#turtle fic

It was just a silly light hearted argument about whether or not a strawberry pop-tart counted as a daily serving of fruit (Raph believed it did). It shouldn’t have been notable and it wouldn’t have been except when Raph tried to respond his mouth wouldn’t open.

He tried again and again but it was like his mouth was wired shut. There were no restraints, no gag. nothing there physically but he was still stuck. The feeling was familiar in the worst way and no attempt at deep breathing through his nose or grounding was able to hold back the growing panic.

His face must have been communicating something because Raph watched concern paint itself onto Leo’s face.

“Raph? Raph are you okay?”

He wanted to respond, he needed to respond but he couldn’t say anything. His hands reached up to touch his throat hoping somehow the touch would fix this.

Leo’s concern shifted to something more.

“Hey what’s going on? Are you okay?” Leo asked, launching himself off his place on the couch and closer to Raph, his expression quickly mirroring the same panic Raph was feeling.

“Raph say something!”

And then the block was gone. Not only was it gone but he couldn’t keep his mouth shut if he tried as words tumbled out.

“Leo,” Raph said, breathing heavily and trying to not think too hard about the lack of control that scared him so much and was so terrifyingly familiar.

She held the scroll in her hand as she silently crossed the alleys and hid amongst the loud and rambunctious crowd around here. There were paper lanterns and large decorated dragons being lifted overhead as she tightened her overcoat and drew down her hat more. It was nerve wracking, hiding in plain sight, but as much as it was against the instincts her father had instilled in her, it was very much a trick of the ninja as Venus had learned it.

There were a few times where vendors’ items or the excited screams of children running around in traditional garb with sparklers caught her eye, but she kept herself going, kept herself moving more and more until she at last reached the destination on the scroll which had been left for her so near her new family’s home.

To be sure, she opened the scroll and looked at the scrawled on address, then to the number on the building she had reached. A small and dimly lit restaurant in the outskirts of Chinatown.

A certain trap for her.

One more time, Venus considered her actions, looking back to the crowds celebrating, toward the streets and alleys which had led her to her destination, toward the home her new family was no doubt happily resting in. But it was not enough to deter her.

There was more than the Chinese New Year that Venus missed about her home. She missed the love and sanctity she felt from her father and shinobi master. He left her his teachings, which she cherished, and he left her his responsibilities, which she accepted dutifully as any daughter would.

Looking ahead again, Venus grew a far more serious expression before letting herself into the seemingly closed restaurant.

Her heart was pounding within her terrapin chest, but she steadied her breathing and continued to walk into the establishment. When she reached a counter where an elderly woman in an apron sat, looking down at a crossword puzzle, Venus hesitated.

“Excuse me… Someone is expecting me,” Venus tried to express.

The woman did not look up or say anything, continuing to etch on the crossword pad with her red pen.

Venus wasn’t the most familiar with her new country, but she was willing to suppose that this was abnormal behavior. Even in New York. She began to reach for the elderly woman when she heard a clap from the back of the restaurant that stirred her from her thoughts and action.

In command of the clap, several low level lights of the establishment grew brighter, and in doing so revealed a face that Venus had honestly thought she would never see again.

“Vam Mi,” Venus said almost breathlessly. “I don’t know who of my master’s enemies I expected… but it was not you.”

“Your other enemies must not be much cause for concern then, for you to come alone and so ill prepared, little shinobi,” the vampire said, smiling more to show off her sharp teeth than to reveal any hint of kindness. “Please, come sit. It’s a new year. And I would like to discuss many things with you. Many… new possibilities.”

Though caught off guard, Venus was quick to focus her qi and send the energy flowing to her hands, forming a small but bright orb of concentrated energy right before her own chest. She was nervous and she was not taking any chances. Especially with someone who was as nearly devastating to her new family as Vam Mi had been.

“You qi is not impressive to me, little shinobi, or have you forgotten your own heritage’s lore?” Vam Mi taunted, leaning forward in her seat at the back of the restaurant. “Chinese vampires devour qi. Though if you are offering me a snack in celebration of the New Year, I won’t decline it.”

“I have not forgotten my heritage or its lore, Vam Mi,” Venus said defiantly before using one hand to balance the energy she had gathered and then the other to remove the scroll which Vam Mi herself had sent to her. Using her own qi, she then traced against its surface, enchanting the parchment and spelling out a vampiric charm onto it.

That, at least, got the ancient vampire’s attention. “Your skills have grown sharper since last we met.”

“Since last we met, my family and I stopped the Dragon Lord himself,” Venus informed her. “I’m older and wiser, Vam Mi. I did not come here alone because of over confidence. I came here because any old threat of mine is beneath my brothers.”

“Obviously, you mean to say it’s beneath you,” Vam Mi said. She then waved to the table before her, the simple gesture lighting the large number of candles before her and showing the large array of Chinese sweets and desserts that Venus had not seen the like of since leaving her native home. “I urge you, though. Put down your penchant for squabble and join me for a new year.” Her eyes glowed an electric red, dangerous and stunning. “I insist.”

Despite herself, Venus felt her qi diminish, the orb of energy dissipating. But she refused to lose grip on her new charm, even as her body grew rigid and still, her feet sliding across the restaurant’s floor toward Vam Mi and stopping just by the chair.

Shocked at the vampire’s abilities, Venus looked over Vam Mi.

