A/N: Again, I suffer from too much insomnia and have too many Turtles on
the brain lately. Which means I've written yet another bit of sap that I
keep wondering why I wrote in the first place. Ah well, it was kinda fun
when all was said and done. Enjoy. :P
Early Seasons
Just relax, he told himself over and over again. Just relax and you will be as one with the world. Calm spread over him as he concentrated his thoughts inward. Thanks to long practice, it only took him a few seconds to do so and in no time at all, he was able to enjoy the peace that came with it.
He delved deeper and deeper into this calm as the moments went by. The longer he continued, the more that spread over him. It was a release that he tried to find at least once a day. Doing this helped to free his mind from the stresses that had become part of the daily routine that was his life.
Yet such a release can only last so long before some sort of interruption came along and broke it. It had happened in one form or another for this being, so he though he was annoyed when such things happened, it didn't mean that he was surprised when they came about.
This evening, his calm was shattered by a high pitched wail that cut through the otherwise silent air of his home. It took a few seconds, but this cry brought him back from the peaceful higher plane he had been seeking and back to the real world. When he had, brown eyes looked from the candle lit room to the door which allowed the sound to enter.
There was really no need for him to try and guess what the source of that cry was. He already knew. And as he got to his feet, Splinter knew that his peace had again been fleeting. If he knew anything about what came with those cries, he knew that he would be in for yet another long night.
Getting to his feet, he reached out one furred hand and grasped the handle of the lone candle that lit his bedroom. With nearly silent steps, the rat named Splinter used the light to guide him from his room and down the hallway of his home to another. It was a room that was only a few yards from his own, within easy reach and access for when he was needed. It was from this room that the cries came and he was destined for.
When he reached the doorway that was little more than a force opening in the underground walling, he stepped inside and set the candle on a table near the entrance. From there, enough light was cast that he could see the objective of his quest. Against the wall nearest to the doorway, there was an elongated crate that had once housed hockey sticks. It lay on its side with an open top and was held off the ground by a row of cement blocks. The crate was in fairly good condition at this point, considering that Splinter had found it abandoned in an alley with one slat rotting away. The rotted section had already been replaced with another stronger piece of wood.
On top of the wood, Splinter had also placed an old sheet that he had found. For the most part, this was clean and fit snugly as a cover for the crate. It also acted as a sufficient buffer between the wood and what was laying inside of the crate now.
Though mostly hidden by the room's darkness, Splinter knew exactly what lay within the heart of the crate. He had put them there himself just a few hours before after they had been fed and cleaned. As far as he knew, they were still tucked securely under the old blanket that was used as their cover.
There were four of them altogether lying together in the crib. They were each male and little over four months at this point. This made Splinter's young sons just like any other child in the world. But what set them apart was the fact that they were no more human than he was.
Splinter was a mutant rat, plain and simple. The process that had caused him to turn from a normal animal to what he was now was something that even he had trouble understanding sometimes. But it was one that had affected both himself and the four youngsters that had become his sons.
Though mutants like he was, that was where the similarities ended between Splinter and his charges. For they were not rats like he was or mammals of any kind. They were little Turtles that, in their father's eyes, were very special. They were all healthy, perfectly formed, and growing at a good, regular speed for little one so young.
Right now, of the four infants, only one was awake and it was this one that had disturbed Splinter's meditation. His crying had toned down a bit since a few moments before, but it was still going strong enough that something would have to be done. If his cries were allowed to continue, there was a very good chance that he would waken his three brothers as well.
Splinter stepped into the room and closer to the crib so that he could see just who was so upset. Once he could make an inspection, Splinter was able to see that most of his sons still lay where he had first put them. The largest two, Leonardo and Raphael, were still laying on the far right of the crib, while the smallest, Michaelangelo, was still curled up in the far left corner under his section of the blanket.
It was the fourth and middle-sized infant, Donatello, who had moved from his original position. He still lay next to Michaelangelo, but unlike his brother, he was awake and squirming and crying. Donatello had moved so much in fact, that he had kicked off his section of the blanket entirely.
Watching the baby a moment longer, Splinter though, He must have gotten cold and that woke him.
That was a reasonable enough assumption, considering what his third son's personality was like. Usually, Donatello was the quiet one of the bunch. During the day, Splinter never really had to worry about having to quiet the boy while his brothers were chattering away and making all sorts of noise. At night, it was usually the same story. Splinter would just have to sing a lullaby to the infant and he was off to sleep in no time.
