Here you finally have it: Mike and Soap's mini book. My muse has been absent with my recent health issues, so posting from now on will be sporadic. I apologize, but I do have plans for more books and wholeheartedly hope the story is worth the wait.

P.S. - For clarity's sake: Raph and Nia have three kids (twin girls named Selene and Nyx and then a boy named Keitaro) while Leo and Coyo have triplets (Yoshi II, Dai, and Zolin.) When it comes to genetics, these cousins strike 'big.' XD

CHAPTER 01: ATTENTION

Hamato Michelangelo leaned further into his ring of brothers. "I got it," he said. And he paused for effect, even if it was lost on the three deadpan mutants. "Hang gliding."

There was another pause—this one less planned.

"Hang gliding?" Leonardo echoed.

"Why not?"

Raphael rubbed below his eye-patch. "How the hell are ya gunna propose while hang glidin', Shell-for-Brains?"

"Just imagine," Mikey answered, "the dexterity and strength I show when I hold the handles from behind."

Donatello blinked. "Uh-huh."

"And I open the box...with my feet!"

A unanimous groan forced the brothers back in their seats in Saisei's living room, although their exaggeration made no sense. "What do you have against that plan?"

"Pretty much the same as all the others we've gone over," Leo said.

"It's stupid," added Raph in a grumble.

Mike sent him a dry look. "Says the guy who 'proposed' and 'married' Nia in one night."

"We didn't need no ceremony. Neidder did Braniac 'n Gray."

"Well," Don said, "to have the choice would've been nice."

"'Sides, Doofus, I didn't hold Ni's face wit' my feet an' ask."

"I never mentioned anything about holding Hoshi with my feet, Raphy."

"Right, ya'd be too busy nosedivin' ta avoid her wrath."

"Why do you all have to be such sticks-in-the-mud?"

"We're not," answered Donny. "We're just here to keep things, ya know...reasonable."

"Hang gliding's reasonable. We got the Gliders!"

"Mike," Leo earned a huff and his youngest brother's blue-eyed stare, "you want this to be special. But special and ridiculous don't have to coincide."

"I've spent the last two years saving up for a ring," Mikey argued. "A real ring, too—not some online discount home-project."

Raph growled at the hand gestured towards him and Leo narrowly stopped his anger from meeting the jokester's head.

"Thought counts more than price," their Jonin tacked on.

"Yeah?" Mike asked him. "Guess there has to be some truth in that since Coyo said 'yes' to your mutated pig necklace."

"It's called a Monamictia," Leo said through gritted teeth. "And it's an owl."

"It is?" Don asked Raph softly.

The Jonin waved his hands as the hothead shrugged. "That's not the point. Mike, I know you're excited Paige found this guy."

"He's not just a 'guy', Leo. He's a Justice of the Peace, who marries mutants! I mean, ya'll should consider renewing vows."

Don chuckled. "Mel would be petrified."

"My marriage was legal, if in another country," added Leo.

"An' Ni said she wouldn't wanna go through that mess for somethin' the rest 'a us consider real."

"Losers," Mikey grumbled. He crossed his arm with a pout, though when Leo rested a hand on his carapace from the couch's other side, he sighed.

"The best way to get Soap's attention is to be genuine," the Jonin said.

"You think I'd send a dummy up there gliding with her?"

Raph snorted. "There'd be a dummy one way or anoddah."

"Just keep thinking about it," Don told Mike. "Remember: the more impactful things sometimes aren't the flashiest."

"Yeah," Leo agreed, "you're a turtle, not a peacock."

Geez. Michelangelo rolled his eyes with as much exaggeration as he could muster. How'd he wind up with so many brothers who underappreciated creativity? 'I bet Coyo would be more fun to plan with, but she can't keep a secret to save her life.' Who'd that leave? The Hamato Matriarchs, since the most notable Patriarch had given him similar advice to Leo and the other was, well, Gavin. 'Hugh may be more ideas, too.'

"Mike?"

The Jokester sent his eldest brother a look. "We'll just see what Mama A has to say. I bet she'll—" Mikey's arm vibrated with a text from his Smartband. He slid his finger across the ovular touchscreen to open its on-going thread with his should-be-mother-in-law. Unfortunarly, the mutant could only make out a few curses. "Ugh, I hate it when she answers in all Italian!"

"What'd ya piss her off wit' this time, Dork?"

"You don't know she's pissed, Raphy."

"It's written all over yer goofy face."

Mikey growled as he hid his Smartband screen, and Donny spared a gap-tooth smile, saying, "You'd think you'd know Italian by now."

"Dog commands, Dude. Mama A and Sophie don't make the best teachers."

"Not that you make the best student."

"It's complicated, alright? You guys are all on the same page as me. Except Leo. But the only reason he knows a third language is thanks to that alien mind-meld trick."

Everyone turned to Leonardo when he looked like he'd retort. He didn't. Or rather, he couldn't, and Donatello nodded when the Jonin stood down.

"He isn't wrong, Leo."

"I know."

