It was one of the reindeer who sensed the ninjas and alerted Santa to their approach with a well-timed shake of his bells. Santa deftly recalled an old spell from his days as a warlock in the employ of the Christmas Spirits, and he wrapped his sleigh in a protective shell.

The descending ninjas sheathed their swords and dropped down, using a technicality inherent in the nature of the ancient protective spells to enter its confines unscathed. Santa was surprised, and yet, somehow he knew they would come well-prepared.

He blasted the closest ninja with a face full of ice which sent him hurtling back, lost amongst the swirling snow. Another received a simple force spell to the chest, flinging him off the sleigh. Another ninja was given a kick to the groin.

The lead ninja drew his sword and quickly placed the blade at Santa’s throat.

“Give it back, Kringle,” the ninja ordered. “It isn’t yours. It never was.”

“It is now, Izawa,” Santa replied. “You’ll have to kill me to get it back.”

“That’s the idea.”