Hello true believers! I am back ( and for good this time! I promise ). This is my latest creation, alongside my sister MaraStudios on deviantART. This is the first part in an ongoing series which should see the creation of the Turtles all the way to their deaths. Thanks for reading!

There are not many clans left in this world. As the Western ideology has spread across the globe, the people who have followed the true, ancient, honorable ways have begun fading away. Instead of banding together, the few left have maintained feuds that have stretched on for generations. Living outside conventional law, taking matters into their own hands, living as their families have for centuries. There is little need for a police force when revenge is easily and quietly served.

Flames continued roaring around the ninjutsu master as he listened quietly. A whimper, a cry. It was there, very evident. His hardened face began to soften as he glanced at the body below his feet. The living cries were not coming from the deceased, no, they were coming from underneath it. Bending down, the man grabbed the body's shoulders, grimacing at the loss of precious life. The terrified face was staring back at him, frozen in fear. Clutched tightly though, beneath the small form, gasps for air were wavering. Picking the youngling up, the man looked at the soot covered child. Clean streaks ran down from the little one's eyes, down its cheeks, dripping from its chin. As sirens wailed in the background, no doubt coming to save what was already lost, the man brought the offspring of his enemy to his chest.

"Shhh…" He soothed, glancing one last time to the crumpled remains on the ground. "All will be alright. I am your father now, and I will make sure no one will hurt you again."

The orphan whimpered, fingering the man's robes. Its breathing steadied, its eyes closing, disappearing to a world of dreams. The man silently prayed that the child would not remember its mother's screams.

Slinking back into the surrounding wood, he made his way swiftly back to his men. It was grave, what they were forced to do, and their expressions told him that none took it lightly. "It is today… this day," He breathed. "That this clan can no longer do us any harm. You can sleep well, my brothers. Go home now, to your wives, to your mothers. They will want to know that you are safe."

Respectfully, they bowed their heads, not questioning the stirring bundle in his arms. They knew his fierce reputation, the fire that burned within him, but there was a gentleness too. They knew him well after fighting beside him, and while they bowed in tribute for him leading them through a successful victory, they also knew of his mercy.

A quiet cough gave from the one in his arms. A poultice would do nicely, no doubt, to clear out the lungs for the both of them. Hopefully the cough would go away soon, and no illness would come. He could only hope for this as he stepped up to his home. The sweet scent of cherry blossoms was far better than smoke, and he silently thanked his wife for insisting that they be planted.

He wished she could see him coming. She would have thrown open the door, flinging herself onto him. He would have merely nodded to her, and she would have known that it was over. The war that they had been battling, the lives that had been lost, it had not been in vain. Even she would have agreed that his conclusion was right; if peace between the clans could not be made, then a swift judgment needed to be decided. They could only take so much death.

But she was not there. She was why he was there, finishing it once and for all. They had taken her from him, and he would never be able to reach her until he made his own trip to the spirit world. He would have chosen to have left now, to sacrifice himself to be with her, but his honor kept him grounded. He has a responsibility to his clan. He had not just buried her mere days ago, but his father as well. The head, the leader, the master of the family. That role and title now belonged to him. It was not one that he wanted without his precious wife by his side, but it was the hand that he was dealt with now. It was not something that he could just ignore. They were counting on him, every single one of them. They were more than just his fellow warriors. They were more than just keepers of the code. There was a bond between them stretched beyond blood itself, and he knew he could not leave them in this changing world alone. Someone had to keep the practices going. Someone had to never forget.

A small light flickered in the window as he approached. A figure moved slightly, and he felt his heart begin to quicken. As the steps beneath his feet creaked, the figure twisted, its form quickly moving for the door. The door, which would have been opened by his beloved, was opened by someone much smaller. Someone with a lot to learn.

"Otōsan!" The voice sounded both scared and relieved. Looking down, the man knew that this was why he really stayed on this earth. If he were to fall, his brothers could elect someone new. He was only in power because they respected him and his father, but they respected many of the other great masters as well. No, when it came down to it all, the reason why he chose to stay grafted to a world where his wife was no longer by his side was because of the gift that she left for him.

"My son…" The words could barely escape from his throat as he knelt down to embrace the boy. There was nothing more precious to him than this. As his own flesh and blood tried to press against him though, the child in between them shifted, murmuring.

"Father?" The large, dark eyes gazed up at him, his tone barely above a whisper. "Father, who is he?"

"This, my dear Yoshi… This is Saki, your new brother."

Thanks for still being here! Means a lot. It would mean even more if you could send a comment my way, that way I know how to better future chapters. Additionally, if you want to see geek related content, including fanfiction related videos on Fridays,I recommend checking out the YouTube channel Geek