Before I get on with this chapter, I would like to provide a quick thank you to M.D. OwenakaMindychanaka mindymouse for beta reading this chapter so wonderfully. Thank you lady (hugs)
Life Breathing
Meet and Greet
September 5th 2014
9:12 am; Morning Glory Preschool
"Well, hello there."
Dorothy timidly glanced up at the owner of the charmingly sweet voice, taken aback by the tall woman that had been standing patiently at the classroom's door. The woman smiled down at the small mutant hybrid and, in response, Dorothy shrunk back slightly, gripping her kiddy sized backpack to her chest as if it were her lifeline. She wasn't really used to human adults talking to her; the only ones that she had ever talked to was Mr. and Mrs. Jones and that was only because they were long term family friends.
The woman's smile faltered slightly at the little mutant girl's reaction, exchanging her smile of greeting for a look of reassurance as the woman extended her hand for a handshake, "Oh, don't be afraid, honey. I'm your preschool teacher, Ms. Robin."
Dorothy blinked up at the woman, quickly remembering what her parents had told her yesterday while they were picking up school supplies. She didn't know why she had to go to this place called 'pre-school' but if she was going to learn new things and make friends that were her age, for a change, then she was willing to deal with this tall, unnervingly saccharine human… albeit reluctantly.
Dorothy nodded stiffly but didn't take the woman's hand. For some reason, Doe didn't really like the woman. Something about the way she smiled at Doe didn't seem very truthful. Compared to the way Mrs. Jones(1) smiled at her, Ms. Robin's smile seemed… forced. "It's nice to meet you, Ms. Robin. I'm Dorothy."
Ms. Robin smiled down at the mutant hybrid as she pulled her hand back to her side, "It's very nice to meet you Dorothy. Please go on in and have a seat at one of the tables. Class will be starting in a couple of minutes so just make yourself comfortable."
Doe didn't waste any time; she quickly shuffled past her teacher and into the room. Her daddy had already told her not to be bothered when someone looked at her—she should only be bothered if someone said something mean to her. She highly doubted that that would happen, though. She wasn't the only mutant child in the room and she didn't really have to worry too much about the human children; for some odd reason, they thought that she was cool… she didn't know why but they just did (Dorothy: -shrug-).
What she found odd, however, was the fact that there were seven different tables to sit at… but everyone was trying their hardest to squeeze availability into six of the tables. For a second, she thought that her fellow classmates lacked common sense but then she noticed a single mutant child sitting at the last table. She blinked at him, taking in his crestfallen posture and dejected eyes with curiosity. He wasn't looking at her—it appeared that he was focusing as hard as he could on the tabletop's surface so that he wouldn't have to look up. She glanced back at the other kids momentarily—some of them were looking at the quiet, mutant boy with concern and fear and others were looking at her, wondering what she would do next.
After a full contemplative moment, Dorothy moved around the first barricade of students and chose to sit beside the lonely mutant boy. She glared back at her classmates, effectively motivating them to turn around and go back to doing whatever it is they were doing.
It wasn't like she couldn't see why they were afraid: the boy, being an anthropomorphic white tiger, did look rather intimidating at first glance. Especially since he looked like a cat that was backed into a corner—defensive and stiff with claws slightly drawn as his paws clasped tightly together with nervousness. He had provided her a timid, uncertain glance when she had boldly taken her seat beside him, giving her the briefest look through his piercing, icy blue orbs; his pupils were slit with mild, tense anger.
She wanted to say something comforting to him, like Uncle Donnie would whenever she was feeling sick or down. She wanted to make him laugh and forget about his discomfort, like Uncle Mikey did whenever she cried. She wanted to defend him, like her dad did whenever a human adult looked at her the wrong way or, even, said something nasty to her. She wanted to do something to ease him… but what could she do? What could she say? It wasn't like she was an expert in making friends or anything like that.
"U-um…" Soft and barely audible, the mutant boy's voice cut through the silence around them. Dorothy turned her golden eyes to the mutant beside her, surprised that he was the first one to speak out of the two of them. His eyes, piercing in their look but innocent in their glance, locked onto hers timidly; his small paws wringed together nervously. His expression was a cross between bashfulness and slight determination as he searched his mind for the right words to say to the mutant hybrid beside him. She noticed distantly that his slit pupils had changed somewhat, becoming more rotund as he struggled to find his words. She tilted her head curiously as a cue for him to continue.
