Focus was key in perusing any worthwhile goal. He had been taught that from observing his own sensei from his cage during his days as a simple pet rat. After the strange transformation their lives had taken that fateful night within the sewers of New York City, he had striven to pass that valuable lesson on to his own students.
Granted, the lesson settled better with some of his sons than with others. Regardless of what he did, Raphael and Michelangelo remained as impetuous as ever.
Ah, the passions of youth. He knew that spontaneity was a large part of his sons' personalities, and while it had its use, he had yet to figure out how to teach the boys how to harness those urges in such a way as to use it efficiently.
The elder rodent sighed and closed his eyes to the flicker of candles lighting the subterranean room he attempted to meditate within. That essential focus appeared to be especially elusive this night. Why was that?
Incense kissed air filled his lungs as he took a long breath and pondered upon the unease permeating his consciousness. There was something there, yearning to be picked up. It was almost a consciousness – very nearly alive, but not quite. So, what did it want with him?
Splinter allowed himself to sink more deeply into meditation.
Slowly, an image formed within the darkness behind his eyelids. At first, it was a soft spot of pale light. As he watched, it formed a glowing ball suspended within black. Warmth filled his body as it elongated into a thin rod.
The warmth picked up a tingle as the very tip of the rod thinned, then sharpened into a blade. Then length grew thinner as the blade sharpened itself before his third eye. A guard wove itself into a delicate copper lacework, before small gems appeared just under the softly glowing metal – ruby, sapphire, emerald, amethyst and topaz. They spaced themselves evenly just under the guard, and as soon as they set, soft brown leather wove itself into the form grip, which finally grew into a pommel of what appeared to be carved ivory.
The sudden weight of the sword upon his legs startled him out of the semi-trance he had fallen into.
He looked down sharply, before slowly lifting the cherry-wood sheathed weapon from its cradle on his legs. Contemplatively, the rat drew the silvered blade from its glossy scabbard.
He had the distinct feeling that the strange appearance of this odd weapon was the harbinger of yet another unique episode on their lives.
This is actually a re-write of a fic I wrote way back in 1998, and since the OC in it is still kicking around, I figured I'd rework this sucker as part of a greater project I have in mind. Later chapters will indeed be longer, but slow to come.
Should be an amusing trip, I hope.