A/N: Wrote this for a contest over on Deviantart within the group RatDaddyFC for a story about Mikey and Splinter's relationship. It is set within canon for the 2012 Nick version, right after the episode Parasitica. And though it nearly killed me to keep my normally evil, heavy, dark, filthy, and grim realistic thoughts well away from this, I managed somehow, heh heh. So, a bit of fluff for those of you who are enamored by it. Enjoy and Review!

Orenji

The rag was covered in gray gloppy mush as Mikey wrung it out over the bucket with a grimace. He was on his knees cleaning up the last bits of the parasitic wasp that had exploded and melted when the garbage balls fired from the Shellraiser had hit them.

"I really don't think it's fair," Mikey grouched not for the first time.

Raph stopped wiping his section of the floor and sat up on his heels, a checkered handkerchief was tied over his mouth. Two plastic bags were covering his hands secured by rubber bands around his wrists. There was no way any remnants of those bugs were going to come into contact with any part of him. He crossed his arms over his chest.

"And what? This should be all on me?" he asked, voice muffled by the material of the cloth.

"No. But since I was the one who saved your butts, you'd think I wouldn't be on the clean-up crew."

Raph went back to scrubbing. He huffed, annoyed. "Well, Donnie's going over Leo's vitals to make sure all the poison is completely outta his system and since we got the all clear from Dr. Don that leaves you and me to clean this mess up."

Mikey threw his rag into the muck-filled bucket next to him. He stood up and crossed the room to the bathroom. Raph watched him then looked over to where he'd been cleaning.

"You better have gotten it all up, Mikey. If I slip in bee guts, so help me, I'm gonna rub your face in it."

"Yeah, yeah. I did. Sheesh."

He moved into the bathroom to dump the disgusting contents down the toilet; tilting his head to one side and sticking his tongue out. The smell was nearly enough to make him retch. It was sour and thick like rancid milk. "So much for the hero treatment," he said to himself glumly and flushed the toilet; the back of his hand over his nose.

Even after they had explained what had happened to Splinter and April when they came back from the training run, Splinter only nodded and told everyone gathered around they had done well. That was it. He'd waited for Master Splinter to take note of his heroics but he didn't say anything more besides the fact that the lair needed to be cleaned after each one of them were checked over in Donatello's lab. Mikey couldn't help but feel stung by the lack of praise. Wasn't he the one that fought off the effects of the bite long enough to process Donnie's cure? He pressed his mouth into a thin line. If it were Leo that had done it, they'd still be hearing how proud Splinter was of him.

He left the bathroom feeling dejected and noticed that Raph was still scrubbing the floor, grumbling to himself. He decided a prank was just what he needed to lift his spirits. Time for Dr. Prankenstein to make a move, he thought with evil glee. Quietly, Mikey tip-toed up behind him. Raph was so engrossed in not letting any of the bug remains touch him, he didn't even guess that Mikey was right behind him. He slowly raised one finger to the back of Raph's head. He poked him.

"BZZT!" he shouted.

"AH! AH!" Raph jumped and somersaulted forward over his bucket then spun around. "Mikey!" he snarled and threw the filthy rag at him, hitting him square in the face.

"Gah! Ew, Raph."

He stumbled to the side and kicked over the bucket, spilling the sloppy water and wasp goo all over the floor.

"Real nice, Chuckles." Raph stood up and ripped the bags off his hands. "You know what, since you have so much energy, you can clean that crap up. I'm done."

"Aw, no-o, c'mon! Raph," Mikey whined. Raph turned and waved his hand dismissively as he headed for the bathroom for a nice hot shower. He stood there another moment, holding the rag in two hands before resigning himself to the task at hand. He dropped to his knees with a sigh and started to clean up the sticky slop. It seemed he was only good at making messes and cleaning them up.

A moment later, the gentle tapping of Master Splinter's cane came to him. Mikey glanced up.

"Oh, hi, Sensei."

"You are not finished?"

"Uh, almost," Mikey said and moved a little quicker, feeling embarrassed for still working on something that apparently Master Splinter had expected to only take a few minutes. But there was no way he'd explain why he had to clean up Raph's section as well.

"Good. I wished for you to accompany me, Michelangelo."

With a nod, Mikey stood up and shook out his cramped legs, feeling pins and needles race through his calves. He winced and stooped to pick up the bucket. He set it near the bathroom, since Raph was still taking a shower he could at least dump the contents when he was finished. Mikey dashed over to the kitchen sink and washed his hands. He heard the angry shout from the bathroom and quickly turned the water off remembering it changed the water in the shower icy cold whenever anyone used the sink faucet while the shower was running. Oops. He flinched and chuckled with a shrug as he turned to face a serious looking Splinter. His smile fell and he cleared his throat.

"Uh, ready when you are, Sensei," Mikey said and hopped down to follow Splinter into his room. Surprised but keeping quiet, he followed the rat through his dimly lit room and out a back entrance that led to a narrow tunnel.

"A secret passageway . . . cool. Does Leo know this is here? I bet he does. Does he?"

Splinter merely raised an eye-brow and glanced at him over one shoulder. Mikey fell silent. It lasted less than a minute.

"Uh, not to complain or anything, but where are we going? Are we almost there?"

Splinter only gave a small shake of his head. "Patience, my son."

The tunnel continued, sloping slightly downward and growing shorter to a point where Master Splinter had to duck his head as he walked. Before Michelangelo could ask again as to the timing of their arrival to the destination, the passageway abruptly opened into a small open space. Splinter moved and stood to one side as Mikey stepped inside the room.

