It had been so cold that night.

Somehow it had been starting to get better, though. The coldness was slowly going away, replaced by a strange emptiness. She'd heard a word for it before, but hadn't been able to remember it at the time. Now she could. Numb. She had been going numb. A weird feeling, but she had thought anything better than the unending cold. Even so, she had been so hungry and could barely breathe and her throat and head had hurt so much, and those pains would not numb.

Then, as if in response to a prayer she hadn't sent, someone gave her food.

She'd thought he was a woman at first, with his pretty dress, but his voice was too deep, too powerful. Hopeful, she had asked for more food, wanting to see if it had truly been him who had helped her. And he was, as right after more food had appeared in her hands. He spoke to her then, so kindly, so gently, the first person that spoke to her in longer than she could remember.

She hadn't wanted to leave him, this kind person. She wanted to stay with him, live with him, like she had with her mother before she died. She wanted it more than anything, even the food he laid at her feet when he misunderstood her. But she hadn't been able to tell him. She'd tried, best as she could, but it almost wasn't enough and he almost left her.

Then he rested a hand so warm on her cheek and took her into his arms, and she knew instantly that she loved him.

When her tears had stopped she had been surprised to find that he was not just a man, but also a rat. A rat man. She hadn't known that was possible. The rat man, the kind man, asked her once again what she wanted from him, and she clung to him with all the strength she had. She did not want to lose him. She refused to lose him.

And she did not. He'd finally understood and taken her with him underground, beneath the manhole covers and far into the dark tunnels below the city. Through the sewers he ran, faster than she'd known anyone ever could, until he had carried her to what she now knew as the Lair. He hadn't stopped there though, taking her through a room with a small tree and into a dark room past sliding doors.

That was when things became blurry.

It had been touch-and-go for a while, she was told. She had been so horribly sick, and on top of that she'd been underweight and practically frozen. Days passed before she was anywhere near stable, and it took many more weeks after that until she was anywhere close to healthy. It was really a miracle he had found her, else she surely would have died. It really was a miracle that she had lived.

Her whole life after that cold day was made of miracles.

During that time she'd been kept alone, in the kind person's room. She'd heard voices outside, young voices she couldn't understand, but it was only the kind man who ever entered the room. He fed her, clothed her, cared for her, and though she hadn't thought it possible her adoration for him grew every moment.

The day came when was she was completely well, and the kind man spoke to her. "My child," He'd said to her as he sat in that funny way he liked to, "I am happy to say that you are healthy again. Now that you are, however, I have some things I must ask you. Many weeks ago you wished to come with me, and you have. But I must make sure that we are both clear on your intentions. Did you only wish to come with me for a time, or had you meant to stay with me always?"

It had been always. Always and forever.

He'd smiled when she held up two fingers, indicating the second answer. "Very well. But if that is the case, I must tell you a story." The kind man took a deep breath. "Years ago, I was a human. I came to this city from Japan, a land across the sea, after a dear friend betrayed me and took everything that I loved. One day, as I was walking home from the pet store with four baby turtles I had purchased, I spotted a suspicious man and followed him into an alley. There I was discovered by him and his fellows when I accidentally stepped on a rat and caused it to shriek. We fought, and I was the victor. However, one of the men was carrying a canister filled with a strange ooze, and the fight caused it to shatter. The ooze got onto me, and changed me into what I am today, while the turtles became more human-like. Knowing that we would never be accepted by society, I hid us all in the sewers of New York, where we have been ever since."

The kind man had paused in his story and looked her straight in the eye. "The reason I am telling you this story is because if you choose to stay here, you must remain in the sewers until I allow otherwise. Our secret cannot risk being revealed to anyone. You will be trained in the way of the ninja and become a kunoichi, a female ninja...and we will become your family, the turtles as your brothers, and I as your father. Knowing all this, do you still want to stay?"

She hadn't hesitated to nod. There was nothing she wanted more in the world.

His shoulders had relaxed a little and he smiled. "Very well. Shall we go meet your brothers, then?" Asked the kind man – her father – as he stood and held out a hand for her to take. Her returning smile was so big it had hurt her face as she took his hand.

Together they'd opened the door to the room to find the turtles – her brothers, her family – waiting right outside with their lack of ears to the door. They fell inside when it slid open and glanced up at their father sheepishly. Then their eyes had all moved down to her and widened larger than she had thought they were able to.

