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Burning Willows

Chapter 1: Game of Flames

"NINJA TAG!" was the yell from Michelangelo that spurred four brothers into action.

Leonardo, hearing the yell from the kitchen table where he'd been reading and biting at an apple stood up sharply flipping over his book to save the page and strapping his swords to his back with a tug. Raphael, pausing in roughing up his punching bag smiled smugly while grabbing his twin sai and holstering them in his belt. Donatello, last one to hear the call to arms but quickest one to throw off his welding mask and secure his weapon was already to the front door of the Lair by the time Leonardo and Raphael sprinted over. Michelangelo, a smile plastered across his face and bouncing from foot to foot patted at his hips to ensure his trusty chucks were secured. He laughed then turned and without a glance behind him, bolted from the Lair. The other three sped after him. Donatello pressed hard on the controller at his belt, closing and locking the Lair door behind them.

Ninja Tag was a simplistic game made out of pure boredom and way too much pent up adrenaline between four teenagers. It was easy to understand and fun to play. Run the sewers until they were outside City limits then haul shell out of the tunnels and take to the roofs. Last one out of the sewer was it and first one to get back to the Lair was the winner. Winner could do whatever they wanted to the losers for three whole days after completion of the game. The winner was the one in charge excluding if they were to get involved in a skirmish with the Purple Dragons or Foot Clan, then reign would go back to Leonardo until such time as the fight was over. The last winner of Ninja Tag was Raphael and he had ordered his entire motorcycle magazine collection alphabetized by middle name of the editor. It was a miserable three days of cleaning his room, massaging his thick shoulders, waxing the back of his shell, and shining his sai's until they glinted. The other three turtles promised themselves Raphael would not win this round. They were running for revenge.

Already at the heels of his youngest brother and still going strong Leonardo yelled out, "What's the rules?"

"Prison Rules!" Raphael answered from the back. He hopped a double step and lowered his head pouring on more speed and bypassing Donatello with a smirk to get behind Leonardo. Prison rules meant no rules, just the way the Hothead liked it.

"Not fair, Raph!" Donatello lengthened his strides to match his older brother. Together the two turtles passed Leonardo.

"Hey! I thought I was supposed to be the leader!"

"You can maybe lead us into battle, bro, but this is war! Every turtle for himself!" Raphael grit his teeth trying to reach Michelangelo. Though the rules may change every time they played the gist of the game would forever stay the same; last turtle out of the sewers was it.

Opening his mouth to laugh loudly, Michelangelo sprang across an open part of the sewer. He landed cleanly and continued on not glancing back to his brothers. They would make the jump, just like they always did.

"Rules are simple, dudes. Rooftops are a free-for-all. Sewers are off limits, fire escapes are for getting up and down only. And if you see a pretty girl, I call dibs."

"And no weapons," Leonardo supplied from the back. Three groans echoed through New York City's sewers.

"Come on, Leo," Michelangelo's winded yelped sounded loudly through the sewers as he stepped in something mushy on the ground. Sticky, gooey, something flooded over his toes and around his foot. Mikey stuck hit tongue out and flung his foot back trying to get the stuff off while simultaneously continuing to lead his brothers to the manhole he was gunning for.

Taking advantage of his distraction, Raphael roughly shouldered Michelangelo to the side to gain the lead. "I ain't being it again!"

Running feet echoed off the slimy walls. Leonardo smiled as he looked at the back of his brothers heads. Michelangelo had just popped off a joke that had Donatello laughing and Raphael grunting as he was almost passed. The four of them lulled into a comfortable silence only broken by the sounds of them breathing as they ran towards their starting point. It made the eldest Hamato happy that the family had managed to pick themselves up and stitch their hearts back together again. It had been a horrible, exhausting, and heartbreaking last seven months.

It wasn't a battle to the death or a sword to the heart or an arrow through the chest. It didn't happen during a fight with the Foot Clan or a rumble with the Purple Dragons. It happened in the early morning hours when the Lair was still quiet and cold air blew through open vents to chill the concrete tiles around their home. Splinter had already been an older rat when he had touched the ooze and been mutated. The mutagen, according to Donatello, had helped prolong his life by many years. But rats weren't known to have a long life span – not even mutated rats.

