Disclaimer: Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles, all related characters, and all derived works are the intellectual property of Nickelodeon, Viacom, Eastman, and Laird. This story is for entertainment purposes and not for monetary gain. In no way should this story be taken to be anything other than a fan-based expansion of and commentary on the source material. n00btmntfan is in no way associated with the makers of TMNT.
How could everything have gone so wrong? Splinter wondered, as he walked down the busy street. His eyes scanned the unfamiliar English letters that surrounded him. He knew how to read them fluently; though he was unused to the guttural syllables in his mouth, he could speak them well enough. Even after several months in New York, he could not stop searching for the familiar Japanese characters. He found them in certain suburbs, of course, but he preferred to avoid the predominantly Japanese neighborhoods. It was the same reason he knew he could not open a dojo or do any work in his field of training.
Clans ran deep. Anyone with a connection to the Clan of the Foot, however distant, might recognize him. He could not risk that. He could not risk Shredder coming after him again. He feared that it would not end unless one of them was dead. So as long as Shredder thought that his rival Hamato Yoshi was dead, it was over. Splinter could not bear the thought of facing Shredder, because despite the betrayal, despite everything—Splinter hated him, loathed him, wanted him to burn in the deepest levels of the fiercest hells—he still loved him.
He could not think of killing Oroku Saki without seeing his grinning childhood friend. It was the most painful dichotomy of love and hatred he had ever experienced. He had mourned for the loss of their friendship. Mourned deeply. He hated their rivalry. Hated himself for fueling it.
Love and hate and love and hate…
And Tang Shen and Miwa had paid the price for their pettiness. Poor, innocent, harmless Tang Mei, her husband and two boys murdered the week before Shredder had come to end Splinter's life. They had been sacrificed up on the altar of stupid, childish things that should have been forgotten long ago.
Splinter fumed with rage at the thought. He wanted so desperately to blame it all on Shredder, but hadn't he only poured blackpowder into the fire of Oroku Saki's hatred? Challenged him? Caused the fatal explosion himself? Started the fire that burned down his home, killed his family?
He still woke in the middle of the night, images of fallen candles and rising flames flashing before his eyes.
Had he been the one responsible for starting that fire?
"Hey buddy! Get out of the way!"
Of course. Standing still on a New York walkway was practically punishable by death. Twisting a kink out of his neck, Splinter began to mill forward with the flow of pedestrian traffic.
"Just look at them," Shen said, looking back and forth between the many displays in the art museum. "They are so beautiful!"
Yoshi raised an eyebrow. "Western Renaissance painters and sculptors?"
"Oh hush," Shen said playfully. "Japan is growing closer to the Western world all the time. They have begun to celebrate our arts, why should we not appreciate theirs? Here, look at this picture of a statue in Italy. What a noble portrayal of an equestrian. Oh! They even have a replica."
"It's a simple sculpture," Yoshi commented.
"Well, I love it. Here. Look at this painting—The Mona Lisa."
Yoshi made a big show of scrutinizing the display. "You will never convince me that—some fool with a name like Leonardo—is better than Katsushika Hokusai."
"Not better," Shen laughed. "Equals. Besides, Leonardo here could paint something besides Fujiyama."
"My dear wife," Yoshi replied, shaking his head, "you are thoroughly eccentric."
"Well," Shen whispered, leaning in, "maybe it's because I'm pregnant."
The tantalizing smells of food filled the air. Walking through an area like this during the evening hour was a horrible idea. Splinter paused, this time carefully moving out of the stream of foot traffic, to check the contents of his wallet. A passport. A greencard. A measly, tattered, twenty-dollar bill. His face and his own name glared harshly up at him from the greencard. Once his immigration papers were completed, he would apply for a new name as a citizen of the United States. A new name. Something Western sounding. Something that Shredder could never unearth. Hopefully.
His stomach rumbled as he caught a whiff of tomato sauce and bubbling brown cheeses. He glanced up at the store front across the street.
Da Vinci's Pizza—Pizza by "Da" Slice!
Pizza sounded excellent. His meager supply of money was waning, but he had grown so weary of rice. He barely ordered take out, but his first experience with pizza was like a new lease on life. He was plunging himself into the Western world, escaping from the memories of Japan that haunted him.