Sometimes though, this was what happened. For whatever reason, Donatello, like his brothers did often enough as well, would wake in the middle of the night and start crying. Then it meant that Splinter was in for another session of sitting in his old rocking chair and trying to sooth the infant.
Well, there was no time like the present. If he was going to do this, then he might as well start now. Splinter sighed to himself as he reached in and took the infant into his arms. Donatello continued to cry as the rat carried him away from the crib and went to sit in his rocking chair. Once there, Splinter sat down. He settled Donnie in his lap, using one arm to prop the infant up against him and the other to pat the back of his shell.
This, Splinter had discovered, was one the best ways to calm an infant down. The touch of another person allowed them to realize that someone else was indeed present and knew there was a problem. Movement of any kind created a sensation of comfort that helped to ensure a sense of comfort.
At first, Donatello didn't really respond to Splinter's efforts to comfort him. He still continued to cry and squirm, making enough noise that it should have woken his brothers as well by this point. Thankfully, the other three remained asleep, though from time to time Splinter thought he sensed some sort of movement from the ones in the crib.
Still, he was just glad that they stayed asleep as they did. It would be enough trouble to get one back to sleep. He knew from recent experience that getting all four back to sleep would be nearly impossible. His sons might have been little, but they could easily become stubborn when they wanted to and never backed down when their young minds were set to making a fuss.
This was just one of many challenges that Splinter had undertaken after he had adopted these four small ones. When he had first found them swimming about in that green material that had changed them all, he had felt pity for smaller creatures. Like himself, they were without a home and in his experience at that point, that was a terrible fate for anyone. So he had then taken it upon himself to make sure that these would at least be kept safe while he was around.
It was only after they had all become what they were now that Splinter understood the full impact of what he had done. By taking in the Turtles, he had taken on a responsibility that could not easily be abandoned. To act in such a manner would go against everything that he had learned from his Master Yoshi and he would not, under any circumstances, go to such extremes.
With that new responsibility, there came other problems, like making sure they had a decent place to live and food to eat. Which was what he had been trying to do. Since their mutation, Splinter had slowly begun to turn the area he had selected as their home into a more inhabitable place for them all. It had started with his retrieving items from his Master's apartment and bringing them all underground. These were then set up in what was at first a single, cleared room.
For several weeks, that was all that Splinter had been able to provide for his new family. He had very little time to gather more, as the Turtles were very demanding. They were in constant need of his attention and tending. So what little time there was to spare was either spent clearing out more rooms for future use, searching for scraps of food, or practicing his Master's art.
The first two took more precedence over the third, since they were more important to the survival of Splinter's family. But after caring for his sons, it was the third one that meant the most to the rat. Practicing his Master Yoshi's ninjitsu art was what kept Splinter in touch with memories of the old days and the good friends that he had lost.
These were not things that he ever wanted to lose, so he was diligent in his practice when time allowed. But that did not mean Splinter's heart was not open to new experiences. If anything, he was more than willing to accept them. Which was exactly what these little Turtles were bringing to him. The more time and care he put into them, the more he felt connected to them and they were bringing to his life.
Splinter could feel little Donatello try to move into a different position in his arms while he had become lost in thought. Bringing himself back to the present, he shifted the baby from one arm to the other and used the now free one to continue rubbing the back of his shell. This seemed to help his situation, since his son was now quieting down a bit from his former wails.
To help further, Splinter began to hum a lullaby. It was one that both he and his sons were steadily becoming familiar with. He had first learned this particular one when he had still lived in Japan as a pet rat. The human who kept him, Master Yoshi, had a sister who often came by with her own small son. From time to time, Splinter had heard her singing to the child when he was upset and the tune become imprinted on his mind. So now, he used it for his own charges, who truly seemed to respond to the sounds they heard.
Having come from Japan with his Master and Tang Shen, most of the language that Splinter knew was Japanese. It was what he used when he spoke with the Turtles, singing them a lullaby as he was now, or muttering to himself about something. So that was mostly what his little ones understood and responded to.
From time to time though, Splinter also spoke to his sons in English. Most of it was broken, as he had only begun to learn this tongue himself just a short time before his human friends had been killed. What he had learned from them had become his basis for what he was learning now, which continued to grow each time he listened to the humans above ground or on the old radio he had found.
