Hi, everyone! This next chapter is a little bit longer than the last, but we're getting more into the meat of the story now, which is always exciting! There are some mentions of goings-on from the Usagi Yojimbo comic series, but nothing that will be too spoiler-y, or confusing to get through. Please give your feedback, critical or otherwise! It's always appreciated.
Donnie didn't know when next he'd be back, if ever. He hadn't thought about it all that quiet morning, lying in this unfamiliar house that belonged to neither of them. Akane's head lay comfortably on his chest and he ran his fingers over her face, her shoulders, her shell. She turned her smile up to him, and he grinned lazily back.
Reality caught up to him again with the sight of his brothers through the shoji screens, Usagi close behind. Donnie had been about to take a cup of tea when he had been jarred from this happiness. Akane saw them too, and as they stood up her hands stayed pressed around his.
Donatello saw clearly now the sadness in her eyes. Really—who else did she have, besides him for one night? Did the prince leave his princess to her fate?
Donnie kissed her in silence. This wasn't a fairy tale, after all; they weren't exactly getting a happy ending.
"If you ever need help," he said finally, her head against his chest, "my brothers and I will visit this place again. And our friend, the long-eared samurai … he frequents this town, too. See him behind them, out the window? He'll be kind to you."
She finally let him go, and as the paper door closed he gave his head a little shake, as if he could dislodge her memory from his mind. It hurt to do, because how fair was that to her?
He got outside, waved to them when he got close, and the barrage of questions was easy enough to avoid—how out of character it was for Donnie to disappear like that, what he had even been up to all night, they were sure some old enemy had caught up to him again …
"This place is just so fascinating," he said, with a smile to mask his lie. "I fell asleep in a temple studying some old scrolls. It won't happen again."
It didn't quite work on his brothers, or even Usagi; their arms were folded and eyes narrowed at his loose mask and flushed face. There was more to it, of course. But the four of them trusted each other, and Usagi had no qualms with putting his faith in Leonardo when it came to his brothers. It made Donnie's head ache with guilt.
Next time. When they returned to this town, he would come back for her, and explain everything to everyone. When he turned one last time to the little house, he saw a shadow in the doorway, watching them disappear. Donnie imagined her bright, sad eyes studying their figures, the promise of his return and safety with friends forming behind her gaze.
Donnie wondered if being in love was supposed to make your stomach twist up.
The little town reminded Usagi of his friends this time around.
Months of travel across Japan and back had brought him again to this place, and reminded him that he must return to Leonardo's world soon and invite them for another visit. It was barely spring now, and famous haiku verse full of cherry blossoms and peeping frogs flowed through Usagi's mind. This town was different than it was in high summer—cool and quiet, with fewer people frequenting the market.
Usagi appreciated the solitude, really. It meant he wouldn't be as prone to finding trouble.
He had just caught sight of a decent-looking inn when she pulled on his sleeve.
Usagi turned abruptly, expecting trouble. What he saw was a frightened, tired girl with a basket in her hands. A young kame, who had bags under her dark eyes and wore a threadbare kimono.
He felt a rush of sympathy, but it was tempered by confusion. She was clearly under stress, but what did that have to do with him? It was rare that peasants were so bold with samurai, especially poor, tired ones.
"Do I know you?" he asked kindly. The girl shook her head, shrinking back. She was quite young; no older than the turtles he called friends, and they were barely twenty.
She swallowed hard, and met his eyes again. "You are Usagi-san though, right? Friend of several turtles?"
Usagi blinked. Now this was getting interesting.
"I am," he replied, after a long moment. Had any of them befriended a girl while they had been here? Not that he knew of … the boys had mostly messed around at the stalls or enjoyed the good food. "May I ask how it is that you know me?"
The girl bobbed her head, before gently setting the basket down at her feet. Now she could straighten up and face him, and Usagi found himself seeing more than fear in her eyes. There was something important that she had to do, and now Usagi had been made a part of it.
So much for a quiet day and night.
"Please hear me out," she said, and her voice barely wavered. "My name is Akane. I saw you during last year's Tanabata Matsuri, and I met one of your friends. I … he told me about you, said if I ever needed help you and his brothers were kind."
Her face flushed, and she looked down at the basket. "We talked for a very long time, and he—we spent the night together. My mistress was out of town for the festival." She wrung her fingers together in front of her, exhaling slowly. "Hamato Donatello was his name."
Spent the night. Usagi's eyes widened. Had one brother—that brother—not disappeared for that entire visit? The thought was hard to swallow, of gentle, calculated Donatello taking off with a servant girl that he barely knew. But the young woman's voice rang with truth.
Akane hung her head, and Usagi realized that he had shamed her inadvertently. "Please," he urged, smiling with what he hoped was reassurance. "Continue. Say what you must."
The girl gave a soft, shaky sigh, then crouched down next to her basket. Immediately her demeanor was more tender, her hands lifting off the blanket that covered it.
Usagi barely managed to keep his jaw from dropping. For the basket in front of him held a turtle child.
What were the odds, Donatello-san? Did you bother to consider them?
"The egg came months ago," Akane said in a low voice, reaching out to run a finger over her baby's face. Usagi knew little of how the reptile clans birthed their young; but did know about the eggs. The children were born (hatched?) ready to crawl and eat solid food, and were said to be similar enough to other babies.
Leonardo had told him once that they were mutants, not meant to exist as they were. How could something against nature then conceive a little one, a world away?
"Months ago," she repeated, jarring him back to reality. "And I kept it safe and warm, in my room. No one even knew everything I had done, until it hatched and I could pretend no more. My mistress tells me that if I don't find a place for her, then she will take her away herself. And I … samurai, I was a fool, but that is not the child's fault!"
For the first time, Usagi felt a rush of anger at the friendly Donatello—how could he not have seen ahead to the consequences of his actions? The suffering this girl would endure because he had given himself a pleasant night?
No, that was unfair. Usagi knew exactly how he could, and there was a mother and child in a village far north that were proof of his folly. They were how he knew he could not deny Akane and her daughter.
He finally crouched down too, to face her, and to get a better look at the child. Were those familiar features already on her face? The olive-green scales he had certainly seen before.
"What do you need me to do?" Usagi asked finally, his voice gentle. A child in jeopardy was everyone's concern, after all … even if it were a bastard. Then villagers turned away. Miyamoto Usagi would not.
The girl swallowed hard. She found her child's hand and let the tiny fingers wrap around her own, as if her child's presence gave her strength.
"If you know where her father is, take her to him. If not that, somewhere safe where she can survive." The pain in her voice was palpable, and Usagi winced in sympathy. "Donatello is a gentle soul, I could feel it. He said he would come back, but I knew not to hope, not really. But he should know about his child. I know he wouldn't harm her." Akane looked up at him, and for the first time Usagi saw real fire in her eyes. "Please help me, samurai. Fortune brought you this way again, just in time to save her."
What could he say? Usagi was a wandering ronin, nowhere better to go. And even if he did, would he leave this tiny girl to some early fate? His friends from beyond the portal—no, this girl's family, would never forgive him if he did
He would cause an uproar in Leonardo's home. But that would only be the beginning of Donatello's great consequence.
"Does she have a name?" he asked finally, watching the child shift in her sleep, one thumb tucked comfortably in her mouth. "If I am to take her far away, it would be good to have that trace of her mother."
For the first time, Akane smiled, her tired gaze turned onto her child.
"Haru," she said. Spring. "Simple, I know. But she came in hand with the season."