It had been the taste of a new beginning—a rich, saucy, cheesy, pepperoni-topped beginning.
As he started to cross the street, he thought again of the tattered bill in his wallet. It was Monday. It was his last twenty. All that waited for him back at his miserable studio apartment were his few possessions and perhaps five dollars in change. His meager paycheck from the 7-11 would not arrive until next Thursday.
On second thought, it would be a lonely, joyless bowl of rice after all.
"Oh, Yoshi! Aren't they darling?" Shen stood on the edge of the park's rippling pond, looking gleefully into the water.
Yoshi leaned over and looked where she was pointing. Turtles were indeed cavorting in the water, delightfully energetic until they crawled out to sun on the shore. "You always have loved turtles, haven't you?"
"They are so mysterious. Quick in water, slow on land. They are so at peace with the world, and never in a hurry. You know, some legends say the world is carried on the back of a turtle. And Greek fables say that a tortoise can win against a hare in a race. Slow, and patient. Just like the ninja, no?"
"I have not yet met a turtle which is lethal."
"Say that to the little fish in this pond, my dear. You know, I had a turtle when I was a little girl. When our little baby is born, and old enough, we should get a turtle for her."
"How are you so sure that we will have a girl?"
"I just—know. Would it be so terrible to train a kunoichi instead of a ninja?"
"No," Yoshi muttered.
"Oh, I know you want sons too. Lots of sons. Your own private army of ninjas."
Yoshi couldn't help it. He laughed. "At least four. Though ten would also be good."
"Excellent, you can bear them and give birth to them."
"I am joking. One son would be enough. One daughter would be enough. One child with you, kasan, boy or girl, is enough to change and light up my world."
"You are so sweet. However, it is not as if this is the only child we will ever be able to have together."
"I suppose that is true…"
With a sigh, Splinter walked past Da Vinci's Pizza and continued on his way. It was only a few more city blocks until he reached home. As he waited for the walk signal to light in the crosswalk, his eye caught a brilliantly colored sign hanging in a pet shop that read, "Turtles 4 Sale."
A pang of emotion ran through him. Turtles. Tang Shen had loved them so much. He resisted the uncontrollable urge to run and look through the glass like the little children that surrounded the window did. Could he bear to see something that reminded him of his past so strongly? The walk signal lit, but instead of moving into the crosswalk Splinter turned and moved toward the shop as though against his will.
The moment he caught a glimpse of the turtles paddling around in huge, shallowly filled tub, his heart melted. There were so many of them! They were all so tiny, not one of them bigger than the palm of his hand. They all seemed so merry. Their lives were new and fresh, unspoiled by anything.
Then he spied one turtle—the tiniest one in the tank. Something about it made it seem like it was smiling. It rolled around playfully. Splinter had never even heard of a turtle doing something like that.
He thought of the lonely apartment he was heading for. No joy. No life. No freshness and spirit. If the world could be carried on the back of a turtle, as the legends said, maybe a little turtle could bring a new world of happiness into his home.
With a sigh, he knew that he could not leave without at least asking the price for the turtles. Maybe he could reserve the tiny hatchling and come back to pay for it next week after he cashed his paycheck.
The door chimes tinkled merrily as he entered the shop. "Hello, good sir, how may I help you?"
"How much for one of the little turtles?"
The shop owner laughed jovially. "We have quite the special on them. An ordering error—and we wound up with these. They were supposed to be older, since the older ones are a little hardier, but these ones can't even be more than a few days out of the egg! So, I'll warn you, they need a little extra care since they're so small, but for five dollars each, why not?"
"Five dollars?"
"Yes sir, and that's including tax. Quite the deal."
"I'll take one."
"Any one in particular?"
"That one."
"The little guy? He still had bits of eggshell stuck to him when we got him in. Make sure you keep him really warm. You have a habitat set up already?"
"No."
"Ah. Well, I recommend a tank for turtles, with some sand and rocks and water, and definitely a heating lamp."
"How much for that?" Splinter asked, wincing internally.
"Well, that's the pro setup, and we have a package deal on that for a flat hundred."
Splinter's shoulders sank.
