TW: depictions of a panic attack and dissociation, allusions to Nazi Germany
Panthera felt the air escape his lungs at the mention of Germany.
Trying to think felt like walking through tar. Trying to bring himself back to the conversation was like swimming through it.
A presence gently probed the back of his brain. Panthera unstacked the brick-and-motor wall to make a small, Leonardo-shaped hole to let his gentlest master inside his mind.
Leonardo was met with a racing heart and body-freezing panic and claws gripping hard into the ground.
Somebody mentioned Germany again. Images of trenchcoats and crowded streets and concrete buildings and red flags flashed through both of their minds.
Panthera shoved him out and rebuilt the brick-and-motor wall.
“Hey, guys?” Leonardo said, sounding very distant even though Panthera knew he parked himself not three feet away from the kitchen table. “Let's maybe stop talking about Germany.”
The kitchen went quiet. Panthera could not see the expressions on the faces of his master's brothers. Hushed questions flurried about — is he okay? Why are his ears like that? What's he got to do with Germany? — but the muscles in his jaw were too taught to relax and he could barely see through his own eyes anyways. There were no answers for him to give. No way to unclench his fists and relax his ears and put on his poker face and say that he was fine, and could he get his own dinner? And it’s after work hours, may he be dismissed, and —
Chair grated on floor like steel doors on concrete floors and little children screaming.
No air greeted Panthera’s lungs when he tried to move his chest to breathe.
A gentle but calloused hand laid itself on Panthera’s fur. A gentle pull on his arm, trying to move him to a safer place, maybe, because this master was so gentle and so kind and Panthera would contentedly serve him for centuries to come.
An order washed over his brain. Panthera let it consume his body:
Come with me.
And suddenly his body wasn’t his own, and maybe it never was or never will be again, and Panthera followed his master wherever he was pulling him because he could not disobey even if he had his wits about him.
Panthera would later remember that there was a step down into the turtles’ makeshift living room. He would also scold himself for reacting so poorly to a simple name in front of an audience. But his master asked him to sit and to show him his hands, so Panthera’s legs sat him down on the bench they watched television on and his hands held themselves out in front of his body. One hand held onto a string of red glass beads, several of them crushed with their shards sticking out of his palm and golden blood pooling around them.
His master gave orders that were not directed at him and soon the stinging subsided. Soft fabric pressed into his wounds and wrapped around his hand with the expertise of someone who did this daily.
Later, Panthera would think back to this moment and realize that not once was he shown judgement or shame. And, later, he would remember the gentle care Leonardo held and wrapped his hand with, and he would remember all four brothers huddling around him, and Panthera would learn that he was loved.
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Two yokai with split hooves stood in the Lair's living room — the one with two couches, Splinter's recliner, and the projector. Mikey stood in front of them, one of Donnie's whiteboards at his side because Barry asked him to pull it out. His fingers fiddled with the black Expo marker in his hands. He'd nearly dropped it twice already.
"Michael," Barry gave him a nod.
Mikey flicked his gaze between him and the purple, deer-like yokai beside him. Mikey knew bringing a random yokai down to their home was risky, and Splinter would totally yell at him and if not Splinter than Raph, and if not Raph then definitely Leo, who was still upset about the whole roof incident even though it had been like two years since that happened. But maybe Leo would be too distracted by the fact that the newcomer had a unicorn-like horn on her forehead to think too hard about it.
"This is Li Mei," Barry continued, dragging Mikey's attention back to them. "She is a very powerful mystic user. I believe she will be able able to assist in your… investigation."
Li Mei was a very pretty yokai. She stood as tall as Raph, but at maybe half his width, and instead of the snapping turtle's muscles, Li Mei's body curved with soft fat that would make for very comfortable hugs. Her hair contrasted against her purple fur, long and tied back in a braid, the color not quite blonde, but a sort of rose gold color that edged more on the side of a dark champaign. Her head was more animalistic in shape than Barry's, with a snout that ended in a soft nose that darkened in color, along with much larger, rounder ears on the side of her head instead of on top. Her long neck sloped like a dragon's and her horn appeared to be made out of a pink glass-like material. A dark green cape sloped over her shoulders, swishing around her ankles, buttoned in the front with an emblem of an elk's head in elegant gold. Underneath her cape swished a dress the same color as the cape. Both were made from silk, shimmering into different shades of green whenever the fabric moved. A long, thick tail came out from behind her and curled loosely around the base of Barry's robes. It was tipped with fur the same color as her hair, though it was less smooth and more wild, like it had not been taken care of — or perhaps, like the yokai had been in a rush to get out the door and hadn't gotten a chance to brush it out thoroughly.
