I do not, nor have I ever, owned the TMNT or any of the related themes and characters.

Chapter Seven; Not Quite Right

"Give it up shell for brains!"

"Never! I will have my Monster Meltdown Marathon!"

"I don't even want to know what that is, but there is no way I'm missing tonight's wrestling match!"

"It's only a marathon of the greatest monster movies ending in the monster melting into a pile of monster goo! Besides, wrestling is all faked!"

"Right and that junk you watch is quality television?"

Kit sat at the table with a long bristled brush in her mouth and her head in her hands. She didn't know why, their arguing never gave her a headache before. Maybe it was the fumes from her calligraphy ink. Not likely, the ink didn't give off fumes.

With a sigh Kit took the brush out of her mouth and dipped it in the ink. After rolling off the excess she carefully placed the brush on the paper and drew across, then down. Right now she was working on a replacement for a wall hanging that had mysteriously fallen to the floor and gotten crushed under a shell when Mikey was in the room.

Master Splinter had suggested that in addition to ninjitsu Kit also study the gentler arts of Japanese tradition such as calligraphy. Part of Kit's mind believed that Master Splinter made these suggestions so strongly because she was a girl. But she also suspected it was because she was good at it. She had picked up on the Japanese language quickly enough to surprise her friends and she kind of enjoyed writing using something other than a pen or pencil.

Of course, thinking about how quickly she had 'learned' Japanese made Kit think of her grandparents. Her paternal grandparents had been Japanese and Korean immigrants. Though Kit couldn't remember them her mom had told Kit that they used to visit often. She had probably picked some Japanese up from them. Little kids had a knack for that sort of thing.

Unfortunately, as close as Kit was supposed to have been to her grandparents she didn't remember anything about them after the accident. They had both passed away by then but Kit's mom used to tell her all about them. Sometimes, when Kit had been sick, her mom would sing a simple song that she had most likely heard from Kit's grandmother. It was a sweet song, something about cherry blossoms and a blizzard, and her mother had such a nice voice...

A drop of liquid splashed onto the paper and ruined the figure Kit had been trying to paint. Kit quickly grabbed a scrap of cloth and dried the paper before it, too, was ruined, then she vigorously rubbed her eyes. After returning to the work at hand she tried not to think of her grandparents, or her mother.

…

It had been nearly three days since the patrol. Still Kitrian was clearly not herself. She tried to act normally, training hard and messing around with Raphael and Michelangelo. But sometimes her shoulders, ears and even her whiskers had a tendency to droop. Her eyes were often listless, sort of like dull ebony. Michelangelo tried to cheer her up, but as soon as his shell was turned Kitrian's smile would slip. Once in a while Master Splinter would see her hesitate and take a breath- steeling herself- before she went on to do normal everyday activities.

Tonight Master Splinter awoke in the night. He went to the kitchen to prepare a cup of tea with which to lull himself back to sleep. As he went towards the kitchen he noticed a light on in Kitrian's room. Seeing as how it was late enough that even Donatello had gone to sleep; Master Splinter went to check on her. He stopped just outside her door and a gentle smile spread across his face. She had simply fallen asleep with the light on.

Silently, Master Splinter slipped in and reached for the lamp. He stopped when he noticed something out of place. Her protective gear was on the floor by her bed, where she seemed to think it belonged when she wasn't wearing it. A few books were more or less neatly organized on a shelf that Donatello had hung for her and the drawer with her gi in it was mostly closed. It took a moment to realize what seemed out of place was actually what was still in its place. Normally Kitrian read her bible before she fell asleep, sliding it onto her nightstand just before she herself slid off to sleep, but tonight her nightstand only held the lamp and a stray pencil. Master Splinter frowned, not sure why this slight deviation from her usual habits bothered him.

He shrugged it off and turned out the light. Before leaving he paused to pull Kitrian's blanket up over her shoulder. Her ear flicked but other than that she did not stir.

As he turned to leave Master Splinter made a note to himself to talk with her. Perhaps talking about her mother would help Kitrian to feel better.

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