The Soft Rapper

In the city of Lowtown, there was a rapper that everyone was afraid of.

His stage name was Mad Wolf, and people said that he was the most dangerous man in the music world.

When his songs played on the radio, drivers turned up the volume and tried to look tough.

When his posters appeared on the walls, children stared at them with wide eyes.

His face was always serious in photographs, his arms were always crossed, and his eyes seemed to say, "Do not come near me."

But the truth was very different.

Mad Wolf was actually a soft and gentle man named Daniel Park, and he was probably the kindest person in the whole city.

If you had met him in the morning, you would never have believed that he was a famous gangster rapper.

He fed the birds outside his window.

He cried during sad movies.

He worried about everything, all the time, and he could not say a single unkind word to anybody.

Daniel had a secret, and the secret was this: he had become famous by accident.

Years ago, he had written angry songs only because he was shy.

The angry words on paper had felt safer than speaking to people directly.

A music company had heard one of his recordings, and they had decided that he would be marketed as a tough street fighter.

Daniel had been too polite to say no.

And so, little by little, the gentle Daniel Park had been turned into the terrifying Mad Wolf.

It had all started on a rainy afternoon five years before.

Daniel had been working in a small shop that sold musical instruments, and in the back room he had recorded songs that he never planned to share with anybody.

The songs were full of fierce words, but only because Daniel was too shy to speak his real feelings out loud.

Writing fierce words on paper had felt safe.

One day, he had accidentally left a recording in a taxi.

The driver had listened to it, loved it, and passed it to his brother, who happened to work for a large music company.

Within a month, men in expensive suits had appeared at the instrument shop and offered Daniel a contract.

"We will make you a star," they had said.

"But you must look dangerous.

People want danger.

People want a wolf."

Daniel had wanted to explain that he was not dangerous at all, that he fainted at the sight of blood and apologised to furniture when he bumped into it.

But the men had been so confident, and Daniel had been so polite, that somehow the word "no" had never managed to leave his mouth.

A photographer had dressed him in dark clothes and told him to frown.

A team of writers had given him a frightening new name.

And just like that, a gentle shop worker had been transformed into the most feared rapper in the country, all because he had been too kind to disappoint anybody.

"Remember," his manager Rosa always told him before a show, "you are dangerous.

You are scary.

You are the wolf that everyone fears."

"I will try," Daniel always whispered.

"But could we please make sure that the front row is not too close to the speakers?

I do not want anyone to hurt their ears."

Rosa would sigh deeply.

She had been working with Daniel for three years, and she still could not understand how such a soft man had become such a hard star.

"Daniel," she said, "wolves do not worry about ears."

"Maybe they should," Daniel answered quietly.

On the night that this story really begins, Daniel was getting ready for the biggest concert of his life.

Ten thousand people had bought tickets.

The show would be filmed and shown all over the country.

If everything went well, Mad Wolf would become the most famous rapper in the land.

If everything went badly, well, Daniel did not want to think about that.

Backstage, he was not practising his songs.

Instead, he was walking around with a large box of bandages and bottles of water.

"In case anybody falls down," he explained to the confused security guards.

"And these waters are for people who feel thirsty.

Concerts are very hot, you know.

People can faint if they are not careful."

The security guards looked at each other.

They had been told that Mad Wolf was the toughest man alive.

Nobody had told them that he would arrive carrying bandages.

Rosa rushed into the room.

"Daniel!

The show starts in twenty minutes.

Why are you holding a box of bandages?"

"Safety first, Rosa," Daniel said seriously.

"If even one person gets hurt tonight, I will feel terrible.

Did you know that ten thousand people are coming?

That is a lot of people who could get hurt."

"Nobody is going to get hurt," Rosa said.

"Now please, put on your angry face.

The cameras are here.

Reporters are here.

Tonight you must be Mad Wolf, not Daniel Park."

Daniel put down the bandages slowly.

He took a deep breath and tried to look angry.

He pushed his eyebrows down and pulled his mouth into a frown.

But after a few seconds, his face relaxed again, and he smiled warmly.

"Like that?" he asked hopefully.

Rosa put her head in her hands.

"You look like a kind uncle at a birthday party."

"Thank you," Daniel said.

He thought it was a compliment.

The concert began.

The lights went down, and the crowd started to scream.

Smoke filled the stage, and a deep voice announced, "Ladies and gentlemen, the most dangerous man in music...

MAD WOLF!"

Daniel walked onto the stage.

Ten thousand people roared.

The noise was so loud that the floor seemed to shake.

For a moment, Daniel froze.

Then he lifted the microphone, and the music started.

His first song was called "Fear Me."

It was full of hard words about being strong and dangerous.

