Bloodstains cannot be washed out
Blood ninja. A smile creeps across my face as I bounce the bloody pineapple in my hand. A brilliant plan, a convenient donkey, and a missing team member. Blood ninja. It's funny how things work out. Even though we're all wearing black I could tell, almost without looking, that Aiki would be missing. I don't even think Aiki is a real japanese name, and I'm pretty sure "blood" is not a colour, unless it's one of those made up ones that women use to confound us.
Before my master died I was known as the white ninja. My heart was pure, my mind was solid, and my blade was true. I was the star pupil in a little known but very powerful Bulgarian dojang, and knew all the ways of the ninja down to a tee. I had also led the most sheltered life out of all the students. I was the only one who had never flipped out, never infiltrated a fortress, and never even killed. I considered myself fortunate at the time. The others always had something wrong in their lives, whether it be a feudal lord threatening to take their land, an unfaithful lover, or being honour bound to bloody servitude. Their hands were stained with blood, their clothes covered in dirt, their eyes in vengeance, and their head in the clouds. I had nothing, and so I was the white ninja.
Until the day my master died. Jealous of our superior skills, a rival dojang sent their entire constinuence to wipe us out, hoping their far greater numbers would be enough. Fortunately for the other students, class was snowed out during that day, but I still attended with some senior students, among which was Harpreet. However, master sent us out into the woods for stealth training. Perhaps he sensed the looming threat, perhaps he was merely unlucky, but he met the entire rival dojang alone. When we returned all we saw
was the dead bodies wearing the uniform of the Blood Rock dojang. Inside was their 10th Dan and their leader "the Blood Rock", along with our master. We could tell from the enormous Ki in the room that he had flipped out.
The final fight took seconds, but it seemed like forever as we rushed into the dojang to help our master. I took one step, and my master took three. I drew my sword, and my master was already half way through slicing the 10th Dan. My master was tired, however, and didn't notice Blood Rock. We yelled out but master's head was already half dislodged from his body. It was too late. Even with his head dismembered, however, a flipped out ninja can still fight. Master grabbed Blood Rock's sword and broke the tip, stabbing his neck as his own flew through the air. A knowing glance from his still airborne head and I knew what he was doing. Master took the tip of the sword and cut Blood Rocks's torso from end to end, blood gushing from his body. Too little to kill him, but my master knew he couldn't do that. He died, but he did not fall.
I raced in and headed straight for Blood Rock, my eyes full of vengeance. Had I more temperance I would have realised that it was the wrong thing to do. Injured and weak, he could do little against me. I took a great vengeful pleasure in carving him up, his blood spraying into a fine mist, settling on my uniform. A moment later I could feel the anger in Harpreet. I looked around in time to see the 10th Dan of the Blood Rock dojang carving up one of our seniors. I evaded her strike, and there was enough time for Harpreet to reply on my behalf. Far too injured to fight us both, she escaped. Too late, I realised my mistake.
In my rush to kill the Blood Rock, I had left myself open to attacks from the 10th Dan. In an effort to assist me, my fellow seniors tried to protect me, but in my fury I made life more difficult for them, and they died for my sloppiness. The bloody mist staining my uniform was not just that of my enemies. My master always said "Blood stains cannot be washed out", and since that day, I have been known as purity and vengeance: the Pink ninja.
I started to laugh out loud as I began to remember the 10th Dan. Blood ninja. I threw my pineapple just in time...