“You are not the only one to have grown in our separation,” Vam Mi said dangerously before drinking from her glass of wine. “Please. Sit.”

Just to be sure that Vam Mi had not taken control of her body again, Venus defiantly stood just long enough to get her bearings together, then she quietly took her seat.

Van Mi smiled around her glass. “I was half expecting you to attempt to attach that note to my head or otherwise go for the attack. It would have been your master’s plot. You’re far more reasonable than he was.”

“Or less wise,” Venus said defensively.

“Well, there is always that option as well,” Vam Mi said nonchalantly, reaching over to a sweet cake as she put her wine aside. “I assure you, these are all real, all authentic. Come. Celebrate the New Year with me.”

Venus did not let her guard down, her hands clutching into fists as she rested them on her thighs. “What did you invite me here for, Vam Mi?”

The vampire looked at her as if she was utterly dull. “I already explained that.”

“I mean the real reason,” Venus said flatly.

Vam Mi hummed, lacing her fingers together and resting her chin on them. “Did you notice anything about the note I sent you?”

“It was hard not to notice something addressed to me in Chinese,” Venus answered.

“Addressed to you,” Vam Mi repeated.

“That is what I said,” Venus snapped haughtily.

“What you?” Van Mi pressed.

“What do you mean what me? It was addressed to me. You wanted me here,” Venus replied in frustration before pausing. She looked down to her clutched fist, slowly uncurling it and letting the note scroll out once more. Beneath the bright white qi letters the note still was there. And it was addressed to her. Specifically to her. “You used my name. My… You used Mei Pieh Chi. No one here uses it.”

“Even though it is your true name,” Vam Mi said, almost denoting sympathy.

“It is easier for the people here to use names Westernized,” Venus excused. “It is my attempt to help others.”

“It’s your attempt to forget your culture,” Vam Mi argued. “Or does your new family address you by your true name? It is not difficult to say. No more than Hamato Yoshi or Oroku Saki.”

Venus opened her mouth to argue, but she found that she couldn’t. instead, her mouth closed and she lowered her chin, glancing off from Vam Mi as she swallowed tightly. “I don’t understand what you want with me.”

“I want to end this war between myself and your dynasty of shinobi warriors,” Vam Mi said simply enough. “And I wished for someone similarly displaced in this foreign land to join me in the relative misery of a very un-Chinese Chinese New Year.”

“You simply don’t want me to hunt you?” Venus demanded. “Even though it is my master’s responsibility handed down to me by his death?”

“You make it sound like it’s difficult,” Vam Mi joked. “I find doing nothing to be the easiest request someone can give you.”

“You’re a vampire,” Venus uttered, her words fuzzy in her confusion.

“And you are a turtle,” Vam Mi replied. “I see nothing inherent in those natures to force us to continue a feud so intimately between us. Especially since, as I suspect by how you attempted to do away with me with your new family, you aren’t interested in the arcane practice of ripping the beating heart from my chest and burying my body away from it.” She smirked. “You don’t seem, to me, like the type, Mei Pieh Chi.”

“But you survive by devouring the life force of others,” Venus reminded her like Vam Mi didn’t already know. “By neglecting my duty what I do is take the blood of your next victim on my own hands.”

“Not necessarily, not if you hear my truce all the way through,” the vampire continued, getting up and nearing Venus.

The turtle’s heart began to beat faster, her hands clutched into fists once more. But again, she couldn’t make herself move, only watch as she was approached by Vam Mi.

“You, my shinobi, are full of qi, more than even your master before you. I can feel it growing even now,” Vam Mi explained, stopping behind Venus and delicately tracing her fingers over Venus’ shoulders. “You are such a unique creature, so plentiful in your life force…  And as a shinobi you are trained to grow and harness that energy with every day. If you were to come with me, if you were to join me, I could eat of your qi more than enough to survive, and your life would be no lesser for it.”

“And be bound to you?” Venus demanded. “That is no life.”

“It is when I give you what the others cannot offer,” she said, spinning Venus’ chair around to face her, she was leaning in, so close that Venus could feel her sweet breath across her beak. “I can give you the world you knew again. I can let you be Mei Pieh Chi again.”

For a moment, Venus’ heart beat faster, and by the way Vam Mi’s ruby red lips pressed together to form a dark smile, Venus knew the vampire could tell.

“The idea thrills you,” Vam Mi said softly. “And you feel you have nothing left here with your new family who cannot call you by your true name now that your master’s greatest foe is dealt with. You need purpose. I offer you that purpose.”

“You offer my soul’s enslavement,” Venus corrected her.

“Refusing me, you offer my heart’s imprisonment,” Vam Mi answered. “We are forced into this arbitration by forces we did not start ourselves, Mei Pieh. I am offering us a way to finish it in ways that had never been tried by those before us.”

It took almost all of her concentration and will, but Venus managed to look down. As she suspected, the qi she had used to charm the scroll had dulled and extinguished. Vam Mi approached her not only for this intimate speech but in order to continue draining her of her life-force.

“I’m more powerful than you,” Venus tried desperately.

“I know,” Vam Mi answered, eyes still shining. “That is why I want to keep you.” She leaned in closer. “And I believe you have allowed me to get this far because a part of you agrees with what I say. A part of you is interested in receiving my offer. And, maybe, you want to be kept, too.”