The crowd loved it.

They jumped and shouted every word.

But while Daniel rapped, his eyes were scanning the crowd, looking for problems.

Suddenly, near the front, he saw a small girl who had been lifted onto her father's shoulders.

She was holding her ears, and her face looked frightened by the loud sound.

Daniel stopped rapping immediately.

The music played on, but he was silent.

The crowd went quiet, confused.

Why had Mad Wolf stopped?

Daniel pointed at the sound engineer.

"Excuse me," he said into the microphone, and his gentle voice echoed across the stadium.

"Could we please turn the music down a little?

There is a child here, and I think the speakers are too loud for her ears.

We should take care of the young ones."

Ten thousand people stared in silence.

This was not what they had expected from the most dangerous man in music.

The sound engineer, not knowing what else to do, turned the music down.

Daniel smiled at the little girl.

"Is that better, sweetheart?" he asked.

The girl nodded and smiled back.

The whole stadium had heard every word.

Then something strange happened.

A few people began to clap.

Then more people clapped.

Soon the entire stadium was cheering, but not because Daniel was dangerous.

They were cheering because he was kind.

Backstage, Rosa was watching the screen with her mouth wide open.

"What is he doing?" she whispered.

"He is destroying the whole image.

Three years of work, gone in one night."

But the audience did not seem to think that anything had been destroyed.

They were enjoying themselves more than ever.

When Daniel sang his next song, a hard piece called "Streets of Stone," he stopped halfway through again.

This time he had noticed a man who looked unwell.

"Sir, are you all right?" Daniel asked, shading his eyes from the bright lights.

"You look a little pale.

Has anyone brought you some water?

Somebody, please bring this gentleman some water."

A bottle of water was passed through the crowd to the man.

The crowd cheered again.

People were now filming everything on their phones.

The videos would be shared a million times before morning.

By the end of the concert, Daniel had stopped six more times.

He had reminded everyone to drink water.

He had asked people not to push.

He had told a joke about his own grandmother, who, he said, made the best soup in the world.

He had even led the entire crowd in a few minutes of gentle stretching, "because your muscles will hurt tomorrow if you do not stretch tonight."

When the show finally ended, the crowd did not want to leave.

They chanted, not "Mad Wolf," but "Be safe!

Be safe!"

— which was something Daniel had said about twenty times during the night.

Backstage, Rosa was waiting with her arms crossed.

"Well," she said, "you have done it now.

The most dangerous rapper in the world just spent two hours acting like a worried grandfather.

Tomorrow the newspapers will laugh at us.

Your career might be finished."

Daniel looked at the floor.

"I am sorry, Rosa," he said softly.

"I tried to be Mad Wolf.

I really did.

But that little girl was holding her ears, and I could not pretend that I did not see her.

If I had ignored her, I would not have been able to sleep tonight."

Rosa wanted to be angry, but she could not.

She had never been able to stay angry at Daniel for very long.

"Go home and rest," she said.

"We will see how bad the damage is in the morning."

That night, Daniel could not sleep.

He kept thinking about the concert.

He was sure that he had ruined everything.

He imagined the newspapers calling him a fake and a failure.

He worried that all the people who worked for him — the sound engineers, the dancers, the drivers — might lose their jobs because of him.

The thought made his stomach hurt.

In the morning, his phone would not stop buzzing.

He was afraid to look at it.

When he finally turned it on, he saw hundreds of messages from Rosa.

With shaking hands, he called her.

"Rosa," he said, "how bad is it?

Please tell me the truth.

I can take it."

There was a pause.

Then Rosa spoke, and her voice was strange.

"Daniel," she said.

"You are not going to believe this."

"They hate me, do they not?" Daniel said.

"I knew it.

I have ruined everything."

"Daniel," Rosa said again.

"You are the number one trend in the entire country.

The video of you asking for water for that sick man has been watched forty million times.

People are calling you 'The Soft Rapper.'

They love you.

They absolutely love you."

Daniel sat down quickly on his bed.

"What?"

"Listen to this," Rosa said, and he could hear her reading from a screen.

"'In a world full of fake tough guys, Mad Wolf showed us what real strength is.'

That is from the biggest newspaper in the country.

And there are thousands more like it.

Parents are saying that you are a good role model.

Teachers are showing the video in schools.

A hospital has asked if you would visit the children there."

Daniel did not know what to say.

For three years, he had been pretending to be someone he was not.

He had felt like a liar every single day.

And now, the one time he had been completely himself, the whole country had fallen in love with him.

"So," Daniel said slowly, "I do not have to be Mad Wolf any more?"

"Daniel," Rosa laughed, "from now on, being yourself is the best business decision you could possibly make."

