It blends! It purees! It crushes ice! It assassinates the regent of the shogunate!

Once, noblemen pleaded with me for their lives. I crept in shadow, slipped through nets, struck like invisible lightning. I was silent death. They called me ninja.

Then, as I prowled through the temple to assassinate him, a powerful cleric saw me. Not with the eyes of the flesh, but with a sight beyond seeing. And he cast a hex on me. And I slept.

I awoke with neither voice to speak, nor legs to run, nor hand to raise in objection. I was trapped. I was trapped inside a blender.

I am damned to endure humiliation unending. Prodded at, commanded, driven like a slave. My blades, once so deadly, now taste only ignoble combat with fruit, vegetables, ice. And the final insult? They still call me Ninja.

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