-Alright, I'm feeling Turtley for the first time in quite awhile, with the new movie coming and all. I haven't written on them or watched anything with them in quite some time. Also, I wasn't an avid reader of the comics (I read a couple a looooong time ago). I watched the movies and the old cartoon show, and some of the newer cartoon episodes as well, but if I don't seem in character I'm sorry, please forgive me and don't flame. Raph's my favorite, and I miiiight be using him for my own devices and making things up as I go. Definitely AU since I don't know exactly what happened in the plotline. Hope you can enjoy it anyway. (Also. I own nothing Turtle related which is a bummer for me, and I am not at all familiar with the customs of Martial Arts practicing monasteries so I had to wing it. No insult intended to anyone if I mucked something up.) -
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Chapter One: The Letter.
Word came, up the high slopes of the mountain. Up the hundreds of steps to the temple, where few traveled. A messenger boy from the village below stood in the entrance hall, breathing hard, and stuttering out that he had a letter for Master Leonardo.
The man, or rather, mutant turtle, in question was running through his fourth complicated kata of the morning in the relative silence and privacy of a small back room in the temple. He relished the stillness of this place, the view of the grand snow covered peaks from his windows. The serenity and peace he'd felt upon entering its doors.
He felt focused here in a way he'd never felt in the midst of a bustling city. In the company of his three loud brothers. Well, in all fairness, only two of them were loud.
When he took a deep breath, he still could marvel at the clean air, the scent of cherry blossoms blown up to him from the village below. This place, in all its tranquility, had never become monotonous for him. He doubted very much it ever would. He admitted to himself sometimes when he was alone, that he would very much like to stay here for the rest of his life. Become Master and teacher; pass on what he had learned.
There came the soft sliding sound of his door being opened, and he looked up to see one of the elders he trained with most often. Master Wan held in his hand what looked like a letter, and his face, usually so serene, looked quite somber indeed.
The young messenger had been sent away: given food and rest and coin and hurried back down the mountain, he could not be permitted to see Leonardo, but still it was strange a Master himself would deliver such a letter. It was strange to receive a letter at all, here.
Leonardo paused in his kata and stepped forward, kneeling before the Master, feeling doubt cloud his mind. Who could be sending him word? Was it serious? He had often worried of Master Splinter's health. Could something have happened to him?
Master Wan pressed the parchment into his pupil's three-fingered hand. His worry for his young charge grew. He had read the letter, as he read all that went in and out of this temple, to determine it for good or ill. Leonardo would leave and his training was yet to be completed. But he must go, Master Wan had no illusions about that. He uttered no word yet, leaving the young man to read in privacy.
Leonardo unfolded the paper, his eyes narrowing slightly as he recognized the handwriting.
Leo,
I'm sure you're busy training up wherever you are. I just hope this gets to you in time. I'm in trouble. Haa haa, surprise, surprise, I know. I wouldn't have written if it wasn't bad. It's more than I can handle. You know it's not easy for me to ask for help, maybe I should have asked long before this. I know I should have. I'm in Santa Cruz, California. Someone followed me here. What's left of the Foot maybe. I don't know who they are, but they're strong. I've got a lot of explaining to do, I know that, but I'll do it if you get here in time. If you don't. It doesn't matter. If you don't. It's not your fault, Leo.
-Raphael
An address was scrawled hastily on the back of the letter. Leonardo's frown was deep, his shoulders squared. No, Raph wouldn't have written unless he was really in trouble. The way he was so easily relinquishing blame too. Telling Leonardo that it wasn't his fault if he didn't make it there in time. That scared him. Who knew how long it had taken the letter to reach him. He had to leave immediately.
He hadn't seen his brother in just over two years now, there was no telling what he'd gotten himself into. He'd thought Raphael capable of handling himself at this point. After everything that had happened with the Foot the first time. The comatose state his brother had been in for those first few weeks at the farm. Did he learn nothing?
Remnants of the Foot? It was possible, though he didn't find it probable, they and the police with them, had cleaned out that stronghold rather thoroughly. Of course, he'd thought that the first time as well. At least the Shredder was dead. Someone could have taken his place.
Leonardo slid his katanas into their sheaths on his back and hefted a bag with supplies over his shoulder. He'd have to travel at night, see if he could get a flight back to the states. Any wasted time made his stomach crawl, but getting here he'd had to wait a week to find transport. He didn't have time for that now, nor the slow passage of a ship.
He hovered near the doors of the Temple saying his goodbyes as night fell. He'd promised to return, and intended to keep his word, but who knew what lay in store for him. It had been so long since he'd worn his trench coat and hat to keep away from the scrutinizing gaze of humans that the articles felt foreign over his body. He'd gotten soft in some ways, even as his skills were honed, comfortable here where he didn't have to hide what he was.
He started out as the shadows lengthened, the long trek down the steps made in time to reach the village below by nightfall. He moved silently, barely a whisper, preparing himself mentally for what he might find in Santa Cruz. His brother's dead body was what he most feared. If he'd come a month, a week…even an hour too late to save him… He had to squash down feelings of anger at the hotheaded turtle for always getting himself into scrapes like this. Always putting his life on the line. At least he'd asked for help this time, even if help might come too late. But just the fact that he'd asked was enough to make Leonardo worry all the more.