Disclaimer – I own nothing but this story. As of February 1, 2008, this chapter is a re-write, a hopeful improvement from its original 'condition'. As I explained in previous disclaimers attached to this story, I'm going through writer's block and am hoping that beta reading and tweaking my own work will help me overcome this accursed affliction. Anyway, hope you enjoy the chapter.

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CHAPTER 6 – History Lessons

Once Splinter finished talking with me, it seemed as if my 'trial' was finally over, especially with the next pronouncement.

"Well, guess I better go see about making dinner," Mike chirped. I didn't turn my head to watch, but I did feel a movement of air, as if he had passed behind me heading for the kitchen to my left.

In contrast, neither Donatello nor Raphael said a word. I heard the couch squeak, though, as if the two had just stood up. Other than that, I don't know where either of them went. I was too busy facing Splinter.

I basked in the rat's presence for a moment longer, though, enjoying the respite from questions and the afterglow of peace his countenance gave me. He allowed me that, which I appreciated very much.

However, Father did not leave the room but instead waited with me. Although I couldn't see him fully, if I looked hard to my right, I could see his legs – but just barely. He was standing, now, attentive to his own father. Or, so I thought. Almost immediately, I could sense him staring at me. It was quite unnerving, to say the least; not knowing why he felt a need to stay or what might happen next. After a few minutes, I heard him sigh and then say something to Splinter. It sounded…Japanese. Splinter quickly replied in kind, almost sharply, and Father answered him with a clipped, "Hai," as if responding to an admonishment from the rat.

I smiled inwardly and thought, 'Bout time!

Then the rat looked down at me and said in accented English, "You must now go with your father, Kira Siew. Listen well to his instructions and do not falter in what he asks you to do. Remember, child, true happiness comes from obedience."

I wondered what exactly he meant by that or – even more curiously - what Father had said to him that elicited such a stern response. Considering the 'night watch' Father wanted me to do, I wondered if he was still expecting me to follow through with it. Maybe Splinter didn't agree. Since I was still ignorant about where the lair was in the sewers, the idea seemed ludicrous at best, and maybe Splinter had sensed my confusion. He certainly seemed intuitive enough.

Nevertheless, I obediently stood up and followed Father from the room. He led me back into the hallway. Instead of taking me to my room or the gym, though, he led me into a different room altogether. It was the second door on my left and just before my bedroom across the hall. He opened the door wide, motioning me in with one hand and I complied, slipping past him quickly. Once he closed the door, Father moved past me and motioned me towards two chairs in the room.

Guess he wants me to sit down.

Complying as obediently as Splinter suggested I be, I noticed right away how neat and tidy the room was. I figured it to be his.

While Father went over to a desk, I looked to my right, and saw a dresser standing alongside the wall closest to the door. To its right and tucked into the far corner of the room across from me, I noticed a bed. It was larger than my own, with a faded blue, but clean comforter gracing its top. A pillow crowned the farthest end where my father's head would lay.

From my left and running along the same wall where the head of the bed was sat a freestanding bookshelf, filled almost to capacity with a variety of books. Then, along the next wall that ran back towards me, and where Father stood, was the desk. A second chair tucked underneath, providing enough seating for the both of us. That is, if Father decided to sit down. So far, he had preferred standing and I had the distinct feeling it was more to posture himself over me than just because he didn't want to sit.

Next, from one of the desk drawers I saw Father take out some incense sticks. He plopped them into a ceramic vase sitting atop the desk and then took a matchstick from the same drawer. Father swiped it across the concrete wall to ignite it and then he lit the sticks. Father didn't say anything or look my way. He just waited there, most of his shell facing me, staring at the sticks. Before long, they began to burn, their smoky fragrance trailing upwards towards the ceiling. Father seemed for a moment mesmerized by it, so I took advantage of his distraction and gave a quick assessment of his personal library.

As I looked across the room towards the bookshelf, I noticed a single, book, worn and somewhat tattered, standing upright in a book easel. It had rather an odd title, 'The Art of War' by Sun Tzu.

Art of war? Hmm…maybe it has pictures of war, or maybe it's a collection of war art?

Nevertheless, with the way Father displayed the book, it seemed to hold a place of honor, where it was the only one to occupy that shelf.