"Look, you guys can sit here and be wet blankets," added Mike while standing. "I'm going to find more lively company."

"Women are in the kitchen, last I knew," Leo offered.

The orange-masked mutant glanced between the two eldest Hamatos. "Shouldn't you guys be on there too?"

"I was told I make more of a mess than my kids," Raph said first.

"Yoshi and Dai behave themselves, but Zolin gets distracted throwing food at me," Leo said second.

Mike shook his head. "And you call yourselves fathers."

The duo gave dirty looks that were hardly a concern by the jokester's standards. He twirled on a heel then entered the grand kitchen he knew better than any other ninja. Once, it had seemed empty. How could the clan possibly fill nearly twenty barstools along the island counters lining the walls? But it had grown smaller over the years, especially with their gaggle of kids running about. Nia camped in the only real open area, where she had easy access to food and six high-chairs occupied by Mike's nieces and nephews. He could smell the mixed flavors of their preferences, the heat of overused appliances, and the loudest complaints came from the most-often discontented hybrid.

Mike caught a red blob heading for his head, ducking to see it splatter against the brick wall behind him. "Whoa, attack of the killer tomatoes!"

"Come on, Zolin," Nia whined, "you gotta eat at least one vegetable."

"Aren't tomatoes a fruit, technically?" Mikey rounded the counter edge to face his artistic sister, who straightened while rubbing her hands down her dinosaur-print dress.

"You know," she started, "we wouldn't have near as much trouble getting them to eat healthier if someone didn't spoil them."

"What? Moi? Spoil? Only with love! Have you considered they just may not like tomatoes?" Mike leaned in close to Zolin's chair to add in an undertone, "It's your fault we got caught, Lin. You know what you did."

Zolin stared back with defiant eyes that matched Coyo's only in hue.

He smashed a tomato slice against his uncle's mouth with his five-fingered hand, and the older mutant sucked it up, maintaining a hard look. "You're lucky I like tomatoes, Kid. Reminds me of pizza."

"I swear this job gets harder as they age." Nia blew bangs out of her mis-matched eyes then pushed back the flyaways from her shoulder-length ponytail, smearing sweat across her cheeks.

"Where're the other soldiers?" Mike asked.

"Busy. Then Coyo's in the pantry, trying to find something that won't break Dai out in rashes."

"Poor fella. She could be lost in there for hours."

"She's gotten better at reading labels, but..." The artist glanced to the open door where shuffling noises sounded alongside the toddler chatter.

"I commend you for taking over all alone. Crazy lady."

"I'm praying Coyo comes back soon; she's the only one who can make Zolin behave."

Mikey chuckled. Of the three leaf-green triplets, he never pegged the youngest spitfire as a Mama's boy. However, the guilt across his sour-puss face whenever Coyo cried proved the nine-month-old hybrid had a conscious. Somewhere. Deep inside.

'He's a lot like Raph, but less...remorseful. It's been nuts watching them grow.' They were amazing—all six—and Mikey glossed over their various \ complextions with a wide smile.

"Mikey-neechan, are you okay?"

"Look at 'em, Ni."

"I...am?"

"No. Really look. Look at their potential, their future. They already outnumber the current Phantoms. We're going to be an army of butt-kicking green machines!"

"Do—do—don't start thinking about that just yet."

"Why not? They got lots of personality to add to the team. Take Yoshi, for instance." Mike kneeled by the eldest triplet occupied with balancing mac and cheese on a fork. He somewhat grimaced at the interruption, freckled cheeks pushing upwards as his uncle continued, "How are you this fine afternoon? Looking cleaner than any normal child should—a testament to your...let's call it 'attention to detail' and not 'a neurotic sickness,' kay? And Nyx." The orange-masked mutant need only turn the opposite direction to face the darkest-hybrid. "Always willing to boss around. Put that skill to better use than your Daddy, you could very well be the next leader! What do ya say?"

Nyx's teal and gold eyes narrowed as she pushed her eight sticky fingers against Mike's nose like he would steal her watermelon. "Away!"

The uncle whipped the fruit juice from his face. "Charmed as always. And still not leader material. That's okay. Maybe we should go another route: someone quiet and brooding like our very own Keitaro."

Mikey next visited the only hybrid with a shell who preferred to sit a chair-length's away from his sisters and cousins. He ate without complaint, verbal or otherwise, and Nia's Sight left her brother tingling when Keitaro glanced up—every bit his father's son, save for blue-green eyes and fine black hairs.

"He still refuses to say his first words, Ladies and Gents," Mikey said into a make-believe microphone. "But is he mimicking his mute sis? Or does he just have no desire to communicate? Which is it, Kei?"

Keitaro stared blandly at the 'microphone' offered to him.

"What a conundrum! You squander a gift, Good Sir. Selene, got any words—er, signs—for your grim brother?" The Jokester skipped over two highchair spaces to poke the long-haired toddler who silently laughed, face dirtied by mashed potatoes. "What? Nothing? Just giggles? I'll take 'em. We need the contrast to—"

A light slap sounded then Nia, "Lin, stop stealing from Dai!"