Splinter had looked so frail and old covered in his favorite afghan blanket with incense burning and fogging through his small room. Donatello had stayed up for days on end working, researching, trying desperately to find something, anything that could heal the old rat. That could turn back the sands of time and reverse the effects of old age to help prolong his life. Raphael had gone out every night to scavenge around the dumpsters and sneak into small clinics to steal only the necessities or items that wouldn't be missed. Michelangelo made food, so much food – too much food. Anything and everything that Splinter had ever said he enjoyed eating was made. Small bites were taken but eventually, like clockwork, the food was packaged in Tupperware containers and set in the fridge only to be thrown away later when mold formed. Leonardo stayed by his father's side when the time arose and read to him. He read classics like The Great Gatsby, To Kill a Mocking Bird, and Shakespeare. But he also read to his father newer books that he'd found in trash heaps or April had dropped off for him like the Harry Potter series and Tom Clancy novels about spies and espionage. He would read aloud for hours until his throat hurt, voice cracked and father slept then he would care for his brothers. Everyone took turns sleeping and keeping watch and eating. Nightly patrols were cut down from four turtle runs to a one turtle sprint with headphones and front facing cameras that clipped to the front or around the neck of each turtle. Donatello had created it to show a live feed from the wearer to the Lair so they all didn't have to go on patrol but they were always in constant contact.

They tried to act like everything was fine in the weeks that lead up to his passing but there was no denying the cloud that settled on the small family. They were still only teenagers, barely adults. They couldn't take care of themselves. Sure, Leonardo could be responsible and Donatello could build them anything they needed and Michelangelo could get them food and Raphael could protect them but Splinter... Splinter was their father. He was the provider and the protector and the one who taught them and disciplined them and showed them how to be. He'd saved them. Named them, taught them how to fight for themselves. Splinter had taught them never to give in, never give up.

It was a cold morning, the day he died. He passed peacefully with Leonardo holding one hand and Michelangelo latched onto the other. Donatello sat at the foot of his bed while Raphael stood with his arms crossed looking down at his family. Splinter, voice a whisper, had said his last words to his sons calmly.

To Raphael he asked to always protect, to never leave this family. To Donatello he had said to always invent, always seek to find new things that would make this family better. To Michelangelo he begged him to never lose himself, to always find happiness in the dreariest of places. From Leonardo he commanded nothing short of greatness in all he did weather it was leading his brothers into battle or watching over them. Then, the old rat had smiled at his teary, heartbroken sons and closed his coal black eyes taking one last breath and letting it out slowly never to open them again.

Hamato Splinter was buried under a willow tree on Casey's farm. The site was chosen because of the flowers that bloomed around it in the spring and the large willow trees that surrounded it all year round. There had been much debate about where his body should be buried before he was finally laid to rest. Raphael thought he should be laid some place in New York City where they could talk with him anytime they chose.

"That way we could see him wheneva' we want," said Raphael.

"But he always loved the farmhouse." Michelangelo had said.

"It's not safe to bury a giant mutant rat in New York City. Anyone could come along and unearth him then they'd take him away," Donatello had reasoned.

"The farmhouse is where we'll bury him," Leonardo had looked at each of his brothers while they nodded their approval in their own ways.

The funeral had been a small affair with Donatello reading a well written eulogy and Michelangelo also saying some quiet words. Leonardo, eyes cloudy and heart broken in ways he hoped to never feel again had gently held then laid his father to rest in the hole they'd dug hours before. Splinter was wrapped in his favorite blanket with his walking stick set next to him. The day wasn't bright and sunny nor dark and rainy. It was a normal day with wind blowing and sunshine washing in and out of the clouds. The willow tree above them rustled when Leonardo was helped out of the extra deep grave. They had to make it deeper than usual just in case someone started to dig around and would happen to stumble upon Splinter's body. They made the hole so deep no one could accidentally unearth him from his resting place.

