13. FLASHBACKS
He knew it was wrong. Maybe that's what made it so easy. Boredom in the Lair was amplified by the monotony.
"Shut-up Mikey and get back behind me!"
Raphael felt his brother huddle back on the tunnel wall, then moments later, could hear his hands gripping then relaxing on his nunchaku.
It was a small trek to reach this junction, and keeping back far enough so that Splinter would not detect them, almost impossible. Daylight had found a way to seep into the chamber, casting it into a murky hall of grey, enough so that from their distance they could view Splinter as he approached a human. A large human. A large male human. Raphael frowned as he heard his younger brother's breathing come to a halt, only to return a good ten seconds later, double time.
"Take it easy, bro. Deep breaths."
Maybe this was not one of their brightest ideas, he thought to himself. Sure, tailing Splinter out of the Lair – despite his multiple warnings against it – might have seemed like a bit of fun, but at this point he was certain Michelangelo was on the verge of inhaling enough air to float out the nearest manhole.
"Who is that?"Michelangelo whispered, his stare not breaking from the stranger looming in the tunnels.
Raphael gave a nonchalant shrug as he could muster.
"Sensei seems cool with 'em."
"Do you think they know we're here?"
"Relax. No-one knows we're here."
There was a quick exchange of words between Splinter and the stranger, both inaudible but guarded. Raphael strained but to hear them and was surprised at how different their master sounded when talking to… another adult, he supposed. His tone seemed less stern. More conversational. But Michelangelo was not fully appeased.
"I dunno…" Michelangelo whispered, hesitation ribboning through his voice.
Raphael rolled back along the curve of the tunnel and reached down to smack his brother on the shoulder.
"I'm right here, so quit bein' a pussy."
"I'm not being a-" Michelangelo slumped.
Recognizing he might have pushed it too far, Raphael twinged with guilt.
"Look Mikey, I know ya might be a little scared. But I'm here, okay? Nothin's gonna happen to ya. "
Michelangelo nodded but the knot of terror in his stomach would not give out. There was something about the tunnels - the smell… the human - that made his feet clammy with the urge to flee. He glanced up at Raphael, whom appeared a little wary, maybe, but definitely not afraid. He took in a deep breath and craned forward to look past Raphael's scutes and gain a better look at the stranger that stood over thirty feet away - an ample man with russet-colored skin, tattered kaftan, and dreaded, graying hair that peeked beneath his multicolored taqiyah. There was else, too. Something peculiar in the way he moved. Something he couldn't quite place his finger on.
"W-what's up with him? Ya think he's crazy?"
Raphael squinted and sniffed the air. Even from this far away he could smell the pungent odor of a human. Like bacon rotting in the sun. His face crinkled in disgust.
"Must live underground."
Michelangelo let out a small breath.
"He's a mole man?"
"A professor. Once upon a time. That's what I heard last time I followed him here."
"Like Dumbledore?"
"No, Mikey. It means he used ta be a professor," He gave a pointed jab towards the sewer floor as Michelangelo's disc-like eyes followed the trajectory, "until he ended up down here."
"Do... do you think we smell like that?"
Raphael didn't move his eyes from the show: "Well. You do."
"Har dee har." Michelangelo snapped back, then after a moments thought: "Really?"
"No, you idiot. We got hot water hooked up down here and everything."
"Oh. Yeah. Right." A second's thought later: "You sure?"
Raphael merely turned back and glared.
Michelangelo fell silent once more, watching as Splinter exchanged a small box, neatly tied with string, for a long and narrow package, bound in cloth.
"What do you think they're swapping?"
"Well, it ain't recipes." Raphael snipped, rubbing his snout into the crook of his arm. The spring weather was kicking up, even underground. Combined with Michelangelo's incessant questions, the irritation was bordering on intolerable.
"What do you think made him end up down here?"
Raphael tossed up his arms: "How am I supposed ta know?!"