I shrugged away the mystery and concentrated on the remaining two shelves. They seemed filled with a variety of books, but with one common theme. From where I sat, there was one about Bruce Lee. I seemed to be a biography on the man. Then, I saw another about Mr. Lee, and then a few more names that I didn't recognize. But, Bruce Lee? I had to stifle a laugh. I found it incredibly ironic that Bruce was a part of this world, as he was my other one.

Heh, go figure!

Then, on that same shelf, there were at least three other titles concerning martial arts. One was on ninjitsu (no brainer, there!) while another focused on kung fu. A few more 'styles' of self defense lined up after those two, most of which I hadn't a clue to what they were, but I assumed they belonged there, given the former titles.

On the bottom shelf, however, I saw many books on Japanese as well as Chinese art, along with books on Asian history, and books of haikus, with a single book on the American Revolution.

Where Father's room was so neat and tidy, he had his library just as orderly, apparently placing the most important collection at the top, with the least important along the bottom. It certainly said a lot about him.

Yet, the common theme was in self-defense and the mechanism of war. The haikus and maybe the less important art books might have been the only differences, but then again, they might have something to do with the other works, too.

Satisfied I had seen everything of importance from the bookshelf, I looked around and my eyes settled on the dresser by the door. Right away, I noticed some items there. From where I sat, I could tell that one object was a mirror. I craned my neck a little, to get a better view, and noticed that the heavily decorated handle. It appeared far too feminine to be Fathers. Curious and while he had his back to me, I stood up and went over to the bureau. That was when I noticed the mask. Aqua green in color, it was similar in style to what Father, his brothers, and I wore. It lay neatly folded and centered on top the chest, its position indicating its importance, much like Father's Art of War. However, the wood-trimmed hand mirror had earned most of my attention. Its beautifully, carved design nearly stole my breath away. I picked it up carefully to inspect it. I noticed almost immediately how imperfect the reflective part of the mirror was. It looked old and slightly discolored, with the silvering underneath obviously tarnished with age.

In contrast, the wood around the mirror was exquisite in design. It appeared to be hand-carved and newer than the mirror itself. I could tell that whoever had made it had done so with a lot of care. The decorative handle had rosettes and leafy vines curling around it, leading up to the main body of the mirror, all hand carved by the looks of it. When I turned it over to see the back, I sucked in a startled breath. There, in the middle of a beautiful filigree heart, I saw the name 'Mei Pei' etched into the wood. I realized right then that Father had made it for my mother. For a moment, I felt a deep sadness for him, realizing just how much he must have loved her.

"Kira, please take a seat!"

Startled by Father's stern voice, I turned quickly around and blushed when I saw him looking at me. Considering how Mei Pei had died, it wouldn't have surprised me in the least if he felt protective of her things. Yet, he never said a word to me, but just stared, all while I held the mirror in my hand. He wore that unreadable expression on his face again and so I gently placed the mirror back down on the bureau before returning to my chair.

I could smell the incense, now, sandalwood I think, and it tickled my nose with its heady fragrance. Although quite rich, it was a rather pleasing scent.

Father pulled the other chair from under the deck and brought it over to where I sat. He turned it around so that he could face me. As he sat down, he was so close, that his knees almost touched mine. He then looked hard at me for a moment, studying my face and my form. In response, I cringed under his inspection. I didn't like being this close to him, not with how angry he was with me earlier. It didn't take much imagination to see myself thrown over his shoulder with the slightest provocation. I tried to avoid looking at him, but I suddenly found myself looking back. When he caught my gaze, Father smiled a little.

I gulped.

"You look like her, you know," he said softly.

I squirmed a bit, not liking his comparison. Yet, there was no mistaking his expression. It seemed – wistful, melancholy.

He sighed as he remarked, "Yet, you behave so unlike her, too." Pausing for a moment, Father studied my face again, and his brows pinched together as he said, "Mei Pei, your mother, was a godsend to me, Kira. She filled a void I didn't even know I had." He looked up and stared at the wall behind me above my head, I guess to gather his thoughts, and then Father closed his eyes, as he tried to explain, "For most of my life until she came, all I could think about was ninjitsu. It consumed me and." He chuckled suddenly, "Just about drove your Uncle Raph crazy." When he opened his eyes, again, he looked right at me, hard, "I would have driven him out of the lair, too, if your mother hadn't come along when she did. After we married, I finally felt complete!"