Leonardo had bitten his lip then slowly removed his mask. With an I love you father on his lips he let the fabric slip from his fingers and float down into the grave. By silent agreement each turtle let loose their mask and dropped it into the grave as a silent homage to their father.

Raphael had been the one to shovel dirt into the grave.

"Come on Leo even Donnie's beatin' ya!" yelled Raphael from the front bringing Leonardo from his reminiscing thoughts. Leo shook his head and laughed as he saw the crossed look on Donatello's face. Donatello pinched his face together before swooping down mid stride, grabbing a small rock then whipping around to throw it at the back of the red banded turtle's head.

"What was dat?"

"It looks like we're in the part of the sewer that's less stable and more susceptible to sudden and random effects of deterioration." Donatello called to the front keeping a straight face. A smile wrapped around Leonardo's mouth but it was Michelangelo who broke into laughter.

"That was the most confusing insult ever! Burn dude, bu-urn."

The sewer tunnel they were running made a sharp turn to the left making the turtles slide on their feet as they tried to round it cleanly. Michelangelo laughed looking back at his brothers to see if they stumbled on the turn. He was caught off guard as Donatello grabbed his shoulder then skipped and used him as leverage to gain his footing to propel himself forward. Michelangelo stumbled backwards still going too fast to stop or gain his balance.

"Keep your eyes on the prize shell for brains!" Donatello whooped pumping his arms and trying to get his breath back in order. Still stumbling, the orange banded turtle whipped his arms out trying desperately to stabilize himself without giving up his precious spot. He couldn't be it again, last time he couldn't find anyone for hours and had decided to give up and head back to the Lair only to find his brothers laughing around the kitchen table with pizza and bottles of Coke all around.

One foot, two foot, slip, slide, arms out like a pin wheel, Michelangelo was falling. He could feel his body being pulled downwards – he couldn't regain his balance. Hands that were smooth but rough in all the right places wrapped around his torso and shoulders grabbing him before he could fall then hauling him to his feet to continue running.

"Don't say I've never done anything for you," said the voice of his oldest brother in his ear behind him.

"Take to the roofs, last one out is it!" yelled Raphael from the front with a Devil-may-care smile on his face. They were so far out of the heart of the city by now that it didn't matter how loud they were in the sewers. Raphael grabbed a wrung of the ladder to the manhole cover and was up and had it out of the way in less than a second. He ascended the sewers in a flash quickly followed by Donatello. Michelangelo dipped low shouldering his way past Leonardo to get to the manhole a sliver of a second before his older brother. Leonardo, not realizing his brother was playing dirty was taken off guard and slid backwards watching as Michelangelo jimmied up and out of the sewer.

"All's fair in love and war!"

Great, he huffed. I'm it.

Leonardo growled and smiled slyly climbing quickly then flicking his wrist to cover the manhole back again. He took off launching at the fire escape and springing up the side of the building just like he'd done a thousand times and would do thousands more. The night was cool but not cold, just the way his reptilian body liked it. Moonlight shined in and out of the cloudy sky making it light enough so it wasn't hard to pick out three dark figures running away from him.

Let the games begin.

And Leonardo took off after the slowest one.

Donatello thought he was doing well, he had a pretty good sized building between him and where he'd last seen Leonardo. Michelangelo was laughing a half a roof in front of him jumping and cracking jokes trying to toy with the blue turtle so the smart turtle thought that he was good. Everyone knew Leonardo had a level head but what Donatello had learned through the years was that he didn't enjoy being played with, made fun of. It was a simple matter of knowing his brothers. Michelangelo would whoop and holler and annoy the blue turtle and so Leonardo would bypass the slower turtle and go for the annoying one. Simple.

Or... at least he thought it was simple enough until a hand came down hard on his shoulder and a leg rounded under him forcing his own feet out from under him. He was down for the count losing his breath and slamming down on the roof at the same time. Panting, Leonardo stood over Donatello smiling a cheeky grin.