“And if my answer is no, Vam Mi?” Venus asked. “If it’s no but I also won’t take your heart either?”

Vam Mi looked off, nodding her head. “Oh, dear beautiful turtle of power, we are only here right now because my heart’s imprisonment I fear, but you capturing it? It has already happened.”

Venus’ eyes widened with surprise, her heart pounded.

Van Mi’s sharp teeth presented themselves again and she leaned in, grazing them across the skin of Venus’ neck before stopping at the curve of her chin, then coming up to look into Venus’ eyes as she gently kissed her lips. “Think of my offer, Mei Pieh Chi. As I have showed you tonight, I can feast from you without hurting  you. Without killing you. And I can offer you many, many things you want in return.”

She backed away and headed toward the back of the restaurant, strutting for Venus as she did so. “Meet me here again in a few nights if you want more desserts. Oh.” She stopped and looked over her shoulder, smiling darkly at Venus. “And Happy New Year.”

To Venus’ amazement, the vampire disappeared into a mist, and suddenly, Venus had full control of herself again. She breathed deeply, slamming her hands on the table just as the lights dimmed again and the candles went out.

The old woman etched on her crossword puzzle without a word of acknowledgement.

At first none of them put any thought into Leo entering the kitchen with a “hey mama what’s cooking?” It’s practically a guaranteed reaction from Leo when he sees Raph wearing an apron. It's normal.

They aren’t thinking about the fact that Splinter is in the room.

“Mama?” Splinters asks and Raph watches her siblings all freeze. This could go bad. Splinter's parenting is one of those things he’s sensitive about and there's always a chance he’ll have a reaction even to something as small as a nickname.

Splinter laughs and Raph knows it should be her cue to relax like her brothers are doing but she just can’t. She just has a feeling of dread that keeps her shoulders tense.

“Oh Mama, that is hilarious. Raphael is such a good mama after all. Always taking care of cooking and cleaning! It’s like he is my little wife ha!” 

Raph watches her brothers relieved awkward smiles transform into uncomfortable grimaces. He has no idea what his own face looks like or even how to fix it to an appropriate expression. Splinter seems to be immune to the clear discomfort that is drowning the rest of them as he continues laughing.

“Alright ‘mama’ I am going out,” Splinter says, patting Raph on the back before heading to the door. “Make sure to put the kids in bed.” 

The silence after he closes the door is suffocating until it isn’t. His brother’s are talking but Raph doesn’t really know what they are saying. Everything is a little too fuzzy to understand and it's hard for Raph to fully comprehend anything except this feeling of wrongness..

She feels weird. She feels gross. He can’t even quite pinpoint why but the feeling just consumes her. Eventually he must have shaken it off even if he can’t remember doing so because suddenly he’s in bed and everyones eaten and the lights are out.

She has no choice but to try to fall asleep and ignore the phantom feeling of bugs crawling all over her.

Like a lot of things they don’t talk about it. Her brother’s stop calling him mama as much and she tries to ignore the feeling of wanting to vomit whenever splinter says it.

She would have probably continued to never talk about it if it wasn’t for Casey Jones.

It's a fire escape night. A routine for just Raph and Casey to look out at the city, eat snacks, and shoot the shit. No siblings, no responsibilities, just a flimsy little platform that could give out any moment and two teens who don’t care. 

“So is something up?” Casey asks. The snack of the night is sunflower seeds and Casey seems determined to get as many shells into a flower pot on a balcony across the alley between apartment buildings and is mostly failing at his goal.

“What do ya mean?” Raph asks. She wishes she could join Casey in his quest but he eats her sunflower shells whole in a way that horrifies her friends and family and therefore has nothing to throw. Instead she picks at her nail beds.

“You’ve been weird, Mikey called you mama and you flinched. You’ve never done that before.” Casey says and not for the first time Raph is reminded that Casey is far more observant than he lets on.

“It’s nothin,” Raph mutters. 

“C’mon you know I don’t believe that.” Casey stops his sunflower seed mission and turns to look at her. There's something about the look Casey is giving him that Raph actually wants to tell him. 

“Splinter caught on to them calling me ‘mama’ and now he's started doing it,” Raph tries to keep her voice even as she stares out into the city but she can feel the bitterness sink in. “Pretty sure he can tell I don’t like it but he won’t stop.”

There's a moment of quiet before Casey lets out a hiss of air from his teeth.

“That sucks.” There's another moment before Casey lets out a small laugh.

“What’s so funny asshole?” Raph says glaring at the boy who is unfortunately her best friend

“Your dad is such an ass that he accidentally validated your gender. I mean obviously he’s being a dick but it’s just kind of funny that he is doing it in a way that uses feminine terms after trying to ignore your whole deal for so long.” Casey snorts, “What a fucking idiot.”

Raph looks at Casey. In a way he’s right. Splinter has brushed off any attempt Raph made to come out and now he’s using a feminine term. Sure it’s in a shitty way. At best it’s a crappy consolation prize and it doesn’t fix the weird gross feeling but-

Casey is trying. Raph shared an actual feeling and Casey isn’t mocking isn’t ignoring he’s trying to make her feel better. It’s.. nice. It helps Raph push away that gross feeling Splinter brings.

“Yeah,” she says. “What an idiot.” 

Things aren’t really better. Splinter is still an ass and Raph is still stuck in a situation where he just has to deal with it but when Casey smiles at him it's not hard to smile back.  