"Just Mei is fine," she said with a small dip of her chin. Her eyes were green, a pretty cool tone of green, and although they were bright in color, they dimmed in the now-very-familiar way of someone who had gone through something horrible. Mikey instantly knew he wanted to make her smile.
"Hi, Mei," he said, doing his best to put on a cheery grin that he'd learned to fake. "You can call me Mikey." He sent Barry a quick glance. "Do yokai shake hands, or is a bow in order? I feel like I should be bowing."
"A bow will suffice," Draxum answered.
Mikey tried to remember the types of bows he'd seen, comparing to where he guessed Mei might be from, but gave up and resorted to the Japanese style bow he'd been taught. On his way up from a bow, he caught sight of Mei standing a little straighter, tilting her chin up, and nudging Draxum with an elbow.
Oh they've totally known each other for a long time, he thought. I wonder what kind of relationship it is? Barry only said he knew someone.
A mystery for another time. Right now they had a ghost to find and possibly excorsize. Or whatever you did with ghosts.
Maybe he should've gotten an oiji board before he called Barry in to bring the calvary.
"Right," the goatman said, stepping forward to take the marker out of Mikey's hand. He uncapped it, opened the book he held in one hand, and started writing on the whiteboard. "I am certain I can complete this spell, but it will take several ingredients. It will reveal if there are any spirits in the area. It does not allow for communication with any spirits, but it will show any to us, and thus confirm whether or not there are spirits haunting the area." Barry puncuated his sentence with a dot on a rune he drew. Mikey only recognized a few of them. "Since necromancy is well outside of my forte, Mei is here to for me to use as a power bank, as a spell such as this can be incredibly draining. And provide insight, of course."
"Oh, you only are trying to determine if there are spirits in the area?" Mei piped up. "I can tell you that."
Barry paused in his writing. Rotated on one hoof. "You can see spirits?"
"Yeah, there's one right over there." She jerked her chin at the corner of the room. Mikey looked but didn't see anything.
"Since when?"
"Ffffourteen years ago?" Mei's face scrunched up, her ears angling downwards, and Mikey had the distinct impression that he was missing a lot of information. And maybe that Mei was hiding something, if not from him then from Barry.
"How."
"I … may have dabled in Necromancy."
"For fun?"
"… Yes?"
Was this what Mikey looked like when he lied to his brothers? No wonder they thought he was obvious.
Barry squinted at her. Mei's gaze flicked from Barry, just over and to the right of Mikey's head (presumably where the ghost was), to Mikey.
"The ghost is laughing at us, for the record," Mei said after a second. "Oh, he just got real serious. He?" A pause. "Yes, he. What kind of yokai are you, sir?"
Mikey exchanged a glance at Barry. Or tried to, at least. Barry had his gaze pinned on Mei, blinking befuddledly at the impossible situation.
Mei tilted her head, her thin, dark brows furrowing. Her ears flicked out to the sides, twitching as if to find the best angle to hear the ghost at. "A what?"
"Li Mei," Barry addressed futily.
"Did you die recently?" Mei continued. "Why are you here? There are no other dead in the area, did you get hit by the trains?" She tilted her head the other way. "Oh, he didn't like that question."
"Barry?" Mikey whispered. "How is she doing that? I thought you said necromancy was incredibly difficult for any yokai."
"Mei is no ordinary yokai," Barry answered back, putting the cap back on the marker. "She is of one of the oldest, most powerful lineages in yokai history. And the only species of the Ancient Ones still alive. She has the most mystic potential for any yokai in the Hidden City, and far larger reserves than I do."
"Ooo I have a better explination than that," a few clops of hooves later and Mei appeared by Mikey's side. Her horn began to glow, a streak of white shooting along the front arc, and the image of a cup traced itself in the air in glittering pink mystic essence. "So this is about how much magic any modern yokai has at a given time." The cup filled with a couple centimeters of liquid. "Not very much. This requires them to rely on conduits, such as mystic-imbued ingredients, things such as wands, spellbooks, runes, those kinds of things," she rolled her wrist as she listed them off, her hand covered in a white glove that disappeared up her lace-tipped sleeves. "My magic reserve looks more like this."
The cup turned into a pitcher. It filled halfway full. Mikey's eyes widened.
"There are, of course, still limits to how much energy I can expend in a day, and some spells will always be more difficult or taxing than others, but a kirin, as an inherently magical species, can do a lot more in a day without relying on wands or tomes." The illusion dissipated, leaving the air to glitter for a second.
