The Silver Balloon

Tight Spot

悩みのMikey! 操業!

Bonjour, everyone. I hope you're all doing well. Forgive me for the lack of updates, lately...D:...I'll do my best to keep up with the flow as best as I can.

Uh-oh...Mikey's in a bit of a tight situation, here...! *Gulps nervously.* Be ready to run, Mikey!

Please, take care, everyone.


Quote:

"And it was said that the kanjii of the four fears in life were steadily spelled out into these words: 'Earthquake, Fire, Thunder, and Father.' It is another way of spelling, "Wise fear begets care."


Splinter's dark eyes bored a hole into Mikey's startled blue orbs as the turtle unconsciously slid from his position on the rusty ladder a few inches downwards, hands quite clammy, mouth rather dry.

He would have swallowed, had his mind not gone blank. The startled boy watched as his father silently stepped out from the shadows, claws not even rattling or making clicking noises while the rat walked. Despite the fact that Mikey knew when he was in trouble-and in it deep-he couldn't help but admire his Sensei's prowess at just how effortlessly he'd sneaked up to the ninja-in-training turtle from behind. Just how did he do that?

But in any case, he supposed that pondering how he'd been unable to sense his father-after all, had he found the rat in the tunnel just two seconds before he made his way to the ladder, he could have spent his afternoon doing something pleasant, like continuing to breathe and the whatnot-because now, now that the ninjitsu master had found Mikey on the ladder, inches away from the surface, the only thing that Mikey could do at this point was to either pray, or, failing that, grovel.

Splinter spoke after a moment of uncomfortable silence.

"Michelangelo."

The turtle let out the faintest whimper, and slid down a half-inch. Mikey kept his blue eyes focused on the dirty stone beneath him, determined not to look at Splinter. Otherwise, he knew perfectly well that Splinter would just have to look at him-

...and the turtle would break down into confession, which must not happen. Mikey's grip tightened on the ladder, and he forced himself to swallow before speaking.

"H-Hi, Master S!" The turtle said, doing his best to sound jovial and carefree, as if any son might have misunderstood his father's orders when repeated no less then twenty-six times a day, thirty-two on special occasions.

"Fancy m-meetin' y-you here."

Splinter ignored that. Mikey supposed he couldn't blame him. The orange-clad turtle shifted ever so slightly, and the guilty paper still in his 'Zorro' cloak, the paper with his letter to Rosa and his picture of the girl on the swing losing her shoe, rustled against his leg.

Mikey could feel his face go starkly pale as Splinter allowed the silence to continue for another second. Then, arms crossed, eyebrow raised disapprovingly-

"Might I inquire as to what you are doing?"

Mikey blinked.

"May you what now?"

The rat sighed, and pinched the bridge of his nose with his fingertips before looking up, and pinning the turtle exactly where he perched on the old ladder, like a pin to a moth's leg.

"Michelangelo. What are you doing on that ladder?"

"J-Just, uh, hangin' around."

Mikey cracked a nervous smile at his sensei, as Splinter stared back at him. Uh-oh. Master Splinter was obviously in no mood for jokes. That was usually a prime 'Uh-oh,' moment, for any of his brothers in this situation.

...then again, NONE of his brothers had ever been in this kind of trouble. Splinter was going to kill him, and he'd die until he was dead.

"Michelangelo. Down from the ladder. At once!"

The turtle started; and mentally groaned as he very slowly began to disentangle himself from the bars. A million excuses bubbled to the panicked turtle's mind, frothing in a chiaroscuro from inside of the turtle's thoughts, but each one evaporated before they could come to his mouth. Mikey had never been good at lying, and Splinter knew it.

Going up to the surface world? Strike one. Contacting a human? Strike two. The fact that he'd done it multiple times was rinse, lather, and repeat.

Strike three. Now, Rosa would never get his letter. Or the picture he'd drawn for her. The thought made his heart sank, and made the turtle move even more slowly down the ladder rings, his knuckles turning white from how tightly he was gripping the rust-peeling metal.

Splinter watched him for a few minutes before sighing impatiently.

"Today, my son."

Flinching, Mikey nodded, and then hastened his steps to move downwards. Though he would have much preferred to stay there forever.

But at last, he noted, there were no more rungs to climb down, and the turtle was forced to hesitantly drop to the floor, eyes still fixated on the ground, as if he were hoping that it would open up, swallow him, and preferably take him deep beneath the Earth, where he'd never be looked at again.

Splinter took two step forwards, bending to one knee. Mikey stiffened as two fingertips grasped hold of his chin, and tugged it forwards, so that Mikey was directly facing the rat.

This was it! Mikey's courage buckled as at last, his eyes slowly rose to meet those of his sensei's.

"My son. I want a truthful answer from you. What were you doing up there?"

Mikey didn't answer. The fateful piece of paper was still in his Zorro-cloak pocket, but he certain as shell couldn't show it to Master S. Not if he didn't want the rat to become steamed enough to blow the manhole cover off.