Donatello groaned, "I figured you would go for Mikey."

Leonardo bent down with his hand held out to help his brother off the rooftop like the honorable warrior their father had taught them to be. "I'm full of surprises."

Then Leonardo gave his brother a quick but hard pat on the shoulder. "By the way bro," he took a couple steps back. "You're it!" And he was off at a sprint gaining speed to jump to the next building. Donatello signed only once then shot off like a rocket. Whipping his staff out to help catapult himself to the next building he crammed it a crevice, jumped, tugged and landed on the next building after flipping over backwards.

It only took a few minutes to catch up to Michelangelo who now was smartly keeping his mouth shut and head semi down. The orange turtle ran at a slower pace down the street a ways from Leonardo and Raphael thinking that if he was so out of the way that he wouldn't be chased.

He was all alone, right for the taking.

Michelangelo kept chancing glances behind him over his right shoulder – never to the left, Donatello noticed. Utilizing this information the purple turtle ducked and jumped catapulting himself over and around intent on doubling back to get in front of his jogging brother. It took a few extra minutes and some rough running and haymaker jumping but finally he was in front of the youngest brother. He waited until Michelangelo had his head turned before he jumped him, full force with a yell. The orange turtle's eyes grew comically wide as he saw Donatello coming down upon him. He squeaked in fear falling on his shell and skidding backwards a few feet with Donatello on top of him. It was violent and it hurt.

"Dude, really? Why do you turn so violent during tag?" He asked in utter disbelief. He could have sworn he was alone, running well away from the other two. Donatello hardly ever went after him anyways. "I thought you were a pacifist."

"You're it, Turtle Titan," Donatello laughed hauling himself to his feet and talking off again into the night happy for himself that he'd managed to successfully sass not one but two brothers and the night was still young.

Michelangelo took a second to catch his breath. A cold breeze blew past making his sweaty body shiver. "I'm too pretty for all this running."

He jumped to his feet and was off to take down a brother.

"What's that?" Raphael said suddenly beside Leonardo. They were closer to the Lair than when they'd started but still had a pretty far ways to go. Leonardo looked up to see what his brother was looking towards and stopped mid stride. His rough and weathered feet slid on the rooftop. Raphael stumbled to a stop beside him pin-wheeling his arms out before having to grab at the building to stop from falling over. Both turtles gazed over at what looked to be an orange glow on the horizon. It was a hand full of blocks away and it was almost too bright to look at.

"Fire," Leonardo's eyes narrowed. All playfulness being shoved aside as the leader inside took hold. Raphael walked to the edge of the building looking over and up at the structure that was bright orange and red against the black night sky.

"Let's check it out."

"Wait Raph I don't think that's a good -" but the red turtle was already off running towards the danger like he was bred for it. Leonardo shook his head in anger. "Or why don't we just run as fast as we can towards the fire."

With that he started to run after his hotheaded brother grumbling to himself. "I'm pretty sure being a leader is just a title. If I was a captain this would be considered mutiny."

Donatello saw two figures that he recognized as his brothers change direction in their run in front of him. They started to run sharply towards the right, away from the path that led to the Lair. Looking over, Donatello gasped in shock. Something, something big, was on fire. And his brothers were running towards it. Great.

Raphael stopped short a few roofs away, he couldn't look away. It was bright and hot even from how far back he and Leonardo were.

The building was on fire. It was on fire. Engulfed in flames that licked and prodded at the establishments beside it and flung its hot arms up in the air. It would've been fine. It was just an apartment fire, they happened all the time. The problem was the terrified screams that cut through the flames from the inside.

"There's people in there!" Raphael gasped and whipped around to look at his leader with one foot already on the side of the building, he was ready to jump.

I am planning on this being many chapters, but they won't be super long chappies like I usually do. It gets hard to write 5-7 thousand word updates all the time, ya know? I'm saying this now realizing that I'll probably still write long chapters anyways :)

If you're interested I have gained a tumblr at the suggestion of the great Andrea O'Down, there is a link in my bio that I hope works if you are interested.