He sighed, again, haltingly and his breath trembled a bit when he inhaled. It was obvious this little trip down memory lane was difficult for him. As face began to melt a little and his eyes glistened from unreleased tears, Father suddenly took my face in his hands in the same way that Splinter had done earlier. Once again, he looked hard at me. I wanted to turn away, to avert my own gaze, but his were so intense, so sincere, I couldn't help but stare back.

With his voice soft yet strained, he declared, "But when she died, Kira, YOU became my obsession! I didn't want to lose you, not the way I had lost her. I didn't prepare Mei Pei, your mother, for the kind of attack we had to suffer through. I could have lost both of you, but by whatever divine grace decides these matters, I lost only…my…wife." Father nearly choked, then, and he wiped his snout with the back of one hand. Yet the cry was still there, despite his self-control, "That's why I trained you so hard after that, I didn't want to lose you, too, because – Kira – the Foot can get lucky again and find us. It could happen at any time and I know this. I knew it back then, but my heart was so full with love for your mother – and you, and where we had so many joyful and unmolested years, that I forgot just how perilous our existence was and still is. Nevertheless, I should have known better than to drive you so hard afterwards! I now see it was a terrible mistake. Forcing you, badgering you…just as I did with Raphael when we were young."

I sat there rather stunned. I'm certain the real Kira – and I wasn't so certain anymore that she wasn't me – would have been just as surprised, maybe even a little relieved to hear her father be so open like this. But, before I could say anything – and I really wanted to if only to encourage him, Father continued talking.

"I still want you to train, but – I've decided to bow out of the role as sensei. Someone else will train you from now on. I believe that forcing you to train with me has only caused you to rebel and…I think we've both have had enough of that?" He winked once and let go of my face, announcing, "Tonight I will accompany you on patrol, where you seem to be unfamiliar all of a sudden as to where we live in the sewer…" As he raised one eye ridge suspiciously, that alone told me that he had a hard time believing my story. "But, we will use our time together to go over the route, so that you will re-familiarize yourself with where we live." He relaxed then, as if his confession had taken an enormous weight off his shoulders, and he smiled broadly.

Quite honestly, I didn't know how to respond. Someone else was going to train me? And, the thought of going out on patrol terrified me like nothing else.

What if we do come across this 'foot'? What am I expected to do? If he's trained me already, albeit hard enough to cause me – Kira – to rebel, that said I should know something, right?

Wrong! I didn't have a clue how to fight them or do whatever it was Father had trained me to do.

There were too many variables with too many unforeseen problems, and I could feel my heart pound against my chest in worried anticipation.

Then Father remarked, distracting me from my disconcerting thoughts, "Nevertheless, Kira, I am proud of how compliant you were earlier in the living room. You showed obedience and respect, even though I know it was difficult for you. I am pleased." He reached out again, but this time to caress my face. His touch was gently, kind, and – loving. Father smiled as he said, "Now that you will be spending some time with Splinter each morning and evening, maybe your recent fears and confusion will subside." He took a breath and with furrowed brow, added, "It is possible, as Mike said to me earlier, that your tendency to act up is only repressed grief." He laughed then, saying, "Must have been talking with Don, again. Anyway, Kira, if you need to talk… about your mother…, you can. I – I won't push you away anymore."

Okay, that told me a lot. The fact that he admitted to pushing Kira away whenever she wanted to talk about her mother said so many things. Of course, the poor girl would rebel. Why wouldn't she? Kira had lost a mother. Then, to have her father neglect her and even refuse to discuss her dead mother would and probably did create his daughter's insubordination.

I had a newfound sympathy for this mysterious Kira. And a newfound respect for the one who thinks I'm her, the look on Father's face told me that in just talking about his wife had been hard on him. The moisture in his eyes was still there, but not to the point where it spilled over. He was holding himself in check, although he did swallow a few times while we sat there and looked at each other.

I didn't have anything noteworthy to say, however. Yes, I had questions; some were about my mother but there were others with more immediate concerns. Since Father was so willing to avail himself to my queries, I felt maybe addressing them now would be better. Waiting until later, when surrounded by the rest of the clan, might make it difficult at best.

"I do have a question, but it pertains to the others here in the lair." I asked him.

Father sat up straight and cocked his head to one side, "Like what?" He seemed eager to hear me.