Over the next few weeks, Daniel's life changed completely.

He still made music, but now his songs were different.

He wrote about kindness, about looking after each other, about not being afraid to be gentle.

To everyone's surprise, the songs sold better than anything he had ever recorded before.

It turned out that a great many people had been waiting for music like this.

Daniel was even invited onto the most popular television show in the country.

He spent three days worrying about it.

He was afraid that he would say something foolish in front of millions of people.

When the day came, the host, a sharp man who loved to make his guests uncomfortable, tried hard to get Daniel to argue.

"So," the host said with a clever smile, "many people say that your soft style is ruining real music.

What do you say to them?"

Daniel thought for a moment.

"I say that they are probably tired," he answered kindly.

"People are often unkind when they are tired or worried.

I hope they get a good rest.

And if they would like to come to one of my shows, I will save them a comfortable seat near the back, where the music is not too loud."

The host opened his mouth to argue, but he could not find anything to argue against.

The audience laughed and clapped.

By the end of the interview, the famously rude host was telling Daniel about his own difficult week, and Daniel was giving him advice about how to sleep better.

The clip was shared everywhere, and the next day a hundred shops sold out of the herbal tea that Daniel had recommended on air.

Daniel's fame grew, and so did the strange collection of things that were sold with his name on them.

There were Soft Rapper bandages, Soft Rapper water bottles, and even a small Soft Rapper pillow "for worried people who need a good night's sleep."

Daniel insisted that some of the money from every item should be given to hospitals and schools.

"If I am going to be famous," he told Rosa, "then at least let us do something useful with it."

But fame brought new problems, and Daniel, being Daniel, worried about every single one of them.

The biggest problem appeared one afternoon, when a huge man walked into the recording studio.

The man was almost two metres tall, with a thick beard and a heavy frown.

He looked exactly like the kind of dangerous person that Daniel had always pretended to be.

"Are you the Soft Rapper?" the man growled.

Daniel's heart began to race.

"Yes," he said in a small voice.

"But please do not be angry.

If you have come to fight, I should tell you that I am not actually dangerous at all.

That was all an act.

I am very sorry."

To Daniel's amazement, the huge man's face crumpled, and he began to cry.

Great tears rolled down into his beard.

"I am not here to fight," the man sobbed.

"I am here because of your music.

My name is Boris.

I have always been told that big men like me must be hard and silent.

But your songs taught me that it is all right to feel things.

Yesterday I called my mother and told her that I loved her, for the first time in ten years."

Daniel rushed over and gave the giant a box of tissues.

"Oh, Boris," he said warmly.

"Of course it is all right to feel things.

Would you like some tea?

You have had a very emotional day."

Boris stayed for three cups of tea.

By the time he left, he and Daniel had become friends, and Boris had agreed to work as Daniel's bodyguard.

"Not to fight anyone," Daniel explained carefully.

"Just to make sure that nobody gets pushed in the crowds.

And to carry the bandages."

And so a new chapter of Daniel's life began.

He performed all over the country, and at every show he reminded people to be safe, to be kind, and to look after one another.

Boris stood beside him, holding the box of bandages and crying gently at the touching parts.

Rosa managed everything, and although she still rolled her eyes at Daniel's endless worrying, she had never been prouder of anyone in her life.

The hospital that had written to Daniel did not give up, and one cold morning he finally agreed to visit.

He was more nervous than he had ever been before any concert.

"What if I say the wrong thing?" he asked Boris in the car.

"What if the children are too sick to enjoy it?

What if I make somebody cry?"

"You always make somebody cry," Boris said gently.

"Usually me."

When they arrived, Daniel was led into a room full of children who could not leave their beds.

He had been worried that they would be frightened of the famous Mad Wolf.

Instead, the children's faces lit up the moment he walked in.

They had all seen the video.

They did not see a dangerous gangster; they saw the kind man who had asked for water for a stranger.

Daniel sat on the floor in the middle of the room so that he would not seem too tall.

He did not rap his hard old songs.

Instead, he made up gentle little rhymes about each child, using their names and their favourite things.

If a child liked dinosaurs, the rhyme was about a friendly dinosaur.

If a child liked the colour blue, the rhyme was about the sky and the sea.

The children laughed until the nurses had to ask them to calm down.

One small boy, who had not spoken in many days, suddenly joined in and finished one of Daniel's rhymes himself.

The boy's mother began to cry, and then, of course, Boris began to cry too, and soon half the room was crying happy tears while the children giggled at all the silly grown-ups.

Before he left, Daniel promised that he would come back every month.

It was a promise that he would keep for the rest of his life.

As he walked out, a nurse stopped him.

