Part One:
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It all began like a normal day, or should I say like a normal night.
I returned home with a wealth of resources from my scavenging hunt. It was a fortunate night indeed.
My sons were still up and awake to the late hours of the night, while they awaited my return just as they do every night whenever I am late.
They'd greet me with wide smiles and offers to help me sort what I have gathered, tuck them into their proper place, and then ask if I wanted something to drink or eat after a long night's work. Usually, I decline for being too tired to eat or drink anything in particular, but on some occasions I only ask for something to see their innocent and eager smiles.
Some times they banter who would get me what I need or desire, after a few vocal fights and discussions among each other, and a few wise suggestions by their eldest, they agreed to ask me one by one if I wanted something, and the selected brother will fetch the item I need, instead of arguing among each other when they need to retrieve anything from either my bedroom or the kitchen.
After my return, I'd often take a quick shower and rest at the kitchen with a cup of tea, for an hour or less before it is bedtime.
After a light meal Michelangelo and sometimes Raphael help me prepare, dinner is served and a little later I would tuck them into bed. Sometimes I would tell them a bedtime story, either a fairytale or a memory of my beloved master Yoshi, while some other times I would be much too tired, but would simply stay with them in the bedroom for a while and listen to their chatter, till they drift off to sleep on their own.
I do not stay there for long, and would remain in their bedroom only until they all fall asleep to tuck them in for the night. It might look simple a task to do during some nights, but with four young and energetic eight year olds, they can be quite the handful to tuck in.
Tonight, however, things went a little not as planned.
When I had stepped out of my shower I could not find my robe. I had placed a chair in front of the rest room so they could place their masks and pads before showering, instead of placing them on the toilet seat inside, just so it'd be easier for me to collect them for washing later. I would often place my used robe on the wooden chair's backrest, so I would take it to my room to have it patched up before cleaning, but it was not there.
I looked for it, but I could not find it anywhere near the restroom. I was confused to where it had gone, because I was sure I had left it on the chair outside the restroom.
Could it be that I had misplaced it, or perhaps one of my sons saw and took it? If so, then why?
I thought back and wondered, because the robe was not stained or dirty, but I do recall that during my hunt this evening, I've accidentally missed seeing an old metal bar that the edge of my robe had gotten hooked in, and when I had moved away my garment got torn.
I hoped to get that tear patched and fixed before I turn in for the night, but perhaps one of my sons noticed it and decided to fix it for me? Then it would probably be Michelangelo with the task. Among his brothers, he is the neatest when it comes to sewing things back together. Mostly it comes from his skill with fixing his stuffed toys whenever there are rips or tears in their cushioned bodies.
With that thought in mind, I decided to go look for my youngest son, and hoped he indeed had my missing garment.
With nothing to put on but a fluffy, white towel it covered me from waist to a little over my ankles. I felt uncomfortably bare, but had no other choice at the moment. My fur was still fairly damp and weighty from the shower, but it was not soaked or dripping wet so it was bearable.
After I secured the towel, I set out towards their bedroom and neared my sons joined bedroom, I could hear their murmurs, giggling and shushed whispers while they chattered, but I thought little of it. They often like to chatter and rant about the events of the day and whatnot before bedtime, I let them talk for it sometimes helps them vent out and tire a little faster, to get those thoughts out of their heads, it would earn them a more restful sleep.
Nevertheless, I rapped my knuckles on the door, wordlessly it informed them I will enter the room, and almost suspiciously their chatter came to a sudden halt, silence filled the room. I think I heard a startled gasp as well, but decided not to think of it, though with a perplexed furrow I gripped the handle and slowly opened the door.
I stared for a moment into the softly illuminated bedroom, and I allowed my eyes a moment to adjust to the darkness, "Good evening, my sons." I greeted quietly and smiled gently, "I can't seem to find my robe, have any of you seen it?"
"Ah!" Michelangelo breathed before he answered timidly, "Um, yeah, it's in your room, sensei."
I blinked once before I arched a questioning brow, "And, if I may ask, how did it get there?" Nervously, the four children shared a glance and I could tell they were trying not to say something. I was tempted to ask, but thought better of it, for then my youngest replied to my question.
