MIKEY

Mikey bounced with nervous energy in one of the guest chairs in Pria's office. It was big and stretchy and actually accommodated his shell. Outside of the customizable furniture line of Horace's Mutation-Friendly Living business, he wasn't used to that.

Before Pria had completely seated herself behind the desk, he lost the battle for self-containment. "So, Scout's doing a lot better. Gotta say you guys are totes amazeballs. Kudos on the super healing. Can she come home now?" He blurted it all out in a single breath.

Pria leaned back in her chair, tapping her finger on the arm of it as she regarded Michelangelo with an impassive expression. "We can discuss Scout's discharge options in a minute." She held up a finger. "First, watch this with me, please."

She reached in her desk, pulled out a remote then pivoted to view the monitor on the table behind her. The screen lit up, she hit a button, and feedback of Mikey and Scout sparring played. "This is a rehab facility, Mr. Hamato. We have cameras in every room." She turned to face him, her fingers toying with the remote as a sharp eyebrow lifted. "I'm no expert, of course, but is it normal for both student and teacher to use weapons in a full-contact situation? It looks very dangerous. Not at all what Yuuta was doing with her. I was very concerned at first. However- you seem pleased with how that went. Can you give me some insight into what you derived from this?"

Oops. Leo was going to kill him. But he'd reconnected with Scout, so...worth it.

That just left getting an outsider to understand. "Yeah, that kind of weapons training is way not standard for people doing martial arts for competition or health or, you know, fun, because it is fun without all the boring parts or the hard work parts. We don't teach it to the students at our dojo."

As he spoke, he unconsciously picked up a small glass sphere off a pedestal on her desk, oblivious to her expression of alarm, spinning it and rolling it over his hand, unaccustomed to being still while talking. "But with our family it's different. Our dad was old school into the art, like generations-old, secret clan in the mountains of Japan old school. And he pulled out all the stops teaching us, cuz, back then, our survival depended on it. My bros and I were using these skills in life or death situations when we were Scout's age. Life was different then, probably not for humans, but for us. We don't go on about it much, but we're totes the real deal."

Pria stifled a gasp as he spun the crystalline orb on his fingertip. "I mean that's why we were assigned to special ops during the war." He paused, considering for a moment. "Just in case I wasn't supposed to tell you that, please don't post it on your Friendface page or anything. My brother will flip his shell."

He started tossing the glass ball from hand to hand and Pria cringed. "It isn't that we don't like society, cuz society rocks. How could anything that created pizza, milkshakes and p-shakes not rock? The p-shakes are my contribution. They're pizza milkshakes." He stopped when he noticed Pria's expression. "They take some getting used to, but once you get past the initial flavor, they're pretty good."

He started flipping her desk ornament in the air and catching it, not noticing her stricken expression. "So anyways, we love society. We just don't exactly trust it. That's why we taught our kids the way our dad taught us. And Scout has nailed it. We saw the same recording just now, right? She's so kickbutt at it, she is the art. I bet there's not anyone out there, claiming to be a master, that can hold their own against my Scout."

Pria reached out and snatched her glass sphere back from him, gently returning it to its pedestal. "Be that as it may, how was attacking each other in the gym, in any way productive?"

He rubbed his head and let out a nervous chuckle. "That? Right. Well, when she was a kid and the world was getting her down, she'd go to the dojo and train. Cuz it was her safe place. Which probs sounds all backwardsy to you, but it's the truth. And I can't sign easy while training her, so we gotta be in sync, like Dr. Mindstrong mindmeld in sync."

He started to reach for a cup of pens on her desk and she clapped a hand down over it, making him settle for drumming his fingers on his armrests. "So, since she was all freaked about seeing me in that little anti-window talking-cube you have here, not knowing what to say or how to say it, I just moved things to her safe place. And she didn't have to say it when we fought, because I totes get her. So, now we're good."