It numbs with callouses over time and with endurance and skills learned -- until you’re no longer a kid and suddenly hurt is something that doesn’t just describe something physical. It describes the feeling of a young girl scared she’ll never see her father again. Of a friend who feels sick with worry and guilt when her new family is endangered for her sake. 

For April, maturing is about learning the different ways she can be hurt, but not back down. 

But none of them are quite as difficult to deal with as the hurt of feeling replaced.

She tells herself that it’s not fair to think that way. She tells herself that it’s not fair to be so vehemently antisocial toward someone simply for existing in a occupancy that she once held so dear and privately to herself. 

But it’s hard. Because being best friend, sister, daughter -- those roles are things April loves about herself. 

And they’re roles she is now sharing with Karai. 

Karai. The woman who was once the enemy. 

Now she’s...

Now Karai belongs maybe even more than she does and April just isn’t sure anymore how she’s supposed to deal with that. 

So she does what the Hamato Clan has taught her as they took her under their proverbial wings. She goes to the dojo, knowing that at the time it is Splinter’s soap opera hour and the boys are out getting a pizza. She takes time to stretch, to wrap her bare feet and knuckles with tape. 

Then she goes to work letting out all the feelings that she can. 

There are the katas from Leo, the dodges and rolls from Mikey, the straightforward punches to the sandbag from Raph, and of course the staff practice from Don. 

She puts them all to use in rapid succession, perhaps overlooking the most important of all -- meditation from Splinter. 

But she doesn’t feel like meditating. April feels like hitting things. 

Hitting things that frustrate her. That she can pretend, just for a second, are Karai’s smug expression being wiped right off her face.

“What are you doing?” 

April’s sweeping motions become unbalanced with her surprise and her momentum carries into the swing of her practice bo. With a short yelp, she swings out wildly toward the source of the voice.

Fortunately (or unfortunately as it may be), Karai catches the staff in one hand and raises an eyebrow coolly at April. 

“What are you doing?” April finally sputters back, trying to yank the bo back from Karai’s grip.

Karai tugs back. “I asked first.”

“I chose not to answer first,” April grits out, grabbing the staff with both hands and pulling with all her might. And, as April probably should have been expecting, Karai released the staff and allowed April to fall backward onto the tatami mats. “Ugh! Why are you even here!?” 

Rolling her eyes, Karai folds her arms. “I live here now.”

“Not in the dojo, go to your room or something! Hang out with Splinter or the guys! Leave me this when I want to work through my frustrations,” April snaps. She closes her eyes and waits for the sound of Karai doing so. Of course, it didn’t come and when April opens her eyes she sees that Karai has walked over to the practice weapon rack and is grabbing a staff for herself. “Uh, hello! Did you hear me--”

“You’re sloppy and it’s a disservice to Splinter’s lessons to you,” Karai critiques.

“Master Splinter,” April corrects her. “And my technique is-is flawless! Don told me so--”

“He’s sloppy in the same way you are, so that makes sense,” Karai replies, turning around to face April. She shows off, spinning the bo around herself and then aiming it toward April. “You both practice technique stiffly. There’s a lack of cohesion because you’re thinking too much. You’re two of a kind. Makes sense.”

“We can’t all be little ninja princesses,” April mocks. 

Karai’s eyes narrow. “Fight me.”

Caught off guard, April drops her shoulders. “What?”

“Fight me. Spar. Practice,” Karai demands. “Instead of moping around and doing yourself a disservice by practicing the wrong techniques, spar with me and learn how to fight with instinct instead of a predictable rhythm with the same moves repeated over and over again.” Her eyes gleam with something almost dangerous. “Fight me, April.”

Nervous, April hesitates before shaking her head. “No, that’s stupid. I’m not on your level--”

“You’re not,” Karai agrees. “Fight me.”

Puffing out her bottom lip, April narrows her eyes at Karai. “Why? So you can just beat me up for fun?”

A certain smile came across Karai’s lips. “Maybe.” Then, again, “Fight me.”

There are few things that April despises more than losing, and one of those is giving Karai satisfaction. Which is ultimately what makes this a no-win proposition for her. 

But, of course, April doesn’t like backing down either. 

With a quick yell, April pulls the staff into a full forward swing. It’s predictably blocked by Karai, but its momentum leads into her attempt to pivot around to Karai’s more exposed left side with the second strike. 

Karai blocks again.

They continue in this manner, striking, blocking, pivoting. 

April remembers that Leonardo once told her that fighting is a lot like dancing with a partner. There isn’t winning so much as there is falling in line with the steps and biding your time in the steps until you can take the lead. 

Thing is, April has never been a huge fan of dancing either. 

She knows Karai isn’t trying, at least not really. There’s no attack on her end, just defense and that cocky smile that April would give almost anything to wipe off her face. It makes April strike harder, faster, wilder. 

With ease, Karai leads their dance. 

Then, just as April least expects it, Karai pivots forward and knocks the staff out of April’s tightened grip as if she had not been holding it at all. 

Shocked, April looks at Karai just as the former Foot kunoichi whips both of April’s raised wrists, knocking them down to her sides and leaving nothing between the end of the staff and April’s throat. 

Swallowing, April can feel the grind of the wood against her skin. 