I realized that the kind of question I was going to ask might have sounded redundant to him, especially since he seemed convinced that my story about being human hours before, was a bunch of 'hooey'. Consequently, I decided to play along with Splinter's assessment of me; that for the past two years, after witnessing Mei Pei's death, I had been in a state of shock and denial. By the rat and my father's account, who's to say it didn't cause a momentary bit of amnesia for me?

"Well…since the past couple of years have been such a blur and I really don't remember much," I smiled faintly, "I'm at a loss as to why everyone seems – well – to hate me." I made my best 'clueless' look I could muster. I hoped I looked pitiful.

All Father could do for the moment was to stare. I wasn't sure if he was confused or surprised. He shook his head and finally found his voice, stating, "First, Kira, they don't hate you. They're just…exasperated. Still, you don't know why?"

"Um, no, not … really." I replied weakly. I shrugged my shoulders a little. "Considering I've forgotten who my mother was and all…"

Father suddenly narrowed one eye and I saw his irritation come back for just a second. He looked at me for the longest time and I knew that if I looked away he would believe that I was lying. So, I focused on keeping my gaze on him as steady and as sincere as his, despite how hard it was to do as he gazed at me with equal intensity. Fortunately, there was no denying that I was in the dark about a great many things, not the least of which was the reason for everyone's disdain for me. I guess Father sensed that easily enough, too.

Finally convinced that I wasn't trying to pull a fast one, he decided to enlighten me, although not without an air of frustration and more than a little impatience for having to do so.

"Well, Kira, to refresh your memory, it started about six months after your …mother died." He swallowed, took a measured breath, and then launched into my personal history, "You began to challenge me on issues about practicing, doing your chores, showing respect, and sneaking off to go topside during the daylight hours. When you would go into the sewers with one of us, you managed to slip away and disappear for a long while. I don't know how you did this, because we're all trained in ninjitsu," and he smiled thinly, "Yet, of all the things we've tried to teach you, disappearing seemed to be your forte'!" He chuckled a little under his breath and then went serious again.

"When one of us would chastise or correct you, you'd have an emotional outburst, ranting and raving, yelling obscenities – which upset Splinter quite a bit, by the way!" He sniffed indignantly and then continued, "You would break things and even desecrate our weapons."

There I sat, wide eyed, and not quite believing what I was hearing.

I did all THAT?

"I guess for Raph, he finally had it when you painted his zai pink. He tried to understand your rebellion, since he's had first-hand experience with it himself. But, painting his zai PINK? Well, that was the kicker for him." Father shook his head, "Never touch your uncle's weapons, Kira. You're lucky he didn't kill you."

Okay, despite the obvious threat – and warning hinted at in that last part, I had a hard time not reacting. I could feel the lower left corner of my mouth start to quiver upwards, just a little, as I attempted not to smile. Just imagining Raph with pink – what was it Father called them, zai? Well, maybe that was the three-pronged fork thingy I saw him wear while out in the living room. Nevertheless, it just called for a snort of laughter, it really did, but I managed not to, because I didn't think Father would appreciate the moment.

"Good grief, no wonder Raph seems to hate me."

I did smile inwardly, though.

"Then, after Don would give you extra homework, after you faked being sick to get out from doing his lessons," Father added, "you planted a virus in his computer that pretty much wiped out his hard-drive. It took him over a week to recover."

I was pinching my lips together so hard by now, I was having a horrible time keeping from laughing myself to death. To upend Don's computer with a virus seemed almost impossible, since as Alicia Gordon, I was as inept with computers as an elephant was to show jumping. Just thinking about it seemed ridiculous! Yet, as I sat there and tried to pretend to be solemn, I prayed that Father wouldn't notice my inward struggle, otherwise I was sure he would stop the Q and A right then and march me into the gym – regardless of his new position on training me.

Still, I couldn't help asking, wondering how the brains of the bunch could be out-done by the likes of me, "I have a hard time believing Donatello would take that long to undo…" but almost as soon as the words left my mouth, I knew that was the wrong thing to say. I saw Father's look grow hard and stern.

"You have a hard time believing that and yet you sit there trying to act ignorant, trying to convince me that you're not Kira? Trust me, Daughter, Donatello taught you very well and you know it. He was not happy with you then and he isn't happy with you, now, because of that event!" Father growled, just a little, "Because of your debacle, it compromised our security system. If the Foot had found our lair at that time, we wouldn't be sitting here discussing YOUR poor memory!"

