Disclaimer: I do not own the Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles or any of its
affiliates. I do, however, own Sasha, so you can't have her.
IV
It was four in the morning, and Donatello still hadn't fallen asleep. It seemed almost useless for him to fall asleep now, since Leonardo would just wake him up again in two hours for practice. After thinking for a few moments, he decided to get up and go check on Sasha. After all, the girl had a concussion and needed to be looked after till that cleared up.
With a frustrated sigh, Donatello got up and went to the infirmary. Sasha was asleep, curled up in a ball under the covers. He could see her tail moving a little beside her. She looked like she was fairing all right, but he did not want to touch her to take her pulse because he did not want to wake her up.
He sighed and sat down in a chair at the foot of her bed. This wasn't like him. He normally slept pretty well, or at least well enough to get by. Raphael was supposed to be the night owl, but tonight even he was sleeping soundly in his room.
Donatello stretched out his legs, making his feet disappear under the bed. While under there, they hit something. Curious, Donatello reached under and found the boots Sasha had been wearing. He hadn't had a chance to examine them before now. They were interesting boots, to say the least. They were brown and leather, with laces, but they looked hand-made. The stitches were large and a little un-even, but also much stronger than any shoe stitching Donatello had ever come into contact with. The soles were equally as strange. Instead of large, patterned treads like the ones on the bottom of sneakers, these soles had what looked like sand paper for traction. There was no sign of wear on the outside of the boots—there were no cracks in the leather and no smooth spots on the tread. But by feeling them, and having taken them off Sasha's feet, Donatello knew that the boots were well broken in. But the strangest thing of all about the boots was that there was no label or tag to tell who made them. For all he knew, Sasha could have made them herself.
He looked back up at Sasha. Her silver hair shone in the dim light from the medical monitors. Silver hair. That was different. It was obviously natural since there were no different-colored roots growing. But what kind of human had silver hair?
"What kind of human has a tail, for that matter?" he whispered to himself. Perhaps she wasn't a human, he thought silently. Maybe she was something else. A mutant maybe? If she was a mutant, then she hadn't been mutated by the same mutagen that had mutated the turtles. Were there others out there like her? And if they were, were they all as pretty as she was?
Donatello sighed and closed his eyes, trying to concentrate. He awoke to someone shaking him.
"Hey, Donny," Leo was whispering into his ear. "Wake up, it's time to practice."
"Oh, okay," Donatello murmured as he opened his eyes and stood up. Sasha was still asleep in bed. He looked at her for a moment and wondered again where she had gotten her boots. He then turned and followed his older brother to the dojo.
+~+~+~~+~+~+~+~+~+~+~+~+~+~+~+~+~+~+~+~+~+~+~+~+~+
Sasha woke up shortly after Donatello left her room. She sat up, happy to find that she no longer felt nauseous and the pain in her head had mostly disappeared. Her stomach rumbled, reminding her that she hadn't eaten in a few days, and that she needed to eat soon.
She got up and found her boots sitting on the floor at the foot of her bed next to a chair. She pulled them onto her feet, smiling at the familiar feel of them around her feet. She tucked her pant legs into the top automatically. This seemed to be a normal routine to her body, so she didn't fight it.
With her feet covered, Sasha headed out to the TV room, hoping to find someone up and around. The room was empty and the TV shut off. Sasha frowned slightly and set off to look in the other rooms of the lair. She finally found the turtles in a large room on the other side of the kitchen. There were mats on the floor of the room, and a large punching bag was hanging from the ceiling on the opposite side of the room. The turtles were in the center of the room, sparring with each other. They were laughing and talking as they practiced their kicks and punches.
"I see you are awake," a kind voice said to Sasha's left. "I hope it was not my sons' talking that woke you."
Sasha turned and saw a man-sized rat in a tattered purple robe sitting on a cushion on the floor. He had a kind face, and once again Sasha was not frightened. She could tell he was not a threat to her, just as she had known that the turtles were not as well.
"Good morning," she said, walking over to the rat. "I'm Sasha." She held out her hand.
