It had been a long time since Splinter had seen nighttime on the surface. He couldn't see the stars through the thick, colorful clouds laid down by the Kraang, but knowing they were just beyond the windows was a strange feeling. He cast another look around the bare concrete room, and watched Casey and Miwa sleep on.

Splinter had hardly expected training them to be easy, but both of the children were making this more difficult than anticipated.

Both children were adept warriors, their differences in strength and technique almost perfectly complementing each other. Casey was rough and brutal in combat, while Miwa's motions were as graceful as if the shinobi masters of old had trained her. She was too perfect, each of her katas and movements so rigidly practiced they allowed little room for improvisation or flexibility. If up against less educated shinobi, or those on her level, this would not prove a serious issue. But against the Shredder, her teacher, it would be fatal.

Casey was just as vulnerable, if in a different way. His entire fighting style was based off improvisation and impulse. There was little, if any, structure to his style. When he had room to move, Casey's true strength shone: his pure, raw instinct. Not the same kind of instinct that Michelangelo had- and Splinter's heart ached at the thought of his youngest son- but instinct beaten into him through experience.

It was not difficult to determine that Casey led a hard life, between his behavior patterns and the way he spoke- or did not- of his family. Splinter wasn't even sure Casey had any parents around to monitor him, despite what he claimed about his father. It would certainly explain a lot if he did not.

Regardless, it was easy to tell from Casey's fighting style that he was used to fighting as a necessity, that he was comfortable using any means at his disposal to walk away the victor. The way Casey sparred against Miwa was different than how he sparred with Raphael or April. Against her, Casey moved with vicious instinct. It was clear he did not entirely trust her, and was trying to put a strong foot forward.

That was the key, he thought, folding his hands together. They did not trust each other. She thought of him as far below her skill level, and he feared her for reasons Splinter had to admit were justified. In any other setting, it would have been easy to combat this by using training methods they would deem overly demanding or unfair so they would unite against him.

However, their hideout didn't have the space or equipment to allow for such training methods. With the Kraang ruling the city and scanning the sewers for their presence, going outside to train wasn't a wise idea, either.

There was also the concern of whatever had been following them on the way here. It had left once it realized Splinter had nearly pinpointed its location, so it had probably not seen where they went but it knew the general area. Most likely, it was one of the Shredder's scouts. They would need to be extra cautious to avoid drawing attention to themselves over the next few days. They needed to avoid coming and going as much as possible. *herehere

Thankfully, he still had some time to meditate on an adequate solution. The rest of the day had been filled with assessing their current knowledge, and where they had gaps that needed filling. As expected, Miwa knew quite a lot about the shinobi arts of sabotage and espionage, while lacking experience. Casey, as was proving extremely common between the two of them, was almost the opposite. He knew little about the technical aspects of planning and execution, but the way he spoke of it made it clear that Casey had a fair amount of experience with sabotage. An interesting duality. With their limited resources, it would be difficult to bring them to their full potential.

Funny that he would miss the sewers so much when he was forced to leave. He wondered what became of the heirlooms he had brought to America when he had left Japan in grief. He hadn't brought much along. The only things left from his time as a human were things of great personal significance- such as the armor and weapons of his clan. The weapons his children now carried.

Splinter tended the coals of the fire burning in the metal trashcan as he looked back at the sleeping teens under his care. Away from the two of them, Miwa slept leaning against the wall wrapped in a blanket. She slept peacefully, but he knew that at the slightest disturbance, she would awaken and hone in for the kill. Casey lay on top of a sleeping bag, his gangly limbs braided with a thin cotton blanket. Unlike Miwa, he did not sleep easily. Even sprawled across the floor, his entire body was tense. No doubt he was worried about his family.

The watch Casey had strapped to one of the shelves beeped. About midnight. Time to change the guard. Splinter entertained the idea of allowing the children to sleep on. He would not get much while his sons and April were still out there somewhere. But it would not help anyone if he did not heal quickly. Once he was back to full strength, they could move their training to a more isolated part of the sewers- and maybe, just maybe, get some of his things back. Even at full strength, he needed his cane to manage days his arthritis flared up. Some of the weapons and equipment down there would be useful in the fight ahead. Others were purely sentimental- such as the folder of drawings he kept under his bed along with other small trinkets his sons had made for him over the years.

Casey stirred and sat up. "What time is it?" he asked as he stretched.

"About time for you to take watch," Splinter replied.

Yawning, Casey scratched the back of his head. "Shoulda woken me," he said, standing up.

"I was about to," Splinter said, "but you've both had a trying day. There is no harm in a little extra rest."

The teen grimaced. "Didn't go so well, did it?"

"You're both adept in your skillsets," Splinter said, "But of course, there are areas that need improvement."

Casey analyzed him, suspicion sparking in his eyes before he changed the subject. "Isn't it time to change your bandages?"

"Yes. I believe so. But I can do it myself-" Splinter began, reaching for the bandages.

His shoulder spasmed. Sharp, arcing pain tore down his side and Splinter restrained a gasp.

"Let me," Casey said, moving over to him.

"It's not serious," Splinter said as he shrugged out of the top of his robe and let it pool around his waist. "And we have limited supplies."