The pet owner noticed the cue. "We also have a little setup for the kids. It's a shallow glass bowl with some sand and a little model palm tree. It's fifteen dollars retail, but I'm running a special that if you buy at least four of these little turtles, I'll throw it in for free."
"Will it be big enough for four?"
The owner laughed. "Well, that's the catch. I usually suggest buying another bowl or two and in the end I wind up with net gain, you see? But I tell you what—you seem like a really nice guy. I get the feeling you're down on your luck. I'll tell you a secret. If you really want four of the little guys, you can set 'em up in your bathtub. Good luck finding a spot to shower, though. Make sure you keep them warm, but since it's summer now that shouldn't be too hard."
"What do they eat?"
"Well, we have high-quality turtle nutritional pellets, and they also eat feeder goldfish. But they eat about anything—leafy vegetables, bread—in the wild they eat a lot of worms and algae and the like."
Splinter glanced back down into the shallow tub. His tiny little turtle was playfully nibbling at another. The slightly older turtle kept ignoring him, until after it had finally reached the limit of its patience, turned, and bit the little turtle squarely on the nose. They looked like siblings fighting.
"Sold," Splinter said, grinning. "I'll take the little one and his playmate there."
The pet shop owner cheerfully took the small habitat setup, added some water, caught the two rough-and-tumble turtles, and put them in. "You'll have to keep an eye on them," he cautioned. "Sometimes the playing can get kind of rough and one will get hurt."
"Sounds like boys," Splinter said, chuckling.
"Just like two brothers, eh? You know, turtles are pretty smart creatures. A lot of people don't know that. So. We have your two little rivals here. Pick two more and we'll send you all on your way!"
Splinter scanned the turtles in the tub. Most of them looked the same, behaved the same—and then he spied one that was sitting stock still, staring directly up into his face. Splinter held up a hand and moved it to the right. The turtle's shiny eyes followed. Then he moved his hand to the left. Again, the turtle watched his movement. "I think this one wants me to take it home," he said.
"That's one of the older ones," the owner said, taking the creature and placing it in the bowl. Immediately, it crawled in between the two squabbling turtles, effectively splitting their fight. The owner laughed. "Looks like you have a peacemaker there. Just one more."
As Splinter scanned the tub again, he noticed that one of the turtles was completely pulled into its shell. "Is that one hurt?"
The owner looked in where Splinter pointed. He reached in and lifted the creature up and examined it. "Nah, he's just shy." The owner reached for some food and held it in front of the turtle's retracted head. "This one's a thinker. Patiently trying to find the best way to get it before he strikes—there he goes!" The turtle's head shot out and it snatched the pellet, then immediately drew his head back in. The owner laughed. "They really are a lot like people, turtles are. This one would be a scientist or something if he were a human, I think."
"I'll take him then," Splinter said.
"Good choices. All of these are males, so you won't have to worry about any hanky-panky and then lots more turtles to take care of. And look at that, will you? I'd say no two of 'em hatched the same day. Your peacemaker there is the oldest, your little one's playmate next, then your thinker, and of course tiny here is the youngest."
Even as he handed over his last twenty dollar bill, Splinter was grinning from ear to ear. He could not wait to get the little creatures home. It might be a rough week and a half for him, but the tiny joyful lives would make it better. Their starter kit had a small package of food that he could feed them until he got his paycheck. He could dig for worms to feed them if they ran out.
He was happily envisioning the four small turtles cavorting in his bathtub as he walked. He could not stop looking down at them in the bowl. Even the shy turtle had started to come out of his shell, albeit with his neck only half extended. On a whim, Splinter poked a finger into the bowl, and chuckled when the shy turtle immediately retracted into its shell. The tiny one reached up and nibbled the tip of his finger, and then the other two turtles started to push him out of the way so that they could examine it.
Suddenly, a person walking the opposite direction bumped carelessly into him. With a start, Splinter just barely recovered the bowl's balance so that he did not drop his precious cargo. He turned, ready to lecture the stranger on street etiquette New York-style, when his stomach somersaulted.