Her heart’s pounding as she looks into Karai’s smirking face. Then, surprisingly, Karai lets up and eases up, stepping back with a laugh and throwing up her staff before catching it midair again. 

“Too stiff,” she points out again. “Relax.”

“Ugh!” April growls. “I know what I’m doing, you just... took me by surprise. That’s all, alright? Don’t let it get to your head!” April snaps.

“You’re right. My high confidence couldn’t take another boost. It’d become too overpowering,” Karai remarks, though April swears she cannot tell how much of it is sarcasm or not. 

One thing April can tell, though, is when she has an opening. 

Karai’s smugness is nearly wiped off her face when April lunges toward the kunoichi’s knees and below her center of gravity, toppling her over April’s shoulders just like Raphael has taught her. 

Or, at least, it should have, if Karai wasn’t as slippery as a snake, so to speak, and maneuvers out of April’s grip, pushing off her back and sending April to the floor as she lands delicately on the mats. 

There is no such delicacy as April fins herself careening toward the ground and only moment to try and tuck into a roll that doesn’t quite work out for he, rolling her from a bruised shoulder to the weapons rack where he left ankle smacks into the metal fittings that kept the rack attached firmly to the wall. 

Letting out a sharp cry of pain, April got onto her but and immediately recoiled her injured limb, hands grasping around the ankle and foot as she bit back hisses from the searing pain. 

In the corner of her eyes, April could see Karai, and she fully expects laughter or a look of amusement. But she doesn’t see it. What she gets instead is a notable look of surprise followed by Karai freezing up.

April decides to ignore Karai for the moment, tending to her already swelling ankle instead when Karai suddenly slides in to her side, looking alarmed.

“I didn’t mean... You shouldn’t have...” Karai thinks out loud before glaring at April. “Why did you go and hurt yourself?”

“Ugh! Are you serious right now?” April yells back.

“Yes! No... I mean,” Karai growls and slams her fists down on the ground beside her. “This is so hard!”

Not knowing what Karai is referring to, April simply shakes her head and points back toward the other end of the dojo. “Grab the medicine kit. I sprained my ankle and I’ll need to compress it before it swells up too much.”

"I don’t...” Karai hesitates, looking over her shoulder then back to April. “I don’t know where that is.”

“Seriously?” April demands, frustration high in her voice. “Over by the sink, under the counter. It’s... It’s a medical kit, you know? With the red cross--”

“Okay, fine! I know what a kit is,” Karai blasts back as she raises to her feet. Once more, she hesitates, chewing on her lip, before walking with less confidence in the direction where April directed. 

Ankle throbbing, April quickly turns her attention back to the swelling and groans to see a purpling bruise already in the works.

Before she knows it, Karai is back -- always so quick and quiet -- and dropped down to her side, medical kit in her lap. 

“Do you know how to wrap a compress?” April asks. 

“I could make one out of the sleeve of my own shirt if I needed to,” Karai answers, pulling out the adhesive wrap. 

“We’ll need to ice it, too,” April points out. 

“Well, I didn’t see any ice under the sink,” Karai snaps.

April barely keeps her eyes from rolling out of their sockets. “Oh my gosh, you can’t be serious -- here!” April says, reaching over Karai and taking a cold pack from it. “These have chips inside of them that you break like this,” she flattened the bag between her hands, “and activate them for cooling. See.” She hands the bag back to Karai. “Wrap that against my ankle, too.”

“Normally I leave my enemies to tend their own wounds,” Karai replies, taking the cold pack and doing as ordered.

“Yeah, well, I didn’t exactly ask for your help here today so that’s on you,” April retorts, crossing her arms. She then flinches as the compress is pulled tight. 

“Sorry,” Karai says unexpectedly, wrapping more carefully. “And I didn’t... I wasn’t including you.”

Grunting a bit in response to the pain, April looks at Karai testily. “Including me in what?”

“An enemy,” Karai clarifies, looking up toward April. “It came out that way but... it’s far from what I meant. So. I’m sorry. It’s more accurate to say that... I’m not used to taking care of people. Or caring about people. Or approaching people... or liking people... or not fighting people...”

“Wow, when you put it all that way, it’s almost like you suck or something,” April can’t help but laugh. 

“Only at the things that matter,” Karai snarks back. 

April lets out a deep breath. “Look... Karai, it’s not your fault. About the ankle. You were just sparring. I’m... I have been not so great with adjusting to having you around. Everyone here they’re... It’s my second family. And I’m not used to sharing that yet... to feeling like someone else can take my place. But that’s wrong of me. And I’m sorry.”

“No one can take your place, are you kidding?” Karai asks critically. “Have you seen what they’re all willing to do for you? I’m... family. But I was also an enemy. No one knows where my place is yet. So if I’ve been irritating or imposing on you lately it’s... it’s only because I’m hoping that maybe, learning from you, I’ll figure out where my place in the family is, too.”

Surprise no doubt shows on April’s face and she pulls her legs tenderly into a lotus position, sitting across from Karai. “I’m sorry, Karai. I had no idea... and more than that, I’ve not been welcoming. Which isn’t fair.”

“It’s really not,” Karai laughs. “You make it so hard for a girl to get ahead. I mean, even after I asked all the guys to let us have the lair alone.”

April blinks. “That’s why they’re not here? Because you told them to go?”

Kaai shrugs. “They didn’t have to listen.”

