Blanket Disclaimer: I don't own the turtles, their allies (except my own characters), or any brands that may be seen in this story. Any similarities between a fictional character and a real person are unintentional. All rights go to respective owners.

Forgive Me


For•give

Verb

1. Stop feeling angry or resentful toward (someone) for an offense, flaw, or mistake.

2. To grant pardon for or remission of (an offense, debt, etc.); absolve.

Synonyms

Pardon - remit - excuse - condone - absolve


Chapter One

"Nisshoku, wake up."

The sharp voice pulls me from sleep and I sit up, rubbing my bleary eyes. I can make out the faces of my fellow shinobi in the darkness of our dorm room. "What's going on?"

Zankoku grins, his white teeth almost glowing in the dimness. "The new recruit is being punished."

That wakes me up. All traces of sleep are gone as I swing my legs over the edge of my bunk and jump down. "For what?" I ask, tugging my leather jacket on over my black tank top. I haven't seen who the new soldier is yet, but my mind is racing. Maybe he just stepped a little out of line?

"I heard that he was trying to sneak out. He's going to get branded," Ryu says, a kind of dark pleasure evident in his tone.

His words send ice through my veins, and it's only force of will keeping me from looking at my own forearm. But I can still feel the ugly, raised scar through the fabric of my sleeve.

It's no secret that I'm currently the only one who has been branded. I was the only one foolish enough to try to escape.

Suffice it to say that my plans didn't work out.

We arrive at Shredder's throne room within a few minutes of walking. There are already several other groups of shinobi there, talking in hushed voices. I can pick out snatches of conversation.

"Mutant freak-"

"- going to get what he deserves -"

"This'll teach the muties not to mess with us -"

The doors open, and all voices are immediately silenced as Shredder himself enters. Years of ingrained training are the only thing that makes me bow my head as he passes. Then chains clank, and my eyes widen.

Rahzar and Tiger Claw walk into the throne room, dragging between them a very beat-up looking turtle. His mask is ripped and blood stained, the gauze wrapped around his wrists filthy and soaked with red. When he lifts his face, my heart skips a beat.

He is young. So impossibly young and innocent, compared to the ranks of Foot soldiers around me. Baby blue eyes glimmer with unshed tears of pain and terror. My jaw drops ever so slightly.

This is the new recruit? This is the one who is to be branded...and much worse, before Tiger Claw is finished?

As they stretch out his arms and chain him to the two posts specially reserved for punishing those out-of-line soldiers, he whimpers, squeezing his eyes shut.

All faces turn towards the dais, waiting expectantly. I brace myself for Shredder's verdict. The warlord stands.

"Hamato Michelangelo. You have betrayed the Foot Clan by your attempted escape, as well as the numerous crimes committed against the clan in years past. As punishment for your transgressions, you will be first branded with the mark of a traitor. Then you shall receive four lashes for each of your family member's crimes."

I can't help it, and my face betrays my horror. Twenty lashes total? That will kill him. Perhaps not physically, but facing that torture – especially for someone so mentally young...it won't be pretty.

As Tiger Claw steps forward with the red-hot branding iron, I school my expression into neutrality. Even as I hear the sizzle of the iron burning into flesh. Even as Michelangelo's screams echo through the room.

Even as my own brand starts to throb and guilt wells up within me.

But when Tiger Claw grabs the long, barbed whip off of his belt and steps back, aiming at Michelangelo's right arm, I can't stop myself.

"Wait!"

My shout makes everyone freeze. My bunkmates narrow their eyes at me. The sea of shinobi parts, ninja shooting me both curious and suspicious looks. I swallow and step forward, my heart pounding in my chest.

Shredder glares at me. "You dare interrupt?"

"Master," I respond deferentially, "The turtle will be of no use to you in a condition such as the one he will be left in after this."

The man's eyes narrow. "And do you suggest, then, han'nin, that I rescind the penalty?"

"I-"

"I am not a man known for compassion," Shredder continues in an uncompromising tone. "You will not persuade me to rescind his sentence." A glint like steel enters his good eye. "However, I will permit you to transfer it to someone else."

