you couldn't guess yet, it was the woman who would one day be my mom. Every time she'd serve him, he'd always try to woe her and get him to go on a date with him, but she always said that she too busy until one day she finally gave in and said yes. Despite my pop's rugged and stern looks, he's a bit of a romantic at heart, and it wasn't before long that the two became serious. But their relationship hit a wall one night during a fight that nearly changed everything.

My dad was fighting some guy called Murdock, and according to my mom, it was the bloodiest fight she had ever seen my dad in. It was like watching to titans brawling. The fight went on for ten rounds when my dad suddenly collapsed on the ground just before the start of the eleventh. As it turned it out, my dad had a mild heart attack and not only did he have to give up the match, but he also had to quite his career as a boxer altogether. Dad couldn't handle the fact that after everything he had seen and done that he was still mortal—and now a jobless mortal no less. He hit the bottle harder than he did any man he fought and in time at all, he became a shell of his former self.

But my mom stuck with him, and she didn't like the idea of being in a relationship with a drunk. So, she gave him a choice: it was either her or the bottle. Since I'm writing you this letter you can guess which of the two he chose. He quit the bottle and got a job as a construction worker while my mom quit her job and became a manager at Mcfist hotel, but you already knew that part of the story. But what I bet you didn't know was that I originally wanted to follow in my old man's footsteps and be a championship boxer like he was. However, my dad didn't share the idea for my future. He always told me to hit the books, not people. Well, as fate would have it, I kind of got my wish when I was chosen to be the Ninja.

You know, the day you found out about my secret identity was both scariest and somewhat happiest moment of my life. On one hand, I was relieved that I didn't have to keep lying to you whenever I disappeared, but I was afraid I had thrown you into a world of danger like I had done with Howard. There was also the fear I had that you'd leave me after finding out, but to my surprise, you didn't run. Instead, you stuck by me through thick and thin. It was like Spider-Man and Mary-Jane, corny I know, but it felt like a comic-book romance to me. You didn't care about the risks, and you differently in it for the thrills. You just wanted to make sure I was safe just as much as I wanted to do the same for you.

I'm sorry for all the times I crawled into your bedroom through your window half-dead. All those times you had to patch me up after a fight must have killed you on the inside. But you never condemned me for doing my job, you understood that Norrisville needed me just as much as you did. But if you had asked me to, I would've left the mask behind and been with you always. You kept me together in both meanings of the word, and through all the ups and downs we had, we made it work.

And then you got that diagnosis…

While none of my family experienced cancer, I knew it was a disease that not only ravaged the one who had it, but also those around them as well. Every day you got weaker was a day I felt all the more helpless. I had saved you from monsters and robots, but I couldn't save you from this. The art of healing only prolonged the inevitable, no matter how hard I tried to pour everything into it, it did little to help you. Yet despite it all, you remained the same girl I fell in love with. Even when you were bed-ridden and your hair was gone you remained positive about everything. And that's what you wanted me to be through all this: Positive.

So, as I write this letter to you, I want you to know that I'm going to try my best to honor you by keep fighting to protect Norrisville like you would want me to do. And I'll keep Debbie and Howard from killing each other while you're gone—though I make no promises if I'll be as good as you at keeping them together. I will always love you, Theresa Fowler, and I will never forget you.

With all my heart and soul — Randy