"It's just a matter of looting the places no one else thinks to look," Casey said. He peeled off the first bandage, and Splinter suppressed a pained shudder.

Casey worked quickly as he changed the bandages. "Lucky Karai found you in time."

"Yes. I am fortunate," Splinter said and tried not to think about Leonardo, who had not been so fortunate. "Miwa pulled me from the waters, and it is clear you have some experience with first aid."

He only intended to turn the subject away from Splinter's own close call, but the teen's hands stilled anyway. "Yeah? What about it?"

Intriguing. Why did his interest in this topic concern Casey?

"Simply an area I neglected to inquire after," he said, "All of my sons have basic training, and I imagine Miwa has some as well. It is good that you also have some."

"Yeah, well, I have a kid sister, you know. Lots of bumps and bruises." Casey's voice was light, but his body stayed tense. Something more- something significant- went unvoiced. Splinter's instincts told him two clear things: one, that whatever Casey was concealing was important, and two, that prodding now would lead to neither gained trust nor answers. Casey was private about his home life. Splinter had assumed that it was his way of protecting his family. But now, he wondered if perhaps his father were involved in something illegal- something he was afraid would make his father a target of Splinter's sons.

Or perhaps he was overthinking this. Maybe Casey was simply unused to being evaluated on his skillset by an authority figure. The thought drowned in vocal disapproval from Splinter's instincts.

"I don't believe you've mentioned your sister often- her name is Robyn, yes?"

"Yeah. That's her," Casey said, tying off the bandage. Tension drained from his shoulders, but Casey's voice tightened.

Unthinking, Splinter put a hand on the teen's shoulder. "I am certain she is fine," he said. If there was one thing he knew about Casey Jones, it was that he was devoted to his little sister. He wouldn't be here looking after a tired old man and putting up with someone he distrusted at best if he thought there was anything he could do for her.

At the contact, Casey flinched. "I know she is. Like I said, she's with my dad, and he'll take damn good care of her."

Sensing he had crossed an invisible boundary, Splinter pulled his hand back just as Casey stood and threw the bloodied bandages on the fire.

"Your father and sister are still in the city, then?"

"Yeah. More or less. I talked to them before I ran into Karai.."

Splinter chose his words carefully. "Do not misunderstand, you are more than welcome here. I believe you will be useful in the fight ahead. However, if you would rather-"

"-I'll be more of a help to my family here, fighting the Kraang than I would be taking up their resources," Casey said. "It's the reason I started bashing heads in the first place: to protect my family."

Determination sparked in his eyes, and Splinter was reminded of a time long ago when a similar light had danced in Oroku Saki's eyes. However, even from his brief acquaintance with Casey Jones, it was clear that despite his rough edges, Casey had more compassion and a bigger heart than Saki had ever had. It was clear now why Raphael was so drawn to him- they were kindred spirits.

"You will have plenty of chances to 'bash heads'," Splinter said. "And. Thank you for everything you've done for my family."

Casey fidgeted. "You oughtta get some rest, Master Splinter. The floor ain't getting softer."

He chuckled. "No. I suppose it is not. Good night, Casey."

"Night."

As Splinter laid down and drifted off to sleep, the last thing he saw was Casey, knees drawn up to his chest, staring into the fire with a pinched face.

She awoke to the taste of blood in her mouth. Karai surfaced from her nightmare, panting as it faded from her memory like smoke in the wind. Standing and stretching, she spat into the corner of the room, feeling fresh blood fill her mouth. Her tongue explored the cut on her gums, and she winced. Her teeth had grown.

Casey looked up at her, his eyes glistening in the dark. "S' not your watch for another two hours," he said. The shine was gone now. Perhaps she had imagined it, she thought as a green glow washed over the room. It wouldn't be the first thing.

Some bone inside her fingers shifted and she locked the scream in her throat. "I'll wake you early," she said, turning towards the stack of cans to hide her twitching hand. Thankfully, Splinter slept on.

"I got this. Really," Casey said.

Burning pain and the metallic smell of mutagen lanced through her brain. "Just. Let me." She said through gritted teeth.

He shifted, an exasperated sigh punching the air. "Fine," he said, his words bookended by a quiet beep, "I set the timer for four hours."

She gritted out a thank you, but did not turn around until she heard his sleeping bag rustle.

She crossed to the lantern and sank to her knees. Her eyes told her scales had sprouted down her arms, that her skin had bleached to a sickly white. But her groping fingers felt nothing but metal and cloth.

It's in your head, she told herself. You will not change tonight. You will not change now.

("People never change, Karai." Shredder said. She was much shorter then, much younger. And she adored him, his every word etching itself into her brain like a brand on a baby's skin. "They only rot.")

Something deep inside her mind trembled at what that meant for her. She knitted her fingers together and dug her nails into her skin, focusing on nothing but the pain. Not enough. Not enough. Her chest squeezed, she felt herself melting away-

Desperate to stop the transformation, she clamped her sharp teeth around her wrist. Bone crunched. Blood welled under her teeth. She wrapped herself in the pain, cloaking herself from the dark things swirling in her brain.

Well on her way into rotting into an animal, and all she wanted was one more day with her father. As many as she could get before things worsened beyond repair.

One more day, she told herself as blood trickled down her throat. Just one more day.