The rat smiled and took it. "I am Splinter." He let go of her hand and did a slight bow from his sitting position. Sasha imitated the bow.
"Come, sit. My sons still have a while before practice ends."
Sasha nodded and squatted down beside Splinter. She did not know how he could sit on the ground with his tail. She found it rather uncomfortable. Instead, she hand found it most natural to squat down, balancing on the balls of her feet, with her knees splayed and her hands on the ground between her feet. This gave her tail the freedom to move and swish as it wished, and it also left her in a position from which she could leap from in a moment's notice, should danger ever arise. Splinter eyed her strange way of sitting, but said nothing.
Sasha watched as the turtles sparred. They each had their own weapons, but they also used their hands and feet, as well as their surroundings.
"Why are they practicing fighting?" She asked Splinter after a while. "Who would want to harm them?"
Splinter sighed an almost inaudible sigh. "We are different. Humans fear that which is different. And what they fear, they oftentimes hate."
"Humans are stupid," Sasha replied, a slight sneer creeping on her face.
"Perhaps," Splinter replied. "But those are harsh words coming from such a young and inexperienced person."
The hidden meaning behind that of course, Sasha knew, was "You probably aren't any smarter." She didn't reply.
"Ninjitsu, like any other martial arts," Splinter went on after a moment. "Is also meant to teach discipline, focus, and to keep your body healthy. But you, of course, know that, being a warrior yourself."
"What makes you say that?" Sasha asked, pulling her eyes away from watching the turtles to look at Splinter. "What makes you think that I'm a warrior?"
"I can see it in your eyes. They have the focused look of a warrior who fights for a higher purpose. But I have never seen the intensity that you have."
"I don't think I'm a warrior," Sasha said, turning her eyes back to the four practicing. "I couldn't fight off those men when they attacked me."
"You also cannot recall where you live or what happened much before my sons met you. Perhaps your mind has forgotten that you are a warrior."
Sasha shook her head as she watched Michelangelo break free of Raphael who had grabbed him from behind. "I think you're just readying too much into my eyes," she said. "I think the focus you see is just my focus to remember who I am enough to get home."
IV
It was four in the morning, and Donatello still hadn't fallen asleep. It seemed almost useless for him to fall asleep now, since Leonardo would just wake him up again in two hours for practice. After thinking for a few moments, he decided to get up and go check on Sasha. After all, the girl had a concussion and needed to be looked after till that cleared up.
With a frustrated sigh, Donatello got up and went to the infirmary. Sasha was asleep, curled up in a ball under the covers. He could see her tail moving a little beside her. She looked like she was fairing all right, but he did not want to touch her to take her pulse because he did not want to wake her up.
He sighed and sat down in a chair at the foot of her bed. This wasn't like him. He normally slept pretty well, or at least well enough to get by. Raphael was supposed to be the night owl, but tonight even he was sleeping soundly in his room.
Donatello stretched out his legs, making his feet disappear under the bed. While under there, they hit something. Curious, Donatello reached under and found the boots Sasha had been wearing. He hadn't had a chance to examine them before now. They were interesting boots, to say the least. They were brown and leather, with laces, but they looked hand-made. The stitches were large and a little un-even, but also much stronger than any shoe stitching Donatello had ever come into contact with. The soles were equally as strange. Instead of large, patterned treads like the ones on the bottom of sneakers, these soles had what looked like sand paper for traction. There was no sign of wear on the outside of the boots—there were no cracks in the leather and no smooth spots on the tread. But by feeling them, and having taken them off Sasha's feet, Donatello knew that the boots were well broken in. But the strangest thing of all about the boots was that there was no label or tag to tell who made them. For all he knew, Sasha could have made them herself.
He looked back up at Sasha. Her silver hair shone in the dim light from the medical monitors. Silver hair. That was different. It was obviously natural since there were no different-colored roots growing. But what kind of human had silver hair?
"What kind of human has a tail, for that matter?" he whispered to himself. Perhaps she wasn't a human, he thought silently. Maybe she was something else. A mutant maybe? If she was a mutant, then she hadn't been mutated by the same mutagen that had mutated the turtles. Were there others out there like her? And if they were, were they all as pretty as she was?