"Good gravy, again? Lin, Lin, Lin what've told you about sharing?" Mikey returned to Zolin. So what if the triplet disagreed with the proximity?

"Keep making that face, Lin-kun," Nia said, "it'll get stuck that way."

"Listen to your Aunty Nia; she's married to the perfect example."

Zolin cared about as much as his orange-masked uncle did about bugging the kids; he continued to push mashed tomatoes bits off his tray, whining in cave man talk.

"You spend too much time with that the example," Mikey continued. "I've never seen a kid glare so skillfully."

"I think he was born that way."

The Jokester took a moment to reflect on the baby pictures gathered in the scrapbooks Mia had started. "I think you're right. But I guess every team needs some tough guys. He may've been made that way to pick up the slack from the less violent members. Like Sel and Dai."

"I—I don't think Dai will ever be a fighter."

"What do ya mean?" Regarding the center highchair, Mikey spotted Dai. The hybrid wore a knitted hat, despite it being summer, and whimpered as he waved away a fly from his lunch. The Chūnin bent down to his eye level and didn't speak again until Dai stopped flinching long enough to meet his uncle's gaze. "Oh, he'll fight. He has the blood of a great ninja warrior flowing through his veins."

Dai's bottom lip jutted out as his almond eyes glistened.

"Or not," Mikey amended. "You don't gotta. Come on, don't cry."

"There's no shame in not wanting to fight, Dai-kun," Nia said. "You can stay here with Aunty Nia and Sel-chan."

"Enabler."

"Excuse me?"

"Nothing. Coyo!" Mikey raised his arms to bring attention to the frazzle-haired native who returned with questionable bags of organic food and Twitch atop her head. "You survived your pantry raid. Got any idea where Hoshi is?"

The change in subject made the sister-cousin's exchange a look, although they took it in stride, as they should.

"Why not call her face?" Coyo asked. She pointed to the video intercom system Donatello had installed, and Mikey scoffed.

"I don't wanna announce to all of Saisei I'm looking for her. I wanna surprise her."

"But voices always surprise." The native shuddered from what was likely a memory of her stabbing one of the sub-systems with a knife. Somewhere, Donny shuddered as well; Mikey just knew it.

"If you aren't going to help, Mikey-neechan, please stop distracting the kids."

"Geeze, Mama Bear, alright. I'm on a hunt anyway. Just," he glanced at the hybrids, "got side-tracked by cuteness. I'll leave you to it."

When Mikey returned to the living room, his brothers were nowhere in sight. Odd, but the sun hadn't set, which meant they hadn't left for patrol without him. He resolved to find them later and headed upstairs. He found Cuddles climbing the brick wall just outside the bathroom, and gathered the albino tarantula with both hands.

"You know you give Raph a heart attack," he said. "As funny as it is, I don't trust him not to squash you in fear. Got it?"

Cuddles waved her half-leg.

"What is it, Girl? Something wrong?"

The fuzzy half-leg waved again. It seems to point to the ajar door decorated with a metal star. Inside seemed still, but Cuddles' twitches and a gut feeling told the mutant that wasn't the case. He entered to find Sophia in the near-dark, hunched over something on the floor beside their bed. She didn't notice him until the mutant's foot found a stale chip. He cringed, and the slender blonde spun in a defensive position before hiding her hands behind her back.

"Ooh, mystery," Mikey said.

Hoshi panted softly as if at war with her emotions.

"What's that?" her boyfriend pressed.

"Niente."

"If it's nothing, why you hiding it?" Cuddles still in hand, the Chūnin attempted to peek behind Hoshi, but she was quick enough to evade. "Is it a present? Is it for me?"

"Figo."

"Let's see. It's not Christmas. Too late for DAFHT. Birthday and Easter were a while ago. Uh, what else is there? Saint Paddy's Day? We had some drinks for that, just because Gavin's Irish."

"It's not any of that."

"Hope not. Now we're down to things like President's Day and Tax Day. No one cares about those."

"Ugh, Figo," Sophie growled. "It's not a present!"

"Then what is it? I've never seen that shoebox before."

"Because you aren't the one who cleans our room."

"Don't change the subject. Hoshi," Mikey's voice softened, "you know you don't have to keep secrets from me."

"It isn't—" The blonde huffed as she stood. "It's not a secret, either."

"Then what is it?"

"Hard, okay? It's hard." Sophia's hazel eyes struck Michelangelo with a rare vulnerability that overcame him with the need to free his hands in case she outright crumbled. She chewed her pink lips, cast her vision aside as her boyfriend let Cuddles crawl up his neck unto his carapace.

"Hey." Mikey uncircled her waist.

Somehow, she felt smaller than usual when she lifted her hands along his plastron. Numerous papers blossomed from her hold. It seemed a miracle they stayed in one piece through their mended rips, stains, and creases. Although the faded letters on them were in Italian, the mutant sensed sorrow and pain in the ink—a raw sensation, which ran from paper to Hoshi to Mikey.

"It's my father's birthday," Sophie said. "These letters...are from him."