A clap of thunder rolled through the sewer system. Splinter jolted from his makeshift bed, panting heavily. With every breath his eyes darted over the furniture and across the walls, slowing as the tempo of his breath and the beating of his heart returned to normal. The cold walls of the long abandoned subway station did not match the burning dojo walls of his dream. He was in a way grateful to be staring into the mildew filled room; it was a far better sight than his beloved home going up in flames. Fear hadn't gripped him this way since the day he lost his beloved. The heat of the fire, blistering his skin and the smell of smoke that filled his lungs, felt too real to simply be a memory.
He ran his hands along his face brushing matts of sweat-drenched fur from his eyes and took several calming breaths. He had just begun untangling himself from his bed of rags when another thunderous boom rang out, chased by a bone chilling wind. The icy gust cut easily through his sweat-soaked fur. Bundling the larger rags around himself he closed his eyes and fought off the cold. Carefully prying open his eyes he swung his legs over the side of the wooden platform that served as his bed, his thoughts immediately going from the child of his past to his present children. Reptiles were sluggish in cold weather; storms could be deadly for them. Whether natural disaster or the schemes of his enemies, he would protect his family no matter the cost.
He jumped off the platform, gasping as his feet hit the ground. The entire subway was flooded in ankle deep, ice cold, rain water. The water swirling about his feet had a strong current and was slowly rising up his legs. Splinter let out a string of Japanese curses under his breath. He should have realized it sooner. The week of constant rain had finally broken the day before yesterday, and yesterday itself was sweltering. Of course today would be a massive thunderstorm! Of course the sewer system had flooded the abandoned subway! Of course the reservoirs had filled to the brim and there was nowhere else for the water to go.
The young master trudged through the mucky rain water, quietly whispering thanks. The rain water may have been ice cold with hordes of garbage flowing through it but it was ten times better than trudging through raw sewage. He shuddered at the memory. Even with his expert balance, the muck covered subway tiles were slick. He placed a hand on the cold subway wall beside him to keep himself upright, feeling the chill of the stone beneath his paw he realized he could no longer feel his feet. Lifting his foot out of the water, he finally noticed the numerous cuts and scrapes from the cracked and missing subway tiles. He placed his foot back down and trudged onward not giving a second thought to his own discomforts.
He reached the door that had once served as the subway's maintenance office, now serving as his son's nursery, and shoved with all his weight against the steel. He let out a sigh of relief as his eyes fell upon each of his sons still safe in their beds. Once the door was fully open he propped a chair against the door handle to keep the water from pushing it closed.
It had only been a couple of months ago that Splinter scavenged enough materials together for his sons to sleep separately. As it was, his two eldest still shared a bed. The idea was met with much protest when he originally split them up; his boys enjoyed the closeness of the dog pile in which they formerly slept. It also provided much needed warmth on cool nights. The decision was a tough one for the new father, but too many mornings Splinter would rouse them only to discover bruises on their bodies from accidentally hitting and kicking each other during the night. The last straw was finding Michelangelo with a large gash on his leg from the sharp edge of one of his brother's shells. Splinter was working on refurbishing the offices of the subway to make separate bedrooms for each of them, a process that was taking more time than initially thought.
Michelangelo sat pouting in his bassinet. At just under three years old he was quickly outgrowing it. That was just as well, the bassinet was on its last legs when Splinter found it in the city dump. Now it resembled a wicker basket more than a bassinet. Splinter had been searching for a new bed for his youngest for quite some time with no avail. Michelangelo raised his arms up expectantly as his father approached. Splinter lifted up the shivering child carefully tucking him in the left side of his kimono. Michelangelo buried his face into his father's soft fur. Splinter instantly felt his son's shivering lessen and knew it was more from fear than cold. His youngest had always been fearful of the unknown and thunderstorms were no exception. He stroked his son's cheek and waded over to the bed his two eldest shared.
The twin sized bed used to house them all. The bed originally had been a children's bed shaped like a rocket ship but a decade of use and years of lying abandoned had not been kind to it. Splinter was able to make some minor repairs to it using plywood he had found outside a cabinetmaking shop. The most obvious repair he had made was to nail sheets of plywood to the sides and foot of the bed. Not only did this make the bed frame sturdier, it also kept his sons from rolling out and running about the lair. Despite his humble nature, Splinter felt a small amount of pride for his handiwork every time he saw it.