"Whoa," Mikey whispered.

The center of the room held a spiral shaped garden; flowers with delicate petals in bright orange and yellow rose up on thin stems, reaching towards the filtered shafts of light drifting down through a metal grate above them. They dotted the air between the ground and the ceiling like floating earth-bound stars. Between the spaces at the base of the flowers were green lacey ferns, with coiling tendrils, surrounded by a gravel path of white, gray and black pebbles and stones of varying shape and size. He could hear the distant sounds of water running and he wondered what part of the city they were near.

Splinter slowly made his way around one side of the circular garden while Mikey moved around the other. Splinter smiled softly as he watched his son delight in the garden's design and contents. His bright blue eyes seemed to glow in the shafts of light; bouncing from one corner of the garden to the other. As expected, his sensitive and intuitive son quickly discovered the hidden treasures tucked carefully between the gravel paths. Each time, Mikey gave a soft gasp of delight as he spotted: a small, carved wooden bird; it's chubby body posed so it's beak pointed up to look at the viewer; a perfectly crafted pair of butterflies carved from a salvaged piece of pine; a tiny basket filled with even smaller wooden eggs; the handle tied with a narrow orange ribbon in a bow.

Splinter eased himself down onto a log laid sideways against the wall on one side of the room; the top smoothed and sanded to be made for a comfortable seat. He set down his cane and picked up the small burlap bag of carving tools he kept behind it. As Mikey completed his circling of the garden, he moved to sit next to Splinter. He shook his head in wonder.

"Master Splinter, this place . . . it's so awesome," he breathed, his voice only a whisper. Something about the nature of this place gave it a special something . . . making it feel almost sacred. "You made those little animals and stuff, didn't you?"

Splinter nodded and opened the bag. Mikey leaned over and peered inside at the array of delicate looking tools. He blinked and sat back.

"I thought perhaps, you would like to learn."

Mikey let that sink in for a moment. He glanced around. "Me?" he squeaked.

Splinter levelled a gentle look at him.

"B-But, I'm no good at that sorta stuff. You know, delicate, detailed stuff? I-I'm more a . . . um, how did Donnie put it?" He paused as his eyes rolled to the ceiling as he thought. "Explosive personality-type." His shoulders slumped. "Sorry, Sensei. Maybe Leo would be a better choice, or even Donnie, he's always working on teeny-tiny computer bits. I'll probably just mess it up anyway."

Master Splinter set the bag to one side. He took Michelangelo's hands one at a time into his and turned them over from front to back and back to front again, examining them. Then he looked into Mikey's eyes, making a show of examining each one carefully. Mikey fidgeted feeling awkward at the intense scrutiny. Master Splinter nodded slowly and made a deep humming sound.

"Two hands, two eyes. Fingers that bend and move. Eyes that see more than what is right in front of them." He set Mikey's hands down. "No one is better suited, I think, to learn this craft, than you, Michelangelo. You have an artist's heart with the spirit of one who can see beyond what is and into what could be."

As Mikey shook his head, unconvinced, Master Splinter reached down and produced a block of wood. He turned it over in his hands and handed it to Michelangelo.

"What is this?" Splinter asked him.

"Uh, a block of wood."

"What could this be?" Splinter asked.

Mikey at first smiled and shook his head, trying to hand it back to Splinter. But Splinter sat unmoving, hands on his lap. When he made no move to take back the piece of wood, Mikey gave a short sigh and turned it over in his hands. Was this some kind of test? What could this be, he thought. What could this be?

Well . . . suddenly he did see something taking shape within the swirling pattern of the grain. A swan with a long arched neck, wings pulled back gracefully.

"I . . . I guess, I see a swan?" Mikey said doubtfully, squinting his eyes.

Splinter raised his eyebrows as he peered at the wood, then he met his son's eyes.

"Very good. Would you like to learn how to bring the swan out from that block in your hands?"

"I don't know, Master Splinter, I really don't think-"

Splinter placed his hand on top of Mikey's. "I believe in you, Michelangelo. In your good heart and your kind spirit. I believe in your keen eye and careful observation. You are well suited for this. As you are for many, many things."

Mikey felt a lump form in his throat. He blinked and dropped his eyes. "Thanks, Master Splinter," he said softly.

Splinter retrieved his bag of tools and proceeded to remove the carving implements one at a time. His voice was level and conversational as he named each tool that he picked up.

"Orange is my favorite color, by the way," he said smoothly in between laying out the tools and naming them. It was so quick, Mikey almost didn't hear it. He blinked twice, unsure that he did actually hear his father say it. But sure enough, Master Splinter indicated with one hand the array of flowers blooming within his garden. Mikey turned his face to look out over the spiraling garden again. Most were orange.

"It is a strong color that evokes happiness, energy and life. It brightens the dimly lit corners of the world and chases shadows away, overcoming darkness."

Michelangelo smiled and his shining eyes met Master Splinter's gleaming amber orbs.

"A color well suited to a person who does much the same with his heart and spirit, would you agree?"

Choked up, he nodded, "H-Hai, Sensei."

Master Splinter cleared his throat. "Let's begin, then. First lesson . . ." he began as he lifted one slender blade and handed it to Michelangelo.

Mikey listened attentively, basking in the loving attention his father had set aside for only him. It was the first of many moments they shared together. Just the two of them.

A/N: To quote Hiro Nakamura from Heroes, YATTAAAAA!

p.s. Orenji is 'orange' in Japanese. heehee