"When ya went for the shower, I saw there was a hole so I fixed it." Michelangelo informed.
"Ah, I see. Thank you, my son, I appreciate you doing that." I smiled and nodded in gratitude, "But next time you decide to patch something for me, do let me know of it first, alright?" I requested kindly. I did not want it to sound like I'm scolding him.
A sweet but shy and innocent, sheepish grin flashed on his face, before he gave a firm nod, "I will. No problem, sensei." He replied.
"Thank you." I finished before I looked at the four of them where they shared two beds.
The two beds' frame and wood I found were pretty mismatched. One in two shades of light and dark oak brown, while the other was in a paler shade of yellow and chocolate brown. That was because they were actually four separate beds. Two were smashed and burned and were in poor shape. I guessed there had been a fire in the owner's home, the one who owned the beds, had eaten up the wooden furniture and scorched and almost completely destroyed them, so they had deemed those frames worthless and tossed them out.
With my sons help, we moved the usable pieces one by one down the sewers and carried them home. We improvised by nailing slots of wood on the broken or unsteady parts of the beds, like on the head support and the legs, pushed the two separate beds together and formed one doubled bed. It was big and wide enough for the four of them to lie in and sleep during the night, huddled next to each other if they wanted the physical comfort, or with enough personal space if they didn't want to be latched onto during the night.
It was enough for me to know that they would no longer worry about taking each other's space.
Well, unless Raphael started twisting and turning in restlessness, which happens quite often as of late, ending up taking the blanket and curling into it like a cocoon all to himself. To be honest it worries me, but he would always wake up the next morning and claim to be just fine, that there was nothing wrong. He never was the type to talk much about what bothers him, so I do hope that one day he'll open up to his brothers or I.
Some times it is Michelangelo to sprawls across the bed. Mostly it is if he had a nightmare and latched on to the nearest brother within reach, or in the morning when he decides jumping on the bed would jar them awake, faster than shaking them or nudging them by the shoulder.
Although I've warned him about jumping on the bed, I did not want the supports to break, so he tries not to fall to the temptation.
He did admit that it's more affective, and fun, to wake the heaviest sleeper of them all, namely Raphael, even if it did earn him a literal kick off the bed first thing in the morning.
The only thing I had to worry about was if they were scared during stormy nights, in exception of Raphael who finds thunderstorms quite fascinating, or if they were very cold and didn't have enough sheets and blankets to keep them warm.
Also if one of them wets the bed for some reason, but that usually only accurse when they're having anxiety attacks, and are feeling insecure during dark stormy nights, they all refused to share the stained bed.
Leonardo shifted in his spot on the shared bed, a small frown knotted his brows, "Sensei, did you get hurt tonight?" he questioned, and aroused me from my thoughts.
My brows arched and I was confused at his question, "No, I am fine, Leonardo. Why do you ask?"
"Cause the hole in yer robe was pretty big." Raphael replied, a hint of unease was clear in his voice, "Did you get mugged again?" His brothers may not have noticed it, but his fists twitched and clutched the blanket a little tighter.
To me that was a clear sign that he was suppressing his fears once again.
Raphael had always shown me the potential of becoming a rough and tough-nailed character, some time in the near future when he matures, but already he earned his brothers admiration with his strong physical built, especially for an eight year old. Also, it explained why Michelangelo latches on to him whenever he gets a nightmare, thinking his brother's strength will protect him from the bad dreams.
I recalled a time a few years back, I was still young regarding the changes that had happened to my body, barely more than a few months after the ooze changed us, and my sons were yet too young and were just learning how to speak.
During that time I had put them to bed early and went out scavenging, I had to secure food for to last us a while in spite of the frosty weather. Unfortunately I came across a thug with a knife who wanted to take what I had collected. But thanks to the memories of my beloved master Yoshi, instincts kicked in and I managed to counter his attack by a miracle, I had injured the thug and rendered him immobile, before I escaped to the sewers.
I was slashed on the shoulder, but the injury was not too deep. I returned home and took care of it, but the next morning, my children were frightened and alarmed at the sight of bloodstained clothe that encircled my injury.
They might have been only four years old, if not younger back then, but they acknowledged the seriousness of my injuries, they have been worried since then that I would leave for a scavenging hunt and never come back.
