Title: The Tail of Four Ninja
Summary: Four young turtles teach themselves a lesson on sharing, in the strangest of ways. One shot, turtle-tot nonsense.
Disclaimer: I own nothing and make no profit.
Dedication: For Robbie, who told me in his own special way that I had to get a nice chibi story posted, by urinating on the angsty fic I was writing. I'll let you come to your own conclusions.
Yes, The /Tail/ of Four Ninja. Don't try and correct me on that.
"Mast'ah Splint'ah?"
The meditating rat slowly opened his eyes. His relaxation had been disturbed, but that was of no concern to him. Any time he managed to take for himself was long enough, though it was becoming increasingly rare with four three-year-olds nipping at his heels.
"Mast'ah Splint'ah," the little boy began, clumsily straightening his new orange bandana as he spoke. "Donnie says t'at you says t'at we are going to t'e park and I want to know if t'at's true because Leo says t'at youwon't let us 'cause you says before t'at we can't go to t'e places on the TV, but I says, I says-"
Deciphering his speech was difficult. The young turtle's mouth could not keep up with his thoughts, causing it all to slur into a long, mispronounced, string of nonsense. Splinter corrected what he could. "You said, Michelangelo. You said to Leonardo."
"Right, I said. I said, 'Leo, Mast'ah Splint'ah told us before t'at we are going out t'ere someday because we need to study out t'ere.' And he says, he says-"
"Said."
"Right. He said, 'No, t'at's wrong because he told me before t'at we are staying here,' and t'at I should ask you if I don't believe him and I don't so are we going or not, Mast'ah Splint'ah? 'Cause Donnie doesn't know if Leo is telling t'e right t'ing, and he knows most of t'e time but he doesn't know now, and I can't ask Raphie because he doesn't like it when I ask him stuff like t'at. He always saids-"
"Says."
"What?"
"Nothing."
"Okay." The boy paused, forgetting where he had left off in his tale. He looked hopefully towards his master, as though perhaps he could narrate the remainder of the story.
"You want to know if we are going to Central Park tonight," Splinter deducted, watching his son nod in agreement. He pat a bony hand on his knee, and Mikey eagerly crawled between his crossed legs. "I wanted it to be a secret."
A grin lit the small child's face. At last, he had a piece of information to overrule Leonardo's reign as most-often-perfect-in-all-that-he-does.
"I do not know how your brother found out about my plans," Master Splinter continued, "but now that you all have speculations about our excursion, I suppose there will be no harm in telling you."
The turtle, not comprehending all of the vocabulary used by his sensei, simply smiled. "When, Mast'ah, when? I wanna' go now! Can I go tell Leo, 'cause he t'ought-"
"I know what he thought, my son, you told me already." Splinter slipped his hands under the boy's arms and heaved him to his feet, setting him onto the ground away from his legs so he could stand.
"I know t'at, but Leo t'ought t'at…" He was unfazed by the fact that his father had stopped listening. The rat stood up, straightening his robes as the child retold his story. At last, the boy finished, "And I'm going to go tell Leo 'cause he told me t'at we weren't gonna' go to t'e park and he was wrong!"
Splinter snatched Michelangelo's shell before he could dart away. His energy level was excruciating. The child did not know the meaning of the term 'nap time,' he much preferred running himself to the brink of exhaustion before settling down for the night. His brothers had never been able to forgive the injustice that Mike would not require naps while they all did, and had boycotted them as well. Now four young boys were racing about the sewers of New York city at all hours of the day, with a fatherly rat following two steps behind.
"Michelangelo, wait. I will tell them," Master Splinter told him, slowly slipping his fingers off the child's shell. The toddler screwed up his face in discontent, nodding reluctantly. "Walk with me." He took a step forward, but a tug on his clothing stopped him.
Glancing down, Splinter saw his smallest son standing with his hand out expectantly. The rodent smiled faintly, extending a hand in a similar manner. Mikey latched onto it greedily, holding the large paw in his small fingers. "T'ank you."
"Now, we want to surprise your brothers. Michelangelo, be very quie-"
"LEO!"
The rat grimaced. "Quiet, my son, quiet," he whispered, though it was too late. It was not his objective to surprise the other boys, he simply appreciated the silence from his energetic child.
"Sorry, Mast'ah, I t'ought t'at you would want him to know t'at we were looking' for him," Mike blushed.
"Thank you," the rat sighed, using his free hand to pat the boy's head.
From around the corner, Leonardo appeared, the remaining brothers following behind. When Leonardo touched his hands to his hips, the other two did as well. It was obvious they had engaged in a game of Follow the Leader. "Yes, Master?"
Raph and Donatello asked in unison, "Yes, Master?"
"Leo, we are going to t'e park, you were wrong because I asked Mast'ah Splint'ah and he's brining us to t'e park, even t'ough you said t'at we weren't!" Michelangelo seemed to have forgotten already that Splinter had volunteered to tell the others of their plans.
Leonardo looked to his sensei hopefully. "Really?"
"Really?"
"Wha- Oops! Really?"
"Donnie, you're out!"
"Nu-uh, I said it!"
Splinter cleared his throat, focusing the children's attention on him once again. "We are going to Central Park," he informed them, running his eyes over each boy in turn. "Tonight."
Michelangelo jumped upwards in glee, drawn back down in an instant by his sensei, who still held onto the child's hand. "Told you, Leo, I told you, I told you!"
"Nu-uh," Donatello said for a second time. "I told you, Mikey."
The youngest shrugged, not caring about the details. "Let's go now, Mast'ah! Can we, please!"
Splinter masked his smile with a cough. "Be patient, my son…" He looked down at the boy, whose hopeful eyes were wide and glistening. The face was irresistible. No matter the amount of self-restrain the learned in his studies of ninjitsu, he could never refuse those looks. "Yes, we will go now."
Raphael bound forward excitedly, relishing the chance to see the world beyond their lair. "It's my turn to lead!"
"Wait!" Splinter called, watching the boy freeze where he stood, balanced awkwardly on one foot. "There are rules you must follow if you are to go onto the surface." He paused, glancing at their eager faces. None of his children would be listening if he attempted to explain his regulations now. With a sigh, he finished, "We will go over them when we get there."
Donatello stepped towards the rat, throwing out a hand. Instinctively, Splinter wound his spare paw about the child's.
Leo crossed his arms and pouted, "I wanna' hold your hand."
In an attempt to outdo his brothers, Raphael declared, "And me!"
"Leonardo, you hold Michelangelo's hand, and Raphael may hold Donatello's," the rat decided.
"No, I want to hold your hand, not Donnie's!" Raph whined.
"Can I hold you tail?"
Splinter glanced down at the child with the purple headband, who was wearing an intelligent smile. "Excuse me?"
"Your tail," Donatello repeated. "Can I hold it?"
The rat nodded slowly. "You may."
With a delighted squeal, the boy dropped his father's paw and took hold of the tip of his tail instead. Coarse, firm, hairs poked at his fingers as their wrapped around the tough skin, but he did not mind.
"Oh, oh, oh!" Mikey gasped. "I wanna' hold your tail! Can I? Please!"
"Me too!"
"And me!"
A silent nod sent the remaining trio of toddlers behind their father, where they each found a comfortable position from which to latch onto his long tail.
"You know what, Mast'ah? When I grow up, I'm gonna' get a tail like yours."