Stupid katas. Stupid Saki, thinking he was better than him. Well, he'd show him. Yoshi took another step under the swaying branches of the cherry blossom tree as he worked on the kata his father had assigned to him and his brother for what felt like the fiftieth time that day. Block. Attack. Defend. He was fourteen and the heir of his dojo, yet the movements and steps always seemed to come much more naturally to his adopted brother. And he was always so smug about it. So, this time, Yoshi was going to practice until he got it. Block. Attack. Defe-

He overbalanced on the fifth step, the same step as last time, landing on his rear and hitting a root, then yelping as his tail bone zinged at the impact. Growling with frustration, he let his head fall back, taking a few calming breathes before he stood up to start again, only for muffled laughter to drift towards his ears, coming from the branch above him. He leapt to his feet, ready to defend himself from… a little girl in a pink kimono?

Mouth gaping, he stared at her as her warm brown eyes looked down at him with mischief.

"You're never going to get the kata right if you keep focusing like that," she said, perfectly at home crouching on the tree branch.

Yoshi closed his mouth and coughed. He didn't need to hear how to do a kata from a girl. "Are you, um, stuck up there, little girl?"

Well, that was the wrong thing to say. The girl furrowed her brow with anger, then she leapt from the branch, pink kimono catching the wind as she fell. "I'm thirteen. No more a child than you are a babbling toddler." A strong gust of wind blew most of her dark hair over her eyes and mouth, and she sputtered, impatient fingers trying to fling it away and only getting themselves tangled.

Shocked, Yoshi laughed as he moved closer to this strange girl in his backyard. "Here, let me help you with that." As gently as he could manage, he untangled the knots and tucked the hair behind her ears. She smiled gratefully at him, causing butterfly wings to flutter in his stomach, and then she danced away. Just as he moved to follow, she slipped into a familiar form, her hands and feet moving through the steps of the kata he'd just been practicing. For some reason, Yoshi's cheeks flushed at the thought of her watching him without him noticing.

It wasn't until she successfully completed the fifth step, a triumphant smile, flitting about her lips, that he exclaimed, "How did you do that?"

"You're stressing out too much." She said as she restarted the kata. "You're so focused on the movements that you're blocking out the world around you. Move with nature, with the wind, with sound the water makes as it bubbles over stone. The outside world isn't something you block out when you do a kata, it's something you let flow through you." She twirled, abandoning the kata for her own movements. "Here," she said, motioning for him to come closer, "I'll teach you."

Suddenly cautious, Yoshi didn't move. "I've heard tales- stories of cherry blossom trees that turn into youkai and appear as girls so beautiful they drive men insane." Youkai were something his father had warned him about, but he'd never really believed in them until that moment. Choosing his words carefully so as not to offend her, he asked, "You wouldn't happen to be-"

She cut him off with a wave of her hand and a laugh, "That's very flattering to hear, but I'm completely human. My name is Tang Shen," she held out a hand and he dazedly shook it, murmuring his own name in turn, "I'm here because my father forbade me from coming to meet you."

"Oh." Yoshi replied, feeling foolish and a little let down. Then his eyes widened. The Tang name belonged to the rival dojo across the street. "Wait... you came here to meet me, the next heir of the Hamato dojo, because your father specifically forbade you from seeing me?" It had never occurred to him to disobey his own father. All his life he'd been taught that disobedience could lead to death, as it often did for ninjas in a clan. Yet, this girl went out of her way to do so.

A playful smirk twisting her lips, Tang Shen replied, "Well, of course I did. Parents don't know everything, you know."

Agreed, Master Splinter thought ruefully as another thud reverberated through the lair, coming from the dojo where his sons were no doubt talking out their issues in a civilized manner, as he had instructed them to do time and time again.

Turning back to his youngest, he said, "It would seem that your brothers are as capable of great wisdom as they are of great stupidity." The words surprised a short burst of laughter from his youngest, easing the tension from his eyes, as Splinter had hoped they would. The wary anxiety he'd seen lining his son's face had not suited him.

Then Mikey ducked his head, his gaze fixated on his hands as they wrung the sheets in his lap, and Master Splinter felt the same fear strike him. The fear that Oroku Saki had taken yet another precious smile from his life. There was a chair beside the bed; Splinter pulled it close to his son, and then slowly pulled a faded piece of fabric out from behind his back.