Murmurs of shock go up in the crowd behind me. Never before has this been done – least of all for a new recruit. Something strikes a warning within me.

"Perhaps you would prefer for it to be dealt on your younger sister."

Horror fills me, and I meet Koneko's wide, terrified eyes in the dim lighting.

"Choose, han'nin. You have ten seconds to find a replacement, or I will."

My back is straight when I answer, my head still bowed in respect to my master. "I accept the punishment."

Though my words are quiet, they echo off of the vaulted ceiling, easily allowing everyone to hear. Koneko gasps, covering her mouth with her hands. But Shredder smiles coldly.

"Very well. I will mete it out myself."

My heart stops. Tiger Claw's beatings are bad enough, but Oroku Saki has had years of training and practice. There is no one here whose arms are stronger.

Yet as they drag Michelangelo away from the whipping posts, he catches my gaze. Behind the glazed look of pain in his eyes, there is an undeniable gratefulness. And when they rip the leather jacket off of me and chain my wrists to the posts, when Shredder raises the whip, I focus on that face.

As the barbs tear my back into ribbons. As my blood stains the floor, splashing down my clothing. As I fight to keep conscious. I do not cry out, do not give them the satisfaction of hearing my screams.

At last, when the punishment is dealt, Shredder orders them to drag me to the dungeon with Michelangelo. To leave me there, lying in a pool of my own blood, in the filth and the wet and the rot.

"Perhaps then, you will learn some restraint and obedience," he snarls.

In the cool darkness of the cell, the orange-banded turtle crawls over to me as best he can, trying to keep his bad wrist off of the floor. "Why did you do that for me?" he asks.

I give him a small smile that quickly turns to a pained grimace as I try and sit up – with little success. "Because I know what it's like," I answer finally. "To try and escape, only to get dragged back." I turn my wrist over, revealing the raised X burned into my skin. "I'm just sorry that I didn't help you sooner."

"You helped enough," he insists, gesturing to the raw mess of my back. A hint of that gratefulness comes back in his eyes and he sticks his good hand out. "I'm Michelangelo, by the way. But my family calls me Mikey."

"Nisshoku," I reply.

"You don't have a nickname?" I shake my head. "I'm gonna call you Nee."

Warmth surges through me, sending tears to my eyes. "Thank you, Mikey-san."

He's silent for a moment. "Why do you stay here if they treat you like this?"

"Because...because I deserve it," I whisper, avoiding his gaze. "I deserve the pain and the blood and the mocking. I deserve all of it."

"What?" Mikey asks, flabbergasted. "Why would you deserve this?"

"I've done too much to hurt others, Michelangelo. Far too much. No one should be - could be - forgiven for all those horrible things. I've hurt. I've tortured. I've killed. I've ripped families apart without so much as a blink."

"But none of that was your fault. You had nothing to do with it! You couldn't have stopped any of it, anyway. Trust me. Those people would've been hurt with or without your assistance."

"Where could I have gone?" I beg. "I don't have anywhere to go. No one to care for me."

Mikey's face hardens. "You will. When my brothers come for me, I'll take you home to the Lair."

That statement breaks me. Breaks the walls that I'd been so careful to keep locked down. To have someone care for me like that, especially after all of the horrible things I've done...The tears slip down my cheeks and his eyes widen.

"I didn't mean to make you cry, dudette!"

A half-sob escapes my lips, and then Mikey starts sniffling too. Before I know it, we're both full-on crying. I let out a strangled laugh, trying to wipe my face. "Look at us. We're a mess."

Mikey laughs through his own tears, scooting next to me and pulling me close. But the movement makes me hiss as pain shoots across my back. He jerks back immediately. "I'm sorry-"

"Don't be," I reply, suddenly exhausted. I lean my head on his shoulder and close my eyes. A question pops into my mind. "How did you get stuck working for the Foot?"

The turtle stiffens and then sighs. "It's a long story," he says finally.

"I think we've got time."

Mikey snorts a laugh, settling in to tell the tale.


Translations:

~ Nisshoku: solar eclipse

~ Zankoku: cruelty

~ Kaneko: kitten

~ Han'nin: offender

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