He swallowed thickly, fidgeting a little in his seat before he continued, raising his voice so that only she could hear him clearly, "Um… I-I really like your ribbon…"
Dorothy blinked in confusion, "My… ribbon?"
He nodded, lifting his furry index finger and pointing to the satin, powder blue material that held her two little pigtails up. "Yeah… it's really p-pretty."
Dorothy grinned with understanding, "Oh, thank you. I like your ears."
It was his turn to blink in confusion; his black tipped ear wiggled slightly at the compliment before he flattened them against his skull self-consciously, "R-really?"
She nodded happily, "Uh-huh. They're cool."
His expression turned more bashful; if one could see beneath the fur on his face, they would have seen him blushing. "U-um… thank you."
She giggled lowly, "I'm Dorothy. What's your name?"
He smiled, only flashing his teeth slightly in fear of scaring her away, "G-galileo."
"Ooh, nice name," she said, her tail swishing slightly with mirth, "Can I call you Gali?"
He blushed further, fiddling with his fingers absentmindedly. Did that mean… did that mean that she would talk to him more in the future? Did it mean that she wanted to be friends with him? "I-if you want… I don't mind."
She grinned fully, nodding her head eagerly just as her teacher walked into the room and officially started class.
11:39 pm; Choco-latte Coffee Shop
"One café mocha for ma-lady."
Emily looked up from her staff paper notebook just in time to see Michelangelo place a porcelain cup down on the table top before her. She watched him sit down beside her as she gratefully smiled back at him for going up to the register to retrieve her drink. She had been so wrapped up with creating a new song for LNPD(2) that she didn't seem to register what was going on around her for the moment. Oh well… she was almost done with the piece anyway; just a few more stanzas and she could quiet the musical muse that resided in her consciousness… temporarily, of course.
Emily quickly noticed that Mikey didn't have a drink with him; she sent him a questioning gaze which he answered immediately, "Not feeling the hot chocolate today. All I'm craving right now is a slice of Sicilian pizza."
Emily nodded with understanding, giggling at her boyfriend's justification. Mikey smiled at the cuteness of the sound—even when he wasn't dating her, he loved to hear her laugh. He often wondered how someone's voice alone could be so sweet and pleasant to the ears… and she barely even spoke! In a way, that seemed to make hearing her speak all the more enjoyable; he cherished ever little word and sound her voice created.
"So what's the plan for today?" Mikey said, unable to repress the stupid grin that stretched across his face.
She hummed quietly, her eyes wondering up and to the right in thought, "… Is there band practice?"
"No, thank goodness." He sighed, "I think the next time we go for practice is next week Tuesday… so we can… hmm?" Michelangelo stopped talking, as if he had just noticed something about the little woman that was sitting beside him now. He peered closely into Emily's face, leaning in until his nose was almost touching hers. She blinked back at him in confusion, questions shouting volumes in her eyes, "… Did you sleep last night?" Mikey couldn't help but notice that the petite red head seemed to be a bit paler than usual. Not only that but she was wearing quite a bit of eye makeup—a valiant effort to mask the bags of sleeplessness that had formed underneath her eyes.
Emily tried to prevent the expression of sheepishness that was swiftly beginning to flood into her face but, alas, she failed. The only thing she could do, as an attempt to hide the truth, was shift her gaze quickly to one of the café's nearby window, looking at the glass rather than through it. Mikey sighed; Emily was far easier to read than Donnie was…but, then again, he had to be able to read her or else he'd hardly be able to communicate with her at all.
"Emily," Mikey groaned out, drawing her attention back to him, "I thought you said you weren't going to do any more all-nighters. You got yourself sick the last time you did that."
She frowned, her lower lip pouting out slightly, "I couldn't help it."
"… Are you having nightmares again?"
It took her a moment to respond; her eyes stared down at her coffee beverage for several contemplative seconds before she spoke again, "… Maybe."
Mike chuckled at her hesitant reply, already knowing that it was a confirmation rather than an avoidance maneuver. He reassuringly smiled at her, one of his hands reached over to tenderly grip hers, "Dudette, I told you to call me if you ever had one again. I would've came over and kept you company. Heck, we could have watched Adult Swim in all of its random glory until we fell asleep to Robot Chicken (3)."
Emily giggled again, shaking her head at her boyfriend. That was another thing she liked about Mikey: his sense of humor; not only did he know how to make people laugh but he knew when to make people laugh. She didn't think there was a time that he had ever inappropriately cracked a joke. He used his powers of humor for laughter and healing, not to raise anger or offense.