Mikey's eyes flew to it, practically glowing. "Master Splinter, is that," he swallowed, "my mask?" Trembling, he took it in his hands, handling it as though it were more precious than gold and, to him, it was.

"Donatello put your mask in the wash. I thought you might like to wear it." Most of the blood was gone. The only trace left was the slightly rusty hue the orange mask had taken, and that too would fade in time.

Looking thoughtful, Mikey let his hands fall. "But I'm not going to need this mask, am I? The guys are going to patrol without me."

"Michelangelo," Master Splinter replied with a touch of reproof in his tone, "do you truly believe your brothers no longer want you with them?"

"That's not it, sensei!" Mikey cried, "What if things go badly? Who's going help them? And what if they don't? What if everything goes perfect because I'm not there? They'll realize that they don't need me." There were tears in his eyes again, but he held them back, refusing to close his eyes against the sting because that would make him feel better and he didn't want to feel better. And, yet, at the same time, he desperately wanted to be comforted.

After Master Splinter heard his second youngest claim that Michelangelo made no difference, he'd had a feeling this would be an issue. It was why he'd cut their conversation short, after all. Anyone would try to stop an avalanche if they could. In a way, Raphael was also a force of nature, not always destructive, rarely ill intentioned, yet so difficult to stop once he was on a roll. Drained by the events of the last twenty-four hours, Splinter momentarily sagged in his chair, then straightened. He reached deep inside himself for the guidance he always sought during these trying times, and found her, waiting as she always did beneath the cherry blossom tree.

"Michelangelo," his son turned to focus on the sound of his voice, drawn to the renewed strength that radiated from his father, "I met the other half of my heart when I was still a boy. After meeting her, after loving her, I didn't think I could live without her." He paused, not for breath but for an idea, something to help his son understand. "Michelangelo, have you ever woken up one morning certain that the rest of your day was going to be perfect?"

He had. Recently, however, the day seemed to go out of its way to prove him wrong. Still, Mikey nodded. Master Splinter carefully covered one of his bandaged hands with his own. It was large enough to encompass both his son's hand and the mask he clutched so tightly in his palm. "That was how I felt after I met Tang Shen. I was certain our future was going to be perfect." The hand resting under Master Splinter's paw rolled over so he could squeeze his father's hand. There was only one ending to a story about Tang Shen and it was never a happy one. "When I lost her, I believed I'd lost everything. Then I found you and your brothers, your love let me live again. However, do you believe, my son, that I no longer need her in my life?" Mikey shook his head. "Do you believe that, if given the chance, I would not see her again?" A tear slipped down Mikey's cheek as he slowly shook his head again. Master Splinter brushed it away, a gentle smile on his face. "If I had never known her, I might not need her as I do, but I met her, I loved her, just as your brothers love you." There was a growing realization in his son, he could feel it. He just had to be sure. "Your brothers may be able to continue functioning as a team without you, Michelangelo, but they will never stop needing you."

He carefully wrapped his arms around his youngest son, letting the warmth of his body spread through him as Michelangelo leaned into him, resting his head against his father's shoulder as though he were a young child again, just waking from a nightmare. Back then, Splinter had marveled at how perfectly they'd fit in his arms, and he did so even now.

"If something should happen to your brothers," Master Splinter continued, "then we will save them, together. And if something should happen to me, if for some reason I cannot be by your side, then rely on your friends, Michelangelo." Chuckling lowly, he added, "Very few in this life can truthfully call a mutated alligator their friend." He winked at his sniffling child, earning himself a shy smile. "It'd be a shame not to take advantage of it." Michelangelo pressed closer to him, hiccupping softly. "There is no shame in asking for help from those who are willing to provide it." Master Splinter rested his head on his son's. "But that was not all you wanted to talk about, was it, my son?" Still not trusting himself to speak, Mikey shook his head again. Splinter nodded. "Alright, my son, tell me, what is it that troubles you? You have my undivided attention." Crash. "Undivided," Splinter reiterated, an exasperated flick of his ears the only acknowledgment he gave the increasingly worrying noises that emanated from the dojo.