Perhaps it's about time I took them out topside more often, they're old enough to spend more time on the open.
With a soft sigh I sat at the foot of the bed, smiled gently and spoke kindly to sooth their fears and worries, "No, my sons, I did not get attacked." I looked at them one by one with an assuring smile, "I merely got distracted and my robe got hooked to a metal bar, and when I turned to leave I did not notice it and the metallic object tore my robe." I explained simply, sincerely I voiced how it was not an attack at all, but simply a misfortune.
"Really?" Donatello said shyly and a little an unsure.
"Yes, my sons, I'm fine." I assured and to prove it I extended my arm out for them.
Eagerly they almost raced out of bed and struggled with the wrinkled bed sheets, they all scrambled to their feet and into my arms, latched onto my still slightly damp fur and hugged tightly. With a chuckle I held them close and nuzzled them, while I pecked their crowns. I inhaled their scent and treasured the warmth they offered with their small bodies, in spite of their cold-blooded nature as reptiles.
"You smell so nice." Leonardo whispered softly with his snout buried in my chest fur, then giggled as the short tuft of hair tickled him.
"Like fruits! I smell strawberries!" Michelangelo giggled and nuzzled my fur as well.
"I smell grapes, and pineapples!" Donatello exclaimed while he grinned wide.
"Smells like apples to me." Raphael interjected while pressed to my side, but he not nuzzle and his fingers merely sunk in my fur and a tiny, shy and content smile curved on his lips, "But it smells nice anyway." he then agreed.
I stroked their heads and smiled wider as their chatter developed into a conversation about fruits, "Thank you, my sons." I began and gained their attention, "But it is getting late, you should all get back to bed." I suggested.
They didn't want to go to bed yet and argued, but only Michelangelo pleaded sweetly and insisted for five more minutes, before he gave up and then they scurried off and back to bed, they snuggled under the still fairly warm, thick sheets. I tucked them in and we talked a little more, I wished them goodnight, before I exit the room and closed the door.
After I had reached my room I found my robe neatly folded and placed on my small desk, so I unfolded it and gave the patchwork a look. I blinked in surprise when I realized there was now a darker colored piece of patchwork, it replaced the missing piece where the tear was, but it slightly clashed with the color for it was a bit darker and easier to spot.
I knit my brows in confusion, but I remember the robe had ripped only slightly and the piece did not fall off, or did it? If Michelangelo replaced the torn piece that got ripped, then it had either been torn off too badly with loose threads split-out, or he had replaced it because sowing the old piece back in its proper place would have made the garment look funny.
With a negative shake I took off the towel and made sure my fur was dry, discarded it aside to wash it tomorrow, put on the robe and then headed to the kitchen to make a kettle of some green tea.
I meditated for a while longer before I turned in for the night, it had been a long day.
….
Next morning, I woke up early and freshened up and ready for the tasks of the new day.
When I headed into the kitchen to prepare breakfast, but on the way I was greeted by Leonardo, who was the first to wake up earlier than usual. With a drowsy smile we shared a greeting, I continued to the kitchen while he headed to the bathroom. Once freshened up, he joined me in the kitchen and helped me prepare breakfast for his brothers and himself.
Donatello and Raphael and then lastly Michelangelo soon joined us.
After the pleasant meal of breakfast there was a free recess time, before the morning practice sessions began. While I remained in the kitchen to wash the dishes, my sons each went to spend some time in an activity they liked, before it was time for me to call them to the dojo.
Except that today, Raphael had surprisingly offered to help with the dishes.
I looked at him a little startled at first, because he had never offered to help with such a task before. Donatello would offer every now and then, and Michelangelo would offer if he wanted to beg for something in return, while Leonardo offered only if he was confident enough to not end up breaking any dishes, which usually means that I often do them alone.
Although I thanked him for his offer I told him it was not necessary, I could finish them on my own but he insisted with an adorably stubborn frown and pout, and it almost matched his youngest brother's. With a bemused smile I gave in to his stubbornness, allowed him to help me by drying the dishes and setting them in order in the dish tray.
