Before note: I've got a very important question, and I need someone to please answer it, because it will affect how this story's plot and my other ones go.

The question: Does anyone know what kind of Japanese the turtles and Splinter speak? I mean, there're a bunch of them out there, and I just don't know how some of you guys put the Japanese they speak in your stories. Does anyone know?

Guess what soundtracks I listened to this time while I was typing this chapter? The "Abandoning Power" theme for Mt. Bur Omisace on Final Fantasy 12 and "Mushroom Rock Road" from Final Fantasy X-2. (For those of you who know those: After you read this chapter, answer this: Do you think they fit the mood NOW?! XDDD )

Disclaimer: TMNT will never be mine…except Donnie, he's always mine…XD

Master Splinter had always felt perfectly at ease whenever he slept, that and meditating. But, as of this moment, he would never forget this day that would traumatize his era of peace for a long time.

It was that night that he was finally able to access full relaxation, since his sons, especially Michelangelo, were always a barred barrier to keep him from reaching that state. He found it strange that at this time of night, he would usually be aroused slightly from his freckled-faced son's shouting in triumph if he'd hit a high score on his video game, or if Raphael bellowed in anger if he'd accidentally miss the practice dummy and slam his three-fingered hand right into the metal bar that suspended it. But more commonly, it was always Michelangelo or Donatello, the young scientist shouting happy cheers if his inventions were a success. Even if he were drunk with sleep, Splinter had to resist the urge to chuckle at his gap-toothed son's expense if he heard an onomatopoeia-like 'crash' or 'boom' escape his lap, along with Donatello himself claiming that his creation blew up in his face, literally.

But there wasn't any of that this time. In fact, the old rat even took note of the lair being too quiet, which was completely unnatural. You'd have to know Michelangelo pretty well (which isn't hard) to understand the severity of the situation.

Splinter sat up and gave a long stretch, the old bones in his back cracking soundly. He had decided that the movie his sons were claiming to watch with his student, April, had tired them out officially and confirmed that they would not stay up until midnight, as usual.

"Hmmm," his thoughts came out loud as a whisper, "the movie they had watched must have been very, as Michelangelo would put it, 'boring'."

Grabbing his crystallized ooze cane from the side of his bed, Splinter used it as support as he stood. His dark room's only illumination were the four candles he'd lit ablaze on his nightstand, each one representing his beloved sons. The waxy columns of light were a birthday present he had received from his 10-year old sons, each one the distinct color theme of the turtles. The blue one, obviously from Leonardo, was eternally the tallest, always casting a tall flame. The orange one was the shortest, with a fat, stumpy flame to always accompany it. Raphael's candle blazed the brightest flame, being the second tallest. The purple candle, Donatello's, seemed to cry a lot, oozing down the most melted candle wax on it's golden protector. This always made Splinter himself feel like his own troubles were sliding down away from him.

Splinter smiled down at the candles; they always reminded him of the strongest emotions of his four beautiful sons. Sighing, he turned his back to them and slowly headed towards the sliding doorway of his room that led to the main dojo. He decided he would go and check on the mutant turtles to see if they were, in his fact, asleep.

But as he had already reached the door, something felt strangely off about the eternal peaceful atmosphere of his room. It wasn't starting to feel like he had always created it.

Turning back to the decorative candles, his heart, and his ears dropped. It seemed that the purple candle was getting dimmer, it's regularly bright orange flame turning a blood red, making the small sanctuary of his room feel a lot colder…

XXXXXXXXXXXXX

"Michelangelo?"

No response from latter's room or the living room TV.

"Raphael?"

Nada from the discarded hammock bed and the practice dummy.

"Donatello?"

Any live creations from the lab remained inactive, along with none of an exhausted body slumped at the computer desk in the corner.

"Leonardo?"

Splinter had already checked the dojo as he walked through it, but no signs of his oldest son were to be located, along with the others.

"If my sons have snuck out again, so help me I will…" he didn't want to finish his threatening thought. His sons knew better than to sneak out of the lair when they were not on daily (or, nightly) town patrol. They had already learned that the hard way from his randori session and their fight with Baxter Stockman. If he found out they had in fact disobeyed his rules again, he already imagined extra training along with a painful randori discipline for the rest of the week.

But then again, the lair did seem a little…colder than usual when discarded…

"Sensei!"

Master Splinter's ears perked. What was that…

"Sensei!"

The noise was losing its faint edging and was now getting clearer…and closer.

"Master Splinter! Please, help!"

