He had killed them. All three of them.
The night was full of shadows, cast by the single flickering candle in Leonardo's room. He knelt by it, mechanically removing the armor from his chest and shoulder, the bladed gauntlet from his arm, the belt and pouches around his midsection, and last of all the black mask wrapped around his face.
When he had stripped away everything but the wraps on his arms and legs, he crossed his legs into the lotus position and took a deep breath. But intrusive thoughts still pushed their way into his mind, chasing away the calm he sought.
Master Shredder had been pleased in his new chunin. He had said so after the accursed Hamato Yoshi had fled into the night, unexpectedly rescued by another mutant turtle before the master could kill him as he deserved. He had seen Leonardo unflinchingly raise his blade towards the sniveling rat, and that was all he needed to know that Leonardo felt nothing but hatred towards it. That he was truly, eternally loyal to none but his true master.
And he was. Leonardo couldn't imagine serving anyone else. Even the sneering of that impudent brat Karai couldn't cloud what the Turtle felt towards his master.
Suddenly grief surged up inside Leonardo's chest, hot and choking, blinding his eyes with a sudden rush of tears. He almost wished that his grief was something physical — something that was truly rising inside his body like a flood sweeping away everything in its path. Then it could fill his lungs, stop his heart… reunite him with his brothers. He uncrossed his legs and crouched forward, his breath coming in short, ragged gasps.
After a few minutes, the grief and the tears began to fade, and his breathing grew deeper and more controlled. Something colder and sharper began to crystallize inside his heaving chest. Hatred. It seeped its way into his veins, quickening his heartbeat, bringing a pale, unflinching clarity to his thoughts. He clung to it. It was the only way he could keep the grief at bay.
The rat had killed them all. Dead. They were all dead, and worse.
It was there when he closed his eyes, when he thought of what Shredder had done for him, as if it had been burned into his eyelids. All the hundreds of moments when Yoshi had betrayed him, little by little — had betrayed them all. The moments when he had told Leonardo to stay his sword against impossible odds, the creatures he had unleashed upon them, the slithering black veins of corruption that grew through his demands for weakness and peace. It was all a lie — a grotesque, treacherous lie, and the truth of what the rat was burned in Leonardo's heart like a flaming coal.
And Leonardo had broken away from him. He felt a moment of pride in that. With Master Shredder's help, he had realized the insidious betrayals for what they were — and it had given him strength.
First there had been the Slash monster. The creature had been strong and dangerous beyond anything Leonardo had ever seen before — made to kill him and his brothers. Yoshi had ordered him to stay his blade, but Leonardo had known what was truly needed — death for the creature, before it could visit death on him and his brothers. He had stabbed it in the chest with his sword, and a thrill had run through his body as he realized that this was what he should have done all along. He needed to kill in order to save his brothers. There was no choice to be made — only the will to carry it through and do what was necessary.
And it hadn't ended there. There had been Krang — devious, cruel Krang, trying to cold-bloodedly murder his brothers. Leonardo had again done what he needed to do, driving his swords through the alien's repulsive face, throwing his entire body and spirit behind that last frenzied thrust.
And for one exultant moment, he had been flooded with the delight of knowing that there was nothing that could hurt them. His brothers were safe.
That was when the rat had betrayed them. He didn't remember too well what had happened then, only that the rat had slain his three brothers without remorse, laughing at Leonardo as he watched, helpless to do anything. A new surge of rage swelled inside Leonardo's chest as he remembered it. Yoshi had dared to call himself their father — what father could, or would, kill his own sons?
And Leonardo's world had crumbled away. He felt as though his very soul had shattered into razor-sharp fragments, cutting his flesh from the inside and letting him drown in his own burning blood.
Raph… Donnie…. Mikey… for an agonizing moment he could remember all the moments when they had irritated him, when they had argued, when he had wished even for a second that they were gone. The times when Mikey's little pranks and jokes had grated on his nerves. The fierce arguments that had sparked up between him and Donnie. The uncontrolled outbursts from Raph, which had annoyed the disciplined Leonardo. He ached for those moments now, knowing that he would never see them again.
It was only Master Shredder who had saved him from despair. His brothers were dead. The master had given him something to live for — the Foot Clan.
But it hadn't been enough for Yoshi. Even death wasn't enough to satisfy him. What would, then? Was there any part of their lives — and deaths — that was enough for him to stop tormenting them?
Bile rose in Leonardo's throat as he remembered what had come next. He wasn't sure how, but Yoshi had violated his brother's bodies even as they lay mouldering in the grave. He had used some dark witchery to raise them — mindless, rotting revenants, shadows of who they had once been. Just to taunt him. Just to remind him that they were dead, that he had killed them, and that soon Leonardo would join them — but not before Yoshi tormented him.
Leonardo felt his gorge rising at the memory, and a tremor ran through his body. It took all of his self-control not to vomit. He wrapped his arms around himself, trying to breathe.
He could still remember the sweet stink of corruption that had risen from the grave dirt as they had clawed their way out, their eyes cold and empty. He remembered the dull, grayish cast of their deep green skin in the faint light, the sight of their flesh rotten and crumbling as they came toward him. It sickened him as nothing else in his life had. Even their deaths hadn't been as disgusting as this… this blasphemy.
And he remembered the flashing of his swords as he, once again, did what had to be done.
Leonardo's lip curled at the thought of what had been done to them, and a new flicker of rage began to burn away at the edges of his nausea.
Finally he rose from where he had been crouching for so long — five minutes? Twenty? Hours? He wasn't sure, only that the single candle stretched dark shadows around him, like so many ghosts from his past.
Now it was almost over. He had been close that very evening — so close. Hamato Yoshi had been crouched before him, still retching his lies into Leonardo's ears, surrounded by a feeble few allies that Leonardo didn't even recognize. Their distorted voices kept calling Yoshi his master, his father, and a cold, pale rage had blazed in Leonardo's heart every time he heard those insulting words. Yoshi was neither. He never had been.
Master Shredder had stopped him before he could avenge his brothers, though. He wanted his own vengeance on Yoshi, for betraying the entire Foot Clan — not just his sons, but all those he had known, all who had trusted him with their lives. Leonardo swallowed convulsively, feeling his own desire for revenge itching through him. He would have to be satisfied with witnessing the rat's death at his master's hands, and knowing that Yoshi's sick, twisted mind was gone, once and for all.
He paced in silence for what seemed like an eternity, with thoughts of what had occurred fluttering like moths in his brain. Finally he stopped. This wasn't any good. He needed his sleep if he was to be of any use to his master the next day, and going over old betrayals — and the loss of his brothers — was only going to keep him awake.
He curled up on his bed, resting his head on the crook of his arm. He forced his eyes closed, and cleared his mind of Yoshi's treacherous face, and the horrors Leonardo had seen. It was almost over. Soon he would be free for good.
With that thought, a feeling of calm blew over him like a spring breeze, smelling of soft rain and orchids. As Leonardo's mind slipped into dreams, he thought he felt someone's hand brush against his cheek.