The outburst was louder than he had anticipated. Splinter swiveled in their direction, his nose twitching in distaste. Instinctively they shuffled back and fell silent.
"You think he saw us?" Michelangelo mouthed.
The answer came loud and clear-
"My sons. Reveal yourselves immediately."
Duly caught, Michelangelo and Raphael exchanged a look of complicit dread.
"Damn."
Michelangelo gave his brother a light shove.
"You first, Raphie."
"Get off me, geez." Raphael hissed, slapping his brother's hand of his shell. Michelangelo reluctantly dropped his grip.
"Okay. Okay. Please. Just… you first."
Raphael snickered and dusted off his shoulder for effect. It was bad enough to have been busted, but he wasn't about to let Mikey lose his shit over it.
"Watch how it's done, baby bro."
It almost sounded like unblemished confidence. Not even under harsh scrutiny would his brother have known otherwise. Raphael stepped out from the outfall pipe and dropped two feet to the damp sewer floor with a small splash. He looked back to see Michelangelo glued against the wall.
"Comin' or what?"
Michelangelo made a tight strangled noise before hopping down beside his brother. He locked up, thumbs looped beneath the kusari of his nanchaku, warily watching the professor from a safe distance.
"C'mon."
Raphael grabbed his arm, and began dragging him towards their sensei against Michelangelo's constant resistance, until finally they flanked his rear. Splinter flicked up his tail and swooped them closer still.
"It is okay, Michelangelo." Splinter murmured with a pat of his son's head, "This is the Professor. He is a friend of mine and has been helping me in obtain supplies." He turned back towards the stranger, "Professor, these are my sons: Raphael and Michelangelo."
At the names, the Professor gave a chuckle of delight, "What wonderful namesakes!" he boomed, "Both Angels and Renaissance masters! How delightful! And I hear you are becoming masters of a different art?"
"Uh, um… huh?" Raphael stuttered. He glanced back at Michelangelo who seemed to be ignited by the attention…
"You mean my 'chucks?!" Michelangelo interjected brightly, "Check this out!"
He plucked them from his obi and began twirling them with ease at his sides.
"Whoa there, young man!" the Professor said, holding his arms wide, "I'm afraid I won't be able to see a thing. It is a disposition of my circumstance, you see?" His hand wiped in front of his blank face, "Nothing!"
Confused, Michelangelo went limp, his 'chucks following suit a fraction of a second later. The look of confusion prompted Raphael to fill in the blanks:
"He's blind, genius."
Michelangelo's stare flickered back and forth between his brother and the Professor:
"Seriously?"
The Professor stooped lower, leveling his face to Michelangelo's, as his milky cataracts peered straight through him.
"Absolutely, I confess."
Raphael squinted, "And how do we know ya not fakin' it?"
Splinter, having witnessed his sons disregard for both protocol and manners within a span of sixty seconds, snapped:
"Enough!"
"Sorry, Sensei." They muttered both together and out of sync.
The Professor merely listened on with a chuckle simmering beneath the surface.
"It is fine, my dear friend." he assured Splinter, "Twelve - what a grand age! I remember quite well what it is like to be full of questions! Oh, to be young again and see the fiery colors of a New England fall."
Michelangelo's look of chagrin transformed into curiosity once more:
"H-how do you know where you're going down here, sir?"
"A mighty good question." He swung out his sandal, curiously bound with duct tape, and dangled it in the air. "The secret is practice. Ten steps every day. Ten steps the next. And ten more every day after." He dropped his foot and gave a slight inclination of his head, "And of course it always helps to have a friend or two."
A twitch of amusement danced on Splinter's lips.
Michelangelo held a single digit skywards, "So… you can't see how many fingers I'm holding up?"
"One." The professor answered promptly.
"How did – hey, wait a minute!"
The Professor's laughter boomed around them.
"An educated guess. I always start low." He confided with a tap on his nose.