In the future, when his sons were old enough, Splinter's intention was to teach them both languages. By doing that, he would be able to give them two routes with which to communicate with the world. Because he was from Japan and his sons would be raised in that land's style, the Japanese tongue would be a major road to what would become their heritage.
Since English was the more common language of the American city they lived under though, Splinter understood that this would be the one more easily used when encountering others. At this point, it was highly unlikely that the Turtles would need such a skill in their young lives. Splinter knew what humans would do to those that they saw as too different, so he would go to great lengths to keep both himself and his charges from being discovered. Still, there was no harm in introducing his sons to both languages and seeing what happened.
A gurgle brought Splinter out of his brief reverie and back to the present for the second time since this task had begun. He looked down at the small child that had made the sound and continued to do so. Donatello had greatly calmed down since Splinter had first picked him up, but he was still squirming and every little bit, would let out another squawk.
The longer he was quiet however, the more Splinter took it as a sign that his son was starting to tire again. When he was quiet enough, then it would be safe to put Donatello back in the crib with his brothers. It would safe to assume that then, he would go back to sleep and stay that way until morning.
When he had first taken over their care, Splinter, much to his dismay, found that babies didn't stay asleep for very long. It was more like they slept in intervals that could vary from one to two or more hours. At first, before hunger or other necessities woke them, the Turtles would sleep for little less for two hours. Then they would wake up and demand attention of some kind.
As they slowly but steadily matured through their infancy however, their periods of slumber were increasing. Now Splinter was finding that if the little ones were left undisturbed, then they could sleep for up to five hours or more. This was easily turning into a good thing for the rat, since he used these periods to handle his other activities.
This didn't mean that Splinter all his time working and worrying however. He did have some periods of free time to himself, though not always spent in practice of ninjitsu. There were the times when his young sons were awake and he just spent the hours with them. Sometimes it was in play and others simply watching his sons learning about themselves and learning to recognize the world around them.
These had quickly become one of the greater highlights of Splinter's long days. Though still young and very small, it was a wonder for him to be with his children. They could not move very much on their own and relied on him to be moved from place to place. But they could lay on the blanket he set down for them and as the weeks were passing, the four babies were steadily becoming stronger.
They were each learning how to use their small arms and legs to roll off their stomachs to their backs or vice versa. Thanks to their shells, it was a bit harder for them to do the latter. That required a little more precision than they really possessed right now, so it was usually just dumb luck that they could ever do that without Splinter's help at this point.
One thing they were good at however, was squirming about and waving their limbs about. A skill that Donatello had already exhibited so thoroughly for his father and continued to do so. By now, the little one in question had finally stopped wailing altogether, but he still kept squirming. Why, Splinter could only guess. He was still learning how to care for infants and for the most part, was only guessing as he went along. But eventually, he suddenly stopped that as well when he seemed to find a comfortable position in his father's arms.
Splinter's gaze fell upon him when this happened and for a moment, he just watched the infant to see what he would do now. In return, the little one only stared back up at his adopted father with tired eyes and yawned once. Then Donatello turned on his side and cuddled up against Splinter's chest. Within a few heartbeats, he had fallen asleep again and the only sound to be heard was his gentle breathing.
Splinter stared down at the child that he held with a gentle, startled smile. He really didn't know how long he had been trying to calm Donatello down. It could have been half an hour or even beyond an hour. But to be honest, he really didn't care.
Still sitting in his chair, Splinter now encircled his son with both arms. For a moment and with extreme gentleness, he cuddled the infant. Donatello didn't want, he only snuggled closer to the warmth of his father's body. Again, Splinter could only smile.
Slowly standing, Splinter eventually walked back over and placed Donatello backed in the crib with his sleeping brothers. This time, he made sure that the blanket was snugly tucked around the baby so that the cold wouldn't waken him a second time tonight. Once that was done, he watched all four infants a moment longer before leaving them to their slumber.
As he walked out into the hallway and back down to his own room, a realization came over Splinter. It would be a struggle in the times to come, that much was now for certain. But no matter what it cost him or what he would have to do, Splinter knew that he was more than willing to face this challenge. It would well be worth the effort that he would have to put forth, since he would be doing it for the four sons who now held the firmest place in his heart.