“No, it’s alright,” April says, nervously reaching up and brushing some hair from her cheek. “Heh, I guess... I guess I see the value in having some alone time now. Let’s us talk about things.”

“We needed that,” Karai agrees.

“Maybe see things we didn’t before,” April nods.

“Hopefully,” Karai replies, smile still present, though April no longer sees it as snark. It is a cover for something more hesitant, more fragile. More hopeful. “I’d like if we tried.”

Being the oldest brother, being the chosen leader of their family clan, Leonardo had pressed himself to perform the part of the oldest brother, to be the fastest, the strongest, the most graceful. He had to push himself as the best in every possible way because he honestly didn’t know how else he could be a leader to his equally — or perhaps even more — gifted brothers.

At fifteen, Leonardo’s shoulders were tense and heavy with an unseen weight. He had to seek perfection in the almost futile attempt to earn respect from a gaggle of less self-important, less serious teenagers.

But if he didn’t have his brothers’ respect, if he didn’t lead them correctly, he couldn’t protect his family.

The price of failure was death for them. Leonardo found that unacceptable. Especially in a world where they were absolutely unaccepted.

Even with exceptions — friends who were as close as family, like April and Casey, or allies who they had earned respectful silence from — Leonardo was constantly aware that their enemies and those who did not and would not understand them far outnumbered them. That night alone, Leonardo as leader needed to maneuver his brothers’ surface exercises around the ever changing movements of the rival Foot ninja clan, the Purple Dragon street gangs which had splintered and expanded, and the generally unexpected that they always seemed to fall into.

As Leonardo looked over the peaks of rundown buildings and billow of occasional smoke, he could hear the soft patter of his three brothers landing not far behind him. He could almost anticipate that Raphael would be the one to step up next.

“What’s your call, fearless one?” Raphael joked, joining Leonardo in watching the distant cityscape. “You already rethinking topside training?”

“No,” Leo answered without even looking to the others. “I want us to take about a three block round of shadow tag. No weapons — palms only.”

He could all but feel the eyes rolling behind him.

“Oh pah-leese,” Michelangelo snickered.

“Even Master Splinter would let us use weapons,” Donatello pointed out with a sigh.

“Yeah, extreme rules or no rules,” Raphael sneered. He pulled his sai from their holster and quickly began spinning them while looking at Leonardo challengingly.

“We don’t need them out here. We need to work on speed, not weapon finesse. It’ll make keeping to the shadows less of an option—“ Leonardo began to list off his reasoning before his shoulder was whipped by the broadside of Raph’s sai. “Raph!”

“Guess who’s it,” Raphael chuckled before trust falling backward into the alley below.

Michelangelo and Donatello quickly followed, laughing among each other.

With a deep breath, Leonardo resisted rubbing at his temples before joining his brothers in the game of shadow tag.

Three blocks was nothing for them. Child’s play for ninja of their caliber.

Even though Leonardo was the only one to stick to the no weapons rule, there was little to no maliciousness involved between the four of them. A rarity for teenage brothers.

They danced through the shadows, around one another, each faltering in the slightest of steps and leaving an opening. It was constructive, a way of safely identifying weaknesses in their forms and guard. They all needed it, needed the challenge from one another.

Once he was free of it status, Leonardo knew his best plan was to pull ahead and put as much distance between himself and the others as he could. He twisted himself in a leap over Donatello, landing his palms on Don’s shoulders before pushing off and blasting forward. He could hear his brother’s groan of frustration.

His plan was working, Leonardo pulled far ahead from his brothers and reached the designated corner with feet between them. He enjoyed the bit of competitive edge, the rush, the feeling that he could still pull ahead.

Catching his breath, Leo began to turn to face his brothers as they slowed in approach, but raised voices put him on guard.

Ducking back deeper into the shadows, Leonardo watched steadily over the edge of the building where the voices were coming from. He waved to his brothers, almost instantly silencing them.

They followed his lead, falling into line into the shadows.

“Trouble?” Donatello asked in barely a whisper.

“Don’t know,” Leo said, trying to make sense of the distant, but loud, words. He was unsettled, though he couldn’t imagine why. These sorts of issues were not exactly uncommon on their night runs. But there was something about this, it didn’t sit well deep in his guts, where he was beginning to feel hollowed out and strange.

“Uh, Leo?” Mikey stage whispered, a little too loud for Leo’s liking. “You alright, dude? You look… pale.”

“What?” Leo answered defensively raising his shoulders. “No. No, I’m fine. Just… Trying to read the situation.”

Without a second to breathe, the air was interrupted with an ear piercing noise — the firing of a gun.

Raphael spun his sai a last time before holding them ready. “Looks like time’s up for that, fearless.”

Leonardo felt the same sickly, gut wrenching feeling that had suddenly overcome him from before. There was something not right about the situation.

His thoughts didn’t carry for long, however, as a second shot was already filling the air.

“Go!” Leonardo ordered, though all of them were already in motion, and his stomach was completely cold with a dread he couldn’t place.

Big Tony was, admittedly, not the most original monicker.

Perhaps it was all he had earned from one of the least original ways to direct the small block of Queens that had been left over after the fall of the ninja clan and its vice grip on all underground activities. Ruthless, but not particularly ambitious. And so long as he and his crew maintained the hold that they had, he was going to be as ruthless as possible inside of his territory. It was a doomed strategy, especially among mobs and especially in New York, but there wasn’t a soul left in Tony’s operation who would oppose him on it.