Raphael lay sleeping in a small pile of blankets at the foot of the bed, his elder brother Leonardo stood over him. He had just finished laying another ragged blanket over his brother when Splinter peered over the plywood. Leonardo quickly leapt to the edge of the bed and attempted to jump the plywood barrier in front of him, only to fall back down landing on his bottom. Splinter smiled at his eldest and absent-mindedly stroked his son's carapace.
"You make your father proud, caring for you brothers like that" he said and lifted the sleeping form of Raphael into the right side of his kimono.
The child stirred slightly as he was placed inside but did not awaken. Michelangelo reached over and gently touched his brother's face, happy to be so near to him. Splinter smiled at the sight and tightened the sash of his kimono as much as he could. He knew carrying his sons this way may cause the garment to rip and would definitely cause the clothing wear faster, but a new kimono was a small price to pay for his son's safety. It was a tight squeeze with three of them but it was less likely his children would fall out.
He reached over for Leonardo, only to find the small child beaming up at him mask tied slightly askew. Splinter had given each of his children a different colour of mask a few months ago when he had begun teaching them basic katas. It also help to identify which child was which, as much as he hated to admit it, he had gotten them mixed up on several occasions. He was glad to have given each of his children long names, it helped to be able to change names while in the middle of calling them, although he occasionally had a fifth turtle name Raphatellelardanglo. Leonardo was infinitely proud of his blue mask, only taking it off to sleep and bathe. Even during those few times it was a struggle to get him to part with it. Splinter hosted Leonardo up into his arms. Grabbing the remaining masks off the bedside table he tucked them within his kimono's sash. He had just arranged Leonardo comfortably in one arm when a small voice called out from behind him.
"Spinner, want out!"
The young master turned to see the last of his charges peering out from the bars of his crib. Splinter waded over and removed the heavy books from the plywood that lay atop. He had to arrange Donatello's crib in this way to prevent the toddler Houdini from getting out. Donatello had an insatiable curiosity and thus got into everything. Donatello stood as his father removed the plywood.
"Bad water, deep" he stated simply, a hesitant look in his eyes.
Donatello grabbed his father's shoulder as his arm came around behind his back lifting him safely to his father's side. Splinter rested his cheek against his son's head as Donatello snuggled into his shoulder.
"Isshouni ikimashou ka?" Donatello queried.
Splinter lifted his cheek from his third eldest head, planting a quick kiss. The ease at which Donatello spoke both English and Japanese never ceased to amaze him. While Splinter firmly believed all his sons were gifted in their own ways, Donatello gift of intellect was most noticeable. Having done a small amount of research before the birth of his daughter, it was clear to the master that his son's intelligence was developing much faster than most. Teaching his sons martial arts daily came naturally to Splinter, finding a new intellectual challenge for Donatello was a difficult.
"Hai, it is dangerous to remain here, we must find shelter elsewhere and wait out this storm."
The young master's arms were very full as he sloshed out of the nursery. Donatello crawled from Splinter's arms to his back, as his father walked. Clasping his hands around his sensei's neck, he hung from his father's neck in a mock piggyback ride. Leonardo stood in his father's arms; he then carefully hooked his feet on his sensei's sash. Grabbing Donatello's clasped hands; he buried his face into the fur upon his father's chest. Splinter had taught them to do this when he carried all four. Donatello's arms were the longest making him the only one currently able to reach all the way around Splinter's thick neck. By grabbing Donatello's hands Leonardo relieved some of the pressure put upon Splinter's trachea. With Leonardo's feet hooked in Splinter's sash, it freed his arms to be able to climb ladders or defend himself.
Splinter picked up the pace as he hurried along the freezing sewer pipe. The water was already up to mid-calf, soaking the hem of his kimono. He hoped the treacherous weather would have driven people indoors and no one would see his mutant family sneaking to the surface. He turned left into a downward sloping sewer pipe; one that he knew would lead to the Hudson River. Water surges pushed him forward and he struggled to stay upright in the deepening water. His destination was an abandoned warehouse along the river bend. It was set for demolition in a couple of days, so he doubted anyone would notice them taking shelter there to wait out the storm.