Donatello sighed and closed his eyes, trying to concentrate. He awoke to someone shaking him.
"Hey, Donny," Leo was whispering into his ear. "Wake up, it's time to practice."
"Oh, okay," Donatello murmured as he opened his eyes and stood up. Sasha was still asleep in bed. He looked at her for a moment and wondered again where she had gotten her boots. He then turned and followed his older brother to the dojo.
+~+~+~~+~+~+~+~+~+~+~+~+~+~+~+~+~+~+~+~+~+~+~+~+~+
Sasha woke up shortly after Donatello left her room. She sat up, happy to find that she no longer felt nauseous and the pain in her head had mostly disappeared. Her stomach rumbled, reminding her that she hadn't eaten in a few days, and that she needed to eat soon.
She got up and found her boots sitting on the floor at the foot of her bed next to a chair. She pulled them onto her feet, smiling at the familiar feel of them around her feet. She tucked her pant legs into the top automatically. This seemed to be a normal routine to her body, so she didn't fight it.
With her feet covered, Sasha headed out to the TV room, hoping to find someone up and around. The room was empty and the TV shut off. Sasha frowned slightly and set off to look in the other rooms of the lair. She finally found the turtles in a large room on the other side of the kitchen. There were mats on the floor of the room, and a large punching bag was hanging from the ceiling on the opposite side of the room. The turtles were in the center of the room, sparring with each other. They were laughing and talking as they practiced their kicks and punches.
"I see you are awake," a kind voice said to Sasha's left. "I hope it was not my sons' talking that woke you."
Sasha turned and saw a man-sized rat in a tattered purple robe sitting on a cushion on the floor. He had a kind face, and once again Sasha was not frightened. She could tell he was not a threat to her, just as she had known that the turtles were not as well.
"Good morning," she said, walking over to the rat. "I'm Sasha." She held out her hand.
The rat smiled and took it. "I am Splinter." He let go of her hand and did a slight bow from his sitting position. Sasha imitated the bow.
"Come, sit. My sons still have a while before practice ends."
Sasha nodded and squatted down beside Splinter. She did not know how he could sit on the ground with his tail. She found it rather uncomfortable. Instead, she hand found it most natural to squat down, balancing on the balls of her feet, with her knees splayed and her hands on the ground between her feet. This gave her tail the freedom to move and swish as it wished, and it also left her in a position from which she could leap from in a moment's notice, should danger ever arise. Splinter eyed her strange way of sitting, but said nothing.
Sasha watched as the turtles sparred. They each had their own weapons, but they also used their hands and feet, as well as their surroundings.
"Why are they practicing fighting?" She asked Splinter after a while. "Who would want to harm them?"
Splinter sighed an almost inaudible sigh. "We are different. Humans fear that which is different. And what they fear, they oftentimes hate."
"Humans are stupid," Sasha replied, a slight sneer creeping on her face.
"Perhaps," Splinter replied. "But those are harsh words coming from such a young and inexperienced person."
The hidden meaning behind that of course, Sasha knew, was "You probably aren't any smarter." She didn't reply.
"Ninjitsu, like any other martial arts," Splinter went on after a moment. "Is also meant to teach discipline, focus, and to keep your body healthy. But you, of course, know that, being a warrior yourself."
"What makes you say that?" Sasha asked, pulling her eyes away from watching the turtles to look at Splinter. "What makes you think that I'm a warrior?"
"I can see it in your eyes. They have the focused look of a warrior who fights for a higher purpose. But I have never seen the intensity that you have."
"I don't think I'm a warrior," Sasha said, turning her eyes back to the four practicing. "I couldn't fight off those men when they attacked me."
"You also cannot recall where you live or what happened much before my sons met you. Perhaps your mind has forgotten that you are a warrior."
Sasha shook her head as she watched Michelangelo break free of Raphael who had grabbed him from behind. "I think you're just readying too much into my eyes," she said. "I think the focus you see is just my focus to remember who I am enough to get home."