Her brothers all jumped to their feet and began clamoring in that strange way she'd heard, the bouncy song-like gibberish. Their father responded in kind, silencing them in a quiet tone that somehow boomed. She guessed that he introduced her, because all eyes went back to her and silence filled the air. Unsure of what to do, she had given a little wave.

That seemed to do the trick as the boys had immediately surrounded her, chattering amongst themselves in their strange way. One of them curiously and tentatively reached a hand out to stroke her hair, and she had leaned into the touch, seeing that he had none of his own to play with. That gave the others courage to examine her as well, her hands, her feet, her back, her skin, her ears, her face, and she had gotten to know them in kind.

She had loved them instantly, too.

But living with them was harder than she'd have thought.

Curiosity created an initial bond between her and her brothers, but at the time they could only speak Japanese, and she could not speak at all. Frustration grew among the boys when she could not understand what they tried to tell her, until they gave up speaking to her entirely. Eventually they solved their language barrier, the boys learning English while she learned to write in both English and Japanese, but it was the start of a gap between them that would only grow.

She was not a good ninja. Worse than even the brother who would prefer to solve problems with words rather than violence. Her lack of speech made her a liability in combat, when they needed to communicate and work together for victory. She was too soft, in both heart and body. Criticism was hard for her to hear, she cried at the slightest provocation, she bruised too easily, and she did not have the stamina or talent to keep up with the rest of them. She lacked their mutant strength, their animal instincts. The only real skill she was superior in was her stealth. If she did not want to be found even her father would be hard pressed to find her.

Simply living with them was difficult too. Her stomach wasn't able to properly handle what her family ate, their worms and algae. Writing out her every thought to them was frustrating and unreasonable, paper being too scarce a resource to be used so constantly. She missed the rumble of cars across the city roads, the cries of animals feral and tamed, the hum of streetlights and neon signs, the constant murmur and footsteps of people as they passed her by, and the sky most of all.

Most of all, she was just too different.

Her body, her human body, which had once been a wonder to the turtles and a fact of life for her, slowly became a point of scorn and a source of shame. She had no scales to shield her skin, no shell to protect her when she fell. Her five-fingered hands could do a lot of things her brothers struggled with. She had hair and visible ears and she was purely human. She was different. So different. And she herself hated it most of all. Because of her body she was even allowed to go to the surface earlier than her brothers were. It had been an exception made of necessity, as she could go into a store to buy medical supplies without true risk, but it was an exception that had not ended afterward, an exception that her brothers were deeply jealous of. That they might even have resented her for.

She didn't bother to point out that she had lived up there for many years prior. Not that she could have.

Even their father treated her differently. Arguments were usually decided in her favor when she was involved, and he was much gentler on her during combat. She was given more hugs and pats on the head than all of her brothers combined. Punishments were lighter, more trust was given, she was hovered over more when sick or injured, and he was far more overprotective of her than any of the others.

And no matter what she did, nothing changed.

She tried to speak, so that they could communicate with each other without the need for gestures or paper, but she was never successful. All the attempts gave her was a burning in her throat. Trying to fit in more by binding her fingers together so they functioned as three on each hand or wearing something on her back to resemble a shell resulted in looks of dismay from her father, while her brothers would 'accidentally' destroy them in combat. She trained longer and harder than even her oldest brother, yet she was always lagging behind them anyway and the extra practice just made them think her trying to impress their father. She tried to meet their expectations, but she always fell short. No matter what she did, it was never enough.

The gap between them became a ditch, and the ditch a trench, and the trench a yawning chasm, and she could only stare across wondering and wishing for a way to bridge it.

Her brothers loved her, of course. She had no doubt of that, even though they never spoke the words. But she did not think that they loved her in the same way she loved them, wholly and unconditionally. She did not believe that they loved her as family. They never called her bro, or imouto, or sister, or sis, or even sissy, which was an insult that she would have expected her strongest brother to jump on immediately. But he never did. None of them ever did.

She knew that her father loved her. She knew why her father loved her. And she was okay with that. She could play that role. Even if her love from him was second-hand, she could accept it. Because he had been the first to speak to her in what had felt like an eternity. Because he had saved her life and taken her in, given her food and clothes and a family and a name. Because he was the person who meant the most to her in the entire world.

And she was okay with all of it.

But sometimes the lies and differences hurt so bad she could hardly breathe.

Some might have found it funny how, living deep inside the sewers of New York City, with an elderly mutant ninja master rat for a father and four teenage mutant ninja turtles for brothers, it was she, the human girl, who was the freak.

Miwa wasn't laughing.