Something was not right about that man. Splinter wasn't sure what it was, but his instincts were clamoring. The man was behaving strangely and walked with an unnatural gait; he paused, looked around, and then walked down an alley. Unsure of his motivations, Splinter quietly followed. Perhaps it was just a drug deal, but he sensed something sinister was happening.
After trailing the man for a few moments, he discovered that there were four men waiting in the alley. They looked exactly like the man that Splinter was following, down to the last detail. Then one opened a box and pulled out a strange, luminescent canister.
At that moment, Splinter knew that he had to retreat and call the police. Something was very wrong. This was not just drugs, it looked like dangerous chemicals. He didn't know whether it was espionage or terrorism, but the authorities needed to deal with it.
Quietly, carefully, he turned to go.
Squeak!
A stray rat squealed loudly as the heel of Splinter's shoe came down on its back. All five men turned to look.
"This is a place where you are not allowed to be in this place," one of them said in an eerie monotone.
"We have been seen in this place by you," said another, his voice identical. "Therefore, this is not a place that will be left by you."
The men charged. Instantly, Splinter took the first one down with a single kick. The second one was just as easily defeated. The third, who was carrying the canister, pulled out some kind of a gun. With a leap, Splinter crashed his foot squarely into the man's neck before the man could even react.
The canister fell to the ground with a crash. Its glowing blue contents splashed up and covered Splinter's front.
The pain was immediate and intense. Splinter started screaming. He couldn't help it. It felt like his skin was dissolving. The bowl with the turtles slipped from his grasp and shattered on the ground. With horror, Splinter saw them writhing in pain as intense as his own.
He wasn't sure how long the pain lasted. It may have been only seconds or it may have been hours. It seemed like he blacked out partially, because when he came to, the men were gone. The empty, broken canister still lay on the sidewalk, and there was still a pool of ooze lying on the ground. However, the substance had ceased glowing.
With a groan, he pushed himself up from the ground. He was going to call the police immediately. He stumbled toward the street for a few steps when he sensed that something was following him.
No, he was dragging something behind him—it was stuck to him. Turning around, he caught a glimpse of something rope-like and reached down to pick it up.
That was when he noticed his hands. Each was missing a finger. In horror, he started scanning his body. He was covered in fur. Starting to hyperventilate, he felt his face. His ears. He looked back at the rope.
A tail.
His tail.
When he discovered that he could make the tail move, that it had sensation, that it was a part of him, all of the pieces came together. He had turned into a giant rat.
He had to be seeing things. That substance must have been some kind of hallucinogen. He ran up the alleyway toward the street, and called to a woman who was walking past. "Please help me! I need to go to the hospital!"
The woman turned to look—and she started screaming uncontrollably. Several other people gathered to look, and all of them gasped in horror. Many screamed.
No, no, it could not be true!
In panic, Splinter turned and fled back down the alley. He dodged behind a dumpster and looked at his form in terror. He was completely naked; his clothes had torn when the shape of his body changed so drastically. He had not even noticed, since the layer of fur was so warm.
Confusion, horror, and shame all competed for precedence in his mind. How could this be real? Yet all of his senses told him that it was. There was the sound of police sirens drawing close and the sounds of people shouting. Should he go with the police? If he really had become giant rat, what would they do him? His ninja instincts told him to hide. He saw a manhole cover a few yards to his right. As the sirens grew louder, he knew what he had to do.
He crept over to the manhole cover, trying be as silent as possible. As he lifted up the cover, he suddenly heard the sound of a baby crying on his left. He whipped his head around at the noise.
There, in the puddle of ooze, the smallest of his turtles was lying on its back and crying like an upset infant. The other three turtles had pulled inside their shells entirely, but the shells were trembling.
They had become the size of human babies.
The sirens grew louder. Splinter ran over to the turtles and grabbed two of them and took them over to the manhole. He came back for the other two, then made multiple trips down the ladder until they were all below. He had just barely replaced the manhole cover when he heard the sirens approach the front of the alley and stop.
The youngest turtle was still crying noisily. "Shh, little one," Splinter said, picking him up and cradling him. The turtle did not stop. "Shh, shh, shh, shh."Surely the police could hear it. He shuddered to think what the police might do them. Still the turtle continued to bawl.