Michelangelo practically squirmed on the spot, eager to learn more.
"Can I ask you something else?
The Professor tilted towards the young turtle's voice with a smile that barely contained his laughter.
"But of course."
"What's in your package?"
"Michelangelo." Splinter admonished, his ears flattening against his head.
"It is alright, my friend, a curious mind is a sign of a healthy mind. My package, my dear boy, is merely some traditional medicine concocted by your Master. Nothing more intriguing than that, I am sorry to say!"
Michelangelo nodded, forgetting he couldn't be seen.
"Oh. I get it. So... um, what's wrong with you?"
Splinters head snapped down, silencing Michelangelo with his steely-eyed stare, as beside him Raphael tried in vain to hold back a snigger.
"Apologies, Professor," Splinter said through gritted fangs, "my son's curiosity has surpassed his manners one too many times today. Perhaps it is best if we say farewell for now."
.
They already knew they were in trouble - but knew they were really in trouble at the speed at which Splinter took off for the Lair. It took Raphael and Michelangelo three steps to one of their masters as he led them swiftly through the warrens, backtracking only three times to throw the trail. From his rear, they exchanged a guilty look, still too nervous to address him. It was Michelangelo that cracked first.
"I'm sorry, Sensei." he huffed as he raced through a sluggish sewer stream.
"Me too." Raphael added, guilt twisting in his stomach, "Sorry."
The low grunt with which their Master replied only ratcheted up their fear even more. Once inside the Lair, his demeanor stiffened. Both Michelangelo and Raphael waited behind him, silent and shame-faced, for their punishment to be issued. Splinter rounded at long last, as his shoulders relaxed.
"Michelangelo, you are dismissed. Raphael. Wait here."
Michelangelo shot his brother a terrified look before scurrying off. A bitter ire grew inside Raphael. Of course he was the one copping it. He braced himself. What would it be this time? All chores for a month solid? Double training rounds? With Michelangelo out of ear-shot, Splinter at last spoke.
"That is the first time he has left the Lair since he was attacked, is it not?"
The question threw him off guard. Raphael took a brief second to compose himself before finally answering.
"Y-yes, Master Splinter."
Splinter's eyes drifted shut in relief, and a heavy sigh left him. To Raphael it sounded like it had been there for months, festering inside his Master since the terrible assault on their brother over half a year earlier.
"Good." he said, barely soft enough to carve the air.
"C-come again, Sensei?"
His master's eyes snapped open. The hardened look that Raphael was so used to seeing gave way to something more gentle.
"Perhaps you do not know?" Splinter reached into the inner pocket of his stole and extracted the bundle he had exchanged with the Professor. It was obvious, now, what it was: "A training sword."
Raphael's head gave a slight dip in confusion.
"For Leo?"
"For Michelangelo." Splinter corrected, "For many months, now, I have tried to ease your brother of the evils that haunt him. I had hoped a change in study of weaponry, in kata, would aid in healing him from the nightmares and fear that has infiltrated his mind. But today is first day I truly believe he will vanquish them. I do not profess to know how you do it, my son. But for this, I thank you."
The revelation caused Raphael's mouth to drop open.
"B-but Master Splinter… I didn't do anything…"
The fangs in Splinters mouth gleamed as he grinned wryly. To Raphael, slightly sinister.
"If only that were true. Now, do not disobey my orders again or else you will find out what punishment you have avoided today. You are dismissed."
Raphael nodded dumbly, and glanced over towards Michelangelo's room. The main living area was empty aside from Splinter and himself. Leonardo had spent the morning tending to the small greenhouse at the rear of the Lair. Donatello, no doubt, was holed up in his room reading. But his youngest brother's room was oddly silent, as it had been for months. How had he not noticed how off it was before today? Then it happened- a faint click and the soft rumblings of music began, seeping out from beneath Mikey's door.
"Yes, Master Splinter."
...