A/N: Okay, one of the shortest things I've ever written and maybe a little rushed in some areas. But again, I wrote this due to insomnia and boredom, so what can I do? I still like it and I hope some of you out there do too. Now if you'll excuse me, I'm gonna try and get some..ZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZ
Early Seasons
Just relax, he told himself over and over again. Just relax and you will be as one with the world. Calm spread over him as he concentrated his thoughts inward. Thanks to long practice, it only took him a few seconds to do so and in no time at all, he was able to enjoy the peace that came with it.
He delved deeper and deeper into this calm as the moments went by. The longer he continued, the more that spread over him. It was a release that he tried to find at least once a day. Doing this helped to free his mind from the stresses that had become part of the daily routine that was his life.
Yet such a release can only last so long before some sort of interruption came along and broke it. It had happened in one form or another for this being, so he though he was annoyed when such things happened, it didn't mean that he was surprised when they came about.
This evening, his calm was shattered by a high pitched wail that cut through the otherwise silent air of his home. It took a few seconds, but this cry brought him back from the peaceful higher plane he had been seeking and back to the real world. When he had, brown eyes looked from the candle lit room to the door which allowed the sound to enter.
There was really no need for him to try and guess what the source of that cry was. He already knew. And as he got to his feet, Splinter knew that his peace had again been fleeting. If he knew anything about what came with those cries, he knew that he would be in for yet another long night.
Getting to his feet, he reached out one furred hand and grasped the handle of the lone candle that lit his bedroom. With nearly silent steps, the rat named Splinter used the light to guide him from his room and down the hallway of his home to another. It was a room that was only a few yards from his own, within easy reach and access for when he was needed. It was from this room that the cries came and he was destined for.
When he reached the doorway that was little more than a force opening in the underground walling, he stepped inside and set the candle on a table near the entrance. From there, enough light was cast that he could see the objective of his quest. Against the wall nearest to the doorway, there was an elongated crate that had once housed hockey sticks. It lay on its side with an open top and was held off the ground by a row of cement blocks. The crate was in fairly good condition at this point, considering that Splinter had found it abandoned in an alley with one slat rotting away. The rotted section had already been replaced with another stronger piece of wood.
On top of the wood, Splinter had also placed an old sheet that he had found. For the most part, this was clean and fit snugly as a cover for the crate. It also acted as a sufficient buffer between the wood and what was laying inside of the crate now.
Though mostly hidden by the room's darkness, Splinter knew exactly what lay within the heart of the crate. He had put them there himself just a few hours before after they had been fed and cleaned. As far as he knew, they were still tucked securely under the old blanket that was used as their cover.
There were four of them altogether lying together in the crib. They were each male and little over four months at this point. This made Splinter's young sons just like any other child in the world. But what set them apart was the fact that they were no more human than he was.
Splinter was a mutant rat, plain and simple. The process that had caused him to turn from a normal animal to what he was now was something that even he had trouble understanding sometimes. But it was one that had affected both himself and the four youngsters that had become his sons.
Though mutants like he was, that was where the similarities ended between Splinter and his charges. For they were not rats like he was or mammals of any kind. They were little Turtles that, in their father's eyes, were very special. They were all healthy, perfectly formed, and growing at a good, regular speed for little one so young.
Right now, of the four infants, only one was awake and it was this one that had disturbed Splinter's meditation. His crying had toned down a bit since a few moments before, but it was still going strong enough that something would have to be done. If his cries were allowed to continue, there was a very good chance that he would waken his three brothers as well.
Splinter stepped into the room and closer to the crib so that he could see just who was so upset. Once he could make an inspection, Splinter was able to see that most of his sons still lay where he had first put them. The largest two, Leonardo and Raphael, were still laying on the far right of the crib, while the smallest, Michaelangelo, was still curled up in the far left corner under his section of the blanket.
It was the fourth and middle-sized infant, Donatello, who had moved from his original position. He still lay next to Michaelangelo, but unlike his brother, he was awake and squirming and crying. Donatello had moved so much in fact, that he had kicked off his section of the blanket entirely.
Watching the baby a moment longer, Splinter though, He must have gotten cold and that woke him.
That was a reasonable enough assumption, considering what his third son's personality was like. Usually, Donatello was the quiet one of the bunch. During the day, Splinter never really had to worry about having to quiet the boy while his brothers were chattering away and making all sorts of noise. At night, it was usually the same story. Splinter would just have to sing a lullaby to the infant and he was off to sleep in no time.