...though, in all honesty, that did sound kinda cool. Mikey attempted to draw back, but Splinter's grip was secure.

"Michelangelo. You have an answer for everything. So give me one now, my son."

Splinter's voice dropped, and it became deathly serious. Mikey began to fidget, but the rat wouldn't look away!

"Why were you on the ladder-that ladder-to a manhole covering?" Splinter asked quietly. The tears began to burn in Mikey's blue eyes, but he was far too afraid to shed them. That would only secure his guilt!

At last, regretting the fact that he had not used his crayons to write out a proper will, Mikey tremblingly opened his mouth-and his stomach rumbled.

The two started at the unexpected sound, and the turtle blinked, bewilderingly placing a tri-fingered hand to his yellow crest, which well-covered his tummy. Why in the world was his stomach thinking of FOOD now?

...well, to be fair, it rarely thought of much else, but why now? Dinner was kinda close, but...

Master Splinter exhaled, and briefly rolled his eyes to the ceiling. Mikey glanced up there as well, but he didn't see anything. Again, Mikey's stomach grumbled, and the rat managed a grudging smile.

"I see...I take it your brothers saw fit to tell you that I had ordered a pizza for your dinner?"

Mikey froze, momentary panic of dark doom and a ruined existence momentarily forgotten at the prospect. His blue eyes lightened, and Splinter shook his head again, exhaling.

"My son, you know I will not permit you to travel on surface for it," said the rat, scowling once again. Forgetting completely about the letter in his pocket, Mikey's spirits sank.

"But I can carry it! Really!"

Splinter reached for a ladder rung, looking disgruntled.

"You may carry it back to the Lair, if you so wish, and if you avoid dropping it...again. But you did not have my permission to go to the surface world, Michelangelo. You'll have to be punished."

Splinter's stern voice made Mikey cringe, though hope flickered inside of him as the rat began to climb upwards, pausing for a moment to look back at Mikey.

"Wait here a moment; I shall be back presently. But you're going to bed directly after dinner, Michelangelo-tonight, and tomorrow. No video games, either. And," commented the Sensei, as he resumed climbing up the rusted ladder. "Five more sets of crunches in training, tomorrow."

Mikey started in indignant horror; though the punishment, as it did not involve his immediate dismembering, did seem paltry in comparison to what he'd been expecting. He hated going to bed early-and he hated crunches!

But as Master Splinter quietly cracked open the manhole to slip out, Mikey decided to consider the positives. The letter was still in his pocket, Splinter knew nothing of Rosa, Mikey wasn't going to buried somewhere in the outskirts of town, and, to top off the deal, he got pizza! Pizza!

Crunches, he decided, were not so bad. As for the early bedtime, Splinter said he had to go to bed early. He never said anything about going to sleep early. Mikey could make a pillow fort full of...of...his bloodthirsty crew of undead, baseball-playing pirates!

And, as for the video games? Well...he'd throw in an old video to take his mind off things. Or draw. Or play with his brothers. Or something. Or write to Rosa and tell her of his triumph, once he found a way to leave the letter in the old box again. It was still somewhat dangerous, as there was not always the guarantee of Splinter ordering pizza to bail him out, and the neighborhood was risky enough for anyone; let alone a mutant turtle kid walking around.

Mikey frowned lightly, brow furrowing.

This was a pickle.

Mikey dropped to bended knee as the manhole cover flickered shut over the opening.

'Pizza guy,' thought the orange-clad turtle happily. 'I love you. You saved me this day.'


It seemed a very little bit of forever for the rat to return, but he did. Delighted, Mikey carefully took the warm box, as if it contained the Golden Fleece inside, and, alongside Master Splinter, began the walk back to the lair. The turtle longed to skip and hum over his new found good fortune, but he worreid Splinter would immediately pick up on it. After all, he was supposed to be depressed over his 'cruel and unusual punishment,' right?

...besides, if he did skip, what could become of the pizza? With that in mind, the orange-clad turtle kept it to a light trot, though he didn't seem able to bite back a large smile. Out of the corner of his eye, Splinter noticed it, and stopped suddenly. Blissfully unaware, the small turtle hurried on.

The rat only looked at his young son for a moment, eyes narrowing ever so slightly as a small frown lined his features. He wondered when his son would come clean with-

"Master Splinter?"

The rat glanced up; Mikey had finally torn his eyes away from the pizza box to realize that his father was no longer walking beside him. Mikey stared at him, looking baffled.

"Aren't you coming?"

"Yes, my son."

Splinter resumed walking, and, reassured the rat was a few paces away, so did Mikey. But, for the briefest of seconds, a small smile flashed on the sensei's face.

But, just as quickly, it disappeared, and the two did likewise upon reaching their home, with four small turtles scrambling for a slice.


Whew! Mikey got out pretty easily, I should think! And what exactly does Splinter know? Hmmm...well, he's obviously not going to allow Mikey to get hurt, but...

Well, you'll just have to wait and see, neh?