Distinctions

Disclaimer: Sadly, they aren't mine. They belong to their creators, who have so graciously allowed myself, and other authors, a chance to play in their sandbox.

HUGE THANK YOU TO ALEXLUKE for your continued feedback and support!

AN: Another short, stand alone, one shot focusing on the turtles when they're young. A little glimpse into their lives before they became the warriors we know and love.

Turtles estimated age: 5 yrs old

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Splinter inhaled deeply, allowing the peace and silence to fill his being. Meditation was a welcome reprieve into clarity and centering one's turbulent thoughts. Here, in the dojo, the outside world fell away, giving tranquility to rest weary souls.

Time stood still.

The dojo was perfectly placed in the back of their home. What noise the turtles were making in the lair was drastically reduced via thick concrete and brick walls.

Upon finding the manmade cavern 3 years ago, Splinter had instructed his young sons to generate as much noise as possible while he sought the place offering the most insulation from noise. Being two years old, they had celebrated the task with enthusiasm.

The isolated niche was the perfect place to practice meditation, as Splinter was training his young sons in ninjitsu. Though they were only five years old, already they showed promise to be excellent ninjas.

Stealth was a natural for them. They made a game out of who could remain statuesque for the longest time. Who could sneak up on others when they least expected it.

Even Splinter was not immune to such games.

His sons took it as a personal challenge to see who could sneak up on their father. Little did they know, Splinter didn't need ninja training to sense when his sons were near.

Donatello was always fiddling with whatever gadget or machinery he could get his stubby fingers on. He was a whiz at fixing things. Electronics spoke to him on a level unparalleled. It was the same for mechanics. He spent endless hours absorbed in the disassembling and reassembling of machines and engines.

Which in effect, made the dorky terrapin smell of burnt plastic, ionized ozone, and assorted oils used in machines and electronic components.

Splinter could smell him a mile away.

Same with Raph and Mikey, though they lacked the scent of engineering.

Their smells were natural.

Raphael's feet would turn the most iron stomach into brittle china. No matter how many times he bathed or soaked them, there was always a lingering stench around the turtle's feet.

Michelangelo also carried an odor, but mainly because his stomach was having difficulty adapting to certain foods, thus making him extremely gassy. How one little turtle could fart so much was a mystery to the ninja master. He hoped his son outgrew such a hindrance.

Ninja had to be stealthy, easily overlooked by an enemy.

One could not remain hidden from unfriendly eyes when they constantly ripped out loud, eye watering, lung choking, paint peeling, upholstery melting farts.

And then there was Leonardo.

Strangely enough, he didn't retain odors, nor seem to exude anything distinctive, but that didn't mean Splinter couldn't detect him.

Leo's fault was his breathing.

Loud, heavy, panting breaths. Even when he slept, his breath was labored.

Splinter feared he may have a health condition and monitored the youngster constantly. His greatest fear was his sons becoming sick or injured, and he be unable to help them.

Meditation done for the day, Splinter opened his eyes.

And came face to face with a green giant with large blue eyes, hovering within an inch of his nose.

Splinter unleashed a very un-ninja like noise, something akin to a scream, squeak, and choking bark, jumping a foot in the air, heart lodging in his throat.

Leo tilted his head curiously at his father's reaction.

Clutching his chest, Splinter took several deep breaths to calm his racing heart. He hadn't detected Leo's presence. In fact, as his heart stopped pounding in his ears, he detected nothing from Leo. The usual heavy breathing was gone. Leo appeared calm, if not put out.

"Leonardo, what is wrong?" Splinter asked.

Leo leaned forward. Being short, his nose was even with Splinter who knelt. Noses nearly touching, Leo explained the dilemma.

"Mikey pooped."

"Ah," Splinter said, getting up to put some distance between he and Leo. "I will be there shortly."

"K," Leo said, scampering off, his objective complete.

Splinter stared after his son.

Why had he not heard the youngster approach? Leo was barely an inch from Splinter's nose. Why did he not hear or smell him?

Could it be, Leonardo was learning to control his breathing?

If that were the case, Splinter was in trouble!

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