Leo stepped up as the first volunteer to stand on the slightly-wider-than-normal poles. Raph and Don waited by the edges, ready to catch him should the need arise.
"Leonardo, stand on this pole for as long as you can," Master Splinter ordered. "While doing so, move your arms in a simple kata. I leave it to you to decide which one you choose."
"Go Leo!" Michelangelo cried happily. Don and Raph stood underneath Leo's steady form, waiting for him to fall so they could catch him.
Leo centered his balance and prepared to move his arms slowly. He felt right at home balanced on this little ledge. Moving his arms faster and faster, Leo went through a few simple katas, never once loosing his balance. His tail swung to make sure of that, and his wings helped like they had a mind of their own.
"Very good," Master Splinter interrupted. "Now, continue, but change your feet positions from time to time."
"Yes, Sensei." Leo did as he was told, easily staying on the pole. Don and Raph stood back to admire their big brother, who did ninjitsu like a ballerina did ballet. He was very graceful, always precise, and never hasty.
If Master Splinter allowed it, and they were human, he would be considered a full rank ninja in Japan. However, they were in New York, USA and were not human but turtles.
"Very good, Leonardo." Master Splinter motioned for him to jump down, which he did easily. His wings half-opened, slowing his fall dramatically. As a result, he was unprepared when he finally landed and stumbled to regain his balance.
"Master Splinter," Don said, helping Leo stand straight as he inspected his wings, "may we go to Casey's farm? There's lots of stuff to do up there, and Leo can recover and rebalance himself in the trees. Plus, he can jump off of the branches and see if he can glide or even fly!"
"Hmm. I will consider this." With that, Master Splinter left the dojo. Leo flexed his wings, stretching the webbing out with a conscious effort.
"Mikey," Raph growled. "Go get some brunch on."
"What do we want?"
"Pizza," Don and Raph said immediately. Leo nodded, popping his neck and sighing.
"Leo, can you stretch out your wings for me once more?" Don asked, getting out a tape measure. The forest-green turtle nodded and extended both out as far as they would go, holding onto the base of the pillar for support.
"Hm…" Don ran and got a tap measure as Raph inspected Leo's wings for tears or strains.
"There are huge, Leo," he confided quietly, running his hands over the top of the "forearm" wing bones. "And oily."
"Of course," Don answered, coming in with his magnifier and tape measure. "Bird wings have little oil sacks at the tips of their primary feathers. You just popped one. Birds use their beaks to collect the oil and spread it throughout their wings. I'm guessing dragons do the same. Except that they don't have beaks." He kept rambling on, taking measurements of Leo's wings and moving them around to test their flexibility.
"You know," Don drawled. "These are large enough, by my calculations, to lift both you and another being of approximately two hundred pounds or less without much effort."
"So… I could fly?"
"They are built to, but I am not a hundred percent sure. At the least, you could probably glide."
"Well, let's check it out," Mikey exclaimed. "After we eat. I'm hungry."
"What'd ya make?" Raph asked, pushing Leo's wings shut with him. They were still a little too big for Leo to close by himself without the muscles he still had to build up.
"Your wings measure a wingspan of about fifteen feet. They, when folded, are only three feet across. When folded, they measure five feet from tip to tail. When extended, that goes down to approximately two and a half feet from tip to bottom feather tip," Don rattled off, writing down the measurements.
"Wow," Leo whistled. Mikey gawked and then stood by Leo's side, helping their elder through the door and to sit in one of the chairs.
Crack!
Leo was soon spilled ungracefully onto the floor. His wings, apparently, had been too much weight for the chair. Mikey howled in laughter, nearly throwing up his previously-consumed breakfast.
Don and Raph just helped a blushing Leonardo to his feet and then got an armchair from the living room for the blue-banded turtle.
"Hmm….." Don muttered to himself all through lunch, occasionally glancing at Leo. Raph and Mikey traded banter, and Leo ate quietly, still embarrassed about the chair mishap.
"Did not!" Mikey suddenly yelled, putting his fist down on the table.
"Did too!"
"Not!"
"Too!"
"What is the matter, Raphael, Michelangelo?" The rat sensei walked in then, admonishing his sons.
"Raph said I should grow a pair of wings like Leo and fly off," Mikey whined. "And then I told him that I couldn't, I didn't have an Inhabitant. Then he said that I had taken part of his pizza while he wasn't looking."
