Chapter 02: Picking Up the Pieces
Carefully, Yoshi walked over the ground paved with the remains of what once had been their home, his family's home, now turned to wooden slates and debris. He let his eyes wander over the ground, searching for something that could turn out useful.
He had already found some things he maybe could sell later.
And he had found the photograph of him, Tang Shen, and Miwa, all in formal attire, which they had kept in their family shrine. The frame was broken, but the photograph itself had miraculously stayed undamaged by the fire and the collapse of the building.
Okay, maybe this wouldn't really count as useful. But it was important to him, something he could look at when he felt lonely, something that would remind him of his old life when he had started his new one, the new life Tang Shen had told him to live.
His eyes wandered away from the debris to the place on the grass where her body had rested.
They had taken her way, the authorities. Fire service, police, ambulance, they had all arrived here a little while ago, but they hadn't paid much attention to what was going on. The fire fighters had only extinguished what had been left of the fire and then they had left again. Same went for the police and the ambulance, only that they had taken Tang Shen's dead body with them.
Yoshi had watched them from his hiding place. It had taken them way too long to get here – a sign for him that Oroku Saki had paid them to stay away. Or maybe he had threatened them. Or maybe both.
And that they had only looked at the scene rather superficially had been another sign for Yoshi that Saki had made sure they wouldn't look too closely, that they would close their eyes to the obvious.
Tang Shen, are you there, my beloved?
But again, Tang Shen didn't answer. Maybe she couldn't, maybe she had nothing to say, maybe she didn't want to.
With a sigh Yoshi focused on his task again, stepping over the remains of his old life.
He still couldn't believe it.
Oroku Saki had done all of this. Oroku Saki, his old friend, Oroku Saki, the Shredder.
Yes, maybe he should only call him by his nickname from now, the nickname he had given him all these years ago when they still had been kids. It fitted now more than ever, now that he had shredded his life to pieces.
Yoshi had first called him "the Shredder" when he had seen Saki simply shred a practice dummy during training.
And Saki had countered by giving Yoshi the nickname "Splinter" when he had managed such a hard strike that he had chipped off a piece of the wooden practice sword.
Yoshi and Saki, Splinter and Shredder, they once had been like brothers. And now they were enemies.
Or not anymore. Saki thought that Yoshi was dead, and Yoshi would do his bit to not prove him wrong.
He only could start a new life when Saki and his minions wouldn't come looking for him.
He would go to the United States, New York City, maybe. He had always liked this city, and it was a good place to keep a low profile. It was perfect. And Yoshi knew how to get there without leaving any traces. He was a ninja after all.
He looked over the remains of the house once more. There couldn't be any more useful things left here, he was sure about that.
And he didn't dare to dig any deeper. Miwa was lying down there somewhere, her little body burned unrecognizably, and he was sure he wouldn't be able to bear the sight of this.
So he had settled for a superficial search.
His eyes were pinned to the ground before him, but suddenly, he stopped.
This piece of debris in front of him looked rather weird, almost evenly formed, almost like a…
He gasped and knelt down, brushing away the ashes from what turned out to be a tessen.
His tessen.
No, Miwa's tessen!
He held the iron fan before his eyes. It was undamaged, whole. He looked at the Hamato-sign on it, the sign of a family that didn't exist any longer, a whole clan turned into dust.
He had intended to pass it on to his daughter one day, a tessen being the perfect weapon for a kunoichi if she would have decided to become one.
But Miwa was gone as was Tang Shen. He was alone.
He was about to start a new life, to live, just like Tang Shen had told him. But not just yet.
Now, he still had a little time left to mourn, to cry.
He placed his free hand over his face and allowed himself to cry.
Yoshi looked at the family shrine he had built in his new home. He had been right about New York City. It still was the perfect place to keep a low profile.
He had made it here, unseen, undetected, and now he lived in his new hideout, his lair, a place no one would ever come looking for him – the sewers of New York.
He had found an old abandoned subway station he was now turning into a livable place bit by bit.
He had already finished the dojo and his room, next on his list was the bathroom, followed by the kitchen.
Yes, he maybe didn't really need to turn this into a real apartment, but there were days when he had too much time at hands and he needed to keep himself busy. And there was only so much time he could spend meditating and training, so the rest of his free time was used for searching the junkyards for things he could repair and either sell or use himself.
And then there were days when the work at the harbor was so exhausting, he was just happy to make it home and lie down in his room and sleep.
The harbor was one of the few places where he could work, where no one asked for papers or names. And he had made some money so far.
He had spent most of it on new weapons. though. There was this blacksmith. Yoshi had remembered him. He had once met him before, all these years ago. He was specialized on Japanese weapons, and – what was even more important – he never asked any questions as long as the money was right. He didn't care about names, he didn't care about his customer not showing his face. He was the perfect blacksmith for a ninja keeping a low profile.
He had thought having all these weapons would make him feel welcome here sooner. And it had helped little, but he still felt out of place here.
Yoshi turned around and looked at the tree, growing right here in the dojo.
When he had searched the city for a hideout and had finally ended up in the sewers, in this abandoned subway station, he hadn't been sure if this was the right place for him. But when he had found the tree, growing in this unlikeliest of places, he had realized that this place had been meant for him.
A tree growing under the streets of New York, only living on the little light that fell through a grate above it and some water that had collected here before Yoshi had drained the room, it was a sign, a miracle, and sometimes all you needed was a miracle to make the right decision.
The tree had already been rather big back then, but his leaves hadn't been as green as they were right now after months of Yoshi's care. It had become a beautiful tree now, a great place for meditation, a great place to live, but still, this didn't feel like his new home.
With a sigh Yoshi turned back to the family shrine and looked at the picture of himself, Tang Shen, and Miwa he had brought with him from Japan. Yes, this was his new place now, but it still didn't feel like his new home, his new life.
Are you telling me now why I am here, my love?, he tried again, but as all the times before, Tang Shen remained silent.
He placed a hand on his chest where he kept the only other picture he had brought from Japan, the picture of himself and Tang Shen during the early times of their relationship, the picture, Oroku Saki had taken. They had all been friends back then, and Saki had even asked if he could keep a copy of the picture for himself because he wanted to always have a picture of his two best friends with him.
And now, all was different. Tang Shen was dead, and Saki was his enemy, an enemy that would only leave him alone as long as he didn't know anything about him still being alive.
Yoshi sighed again.
Maybe he should go to sleep now. Tomorrow was a new day, and maybe tomorrow, this place would feel like his new home. Maybe tomorrow, his new life would finally begin.