Composing himself, Father went on, "Anyway, we were only down for a week and between Mike, Raph, and I doing double patrol duty, we avoided any possible catastrophe." Yet, Father wasn't done yet with describing my assault on the family. As he explained, it seemed I had taken Mike's CD and DVD collection and used them as 'sure-a-ken' practice in the do Joe. Okay, this was where I couldn't hide my confusion.

What in blazes is a sure-a-ken and what's a dojo?

"Kira, is there something wrong?" Father asked, his words sharp and direct.

"Ah, well…yeah. I don't know why it is…" I shrugged, even though I did know why, but I'd already been down that road before, of having a previous life, and it did not go over very well. Rather than explain why I had forgotten, I just owned up to it. "I've forgotten what a sure-a-ken and a do Joe is."

Well, the look Father gave me was just a little short of being completely dissatisfied with me. Clearing his throat, he leveled a look that brooked no mischief. Slowly as if he wanted to make absolutely certain that I heard him clearly, he answered, "Indeed! Well, I'll humor you, Kira. Let us just count this as an – impromptu review, okay?"

I smiled and nodded eagerly.

Father rolled his eyes and then huffed, saying, "Anyway, a shuriken is a metal, three, five, or six sided star with razor sharp points and sides. We use them to disable attackers who are too far from us for our other weapons to reach. It is very sharp and, therefore, very deadly. So are CD's and DVD's…when thrown hard enough. As for the dojo," and he took a breath to compose himself, flexing his cheek muscles in irritation, "It's where I attempted to implement some discipline with you a few hours ago. That is where we practice and where we keep our weapons."

I muttered a soft, embarrassed, "Oh." and looked down at my hands, which I had folded in my lap. I remembered what Father had tried to do in the gym to me, but he seemed to be in control of himself, now. Maybe tossing me again wasn't on his agenda. Just the same, I ventured yet another question, looking up at him meekly, "Were…were you trying to strike me with that stick, you know, when you pulled me into the dojo, before I…um…ran to the bathroom?

I guess my expression seemed sincere and wondering, because Father's reaction surprised me.

"No, Kira! I would not have hit you and it's not a stick! It's called a staff, for crying out loud! I have never hit you; not once in your life." Leo seemed mildly shocked by my accusation. "Not in anger, anyway. I have disciplined you, when you were little, but rarely even then. You were always – at least when you were younger – eager to please. Now, however, I prefer imposing on you a heavy repetition of katas, to get you to think about your misdeeds." He looked at me and said flatly, "I was hoping this morning that you would have met the challenge and at least defend yourself. I was trying to get you to fight back, to get you angry enough to vent whatever rage or problem you were wrestling with." He paused for a moment and then softly added, "It's what I did with your Uncle Raph, back when we were teenagers, whenever he would pull away from us."

I nodded my head sheepishly, finally understanding his actions from earlier. Father patted my leg, to finalize our little discussion, and he smiled. He suddenly stood up and walked over to the bureau where the mirror and aqua-hued mask lay. He paused to look at them and then reached out and seemed to pick something up. With his back to me, I didn't know what it was, but as he turned around to face me, I saw that he had the mirror in his hand, the one he had made for Mei Pei, his wife, and my mother.

"Here, I want you to have this, Kira. I …I think it's time." He walked over and took my right hand in his, placing the mirror on the flat of my palm, and then folding my fingers around the handle. He held his hand over mind, gripping it firmly, but not so tight that it hurt.

I knew in that moment what a sacrifice he was making. The mirror he had designed specifically for my mother, Mei Pei, he now entrusted to me. Although I did not have or any memories of my own of her, I knew that I would protect her mirror with my very life.

I brought the mirror up and saw my reflection once again. This time, it didn't shock me nearly as much as the bathroom mirror did. Maybe I was finally accepting my situation. Maybe there was something in the mirror itself that revealed my future, a way to call me back to the heart of what was now my home? I felt Mei Pei… or more precisely, my mother's mirror, and my own heart become one. I didn't know what to make of it but when I looked up and saw the gentle smile on Father's face, I resigned myself to who I was, now.

And, if I could learn what I need to know before joining him in the sewers later on for patrolling, I might have even smiled!