The old rat turned, his heart soaring when he heard the familiar sounds of his three sons getting closer. Wait, three? One very sensible and soft-spoken voice wasn't there to aid in the chorus of pleas…Donatello!

And that last outburst is just what Splinter said as soon as he saw his sons emerge from the outside to the stairs at the entrance. Leonardo was in front, his two arms carrying something, no, someone that should never have to be carried in the rest of his life unless he were inactive or injured.

And, unfortunately, that was what the case was.

In the eldest turtle's arms lay the bloodied, unconscious form of Splinter's much-loved smart son, Donatello. The top half of his plastron was completely drowned in the red puddle, some of it leaking onto Leonardo's. His olive-green skin, always so healthy and full of intelligible energy, was now fading in a soft paleness. His smart-stained lips were slightly open, revealing the gap in his teeth that Splinter had come to find so lovable.

Leonardo looked up at his rat-like father, and Splinter had taken note of the saturated areas around his eyes that had hinted of already released tears. His sapphire eyes were now becoming glossy and brimming with a new batch.

Splinter's attention soon caught to a sound of hurt outrage, and he turned to its source.

Raphael, who was previously carrying Donatello's bo-staff, had forcefully thrown it to the ground, so hard that, once again, the wooden weapon had snapped at the un-needed pressure, but Raph didn't care. He grabbed a sai from his belt, and plunged the blunt tip straight into the nearest stump that held the metal bars to the lair entrance. Tears were creating a shallow river down his face as he closed his eyes tight.

Of all the people that were standing there that night, only two's eyes were red, one of them being Michelangelo. He had already started crying way earlier and new tears were beginning to form in the innocently-lost cotton candy gaze of his. What he was carrying on his back, much to Splinter's surprise, sat a miserably-sobbing April, her head drooped down as she made Mikey's shoulder wet and sticky. She was the second to have her gaze a red color. Her arms were tightly embraced around the orange turtle's neck as he carried her piggy-back style. Master Splinter noticed the endless amounts of blood that was not hers staining on her bright yellow shirt an orange color. Some of her red hair had come loose of its ponytail, long tufts of straight strands dancing around her pale face.

Splinter turned his attention slowly back to his injured son. It was so horrible to look at him…

Thinking no words should be spoken at that moment, his own form of salty water began brimming in his golden brown eyes as he reluctantly made his short way to Leonardo before him. Ever so gently, he lifted Donatello's body out of the blue turtle's now red-pigmented arms, not ever caring in the slightest bit if the blood stained his kimono or fur. All it was set on was the immediate care for his son. Turning back on the others, he took the first few steps that would lead him to Donatello's empty room, where it awaited for its houser to be set in.

As soon as everyone ceased their witness of Sensei leaving, the tense dam in the atmosphere broke. Leo finally broke down into a hysterical fit of sobs, collapsing on his knees as he buried his face in his big hands.

Mikey, already gaining experience of the dilemma Leo was having, gently set April on her feet while he rushed to his big brother's side, wrapping his arms around Leo when tears of his own slowly descended down his childish face.

Raphael watched his brothers for a short time before turning to April. His hand was raw and red from the tight pressure of his previous actions, but he ignored it as he walked to the redhead and slipped a weary arm around her shoulders, pulling her close. Normally, April would have given the hothead turtle an incredulous look, as this action or any signs of soft comfort did not fit under his table of contents, but as of this moment, he didn't care. Everyone there needed someone to comfort them at this stage of problem, and Raph wouldn't mind at all if it were April he leaned against.

April let her head rest on Raph's yellow plastron as he pulled her into a tight, safe hug. She closed her eyes, letting her miniature waterfalls of despair continue to river her pale face. Raphael's own tears now made absorbing puddles in April's hair when he rested his chin on her head.

As April eyed from the ignored sai plunged into the metal stump to her the two sobbing brothers huddled close together, she began to develop a new realization in her intelligent mind, and it only made her heart hurt more. She let out a cry of despair into Raph's chest, the reaction resulting in the latter holding her tighter as she thought: All of this is my fault…

Sorry if I'm making you guys cry. I'm also sorry if I just keep holding back on the details of the main plot with everyone's emotions on Donnie getting injured. I promise next chapter we will continue on. What's gonna happen to Donnie? Poor guy, I'm so cruel to him! *sobs hysterically*

Anyway, what did you guys think? Anyone who read my earlier question, please answer in your review. I'm desperate, okay? XD

Next chapter is coming; I'm thinking and typing as fast as I can!