Sometimes though, this was what happened. For whatever reason, Donatello, like his brothers did often enough as well, would wake in the middle of the night and start crying. Then it meant that Splinter was in for another session of sitting in his old rocking chair and trying to sooth the infant.
Well, there was no time like the present. If he was going to do this, then he might as well start now. Splinter sighed to himself as he reached in and took the infant into his arms. Donatello continued to cry as the rat carried him away from the crib and went to sit in his rocking chair. Once there, Splinter sat down. He settled Donnie in his lap, using one arm to prop the infant up against him and the other to pat the back of his shell.
This, Splinter had discovered, was one the best ways to calm an infant down. The touch of another person allowed them to realize that someone else was indeed present and knew there was a problem. Movement of any kind created a sensation of comfort that helped to ensure a sense of comfort.
At first, Donatello didn't really respond to Splinter's efforts to comfort him. He still continued to cry and squirm, making enough noise that it should have woken his brothers as well by this point. Thankfully, the other three remained asleep, though from time to time Splinter thought he sensed some sort of movement from the ones in the crib.
Still, he was just glad that they stayed asleep as they did. It would be enough trouble to get one back to sleep. He knew from recent experience that getting all four back to sleep would be nearly impossible. His sons might have been little, but they could easily become stubborn when they wanted to and never backed down when their young minds were set to making a fuss.
This was just one of many challenges that Splinter had undertaken after he had adopted these four small ones. When he had first found them swimming about in that green material that had changed them all, he had felt pity for smaller creatures. Like himself, they were without a home and in his experience at that point, that was a terrible fate for anyone. So he had then taken it upon himself to make sure that these would at least be kept safe while he was around.
It was only after they had all become what they were now that Splinter understood the full impact of what he had done. By taking in the Turtles, he had taken on a responsibility that could not easily be abandoned. To act in such a manner would go against everything that he had learned from his Master Yoshi and he would not, under any circumstances, go to such extremes.
With that new responsibility, there came other problems, like making sure they had a decent place to live and food to eat. Which was what he had been trying to do. Since their mutation, Splinter had slowly begun to turn the area he had selected as their home into a more inhabitable place for them all. It had started with his retrieving items from his Master's apartment and bringing them all underground. These were then set up in what was at first a single, cleared room.
For several weeks, that was all that Splinter had been able to provide for his new family. He had very little time to gather more, as the Turtles were very demanding. They were in constant need of his attention and tending. So what little time there was to spare was either spent clearing out more rooms for future use, searching for scraps of food, or practicing his Master's art.
The first two took more precedence over the third, since they were more important to the survival of Splinter's family. But after caring for his sons, it was the third one that meant the most to the rat. Practicing his Master Yoshi's ninjitsu art was what kept Splinter in touch with memories of the old days and the good friends that he had lost.
These were not things that he ever wanted to lose, so he was diligent in his practice when time allowed. But that did not mean Splinter's heart was not open to new experiences. If anything, he was more than willing to accept them. Which was exactly what these little Turtles were bringing to him. The more time and care he put into them, the more he felt connected to them and they were bringing to his life.
Splinter could feel little Donatello try to move into a different position in his arms while he had become lost in thought. Bringing himself back to the present, he shifted the baby from one arm to the other and used the now free one to continue rubbing the back of his shell. This seemed to help his situation, since his son was now quieting down a bit from his former wails.
To help further, Splinter began to hum a lullaby. It was one that both he and his sons were steadily becoming familiar with. He had first learned this particular one when he had still lived in Japan as a pet rat. The human who kept him, Master Yoshi, had a sister who often came by with her own small son. From time to time, Splinter had heard her singing to the child when he was upset and the tune become imprinted on his mind. So now, he used it for his own charges, who truly seemed to respond to the sounds they heard.
Having come from Japan with his Master and Tang Shen, most of the language that Splinter knew was Japanese. It was what he used when he spoke with the Turtles, singing them a lullaby as he was now, or muttering to himself about something. So that was mostly what his little ones understood and responded to.
From time to time though, Splinter also spoke to his sons in English. Most of it was broken, as he had only begun to learn this tongue himself just a short time before his human friends had been killed. What he had learned from them had become his basis for what he was learning now, which continued to grow each time he listened to the humans above ground or on the old radio he had found.
