A/N: Not sure where the inspiration for this story came from. I guess I was just in a really dark mood and wanted to write a dark story. Don't worry, this isn't dark just for the sake of being dark. This story contains adult subject matter and violence. Reader discretion is advised.

Thanks to Amonraphoenix and Darkunderworld for beta-ing for me.

Disclaimer: Don't own the Turtles, only the OCs

The lights and sounds of Tokyo were intoxicating. It was the Japanese version of New York City, and it made him feel like he was back home; even though he hadn't been home in almost thirteen years. Raphael sat on the roof of a high rise eating ramen from a take-out bowl as he watched the people and cars go by on the street far below him. Ramen had become his go-to meal since winding up in the Asian city. It was like pizza back in New York, and it was one of the few things Raphael could cook without burning the kitchen down.

He had to learn a lot of things when he moved; cooking being just one of them. At first he couldn't tolerate his own cooking, mostly because what he tried to cook ended up turning into something inedible or a charcoal brick. So he resorted to eating take-out most times. However, that got to be on the expensive side, so Raphael had no other choice but to learn how to cook for himself. There were times when he missed Michelangelo's home cooking, but as time went by Raphael found that, when he put his mind to it, he could make a decent dish.

Raphael scooped up another bite full of noodles with his chopsticks and popped it into his mouth. His mind wandered back to New York and wondered how his family and friends were doing. He hoped they were doing a lot better than when he had left them. Raphael sighed sadly as he finished his dinner. He wouldn't be surprised if his brothers never wanted to see him again after what happen. The guilt of abandoning his family in such a difficult time still haunted him; but it had been for the best.

Raphael looked down into the clear golden broth still left on the bottom of the bowl. He tipped the bowl up to his lips and drank the remainder of the broth down. He dropped the chopsticks into the empty bowl and got to his feet. The wind swept through his black dojo uniform, chilling him. He had gotten a job teaching martial arts in a local dojo, being careful to keep his appearance hidden. When asked about why he kept his face covered, Raphael said that he had been caught in a fire and his face was badly disfigured. At the time the dojo was in desperate need of teachers, so he was hired the next day.

Teaching kids martial arts not only helped them, but it helped Raphael, too. It forced him to train every day to keep his skills sharp. It also reminded him of Splinter and Leonardo; his heart ached to see his sensei and brothers again. But they were from another life, Japan was his home now and his students were his family. Raphael just hoped that Splinter would have been proud of him.

Raphael walked across the roof to the door that led down into the small apartment building. He pulled the hood up to cover his face and opened the door. He walked down the hallway to his apartment. He took out the keys and unlocked the door.

"Raphael-san," someone called out to him.

Raphael turned his head to see a young couple walk up the hallway. He gave them a bow. "Good evening," he replied in flawless Japanese.

"How was work?" the man asked.

Raphael shrugged casually. "The same as any other day," he answered. "Kids will be kids."

The man chuckled. "They always will be," he agreed. "Enjoy your evening."

"Good night," Raphael said before opening the door and walking into the diminutive apartment.

He closed the door, locked it and pushed back the hood; letting out a tired sigh. Raphael looked around the cramped space. A few pieces of furniture took up most of the living room area. The bedroom was taken up by a single bed and a dresser. Raphael walked over to the window and pulled the curtains across. When he was safely out of view from prying eyes, Raphael peeled off the uniform and threw it on the bed. He pulled on his knee and elbows pads and his wrist pads as he walked out into the living room. Raphael groaned as he fell on to the couch. He picked up the remote and switched on the TV. It turned on to a news channel. The main story was about the recent string of kidnappings that was taking place around Tokyo. Raphael sighed as they showed a picture of another young, beautiful girl that had gone missing.

"Smart kid, got good grads, loved by everyone, very pretty..." Raphael sighed. "The perfect target."

He flipped through the channels for a good ten minutes before giving up and turning off the TV. He got to his feet and headed into the bedroom. After putting away his dojo uniform, Raphael fell on the bed and stared up at the ceiling. If this happened back in New York, he and his brothers would waste no time in trying to find the missing girls before it was too late. But missing persons were best left to the proper authorities over here; and Raphael was rusty in his detective skills. Besides, detective work was mostly Leonardo and Donatello's thing, he was just the one who hit the bad people when they found them.

With the thought of his family lingering in his mind, Raphael closed his eyes and soon drifted off into a deep sleep; dreaming of his brothers and sensei and wondering if he would ever see them again.

Reviews are welcome, flames are not