Splinter instinctively did what he always had done when Miwa would not stop crying: he gently poked a finger into the turtle's mouth. The turtle's eyes popped open in surprise and he immediately quieted down, sucking on Splinter's finger exactly as a human baby would have done.
"There we are, little one," Splinter whispered. He turned his attention above, listening carefully to the commotion. Suddenly, a shadow passed over the manhole cover—an officer was standing right above them.
"More crazies than usual today, eh, Eddie?" the officer said in a thick Brooklyn accent.
"Yeh," replied another cop. "Giant rat my hind end. I don't care how many witnesses there were. One person suggests somethin' and then they's all seein' it. Happens all the time. They call it hysteria."
"I know what they calls it, Ed," the first officer snapped.
"Say, whaddya make of all this broken glass and goo?"
"I don't even wanna know. We'll send waste management over to deal with it."
"All right. 'Nother job well done, huh?"
As the sound of their footsteps receded, Splinter sighed in relief and looked down at the creature in his arms. He nearly shouted when he realized that the turtle was looking up at him with human eyes. It should not have been possible. The big blue eyes staring up at him belonged in a human face, not a reptile's. And—were those freckles on his cheeks?
The turtle made tiny noises of contentment as it suckled Splinter's finger, exactly like a human baby would.
Exactly like Miwa always had.
Splinter burst into tears. Sorrow, fear, exhaustion, and confusion had finally overwhelmed his self-control. He felt like he was watching his home burn down all over again. He squeezed his eyes shut, but it was not enough to dam the tears. He began to sob aloud.
Suddenly, a tiny cold finger popped into his open mouth, startling him into silence. In surprise, he looked down at the turtle in his arms, who apparently had decided that Splinter needed pacifying as well. At that, Splinter started to laugh uncontrollably. The turtle giggled like a human infant and reached his other arm up and poked that hand into Splinter's mouth, too.
"Silly!" Splinter laughed. He took his finger out of the turtle's drooly mouth and snatched at the turtle's hands, pulling them away from his face. "What are you doing?"
The turtle giggled merrily in response, and he wrapped his tiny hands tightly around Splinter's fingers. Splinter looked at them; they were no longer like a turtle's flipper, but hands with three articulated fingers. One of the digits was even opposable, like a human thumb.
Then, Splinter was aware of six little eyes peering up at him from the ground. The shy turtle was only sticking his neck out halfway as he looked, but the other two had completely emerged from their shells. The crawled over to Splinter's feet and started to pull themselves up on his legs. Immediately, Splinter sat down and pulled them into his lap.
"You can come too, little one," Splinter said to the shy turtle, but he pulled his head back inside his shell. Splinter laughed again. All three turtles in his lap giggled at the sound of his laughter. "Come join your brothers." At that, the shy turtle timidly poked his head out again and stared, as though he were trying to decide whether joining them was advisable. After a moment, he popped out of his shell and crawled over into Splinter's lap.
Eight tiny hands poked and prodded Splinter's face. They pulled at his tail, squeezed his hands, and made all of the noises characteristic of a happy baby. Splinter wasn't sure how long he sat there, bouncing them on his knees and taking turns holding them in his arms, but he was sure that this was the most joy he had experienced in months. He almost felt that if this was a hallucination, he did not want to return to the cold reality he had left behind.
When the smallest turtle yawned loudly, Splinter realized how exhausted he was. He looked around the dark tunnel, and found to his surprise that his night vision was much sharper than it ever had been. He noticed a small recess in the wall of the tunnel. It might be just big enough for the five of them to squeeze into.
Carrying the smallest turtle, he walked over to the recess and called for the other three to follow. They eagerly did, giggling as they came. Then, Splinter crawled in, waited until all of the turtles were snugly against his chest and stomach, and curled around them like a cat to keep them warm.
The little one fell asleep almost immediately, but the three others did not want to settle down. So Splinter started to sing them a lullaby, the one that he and Tang Shen always sang to Miwa. The turtles immediately were silent; in the near darkness, Splinter could see their wide shiny eyes staring at him. As he sang, their eyelids started to droop. Before the song was finished, they were asleep.
Then Splinter closed his own eyes, thought of Tang Shen and Miwa, and let himself drift into slumber.