In the future, when his sons were old enough, Splinter's intention was to teach them both languages. By doing that, he would be able to give them two routes with which to communicate with the world. Because he was from Japan and his sons would be raised in that land's style, the Japanese tongue would be a major road to what would become their heritage.
Since English was the more common language of the American city they lived under though, Splinter understood that this would be the one more easily used when encountering others. At this point, it was highly unlikely that the Turtles would need such a skill in their young lives. Splinter knew what humans would do to those that they saw as too different, so he would go to great lengths to keep both himself and his charges from being discovered. Still, there was no harm in introducing his sons to both languages and seeing what happened.
A gurgle brought Splinter out of his brief reverie and back to the present for the second time since this task had begun. He looked down at the small child that had made the sound and continued to do so. Donatello had greatly calmed down since Splinter had first picked him up, but he was still squirming and every little bit, would let out another squawk.
The longer he was quiet however, the more Splinter took it as a sign that his son was starting to tire again. When he was quiet enough, then it would be safe to put Donatello back in the crib with his brothers. It would safe to assume that then, he would go back to sleep and stay that way until morning.
When he had first taken over their care, Splinter, much to his dismay, found that babies didn't stay asleep for very long. It was more like they slept in intervals that could vary from one to two or more hours. At first, before hunger or other necessities woke them, the Turtles would sleep for little less for two hours. Then they would wake up and demand attention of some kind.
As they slowly but steadily matured through their infancy however, their periods of slumber were increasing. Now Splinter was finding that if the little ones were left undisturbed, then they could sleep for up to five hours or more. This was easily turning into a good thing for the rat, since he used these periods to handle his other activities.
This didn't mean that Splinter all his time working and worrying however. He did have some periods of free time to himself, though not always spent in practice of ninjitsu. There were the times when his young sons were awake and he just spent the hours with them. Sometimes it was in play and others simply watching his sons learning about themselves and learning to recognize the world around them.
These had quickly become one of the greater highlights of Splinter's long days. Though still young and very small, it was a wonder for him to be with his children. They could not move very much on their own and relied on him to be moved from place to place. But they could lay on the blanket he set down for them and as the weeks were passing, the four babies were steadily becoming stronger.
They were each learning how to use their small arms and legs to roll off their stomachs to their backs or vice versa. Thanks to their shells, it was a bit harder for them to do the latter. That required a little more precision than they really possessed right now, so it was usually just dumb luck that they could ever do that without Splinter's help at this point.
One thing they were good at however, was squirming about and waving their limbs about. A skill that Donatello had already exhibited so thoroughly for his father and continued to do so. By now, the little one in question had finally stopped wailing altogether, but he still kept squirming. Why, Splinter could only guess. He was still learning how to care for infants and for the most part, was only guessing as he went along. But eventually, he suddenly stopped that as well when he seemed to find a comfortable position in his father's arms.
Splinter's gaze fell upon him when this happened and for a moment, he just watched the infant to see what he would do now. In return, the little one only stared back up at his adopted father with tired eyes and yawned once. Then Donatello turned on his side and cuddled up against Splinter's chest. Within a few heartbeats, he had fallen asleep again and the only sound to be heard was his gentle breathing.
Splinter stared down at the child that he held with a gentle, startled smile. He really didn't know how long he had been trying to calm Donatello down. It could have been half an hour or even beyond an hour. But to be honest, he really didn't care.
Still sitting in his chair, Splinter now encircled his son with both arms. For a moment and with extreme gentleness, he cuddled the infant. Donatello didn't want, he only snuggled closer to the warmth of his father's body. Again, Splinter could only smile.
Slowly standing, Splinter eventually walked back over and placed Donatello backed in the crib with his sleeping brothers. This time, he made sure that the blanket was snugly tucked around the baby so that the cold wouldn't waken him a second time tonight. Once that was done, he watched all four infants a moment longer before leaving them to their slumber.
As he walked out into the hallway and back down to his own room, a realization came over Splinter. It would be a struggle in the times to come, that much was now for certain. But no matter what it cost him or what he would have to do, Splinter knew that he was more than willing to face this challenge. It would well be worth the effort that he would have to put forth, since he would be doing it for the four sons who now held the firmest place in his heart.
A/N: Okay, one of the shortest things I've ever written and maybe a little rushed in some areas. But again, I wrote this due to insomnia and boredom, so what can I do? I still like it and I hope some of you out there do too. Now if you'll excuse me, I'm gonna try and get some..ZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZