TeamB: Thank you all so much for the love and reviews. Please, keep them coming so that I can stay motivated and faithful to these fics! Haha
Because of her uncle's job, April's met many a character. Her uncle August O'Neil has hosted various delegates over for brunch of all backgrounds. His close companionship with fellow New York native consulate Robert B. Van Valkenburgh had landed him the job as delegate assistant, so he was often seen along with the many other national representatives in relation to Great Britain, France, and even Russia.
On a few occasions April was able to meet the Japanese officials who her uncle delegated with, but those meetings were few and short. Today, however, she was to meet another American.
"April, there you are."
April turned to the voice of her uncle as she made a pass for the front door. Augustus was in the entertainment room surrounded by trays of native cuisine. He sat on the couch, and in his hand was a small porcelain cup, probably full of sake. That cup was identical to the one in the hands of a blond man seated beside him.
As April came closer, her uncle stood and set his cup down on one of the trays. His guest stood in respect as well for her presence.
"April, this is Eric Sacks. He just arrived the other day all the way from New York. This is my niece April." Augustus motioned her toward the man who offered his hand in goodwill. His smile was pleasant enough.
"In the short time I've been here I feel like your uncle's told me enough about you for me to know you very well," Eric Sacks said as their handshake ended. "You're a beautiful young woman, April. I was expecting you to favor your uncle a little more though." He nodded toward him. "Maybe even share in those fiery locks of his."
April blushed as she ran a hand down the length of her hair. "Oh, I dye it."
Eric rose a curious brow as he looked toward Augustus who said, "She's not well received here, and her red hair makes her an easy target for less than polite manners; so she dyes it."
"I see. Well, that's a shame." His blues eyes roamed down to the case in her hands. "I've heard you paint. May I have the honor to view some pieces?"
April really didn't want to show anyone, especially the pieces she had in her case right then, but her uncle motioned her and she didn't want to embarrass him in front of his guest so she reluctantly opened her art case and sifted through her papers to see which ones were safe to hand over. The length it took to do so seemed to rise a chuckle out of the New Yorker.
"There's no need to give me the best," Eric said. "Any level of yours is a notch above my own." He held out his hand and motioned for her to hand over the picture she had in her hand. It was Donatello's portrait.
With a quick glance toward her uncle, his silent urging was enough for April to relinquish the painting over.
"She's very talented," Augustus praised. "For as long as she's been drawing, I'll tell you that she can sketch the very wings of a flying bumblebee."
Eric Sacks' brows rose higher. "This right here isn't a bumblebee." He smiled up at her. "Very detailed though, I'm impressed."
"Here are some landscapes," April said, trying to draw his attention away from what—who—he was looking at.
Eric Sacks showed interest in the other drawings, but his eyes continued to glance back to the first painting. It made April's gut twist, and the habit to bite the inside of her cheek was too great to fight off. Finally, those judging eyes looked at her.
"You're very skilled, enough for your pieces to be shown in a gallery might I add. But this, I'm trying to wrap my head around what this is. A M. Shelley fan, perhaps?"
April held back her sigh of contempt. Like any of the brothers could come close to looking like Mary Shelley's description of Frankenstein's monster. "It's a kappa," she said. "The Japanese believe they dwell in the wetlands and drown people."
"Yes, April's got this painting of all these different types of Japanese creatures and she's put her own look to them. She's got a wild imagination," Augustus spoke up, holding his nodding grin.
Eric Sacks nodded along with him. "You're right about that." With a kind smile he handed the pictures back to their maker who quickly snapped them away out of eyesight.
"What brings you to Japan, Mr. Sacks?" April asked.
"Believe it or not, this isn't my first trip to the land of the rising sun. My father sailed with Commodore Perry. He was stationed here long enough for my mother and me to come live here for a time. Impressionable years, a time I'll never forgot even after returning to the States. Now I'm here on business. I decided it was time to expand my trading perimeters and I know Japan right now is looking for as many traders as it can to catch up with the rest of the world. I'm here to help them as much as they will help me."
"What will you be trading with the people of Japan?" Despite his story, April suspected an undertone. Many traders had them, and she's met a few. Mr. Eric Sacks would likely be no different.
Even with April's straightforward questions, Eric Sacks smiled and answered politely. "Medicine, machinery such as steam and motor engines. The essentials to bring the Japanese into the Nineteenth Century."
"Arms as well?" April's blue eyes pierced the stunned silence. "I used to walk past your factories on my way to school back in New York City and I distinctly remember you manufactured firearms. Do you plan to give the people those 'essentials' as well even fresh off their Boshin War?"
Eric snickered and gave a look toward Augustus who looked on in his own apologetic way. "I didn't know you stored the press here as well." He turned toward April and stood humbly. "I assure you, Miss O'Neil that that is the last thing I plan to do. You are right, I manufacture weaponry, but that's strictly for the western frontier. My goal is as it always has been; to aid settlers and modernize humanity. You are more than welcome to accompany my associates in their dealings. But starting another Boshin War after your uncle was in the thick of it? That's the farthest thing from my conscience."
His demeanor and his words shifted April's heart, and she leaned toward him. "I'm sorry, Mr. Sacks, I didn't mean to offend you. I've just . . . experienced their prejudices." Subconsciously her hand came up to play with the tip of her brown hair. The action was enough to be understood where her detail was missed.
"And that is why I am here," Eric spoke up again. He came close enough to offer April a comforting pat. "This age of stubborn isolationism will end, and eventually their prejudices and all the distrust in their hearts will fade away with the gifts we bring through trade." He leaned over to tap her case. "And art. My comment before remains; I hope you consider posting a gallery. I think even the Japanese would be interested in seeing your work."
April blushed. She was used to relative admiration, but from a man in Mr. Sacks' shoes, it was different. And it felt nice. "Do you really think so? I've never really hosted a gallery before."
"Then how about I host it?" He asked, giving Augustus an approving nod. "I'm staying over at a resort in the Tsukiji district, near the Sumida River. It's big enough and close enough to plenty of poor souls that can do with your vibrant colors in their lives. How does the end of October sound? Do you think you can whip up enough pieces for it?"
April stood speechless. Mouth agape and body swaying, shifting from one foot to the other. She looked at her uncle who silently encouraged her as he had been doing. She turned back at Mr. Sacks with a forming smile. "I don't know what to say."
Eric nodded. "Just say you'll be there, you and your wonderful artwork."
April's smile widened. "Yes. I mean, I will. Yes. Thank you so very much!"
Eric Sacks' visit to the O'Neil household took up April's time more than she intended, but as noon slipped past and an offer for her and uncle to dine with the man, April certainly hadn't any recollection that she had anywhere else to be that day.
. . .
"So let me get this straight . . . you want to give April—a human—a gift that is traditionally exchanged between two families as a sign of peace and unity in kappan culture?" Raphael eyed Leonardo with the same look the other two brothers were giving him.
Leonardo took the odd stares on with a nod of his head. "It's also a symbol of good luck," he added. "We've known her for some time now, and currently she's the only one ever giving us anything. I think it's only fair we give her something in return."
The silence he met might have made him uncomfortable, and if Leonardo let it show it was only for a split second, especially when Michelangelo stood up and said, "Who are you and what have you done with my brother?"
Leonardo made a face. "Very funny, Mikey. None of you have to do it, but I want to."
"I want to too!" Michelangelo exclaimed, raising his hand in the air with a bounce.
Donatello moved in closer now that he realized they were all contemplating doing this. "Where are we going to be getting the fish? I know a few spots where nigoro-buna gather."
Raphael let out a laugh. "Nigoro-buna? Really, Donnie? That ain't no fish for April."
The comment silenced Donatello. His face heated from embarrassment over the fact that Raphael was right. A small fish like nigoro-buna? For April? What was he thinking?
"Sorry, boys, this isn't going to be a team event." Leonardo's smile sharpened. There was a familiar gleam in his blue eyes. "You gotta get your own fish."
Raphael mirrored Leonardo's expression. His eyes darkening. "Oh, so it's a race then?"
"Never said that," Leonardo said, yet he was the first to back away and turn and dart out of their hut. Raphael wasn't far behind him.
"Hey! Wait! No one even said one, two, three! Aw, man!" Michelangelo grumbled but stumbled out of the front door.
As the last remaining, Donatello took the time to compose himself and to consider which fish would be in season, which fish wouldn't be laughed at by his brothers, and more importantly, which fish would be the best for April—nutrition-wise. In the end he decided on salmon. It was a sizable, tasty, and healthy fish. And he knew exactly where to find them.
No certain time frame had been announced, which was fine by Donatello because he had to cross a distance before he reached the necks of streams before they poured into the rivers. It was there he cornered the squadron of fish as they attempted to leave the large expanse of the river and trail further inland. All he needed was one, but as he moved to take one the entirety of the school fluttered around him. In their craze they breached the water's surface, and that was where Donatello followed them.
The fish squirmed and flopped. As soon as Donatello got ahold of one it wiggled out of his grasp and back into the water, swimming away as fast as it could. With so many bouncing around it was hard to focus on any certain one. But before his frustration peaked, Donatello sprung upon one of the beached fish.
"Gotcha!" Pulling the fish close, and ignoring the others smacking around him, he clasp the wiggling thing between his teeth and moved to push back against the shore. At least he would have hadn't a huffing snort turned his attention.
There, before him, was a bear. She looked at him with scrutinizing eyes, and when she huffed again Donatello realized he intruded on her feeding ground.
Reluctantly he relented the fish in his mouth and moved away. In his consideration the bear showed none as she took his hard-caught fish and devoured it before him. He sighed, wading at the water's edge. He'd just have to try again.
By the time Donatello managed to secure a catch it was dark. Having taken him all day, he salted the fish and stuffed it into a basket which he secured within the blankets of his nest. Come morning light he forsook his brothers and their status and race toward the pools, hoping to be the first. He wasn't.
There was Michelangelo, sitting on one of the edge rocks, feet swishing in the pool while he munched on a fish in his hands. He paused mid bite when he noticed Donatello's approach.
"What took you so long? And where are the others?" Michelangelo asked.
Donatello looked around. It really was just the two of them. For now. "Your guess is as good as mine. How long have you been here?"
Michelangelo shrugged. "Since yesterday. I thought April would be here, she wasn't. So I just camped out. Maybe she'll show up today." Even with a hopeful smile, the younger kappa leaned down to munch on his meal further.
"You've been here all night?" Donatello asked. Though, to be fair, he hadn't been focused on his brothers last evening when he returned home. So it was highly likely he was the only one there when he slept. "And, wait, is that the fish you caught for April?"
Michelangelo paused and looked down at the half munched piece in his hand. He glanced away guiltily. "I was hungry, alright!"
"Any louder and the city might here you, Mikey." Both kappa turned to see a familiar human push herself through the bushes with a large role of paper under her arm, the usual art case in hand, and a happy smile on her face.
"April!" Michelangelo was the first to her, holding out his gift. "I got you something." Even before April had the chance to comprehend what it was, the younger kappa took her hand and slapped the scaly thing into her palm.
"It's a . . ." She had to turn it over multiple times before she realized what it was—what it had been. "Fish . . ." She looked at Michelangelo quizzically. "Is this your breakfast?"
"No," Michelangelo shook his head. "It's for you, but, uh, I might have gotten a little bit hungry before you came. Hope you don't mind. I just nibbled off the fins . . . and the eyes . . . and the gills . . . and the innards . . ."
April's quiet expression as she looked down at Michelangelo's gift in her hand wasn't easy to read, so Donatello didn't. Instead he took the opportunity to present his own.
"I brought you something too, April." Blue eyes turned as Donatello approached, holding out a small basket.
She took a breath and then looked back toward Michelangelo. "I'm just going to put this down for a moment."
After she put down the once-fish, she freed her hands to take up Donatello's gift. When she opened it she had that same quiet expression, this time Donatello tried reading it, however he couldn't decide if it was a good look or a bad one, if she liked his present or didn't.
"It's another fish." Confused eyes looked toward Donatello. "Did you guys bring me these because I share my foods with you?"
"Food?" Donatello shook his head. "I mean, yes, we eat fish. Who doesn't? But, this isn't necessarily just food, it's a gift from one kappa to . . . well it's supposed to be one kappa to another, but it'll just have to be kappa to human. It symbolizes peace between us. Friendship. And it's for good luck."
After the understanding sunk in, April's confusion fleeted in favor of beaming endearment. Her smile remained even as she picked up Michelangelo's gift again. "I don't know what to say. Thank you, you two."
"I'm glad you like it," Michelangelo nodded before leaning back in. "Not that you have to, but do you think I could munch on the tail?"
April sighed and offered the entirety of his gift. "I give you permission to finish it off if you want to."
There wasn't further hesitation and Michelangelo quickly finished what he started, giving April a moment to herself to wipe the oily residue on the side of her dress. Even still, she kept Donatello's gift close, even saying, "I'm glad you salted it, Donnie. I'm not sure what I'd do if it smelled as bad as Mikey's fish." She chuckled at that, looking quite glad that the younger kappa had downed the rest of it.
"It's salmon." April blinked back at Donatello. "The fish. I caught it because of its nutritional value."
"Oh." April glanced back down at it and nodded. "Thanks for that."
"You like fish, right?" Donatello realized how little he knew about April, even after these few months. "I never thought to ask, and—"
"Oh, yes, I like fish." She nodded in an assuring motion. "Salmon's one of my favorites too."
Donatello beamed. "It is?"
"But has she tried stripped iwana?"
Heads and eyes turn to see Leonardo maneuvering toward the pools. He hopped down from the lip of the falls and landed in the soft moss. In his hand he presented a decently sized, vibrantly colored iwana.
"You got an iwana?" Michelangelo was the first to slide beside his brother, looking at his catch. His eyes sparkled with amazement, and likely leftover hunger. "You'd have to go up into the mountains to get those."
Leonardo shrugged. "I managed," was all he said, and that was enough to tick Donatello and his forgotten salted salmon off.
Firstly, it was Leonardo's idea to give April a fish; an endearing custom in their culture. Secondly, it was also his idea to turn it into some warped competition by setting individual goals. Thirdly, he goes off and gets one of the finest fishes, and one pleasing to the eye, no doubt in hopes that April would like his catch the best. It just didn't seem fair to Donatello, especially when Leonardo overachieved at any game they set in motion, and he . . . well, he was always the one struggling just to keep up.
"Another fish." April pulled out a smile anyway and took Leonardo's gift. "You all are too sweet, really."
"It's good enough to paint?" Leonardo questioned, pointing to his fish. April's eyes followed and she understood.
With a nod, April sat the presents down and unrolled her large paper sheet. She cut a small piece off and began sketching Leonardo's and Donatello's fish side by side. Michelangelo must have felt left out because he offered the last remaining piece of his gift, which was just the tail. But April smiled and donned its image in her work regardless.
When she moved to pulled out her colors she paused. Looking around she then turned confused eyes back toward the brothers. "There's only three. Where's Raphael?"
It was like the three just noticed this as well, and expectant eyes turned toward the eldest. Leonardo rose his hands. "Don't look at me. I didn't put him anywhere."
Michelangelo narrowed his eyes and crossed his arms. "I dunno, you two do some pretty mean things to each other during competitions."
"And this isn't a competition," Leonardo clarified. "It's tradition."
"Tradition?" Donatello piped up. "Then what's the deal with 'tradition' going up into the mountains to get iwana? You're always doing this, Leo; making everything a competition."
"And you're always complaining," Leonardo shot back with an annoyed glare and descending frown. "It's not like you're always getting last place like Mikey. Kami, it annoys the shell off my back."