"He did," Raph grumped.
"Did not!" Mikey cried sheepishly.
"Did too!" Raph insisted.
"My sons, this is a trivial matter. Donatello, I have obtained permission from Mr. Jones. He said we may drive up to the old farm any time we wish, but he warns that it is still slightly chilly."
"Thank you, Sensei. May we leave tomorrow?"
"If Leonardo can make such a trip, we may. I expect you all to pack for a month at the old farm. There is no telling when we will come home. And Leonardo, please help Donatello pack for some strength-building exercises for your wings. I realize they are too massive for your shoulder muscles to pull in."
"Hai, Sensei," all four turtles, murmured. Their father and mentor nodded warmly and walked back out of the dining room.
"We're going to the farm tomorrow, right?" Mikey asked, dancing in excitement.
"Yeah, Mikey," Raph answered, holding Leo's wing closed as it tried to hit him over the chair. After his workout, Leo was still tired and his wings were not staying closed.
"I'll get something to tie those to your back, Leo. Hold on a minute." Leo nodded to Don and put a hand on his leathery, bat-like appendages. They were sore and his shell has cracked to allow them through, but it had stopped bleeding and was just in need of a grinding down a bit.
"So, will you learn how to fly?" Mikey asked childishly. "And will you take me with you?"
"Sure, Mikey," Leo answered, putting his hand on the bone covered in thick skin, running it down the length what he could reach on the membrane. The oil from the "pimples" soaked in and eased the stiffness. Continuing the "combing", Leo felt the tired and flaky membrane soften and soothe itself with the oil.
"Mmmm," he unconsciously murmured.
"What?" Mikey asked, bouncy as ever.
"This oil stuff on the arms of my wings is really nice when I rub it into the skin of the wing," Leo explained, looking at Mike and Raph. They were smiling at him humorously.
"Well, we can help. I've got cooking spray!" Mikey yelped, running of out Leo's reach as the turtle grabbed for him.
"No cooking spray," Don's voice admonished. "Natural oils only. Mike, you can help Leo groom his wings after breakfast. I've read a little on mythical dragons and a uniform idea is that their wings must be kept oiled or they will flake and tear." Coming in now, the turtle had a belt in his arms that was just big enough to fit around Leo's enormous wings and keep them pinned to his back.
"That's too big a job for one turtle," Mikey protested.
"Don't worry, lamebrain," Raph sneered. "You've got the energy."
"Raph," Don stated, "you and I will help as well. Mikey's right; it is too big a job for two turtles. And Leo can't reach most of his wing span. So, after breakfast, we'll experiment with this." He finished buckling the belt and adjusting the wings to make sure they didn't rub or tear on the rough material. "Also, we'll try to figure out something a little better than this belt."
"Hopefully, I can grow the muscles needed to pull them in and keep them there," Leo rumbled, hanging onto Raph's shoulders for support as Don pushed and prodded the two-hundred-pound wings. He was very tired right now; working with his wings was hard.
"Is everyone done?" Raph asked, glaring at Mike, who was just opening his mouth for another piece of pizza, his eighth, actually.
"Eeep," Mikey agreed putting it down and standing up, gathering the dishes. "Let me just rinse these."
"Alright. Meet us in the living room when you're done," Don ordered, helping Leo stand. Raph held his other shoulder, lending silent support. They made their slow way out into the gaming/living room and left their brother leaning against a wall while they moved furniture out of the way.
"Here ya go, Fearless," Raph grunted, helping Don shove the couch of the their way. Leo plodded over to them as Mikey came in from the kitchen, drying his hands.
Stiffly, Leo sat on the floor between his brothers. Raphael and Michelangelo held the forearm bones of his wings and Don unstrapped the belt. Carefully, the red- and orange-loving turtles pulled his wings out straight. Each one was a hundred pounds, and both panted as they set them down on the cement floor.
A thump announced that Leo had fallen backwards, pulled by the wings. Don helped him lie on his plastron, a pillow under each wing joint so they weren't pulled downwards unnecessarily.
"Let's get to work. Leo, tell us if we hurt you" Don commanded, producing a soft cloth from his "Bag O' Rags" as Mike dubbed it. He handed two to Raph, and another pair to their youngest. With care, they all set to pulling the oil from the wells on the tops of the wings and wiping it liberally on the membrane.