A strong gust of wind nearly knocked the family backwards. Raphael started whimpering, having been woken by the cold. Rain water poured from the grates above them. The wise rat used the small amount of light the grates provided to keep them situated on their path. Lightning struck the street above them, illuminating the dank tunnel overlaid in shadows of the criss-crossing grate above in one bright flash. Michelangelo cried out in fear.
"It's alright, my son, lightning is a dangerous enemy but it has no power here" Splinter stroked his son's cheek as he spoke calmly, "You must stay quiet, we cannot have a anyone hear you, especially those foolish enough to be about in this horrid weather."
He attempted to calm his youngest by reaching inside his kimono and stroking Raphael's head. Splinter could feel the shivers that were racking his children's bodies. He felt Donatello's grip loosen. He placed his free hand behind his back so Donatello could stand upon it and re-clasp his hands. Leonardo peeked over his father's shoulder at his brother. Donatello smiled at him.
"L-l-Leo h-has n-n-no eyes, b-b-blue "he said between chattering teeth.
Splinter looked down at his eldest face and suppressed a chuckle. Leonardo's mask had twisted around covering one of his eyes. Splinter waited a moment for Donatello to get settled again before retying his son's mask.
"Arigato, S-Spin-n-er" Leonardo said, his teeth starting to chatter, he then buried himself deeper into his father's fur.
Splinter rubbed Leonardo's carapace in small circles. Michelangelo's crying had dulled to a shaky whimper; Raphael wrapped his arms around his younger brother, in a successful attempt to comfort him.
"We are nearly there my sons," he whispered, trying to calm his whimpering children.
He caught sight of the ladder that would lead them to the alleyway beside the warehouse. He had just begun his assent when a strong wind ripped through the tunnel, forcing him to hold on with both hands. An eerie call accompanied the wind, making Splinter's fur stand on end. Michelangelo let out a shrill cry and Leonardo lost his grip, falling backwards into the ladder. Splinter caught his eldest before he connected with the ladder rungs, gripping him to his chest; he waited for the wind to die down. He pressed himself closer to the ladder, now only able to grip the ladder with one paw. Donatello's grip tightened and Splinter felt the toddler wrap his legs around his waist squeezing with his knees. He wanted to move Donatello to his front to protect him from the wind but between the ladder and Leonardo he had no free paws.
With the wind came a wave, consuming everything in its path. It hit the family full force. Splinter barely managed to keep his grip. Donatello did not. He was ripped off his father's back and was immediately submerged in the icy water.
"Donatello!" Splinter cried his eyes wide with fear.
His heart leapt into the water after Donatello but his body climbed the ladder to safety. He scurried up the ladder and roughly shoved the unbolted manhole cover to the side. He pushed his remaining sons through the manhole and onto the pavement.
"Leonardo hide, your brothers" he cried, as he let go of the ladder and fell feet first into the waist deep water below.
"Donatello!? DONATELLO!" he bellowed down the sewer tunnel. He no longer cared if anyone heard him - not if it meant getting his son back.
He half waded half swum through the sewer water frantically searching for his missing child. He dove under the water scouring the bottom for anywhere his son could have possibly become tangled. He only breached the surface when he felt his lungs could take no more. He gasped for air.
"DON-A-TEL-LO!" He cried desperately.
Even as he searched he knew it was hopeless, the swift current was almost pulling him under. He continued to search; flinging trash left and right, his chest heaving as he frantically cried his child's name over and over. He began to grow light headed from screaming and holding his breath, his feet constantly slipping out from underneath him on the uneven, trash filled tunnel. Finally exhaustion overcame him; he knew he had to return to the surface. His sons were waiting and were in danger of becoming hypothermic if they weren't already. He desperately dove down one last time, brushing away the clouds of cigarette butts and other filth. He surfaced just moments later - no sign of his missing child.
As he stood still as a statue in the freezing water an awareness came over him. The same feeling that occurred the night he lost his beloved and Miwa. A feeling he would not wish upon his worst enemy- the loss of a child. He let out an unearthly howl that echoed through the tunnel and clear across the Hudson River. A cry would haunt his son's memories for years to come.
Isshouni ikimashou ka?-Shall we go? (together)
What did you think? Shall I keep going?