Donatello had more choice words to say but he never found the opportunity again when Raphael's loud whooping signaled his arrival. As soon as he slapped his catch down, all eyes widened at the size of it.
"Tuna?" Donatello looked at his older brother. "You went out to sea?"
"Broooo . . ." Michelangelo's mouth wouldn't shut. And his eyes looked to Raphael as if he were a god. "What was it like in the deep blue?"
"Dark," Raphael answered with a roll of his shoulders. "But not dark enough to find this baby." He looked at April then with an accomplished smile. "What do you think, April?"
April's expression mirrored the rest. Shock.
"Next time I want to go into the ocean!" Michelangelo exclaimed his hopes.
"No," Leonardo said firmly, then turned his disapproving eyes toward Raphael. "The ocean is off limits."
Raphael tilted his head. "Hm? Oh, I'm sorry, I don't remember you making that rule up before we all left. It was fair game."
"It wasn't a game."
Raphael rolled his eyes. "Oh, don't give me that. I know you, Leo, we all do. And we all know you make that face when you lose."
"I like them all!" Thank goodness for April. She turned the brothers' attention back to her. Teeth bared and eyes strained, it was obvious she was trying not to let frustration overwhelm her. "Thank you. Raphael. Leonardo. Michelangelo. Donatello. Thank you. I love the fish." She then motioned to Raphael. "I'm drawing them all. Bring it over here."
Raphael snorted at Leonardo as he pushed past him, dragging his gift behind. The fish laid there until April had finished Raphael's additional piece and painted colors on the piece. With a relieved smile she showed the four of them. It was enough of a distraction for the tensions to die down.
The issue had reminded April of her family back in New York City and how they used to squabble over meaningless things. It also made her wonder just how old the four were, even in Kappa years. They acted young, but she was glad they were comfortable enough around her to let her witness these familial differences. It was interesting to see, especially after discerning they and humans weren't so different at all in this aspect.
The last thing that came to April's mind over these unexpected gifts was how she was supposed to take them home—especially that tuna. There was no way she was going to deny Raphael's gift when she had Donatello and Leonardo's fish in her arms.
Okay, so she just had to find a cart.
April was subconsciously apprehensive when going back out into the city, for good reason. Even after how long she's been in Japan, she still didn't like the feeling of the glares. Striking up small talk was one of the biggest challenges she faced, even after a greater understanding of the Japanese language, many of the people acted as if they couldn't understand her. It frustrated her to no end.
"Excuse me, excuse me," April said in relative good Japanese. "I will buy your cart for good money." The cart wasn't even in good condition, but it was the only one April could find owned by a less than snarky man. He looked at her quietly, as if examining her first before actually listening to her. "Sir," she said, holding out her purse. "I will give you this if you give me that." She pointed to the cart and after a hefty shake with a rustle of the contents inside, the man nodded and took her offer. Now it was up to her to wheel the thing back to the city's edge.
The cart was old and obviously in need of repair. It grinded the entire way back with one wobbling wheel that drove April crazy, especially when it got stuck in the road. She moaned when she moved toward it, trying to see if she could remedy it.
"What now?" April wasn't gifted in any sort of mechanical skill, but she knew enough to temporarily fix. At least she thought she did. With a sigh, April sat down and leaned against the small cart. Looking up the road she realized just how far she had to go and knew, just knew, that it would take her all day to track back to the pools where her horde was waiting.
When a shadow engulfed her and didn't fade away, April looked up to see a familiar face.
"What business do you have with carts, westerner?" Despite the derogatory name, Karai smiled down at April and even offered her a hand.
"Thanks." Brushing her hair out of her face, April realized how the sun revealed some redder tints. It might be time to dye again. "I've got some things to pick up."
"With that?" Karai gave the poor-looking cart a skeptical look, but April could only shrug.
"It was all I could get."
Luckily, Karai didn't press further. April was glad someone understood her. She was also grateful for the help she showed in taking up one handle while motioning for her to take the other.