That left the bloated, greased up man to smile with veneers to cover his rottenness, and his many stolen rings and medallions to flash to the public at large. He looked like a Dick Tracey villain in his dark purple pinstripe suite, and yet he terrified those underneath the heel of his snakeskin boots into silence.

Dressed as he was, Big Tony looked out of place in a darkened alleyway. But it was his most secure path for himself and his closest working confidante, Weasel — a man who more than fit his own monicker in appearance — to reach the dubious looking former pharmacy that acted as the most recent office for their empire.  

Still, it was a bad time of night, especially when a failed cover up involving a journalist had come to bite them in the ass so recently.

At least that event had taught Tony to no longer leave loose ends. Which was his intention that night before he ended up being on the receiving end of a surprise.

On the other end of the alley, in the shadows by the thick plated door that served as Tony and Weasel’s preferred entrance, stood the pudgy man of the hour.

“The hell,” Weasel muttered, hand already by his secured arm.

“You told him about our door?” Tony snarled, already feeling heat rising to his face.

“No way, Boss,” Weasel answered. “But, you know this guy. He never does anything right. Guess he forgot how to use a front door in between missing his payments.”

A growl rolled its way between Tony’s gnashed teeth, but he was not a man known for his restraint after all. So with bluster and confidence, remembering the sniveling pencil pusher he was dealing with in the first place, Tony began to push his way to the strange man in the bowler hat. “Erlinger! First you have the nerve to demand a meeting with me, and now you’re trying to show your disrespect by not even coming by my terms? The hell’s the matter with you? Do you need reminding of where your place is? Who’s the man that you keep the damn books for? Do you?”

Weasel snickered from behind and lessened the tension that had been built.

They knew this nobody of an accountant, after all.

“Disrespect?” Erlinger answered with a strange lack of stammering. He didn’t so much as flinch, obscured by the overcast shadows. “No, sir. Of course not, sir. A lack of respect for superiors is not one of my vices.”

Taken aback by the words and the sultry confidence Erlinger had in presenting them, Tony stopped mid stride and looked back to Weasel. Weasel seemed as confused by the scene as Tony was.

“The  hell are you talking about?” Tony said flagrantly instead. “You on something? You call this so that we can straighten you out? Because with the heat on me like it is, Erlinger, you better believe that I’ll lay you out as I do it. I don’t need any whack job fucking up my books while I’m still lucky to be on bail, you worm!”

Rather than coil back in fear and regret as most would under the duress of being in Tony’s direct line of sight, Erlinger stood his ground, clicking his tongue. “Wrath. Avarice. Vanity. I see them all so clearly now. How was I ever so blind to the sin that ooze through that gluttonous body. Everything is so much… clearer now. So much… better now that I have been granted his sight.”

“What?” Tony balked, so off guard there was almost nothing else he could have said.

“Hey! You can’t talk to the boss like that!” Weasel cried out indignantly, pressing up ahead of Tony. He was pulling out his gun, face already covered in pure disgust.

From the darkness of the shadows, a simple smile seemed to almost glow. “And there is envy. What sins we wear right on our sleeves.”

“Boss,” Weasel muttered out of the corner of his mouth, “he completely lost it.” Training his firearm on Erlinger. “The only thing I’m seeing on your sleeves, Erlinger, is that same ugly as hell blue suit you’ve had for as long as we’ve known you.”

“What did you want all this for?” Tony snapped. “You called this meeting for a reason. What is it? Stocks down? Pigs banging on your doors already? What brought you here?”

“Land acquisition,” the man responded simply. “An expansion of territory, if we’re going by your rudimentary terms.”

“Hey, Tony’s business is his own business, you pen pushing cockroach! Keep your noses in the books!” Weasel ordered harshly.

“I don’t have any investment in your crude criminal dealings anymore,” Erlinger clarified coldly. “I’m speaking of my own territory.”

That actually made Tony laugh. The man had surely reached some sort of psychotic break. “You ain’t got no territory, stooge. I own you, remember?” He chuckled and looked to his loyal lieutenant. “The nards on this guy, am I right? Who’s got envy and greed now?”

Weasel placated Tony with an immediate laughter, true if not bolstered for emphasis a bit.

“You laugh at my sins,” Erlinger said almost somberly, “but I wouldn’t. There isn’t any shame in sin. Those of us involved with the more nefarious side of life should know that. Accept that. What we should allow ourselves to do is bathe in it. To accept it and live by it. I hear that calling now. I know it to be something that will last beyond any mortal, beyond any means. It’ll have the most lasting impacts, the greatest legacies.”

“What a whack job,” Weasel muttered in astonishment.

“Putting it lightly, Weasel,” Tony responded, brows reaching for his hairline.

“I’m speaking of greed, gentlemen,” Erlinger elaborated more. “Greed, something the three of us are no small strangers too, of course. Greed… and its stupendous possibilities once we’ve given ourselves over to it. Over to him.”

“Him? The hell you talking about?” Tony tried again.

“You see, he understands greed, is avarice. And I say that with no small amount of exaggeration. And, because of that, because of that need to grow and to be taken care of so that the empire may continue to grow, I must provide to him territory. Land acquisition, after all, was the first greed of all. The one that built his empire to begin with. That’s why he calls me. And he calls me to do this.”

