Disclaimer: I do not own the Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles or any of their affiliates. I do, however, own Sasha, her Token, and the storyline of this fic.
XIII
"...So what you're telling me is that Sasha's necklace is written in a dead language that no one understands?" Leo asked Donatello. They were walking through a large bookstore, looking for a present for April.
"Yeah," Donatello said. "Seraphimian is what the Professor says it's called. It's the language of heavenly messengers, supposedly."
"Did you tell Sasha about it yet?"
Donatello shook his head. "I got the e-mail right before we left."
"Oh. Hmmm...What about this?" Leonardo asked reaching out and pulling a huge book off of a shelf. The cover read: Reaching a New Level: Meditation, the Key to Your Inner Self.
Donatello grinned at his older brother. "I don't think April has either the time or the patience for that book, Leo. How about this one?" He held up a copy of Meditation for Dummies.
"That'll work, I guess," Leo said, returning the smile. "Should we look for something for Mikey in here, too?"
"No, that's what FAO Schwartz is for," Donatello replied, heading for the check out. "The thing that really got me with what this guy said," he continued, "Was that he said one of the words on Sasha's Token was the name of this mythic warrior: 'Sashitaka'."
"Sashitaka?" Leo tried the word in his mouth. "Didn't she say something like that that first night she was with us? Remember, when you touched her Token and she grabbed your arm?"
Donatello's eyes widened. "Yeah! I had forgotten about that! I thought she was just mumbling from her fever or something. She did say Sashitaka, though."
"Maybe that's her full name," Leo suggested. "Maybe she was named after this warrior person?"
"I don't know. I was thinking maybe she knows someone who studies Seraphimian?" Donnie handed the cashier the money for the book. "She says she's starting to remember another language she used to speak. Remembering that might help her, too."
"Maybe," Leo said with a nod. "Who's next on the list?"
"Raphael..."
The two turtles looked to each other and rolled their eyes.
"Korn CDs sound good to you?"
"Yeah. He'd like that."
"And then he could stop using up my bandwidth downloading songs," Donatello grumbled.
Her tail twitched lazily beside her. It didn't like these down times. It was made for movement. A sound at the far end of the room caught Sasha's ears and her tail twitched in that direction, like a pointer dog pointing out a bird.
"Ah, Sasha, you did not go out with my sons." Splinter appeared over the back of the couch and looked down at the girl stretched out on it.
"No, I did not," she replied. "Your eldest son strictly forbade me from going out. He said it would be 'compromising my safety'." She made a face.
"And you do not agree with Leonardo?"
"I can take care of myself," Sasha replied. "As long as I have a sword, I can do anything."
"I see. You are a true warrior, but not ninja," Splinter said.
She sat up so that he face was almost level with Splinter. "Ninjas aren't the only type of warrior in the world, you know."
Splinter nodded knowingly. "So I have learned. However, I would like to warn you that you are beginning to sound very much like my son Raphael."
Sasha made a face and stood up. "I'm sorry, I don't mean to be disrespectful, but it's not natural for me to listen to other people's directions."
"It is understandable. Would you be interested in some tea?" He turned and walked into the kitchen.
Sasha winced at the suggestion. "Yeah, umm, Splinter, about the tea..."
It was too late. Splinter had opened the tea drawer and saw that it was completely empty. He raised his eyebrows and looked to Sasha, who had a sheepish look on her face and her eyes looked a little more purple than normal. "I, uh...I've kind of been drinking an awful lot of tea lately."
"I should say so. That is all right, we have an alternate plan. Hot chocolate?"
"Yes please."
While Splinter made the hot chocolate, Sasha walked over to the refrigerator and pulled out the cookie dough Michelangelo had made earlier. She wiped the kitchen table clean and then began to roll out part of the dough. Splinter watched with a smile. She may have been completely detached and cold during a battle, but doing this little chore made her seem warm and innocent. He placed her mug of hot chocolate and a basket of cookie cutters down on the table near her. "Do you mind if I help you?" he asked. "I helped my sons make these when they were small. But now it is only Michelangelo who is interested any more, and he often makes them when I am busy so that he will not be bothering me."
Sasha smiled up at him, a peaceful, understanding, and happy look. "Be my guest."
They worked in silence until all the cookies were cut out and placed in the oven to bake. Splinter then wiped off the table and began to lay newspaper down on it.
"Hell fire!" Sasha suddenly cried. She grabbed a sheet of the newspaper off the table and held it close, reading a large article with a picture.
"What is it child?" Splinter asked.
Sasha murmured something to herself that Splinter didn't understand, and then she looked up at him. "What day did this paper come out?" she demanded.