"Together," she said, and the both of them pulled the rickety cart up the road.
There was worry over leading Karai down the path she took to meet the brothers. But she had no choice if she was ever going to hope to haul the boys' gifts back home. It just wouldn't sit well with her to leave the fish behind, though bringing Karai to the pools already didn't sit well, but April believed in the brothers' ability to know when she was approaching along with a guest.
"There they are!" April said, louder than usual as she moved over toward the fish and began packing the cart with the ones she could before looking toward Karai with pleading eyes to move the tuna. "Care to help me for a second?"
Karai was looking around as if something was watching or, or something would suddenly pop out of the bushes and attack. April's never seen the girl so on edge. It wasn't like the pools was a shady-looking place. And so the worry in her gut continued to eat away at her insides.
Relief came when the Japanese woman came and offered her strength to move the tuna. But those eyes of hers still studied their surroundings. "Who exactly do you meet out here?" She groaned when they struggled to move the large fish, but when it was plopped down onto the cart with the others she looked at April expectantly.
April smiled sheepishly and pat the tuna. "Fishermen . . . children. We play out here, and they said it was tradition to give their friends fish for good luck so they gave me these." She moved around to take up the cart's handle again. "No consideration for how I was supposed to get it all home, though." She nodded toward Karai who still had her eyes around. "You've helped me this far, care to help me wheel this catch back?"
There was something Karai was looking at, and it spurred her closer to one of the pools. Perhaps she would have seen what she thought she saw hadn't April called out to her again. There was reluctance in the way she moved, but she came back and helped April lift the cart and pull it along.
"Tradition you say?" Conversation struck up in their exit. "Just what do you plan to do with it all? If it's not salted or dried, it'll go bad very fast."
"I'll just have to have it for dinner. You're invited if you'd like to join me and my uncle."
"You would invite me?" There was a short pause before she continued. "I am honored."
"So am I."
When the sound of their voices carried away their presence, four heads popped out of the pool scanning eyes had been on just moments before.
"April brought another human here," Michelangelo said with a hint of worry.
"She was friendly toward her," Donatello added as he moved toward the edge, his eyes following their trail despite the two being long gone. He turned back to look at his brothers. "April wouldn't do something like that if she didn't have to."
"And she had to because she couldn't carry the fish back," Leonardo said with an accusing eye looking at Raphael who was wading beside him.
In response to the accusation, Raphael splashed at his brother. Leonardo splashed back until they fell into a wrestle with their two younger brothers watching on with groaning sighs.
"Hey, Donnie."
Donatello moved his eyes away from his brothers' splashing and looked toward Michelangelo who was gazing off back in the direction April and the other human had left. "What's wrong?"
"I don't know," Michelangelo said with a shrug. "Do you remember all those stories about the tengu, and the kitsune, and the oni, and the humans? You know, the really scary ones that used to keep me up at night?"
Donatello snickered and dipped his hand down to fling a splash of water at his brother. "You mean the ones that still keep you up?"
Michelangelo flinched back but there was a look in his eyes that spilled worry within Donatello's gut. "I'm serious." He looked back toward where April and the other human had once been. "It's why we were all so scared of April when we met her, but after we actually met her we realized she didn't have that dangerous spirit about her." He sighed. There was no smile on his face this time. "She looked right at us. If the falls weren't rippling the waters I think the human might have actually seen us."
Donatello shrugged. "If she had then she'd react like the others humans who've already seen us." With screaming and running legs.
Michelangelo looked down. "Maybe, but she had a dangerous spirit, Donnie. I could feel it."
The worry in Donatello's gut didn't dissipate, it remained and pestered him into restlessness. For the first time since beginning their rendezvous outings with April he worried for his brothers' safety. April had been so different from the humans they were taught about, and the relief of it all made him full of life and excitement every time he and his brothers met the westerner, and there was hope that the other humans were similar to her. But with Michelangelo's unusual wariness, Donatello wondered just how relevant those old stories and histories were even to this day.