He leaned back in his chair, satisfied. Clearly and concisely answering the question: check one for Mikey. He'd crushed it.

Pria's lips parted in an 'O'. Although bizarre and confusing, Scout's father was certainly committed to her care. He'd not left her the entire time she'd undergone detox. He'd showed up for every visitation slot and stayed the entire time it was permitted, although Scout had refused him. Even if nothing he said made an iota of logical sense to her, he seemed confident that things were great. But did Scout think so? She was a go from all of her counselors. If Pria could be certain about her home life-

As Michelangelo drummed his fingers on the armrests, the corner of Pria's eye began to twitch. She picked up her phone and dialed Devon's cell.

"Did you decide, yet? Should I tell her to pack or not?" Devon answered.

Pria sighed. "Hello to you too, Devon."

Michelangelo perked, briefly stilling before gripping the seat of his chair as if to keep himself in it. Could he hear? Returning her attention to Devon, Pria asked, "Did you assess her on the way to group?"

Devon laughed. "Yeah. Pria, she's like an entirely different girl right now. I mean it was there a little more every day she spent time with Yuuta. But this is a whole other girl. I feel good about sending her home with some checks and balances in place." She exhaled a breath. "I'm gonna miss her."

Pria smiled, despite the grinning turtle, wiggling in his chair across from her. "Wait for my confirmation call, while I run these checks and balances by her father." Pria hung up and pulled a thick file from a drawer in her desk. She opened it and began flipping through. "Let's discuss, the discharge of your daughter, Mr. Hamato."

"Booyakasha!" Mikey leapt from his seat, one fist in the air.

Pria's hand flew to her chest, her heart pounding. "Mr. Hamato, please."

Michelangelo's eyes widened, shot to Pria. "Right. So, sorry. I'm totes good. I swear." He sat in his chair, fidgeting with his fingers as he made a visible effort to control himself.

"Very well. Now, I see your family has a social worker in place. Mr. Casey Jones." She lifted and dropped a page. "Yes, yes, I'm familiar with him. He handles many mutant and hybrid cases. I'm going to recommend that Scout meet with him once a week the first month. Then he can adjust her schedule as needed. You probably don't need his card, but here, it's in her packet." She pulled out a stack of documents, handing the card to Mikey. "You should meet with him too, with Scout and without her. Be sure to stay informed on her state of mind. If he recommends she see a counselor or that you engage in family counseling then you should."

Without waiting for Mikey to reply she went on. "She will also need to attend NA, that's narcotics anonymous meetings. She should go to a minimum of two a week at first, more if she wants or needs, anytime an urge or difficult situation arises. Then she can attend as needed. Again, as needed means whenever she gets the urge to use. Or, if you see worry-some behavior. Seeking behavior. Money might go missing, she may begin lying, etc. You noticed before, I think you'll recognize it now." She handed over the documents about NA meetings and locations.

"Scout's done very well here. Her attitude change moved her through the steps quicker, in turn shaving a whole week off the average stay. She's smart, willing, capable and has very dedicated parents. A solid support system. Your art, I personally find both amazing and terrifying, Mr. Hamato. But, she appears more than capable, if not truly happy in it. I may not understand, but that doesn't mean the two of you don't. She didn't speak to you for twelve days and you fixed that in three hours. That says something. If I were you, I'd keep that up at all costs. Maybe you make that one of her requirements with you. You can put your own rules in place that you feel will benefit her recovery. In fact, you should, and hold firm to them."

Pria pulled a stapled packet out of Scouts file, then folded her hands and placed them on top of it. "Do you think you can oversee her care with these tools in place? If so, Scout can go home as soon as you sign this." Then she hesitated, pointing to the papers. "You have a very special daughter, Mr. Hamato. I certainly wouldn't want to cross her path." She pointed to a still on the screen, of the furious expression on Scout's face, mid attack. "I personally find that side of her frightening." Her brow furrowed. "Which— considering she doesn't look threatening to anyone who doesn't know her ability- that makes her very dangerous in and of her own." She placed her hand over the packet again. "You do realize you're entrusting a recovering addict with a lot of power, right? What precautions will you take to ensure she doesn't harm anyone?"

"What?" Mikey blinked in surprise. How could she think Scout would misuse her talents like that? He could barely wrap his head around it.

Pria steepled her fingers and leaned forward. "I said, what if she hurts someone?"

"She won't." What other answer could there be?

Pria's brows knit together. "How can you know that?"

What was up with all the weird questions about obvious things? "Because we wouldn't have taught her if she would. Masters choose their students hella careful. We don't just train anyone. That's crazy-sauce."

Not that mistakes weren't made. Someone had screwed up hard taking the Shredder on as a student way back when. Probs his great-gramps, sad to say. But Sensei, Leo, Karai and April had vetted each of the kids and ok'd them for training, so he was pretty sure they were in the clear.

Pria frowned. "That's a pretty big leap of faith. Even with kids I know to be good, I wouldn't give them a gun and show them how to shoot it."

Mikey cocked his head to the side, trying to process her strange comment. Blue Jeans would've taught any of the kids if they'd had an interest in marksmanship. But this lady clearly didn't grasp how teaching worked if that's all she thought there was to it.

Fortunately for her, just as he was the master at naming stuff, it turned out he was also the master at 'splainin stuff.

"We don't just teach them how to do a move and call it a day. That'd be like showing someone how the kitchen appliances work without teaching them anything about awesome flavors and food."

She had that look his family members got when he knew they were digging his thought nuggets. Jaw hanging open, face scrunched up on one side, that was the one. He was totes on the right track.

"It's not just a bunch of mad skills, I mean it is that, but it's more. It's our life, and the way we live it. We don't teach how to fight, we teach how to think, live and be, from the get go. And when we fight, we aren't just us, we're everyone whoever taught us and whoever taught them and whoever taught them. Well it keeps going on like that. Point is, if you're dissing the honor, you're not just doing it for you, you're doing it for everyone and that's a way huge deal, so obvs she won't." He crossed his arms proudly having laid it all out for her in a clear and sensible way.

Pria shook her head and massaged her temples. "She is a recovering addict. That changes things. What is to stop her from attacking someone if her recovery founders?"

He frowned trying to puzzle her out. What was wrong with finding recovery? Or founding it? They both sounded like good things. And how did Scout's temptation to use make the jump to psycho murderer? It felt like she'd skipped a few steps somewhere in there.

Pria sighed. "Mr. Hamato, with these skills she could seriously hurt or kill someone. What is stopping her?"

"Uh, the same thing that stops motorvators from mowing down sidewalkers when they're driving. Cuz you don't." Though he had to admit it was tempting to try trick-flipping cars off ramps. Not that any of his relatives were willing to let him try. Spoilsports.

He shrugged. "I mean, people can hurt people with cars, but they still hand out driver licenses when you pass the test, right? And recovering addicts keep driving when they come out of rehab, so you just gotta trust that they aren't monsters, you know." He stopped and thought about it. "Recovering addicts are still allowed to drive, right?"

Pria relaxed and smiled, chuckling to herself in wonder. "Assuming that they could drive before rehab and didn't incur a violation that suspended or revoked their license, yes, I suppose we do trust them with large, powerful vehicles."

Mikey smiled. "No worries. We're a big fam and we look out for each other. She's got me and her mom and sibs and super-lots of aunts, uncles and couzies and one rock'n grandma, so we got it covered."

Pria was gaping at him again. He must've gotten through to her.

After a moment's stunned silence, she shook her head again. "So, if you're in agreement on the meetings, counseling and social worker visits, you can sign here." She pushed the pen and paper forward.

Yup. Nailed it again. He was just too good at this.

Humming cheerfully to himself, he picked up the pen and signed.