Almost regretfully, Mikey broke away from him, rubbing his eyes furiously as he replied, "When the Shredder asked me where my brothers were, I pretended not to know, because I knew he would brag about it and maybe let something slip, you know? But I didn't tell you anything different. I saw your face, sensei, I knew you believed me, but I didn't know how to tell you they were okay without telling the Shredder. And then I let you think I was dead. It was," there was a cough, then a gasp as he fought for breath and Splinter crouched, his palm gently cradling his son's head until his breathing evened out. Mikey looked at his eyes, and though Splinter had hoped his son would not think, even for a moment, that he could possibly ever reject him, this seemed to be exactly what his youngest son feared, "the Shredder said I was cruel, sensei. He said he was impressed. That means I did something wrong, right?"

After a heavy sigh, Splinter shook his head, "The Shredder has always seen the world as he wishes it to be, it is both his greatest strength and his greatest flaw. You did nothing wrong, my son." He couldn't quite hide the hurt in his expression as he pressed his forehead against his son's and asked, "Did you honestly think I would be angry with you? After you saved me? After you saved your brothers?"

"I didn't know," Mikey choked, the water in his sky-colored eyes raining down, "I thought… Why aren't you, sensei?"

"How could I be? When I am just so happy that you are alive?"

Voice breaking, Mikey answered, "If I had moved sooner, if I hadn't asked for help, if I had just done everything by myself from the very beginning, then-"

"Then you truly would be dead, my son. And if, as you say, you are at fault for someone's death, then I know you did everything you could to save them."

Green fingers entwined themselves in his yukata; it pained Splinter's heart to feel them shake against his chest. "That's the thing, sensei. I heard Shredder order Tiger Claw to go after the Foot nin who helped me, but I knew that if I moved early, I'd lose the only chance I had at getting the mutagen." And he'd hoped they'd get away, that there wouldn't have to be a choice between two strangers and his family, because that wasn't a choice at all. And even knowing that made his stomach turn, his mouth taste sour. He was a ninja, and that was kind of like a superhero, right? So didn't that mean he should be able to save everyone?

Except he hadn't saved everyone. He didn't. He couldn't. If he'd tried, he might have lost his life, his family, and Miles would still be dead, but he didn't even try. "When they agreed to help me, even if it was for their own reasons, I sort of felt responsible for them. But I thought they didn't need my protection. I thought they could handle it." A memory played back in his head, a memory of a purple and black mask dripping red all over the floor. "I abandoned them, sensei. I left them to die."

He waited, his body quivering despite the heat of his father's arms, for his father to agree with him, to look at him with cold eyes because he could have saved them.

To his surprise, his father only held him closer. By this point, Mikey was too tired to cry. He laid his head on his father's chest, listening to the thump thump of his heartbeat and sagged against him, too relieved that he wasn't being pushed away - that he wasn't ever going to be pushed away - to even look up as Splinter found that same well of strength within himself and forged on, saying the words it had taken him over a decade to believe. "The greatest burden a man can carry is the desire to protect all that he loves and the knowledge that there are times when he cannot. Sometimes, a loved one is lost and there is nothing we could have done to save them. When that happens, you must learn from your mistakes and grow stronger, so that the next time someone you love is in danger, you do not lose them." A minute passed where neither moved, each content to simply be in the other's presence, then Mikey suppressed a small yawn, and Splinter hoped Donatello would forgive him, because his youngest deserved a rest. "Michelangelo?"

As they separated, Mikey straightened his back as much as he could,"Hai, sensei?"

"Relax, my son. I know how much you admire Leonardo, and I believe that, like him, you also have the makings of a great leader." Mikey swelled. "However," and deflated, "you must promise me something, Michelangelo." Splinter's tone was stern now, though his arms never stopped being gentle. "Promise me you'll never risk your life for mine again." Not even a second passed before Mikey realized he couldn't keep that promise. "There are two things I fear more than anything in this world. The first is losing my sons," this was met by a slight wince, "and the second is learning they do not believe I love them." He held up a hand the moment he saw Mikey open his mouth to protest. "I know now why you said what you did, and I have never doubted your love." His expression softened as he finished, "My only concern is that you have doubted mine. Because if you have," and here he took a moment to gather himself, "then I have failed you as a father."