The process was a bit slow at first, because he did not know how to organize them properly. In the beginning he placed them by putting the dishes in a stacked and messed up order, making them clatter noisily when they tilt over. When we were almost done, I realized there was no space for the last of the dishes, because of his disorganized stacking, so I had to reorganize them.
The flat and not so deep dished were set in order first, and then the deeper bowls tucked inside each other to save some space, with the spoons and forks on the other side of the tray, a smaller space that was designed for them.
Once done with the last dishes, I handed him a towel to dry his hands.
"Thank you for helping me, my son." I thanked him, petted his head and then headed to the stove for some tea.
He grinned shyly and peered up at me, but before he attempted to exit the kitchen after the task was done, he asked, "Sensei?"
"Yes, Raphael?" I replied, already I placed the soap and suds stained towel on the counter, I had to rinse them out and let them dry some time later.
He hesitated for a moment, fingered one hand and avoided eye contact, "Um, well…" he glanced away, almost as if he expected one of his siblings to walk in, but after he heard their laughter while they watched the monitor, it assured him they weren't coming. He turned to look at me again a little more confident, "Do your whiskers ever fall off?" he inquired, almost nervously.
I quirked a brow and wondered why he asked such a thing, "Not very often, why?" I asked, curious to what was on his mind. He squirmed a bit and a brief glint of disappointment shone on his features. "Is something the matter, my son?" I encouraged him to tell me, and wondered if there was something brothering him but he was too shy to talk about it.
"No, it's nothing." He gave a forced, small smile and slightly shook his head. He peered up at me with a sweet smile, before it grew into a huge grin, and then his small body raced out of the kitchen.
I watched him dash out in puzzlement, so with a fist on my hip I stroked my chin with the other, absently I groomed the small tuft of hair on my chin, and then fingered my long whiskers. I felt clueless to his peculiar question regarding them, it made no sense to me.
'I wonder what that boy is up to.' I thought to myself.
Soon the voices of his brothers whilst they shouted in excitement at the monitor, told me they were watching one of their favorite early morning cartoons. Their laughter bubbled and bloomed in the lair, and it brought a smile to my face.
It was enough to make me shrug off Raphael's question. It will probably answer itself in due time.
Raphael wasn't acting too strangely, it's not the first time for him to act this way.
Often he would start to ask me something, only to change his mind before he would shrug it off, and then run off to do some other thing or another. Perhaps he wanted to discuss something with me, but then changed his mind, or perhaps he just didn't know how to express or word it? Would it have anything to do with last night when they thought I was injured?
No, I don't think that was quite it for one he did not look distressed or scared, just a little inquisitive.
He always did have trouble voicing out his problems, though.
Among his three brothers, Raphael is the only one to mostly keep his unconfident and negative feelings held inside, he would never express them unless he's having a terrible tantrum, when they pile atop each other and pressure him too much. I suspect they're the source of his temper, but I also know forcing him to tell me how he feels would only bring negative, if not disastrous results.
While Donatello keeps his anger bottled in tight, Michelangelo harbors his sadness to himself, he would hide it under fake laughter or pranks on his brothers, but both would only last a while before their discomfort overrides them, and when they burst out it is never a good thing. Leonardo however is a bit more open regarding his feelings with his brothers most of the time, unless he doesn't feel like sharing and would come to me when he needs to talk, or just for the sake of having a friendly ear.
I shrugged the thought of a hidden problem aside. If my temperamental son had something to say in spite of his reluctance, he knows he can always come to me. He will come when he's ready and I will not force him to talk.
He might be stubborn, but he knows when he needs to vent out his problems with words or complaints.
After that, I busied myself with organizing the kitchen and made sure everything was neatly in place, before I set about preparing some light snacks for them to have after lunch. I placed them in the small fridge to cool, which Donatello had managed to make work so conveniently, and to be honest with myself, I'd have no idea what our life would have been like, if it had not been for his fetish with technology.
Perhaps I should bake a pie for them today, they deserve something special.
With that in mind I decided to bake it for tonight, so I searched through the cupboards to secure the needed ingredients.
A short while later I called them to the dojo, for it was time for their morning practice.
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A/N: nothing much, reposted the chapter with a few spelling and grammar tweaks, but it's still the same…