Before the bizarre rant could even sink in, there was an earsplitting pop, and Tony felt a numbing cold in his chest. He began to sink just as a second bang echoed and it could truly set in that he was shot. Weasel was shot.

And he laid on the floor of a dark alley in the small bit of the Queens he had loved to rule aggressively so much. And he did so until darkness consumed everything around him.

When they landed in the alley there was nothing. Wisps of gun smoke were still in the air, two fresh bodies on the ground — but there was no life. Leonardo somehow sensed that the instant his feet touched the ground.

Somehow, impossibly, the shooter was not there in an instant after shooting two victims.

Raphael passed them all in order to be closer to the two fresh bodies, watching the blood pool between them. “Hey, I know these lowlives — they’re those mob doofuses from a while back. We saved that kid’s mom, the reporter, from them.” He sneered at the men. “Couldn’t have been to two nicer guys—“

Judgment.

“Raph,” Leo said in a warning voice.

“What do you think? This one’s got a gun by him, think they shot each other?” Mikey asked. “Case closed?”

“No, case definitely not closed,” Donatello corrected, squatting down to his haunches to examine the scene better. “They are both l saying on their backs and facing the direction of their entrance wounds. Which means they were both shot from the same direction…” He looked over his shoulder toward the end of the alley where Leonardo was currently standing. “The shooter would have to have been right there.”

Leo squinted and looked around him for a hiding spot, high in alert with his twin swords readied in each hand. There was no dumpster, no pile of debris — nothing for someone to hide behind. Just a large, metal door. He walked toward it and tested the knob. It was locked up tight.

“There’s nowhere for the shooter to have gone,” Leo confirmed out loud.

“Oh, sweet! Are we about to play detective on this? I totally call being Batman,” Michelangelo said exuberantly. “Donnie, you’re Robin. Raph, you’re Alfred. Leo’s Commissioner Gordon.”

“Knock it off already, will ya?” Raphael snapped.

“Okay, Batman,” Don humored, “if the shooter was where Leo is now, and isn’t there by the time we jumped down here, who did it?”

“Don’t play along, that’s only going to encourage him,” Raphael admonished Donatello. “Leo, wrangle everybody up like you usually do. Y’know. Do your Leo stuff.”

“Huh, would Leo stuff include shooting gangsters in an alleyway? Because that’d make this case way easier to solve,” Mike joked with a shrug.

Immediately, every muscle in Leo’s body tensed up. He turned and looked in offense toward his brother. “Why would you say that? I didn’t do anything. Why would you even joke about that?”

The panic built and built through his body, Leonardo could feel it choking him, clawing at his every nerve. The mere thought of being suspected, the coiling distrust, the hateful injustice. And then beneath it all, most hauntingly, a slight tinge of guilt. From nowhere, from nothing. Leo felt it all the way down to his own bones.

“Whoa, bro, I’m only kidding, calm down!” Mike laughed awkwardly, holding up his hands defensively.

“Leo’s right, we should be treating this situation with more respect,” Don huffed, standing back up.

Raphael was staring at Leo in confusion and suspicion. “We were with you the whole time, Leo, calm your tail.”

“I know that,” Leo snapped.

The defensiveness in Leo was only building and his brothers were beginning to look at him in more concern. After all, this wasn’t the first crime scene they had come across. Which was also why, when they heard the sirens nearing, they knew to leave.

“Quick! To the sew…er…” Leo ordered, pausing as he glanced to the nearby manhole.

His brothers caught on rather fast.

“I’m popping it open, you guys be ready to duck if someone’s sitting down there with a revolver, alright?” Raph volunteered, readying his sai as he came to the manhole then swiftly slipping the blade between the cracks and cracking it open.

Leo, with the rest of his brothers, were at the ready.

But, nothing happened. Raphael opened the rest of the manhole and even stuck his head in before giving the all clear.

“I don’t get it,” Mikey said, hopping down into the sewers in line with the others.

Leo hung back to close the cover behind them. His whole body still felt unsettled. “You don’t get what, Mikey?” he pressed.

“Where’d the killer go?” Michelangelo asked, scratching at his cheek in thought.

“Not our problem anymore,” Raph shrugged off in disregard.

“The police will figure it out,” Donatello answered confidently.

“Maybe,” Leo said lowly from the back. It didn’t feel like it wasn’t their business, Leo couldn’t shake it for some reason.

Especially the admittedly comedic suggestion that it was somehow Leonardo himself responsible.

The others mostly overlooked Leo’s comment and overall dour change in disposition.

“Man, I’d at least like to know why, that’s the question that always is the most interesting on Forensic Files and stuff,” Michelangelo continued to push.

“They were mobsters, dude,” Raph snapped. “What’d’ya think was the cause?”

“Simple,” Leo said, getting his brothers’ attention unintentionally. He blinked as he caught all of their looks, and then cleared his throat to clarify. “It was probably greed.”

Raph rolled his eyes and Don nodded slightly before looking forward. Mikey took a breath and sighed but none of them really reflected on the sentiment.

But Leonardo did. Because it felt so unnatural on his own tongue.

Like the guilt that had been building strangely within him managed to evaporate in an instant as he was overcome with a sense of rightness to that blame, a questioning of ethics that poured out from between his own teeth.