"Never," Mikey whispered. "I've never doubted you, Father."

And a little piece of the ice that had lodged itself in Splinter's heart the second he saw the Shredder's blades pierce his son melted away.

No sooner had he lain his son down to bed, Splinter watched him sink into sleep as though a switch had been flipped, then he turned to the door and called, "Do you plan to sulk out there for the rest of the day, Donatello? Or would you like to come inside?"

Feeling sheepish, Donnie crept inside, coming face-to-face with a very amused sensei. He coughed a little nervously and replied, "Um, technically, you only asked us to leave the room, sensei."

"So I did." Splinter conceded, suppressing the smile that tugged at his lips. "Well, Doctor Donatello," his son flushed, "I'll leave you to your patient."

Lingering at the doorway, Splinter said, almost as an afterthought, "Ah, Donatello, you wouldn't have happened to hear any strange noises coming from the dojo, would you?"

"Um, no, sensei. But then…" Guilt written all over his face despite his valiant attempt to appear innocent, Donnie wiggled his hands by his head to indicate his complete lack of outer ears. As though that had ever made a difference.

Ah, my dear one, Splinter thought as he left the room, catching sight of his two oldest sons quickly trying to hide the ice and bandages in their hands on his way out, you must be so proud of our children. Without ever meeting you, they've taken your lessons to heart.

Mikey woke up to a weight on his chest. Breath hitching, he nearly panicked, then the weight shifted and he realized the top of Donatello's head was resting on his plastron.

"Mikey?" Donatello lifted his head, revealing eyes puffy and pink from crying.

"Donnie?" responded Mikey, still in shock over seeing his older brother in tears, "Are you okay?"

Wiping his eyes, Donnie chuckled a little. "Of course not. I was just thinking about how if anything happened to you, I'd be the youngest brother." A tight grin on his face, he added, "That'd be awful." Mikey laughed, shifting so he could pat his brother on the head. "Also," Donnie said almost thoughtfully, "I'd be losing my best friend." Mikey's hand hovered in the air as – and he could barely believe it – Donnie lifted his hand for a fist bump. "B-team?"

"A- team, bro." It hurt to laugh, but the watery smile on his brother's face as they bumped fists was so totally worth it.

Neither of them realized they weren't alone until they heard the turtle standing awkwardly by the throat the door clear his throat. "Uh, hi," Raph said, sporting a new black eye, and if looks could kill then the glower Donnie fixed him with would have reduced him to a turtle-shaped char mark on the wall.

"If you're here to upset to my patient again, Raph, then I suggest you step right back out that door."

"Actually, Donnie," replied a voice from outside the room before Raph could point out that Donatello was not, in fact, a real doctor, "he's not allowed to leave until he apologizes."

"Leo," Raph hissed, "that was supposed to be a secret."

"I'm not hearing any apologizing, Raphie," his older brother sing-songed.

Raph kicked the door. "Open that door right now, Leo, and I'll show you an apology."

"No, you won't."

Mikey blinked, "Oh, so this is supposed to be an apology? You don't have to do that. Sensei, already explained everything to me." Grinning cheekily, he added, "You guys need me."

"The thing is, Mike," Raph replied, "you shouldn't have needed sensei to tell you that. I'm s-sorry if I made you feel like we don't need you." After receiving a don't make me regret this nod from Donnie, Raph picked up the orange mask in his little brother's lap and tied it around his head. "You'll always have a place on the team, bro." Then he wrapped his arms around his little brother, swallowing hard against the lump in his throat, the one that always seemed to pop up whenever he looked at his younger brother's injuries and realized just how close they'd come to losing him.

"Aw," Leo poked his head in, "isn't that cute?" Turning to his genius younger brother, he grinned and said, "Don, you got a camera on you?"

Chaos ensued as Donnie pulled a camera from his belt, Raph spewed threats while not making any attempt to free himself from his little brother's embrace, and Mikey snickered as Leo snuck into the picture.

Standing outside, his head resting against the door as the sounds of protest and laughter grew louder, Master Splinter smiled. His sons were going to be just fine.