A Treatise on the Properties of Ninja Wood

By: Serendipity

Author's Note: This came about on the heels of the observation that Don's bo staff and Mike's nunchucks REPEL LASERS. What kind of wooden weapon repels lasers? None, I say! There is no such animal. Ergo, ninja wood. Warning for drunken ramblings!


So, it was New Year's Eve, and since Casey had decided that it was grand New Year's tradition that everyone get completely soused whether they liked it or not, he had performed the brilliant maneuver of secretly spiking the punch. Only not very secretly, because he was doing so in the home of five ninjas who could very easily discern his intentions and at least two of them at any given time were keeping an eye on The Stick Wielder, Spreader of Discord, Disrupter of Harmony, Destroyer of Technology, aka, 'I Am A Butthead' Jones.

Unfortunately for the side of harmony, the ninjas taking note of Casey's attempt at stealth-spiking happened to be Raphael: who was totally in favor of some punch in his punch, and Michelangelo, who was always utterly in favor of anything that looked vaguely prank-like and had the potential to spread full-out hilarity. Since this seemed to promise exactly that, (respectively), they turned a blind eye and pretended to be utterly fascinated by the festivities on the television.

And so it came to pass on that evening that a lot of vodka came in contact with the punch and forever turned it to the Brew of Doom. This was a perfectly acceptable turn of events for most people involved. Unfortunately, since Donatello was completely focused on some project he refused to be pried from, he didn't seem to notice that his punch tasted somewhat unusual, and rather like alcohol. That is to say, he might have noticed a slight difference in taste, but attributed it to other factors. Like extra kiwi juice. And then he drank about four more cups, for he was thirsty from all the hardcore science work he was taking care of.

The side effects of this, by the way, would have been catastrophic if Donatello had actually been working on anything explosive, chemical, wiring-oriented, or in fact…anything but the theoretical work he was dealing with on that evening. Otherwise, there would have been the equivalent of a nuclear holocaust in the sewers, and the turtles would not have lived to see a whole new year of butt kicking and strange visitors from other planes and planets.

As it was, Donatello experienced an epiphany every ten minutes, scribbled down copious notes on the subject, drank some more punch, and cornered anyone who could be cornered and ranted to them at length on the subject. Mostly, all of this was incomprehensible and littered with the occasional non sequitors like: "Of course, we'll fill the center with coffee beans and the combustion will be much more efficient," and usually ended with a long stream of mathematical equations. This was all very amusing for the first three times. Near the end, people took to using their incredible ninja skills to hide from their resident genius, leaving Casey and April to act as distractions.

This might be why they went home so early. And so quickly.

With the expressions of those hunted by the undead.

Sometime around two AM, when Splinter had gone to bed and everyone was lounging around with party hats, Donatello perked up from his place on the couch with an expression that read: "Eureka!" Everyone eyed him warily. He had been slumped in a resting position for a few hours, and they had allowed themselves to hope he had fallen asleep. Now their hopes had been dashed, and they resigned themselves to yet another hour long sermon about things beyond any mortal's comprehension.

"I've got it," he said with the fevered anticipation only displayed by lunatics and drugged artists, and everyone braced for impact, "This has always puzzled me, ever since it first happened in a combat situation. Has anyone else wondered exactly why our wooden weapons can repel lasers and energy blasts?"

The looked at each other, wondering where this was going to go. It was true that their weapons had shown astounding durability and occasionally seemed to exhibit super-powers, but they chalked that up to the whole ninjitsu force and the fact that their lives were crazy. This was a fact.

"No," Michelangelo said slowly. The others gave him a Look for provoking the drunk one.

"It's because it's Ninja Wood," Donatello said, emphasizing the capitals in a way that clearly showed the import of the words. He blinked his mad, red-rimmed eyes. "It is a legendary material made solely for ninja weapons. I say this only because ninjas are the only ones whose weapons exhibit these properties. Ninja Wood has extreme durability, hardness, flexibility, and properties normal wood does not have. For example, it doesn't break."

This was true. The last time they remembered Donatello's bo staff breaking was when it was turned into a tree. And that clearly didn't count. No one expected weapons to function when they were transmuted into something else. That was just sense.

"And somehow, Master Splinter acquired this Ninja Wood. Now, since it is such a rare and ninja-specific artifact, I am willing to bet that he didn't find it in the dump or floating around in the sewers."

"Hey, Sméagol found the one ring floating around in the…well, the stream. Why not?" Michelangelo joked, ignoring the looks of 'why are you encouraging this madness?'

"Actually," replied Donatello stiffly, "That was Déagol, and he was a character in a work of fiction. We're talking about reality here."

"Right, what was I thinking? Go ahead!" Michelangelo couldn't help but notice that Donatello seemed to have tried to write this entire hypothesis in a weird mix of binary and Pig Latin.

"Thank you, I will. Anyway…since it's such a rare material, it stands to reason that he must have procured it in a special location. Since it's exclusively ninja-owned, some kind of ninja organization or group must have given it to him. The Foot is right out, and the ninja tribunal don't seem to arbitrarily give out weapons. And so, I have deduced that he must have obtained it at the Battle Nexus: either he purchased it or it was given to him by the Ultimate Daimyo. This makes perfect sense for the second part of my theory. Why the Daimyo, you ask?"

"We didn't," Raph groaned into a couch pillow.

"It's because," Donatello said with a great flourish, "Because the source of all Ninja Wood 's powers comes from the Ultimate Daimyo's war staff!"

They were all intrigued by this fascinating opinion.

"You see, I have surmised that, since the war staff itself has great powers, the physical wood that makes up the staff retains traces of that power. So, in every weapon that is made of Ninja Wood, there is a splinter of the Daimyo's staff."

"What- you meant like pieces of the cross of Christ?" Michelangelo asked, half-gasping in an attempt to hold back hysterical laughter.

"Exactly. All those little splinters give Ninja Wood its nigh-magical properties. Also, the ninja tribunal's magical boat can fly because it has a splinter of Ninja Wood in it. It makes perfect sense."

"So, why can't your bo staff fly, then?" Michelangelo asked, now filled with the desire to see how crazy this conversation could go.

Donatello blinked at him. "Because it's not a boat," he explained reasonably. "Where was I? Right. The Ultimate Daimyo decided…when he was teaching humanity ninjitsu, that he should probably give them weapons to do ninjitsu with. And so it only stands to reason, I mean, logically, he decided that he should give them the most advanced and superior weapons possible. And so, he forged many weapons of power, and gave…nine of them to humans, I think, and three to the elves…"

Michelangelo decided that this night would be treasured forever.