A reader alerted NakedCity via email to the presence of the ninja on Maple Street: a young man who twice weekly showcases a variety of martial-arts techniques for the entertainment of passersby. My mind leapfrogged, first from images of a David Carradine kung-fu salute I recently saw on Spike, to Napoleon Dynamite’s “illegal ninja moves.”  Of course, neither prepared me for the reality of Joseph Hiebert—the so-called “Maple Street Ninja”—who kicks and chops his way somewhere between the two extremes.

Initially bashful, Hiebert warms mentally and physically when asked about his martial-arts training, with a broad grin and a demonstration of savate (French kickboxing) that leaves him sweating through his t-shirt. “I’ve been practicing my own style for years, but now I take classes,” said he says during a brief lapse in the action.

Hiebert’s seemingly boundless enthusiasm falters as the conversation turns toward his motivation for training. “When I was thirteen, eight people jumped me outside of Wilbur Middle School … I was pretty messed up.”  He pauses—a hint of ferocity snakes into his voice as he continues. “You never know when something like that’s going to happen. I don’t want anyone else to have to go through that.”

The tone provides a sharp contrast to Hiebert in person— a man whose uniform of oversized sweats, dragon t-shirt, and worn sneakers cast him more as outsider than avenger. His face flushes as he illustrates his workout regime for our cameras, and I politely feign ignorance when he stumbles through a move. “My parents don’t understand why I do this,” Hiebert says, foot extending to the top of the orange pole he occasionally uses for practice. “But I want to be ready.”

And ready he seems. Hiebert recently enrolled in classes with Randy Ford at the Center for Martial Arts, a man he respects greatly. “Randy wouldn’t sacrifice integrity. He always does what’s right, no matter what,” Hiebert says, the same flame returning to his cheeks as when he described his own assault. “Randy would never let evil deeds go on in front of him.”

I leave charmed—both by Hiebert’s ninja skills and his ability to return with head (and kicks) held high to that patch of sidewalk in west Wichita. Like so many of the people I meet for this magazine, he defies convention to find his happiness. I know I’d rather be a Naked ninja than another victim any (two) day(s) of the week.