"You know," she said, "we have had many famous people visit this hospital.

Most of them stay for ten minutes and take photographs.

You stayed for three hours and took no photographs at all.

Thank you."

Daniel did not know what to say, so he gave her a bottle of water and told her to look after herself, because nurses worked too hard.

Not everyone, however, was happy about the rise of the Soft Rapper.

There was another rapper in the city named Iron Jaw, who had been the king of the hard, angry style for many years.

Iron Jaw did not like the new fashion for kindness.

He believed that rap was supposed to be tough, and he thought that Daniel was making everybody soft.

So he did what rappers do when they disagree: he challenged Daniel to a rap battle in front of a live crowd.

When Rosa told him the news, Daniel turned pale.

"A battle?" he said.

"But I do not want to say mean things about anybody.

That is the whole point of a rap battle, is it not?

You are supposed to insult the other person.

I could never do that.

What if I hurt his feelings?"

"You have to accept," Rosa said.

"If you refuse, people will say that the Soft Rapper is also a coward.

Your fans are counting on you."

Daniel worried about it for a whole week.

On the night of the battle, the hall was packed, and the crowd was hungry for a fight.

Iron Jaw went first.

He was loud and clever and cruel.

He rapped that Daniel was weak, that Daniel was a baby, that Daniel cared more about bandages than about music.

The crowd laughed and shouted.

Daniel listened politely and even nodded a few times, as if he were taking notes.

Then it was Daniel's turn.

The crowd waited for him to fight back.

But Daniel did not insult Iron Jaw at all.

Instead, he rapped about how hard it must be to feel so angry all the time.

He rapped that he had once worn the same mask of anger, and that it had made him lonely and tired.

He told Iron Jaw, in rhyme, that there was a kinder way to live, and that it was never too late to take the mask off.

Then, at the end, he said, "And if you are ever hungry or tired or sad, my door is open, and there is always soup."

There was a long silence.

Then the crowd erupted, not with the cruel laughter from before, but with real, warm cheering.

They had come to see a fight, but they had been given something better.

Even Iron Jaw stood frozen on the stage, and for a moment it looked as though the toughest rapper in the city might cry.

He did not, but later that night, he quietly sent Daniel a message that said only three words: "Thank you. Truce."

One evening, after a concert in a small town, a young boy came up to Daniel at the stage door.

The boy was perhaps twelve years old, and he looked nervous.

"Mr Wolf," the boy said.

"I mean, Mr Soft Rapper.

Can I ask you something?"

"Of course," Daniel said, kneeling down so that they were at the same height.

"Ask me anything."

"I want to be a rapper," the boy said.

"But everyone says I am too quiet and too nice.

They say that rappers have to be tough and scary.

Is that true?"

Daniel smiled.

It was the question he had been waiting years to answer.

"Let me tell you a secret," he said.

"For a long time, I believed that too.

I thought that I had to be someone hard and frightening.

I wore an angry face every day, even though my heart was soft.

And do you know what?

I was miserable.

I felt like I was wearing a mask that did not fit."

The boy listened carefully.

"Then one night," Daniel went on, "I forgot to wear the mask.

I just acted like myself — a person who cares about others, who worries too much, who cannot walk past somebody in trouble.

And that was the moment when everything changed.

People do not want a fake tough guy.

They want someone real.

So my advice is this: never let anybody tell you that being kind is a weakness.

Being kind, when the whole world is telling you to be hard, is the strongest thing that a person can do."

The boy's eyes shone.

"Thank you," he whispered.

"And one more thing," Daniel added, reaching into his bag.

"Take this."

He handed the boy a small bottle of water.

"Always stay hydrated.

A good rapper takes care of his voice."

The boy laughed and ran off to tell his friends.

Daniel stood up and watched him go.

Boris was waiting nearby, holding the box of bandages and wiping a tear from his eye.

Rosa appeared with a clipboard, ready to talk about the next show.

"Happy?" Rosa asked.

Daniel looked out at the quiet town, at the warm lights in the windows, at the people walking safely home.

"Yes," he said.

"For the first time in my life, I do not have to pretend to be anyone else."

"Good," Rosa said, "because you have a concert in the capital next week, and forty thousand tickets have already been sold."

Daniel's eyes went wide.

"Forty thousand people?" he gasped.

"Rosa, we are going to need a lot more bandages.

And water.

And maybe some snacks, in case anyone gets hungry.

And we should check that all the exits are clearly marked, and that the floor is not slippery, and—"

Rosa laughed and put her arm around him as they walked to the car.

"Some things," she said, "will never change."

And she was right.

The most famous rapper in the country was still the softest man in it, and he would not have had it any other way.