"But seriously," he continued with a reassuring smile on his face, "Call me next time?"
She gave him a hesitant smile before she nodded.
"You promise?' he double checked.
She nodded, using her other hand to cross her heart fluidly. He flashed his signature boyish grin, convinced that she was telling the truth. "Good. Now, how's the song coming along?"
"Hmm…," she hummed quietly, politely withdrawing her hand from Mikey's grip to retrieving her forgotten pencil on top of the table, "Almost done…"
"Sweeeeeet… can I read it?"
"No." she said it almost immediately, a challenging smile spread across her lips as she read over the musical notes and song lyrics she just recently added to her compositional piece.
"Aww, come on, Little Red," Mike pouted, doing his best impression of a stranded puppy, begging to be held, "Just a peek? Pleeeease?"
She waved the index finger of her free hand at him, a simple gesture to let him know that it wasn't happening. He sighed in defeat, slumping in his chair, opting to watch his girlfriend as she continued with her task. He knew better than to interrupt her when her creative juices were flowing. It was like trying to interrupt Donnie while he was in the middle of a project—it was impossible and/or dangerous to even try. Though he highly doubted that Em would try to physically remove him or kick him out of his chair, one couldn't be too careful.
He liked to watch her expressions and actions as she went through the lyrical writing process. When she was irritated by the way something sounded, her lips would purse, her eyes would narrow, and one of her delicate red eyebrows would rise in frustration as her pencil tapped the beat of the difficult section. When she was stricken with the perfect sounds or words for the piece, her eyes would brighten with a mental 'eureka' and a tiny smile would unconsciously curl upon her lips.
… Lips that he had yet to kiss…
His smile faltered only slightly as the idea slipped stealthily into his consciousness. He had remembered the first time he tried to kiss her. It had been a week after they had officially gotten together and he wanted to give her a quick, chaste kiss of greeting; the moment was right, the timing was great, and the place was perfect for their first kiss. He was going for the gold… but then her hand came up, covering his mouth with her fingertips and effectively stopping his movements. When he gave her a wide eyed look of confusion, she spoke—it was one of the only times she had spoken a full sentence since he had known her.
"I'm sorry Mikey but I cannot kiss you… not yet, anyway," was what she had said, giving him an apologetic kiss on the cheek. He didn't know whether to be hurt, offended, or confused by her reaction. At first, he thought that she didn't want to kiss him because he was a mutant; he thought that, perhaps, she didn't want to get too involved with someone of his kind.
He had expressed his worries to her. In response, she flicked his nose, her eyes glaring halfheartedly at the terrapin with mild offense. Translation: Don't be stupid…(or) Are you seriously asking me that?
Soon after, his worries evaporated only to be replaced with sheer confusion and curiosity. When he asked her what the reason was, she told him that she was uncomfortable with telling him that information. He became concerned by the brief look of pain that had crossed her features before she had said her reply but didn't push further for answers. He knew that when the time was right, she would fully open up to him. In the meantime, he would just have to deal… no matter how many times he had to catch himself from reaching over and capturing her lips with his…
Michelangelo's concentration was broken when Emily released a repressed groan of irritation; her eyes had lifted from her music sheet, opting to lightly glare at something that stood across the room, at the cafe's entrance. Before the orange loving terrapin could turn around and identify what had disturbed Emily's musical focus, a cutesy, high pitch voice slammed against his ear drums, causing his form to automatically tense. He knew that voice… all too well actually. How could he not? He had to hear that voice whine, complain, and yell at him for 8 months of his life. Not only that, but he had to hear that very same voice during every scheduled band practice, singing the lyrics to Emily's crafted songs. He didn't think that voice was worthy of his red head's music but it wasn't like he could do anything about it. He just wished that he didn't have to hear that voice outside of practice. Sadly, there was no such luck.
"Mikey! What's going on babe?"
Michelangelo could hear the motion of several heads within the café turn towards the voice; he couldn't blame them—her voice was extremely hard to ignore. He had hoped that perhaps there was another mutant turtle in the vicinity that shared his name or maybe she would sense his discomfort and mind her own business. Those hopes were crushed, however, when slender, sun kissed arms wrapped around his rigid shoulders from behind. He hopelessly stared back at Emily, watching her eyes darken to a storm cloud grey. The little red head knew he couldn't just push her off—that would be rude—but that didn't mean that she had to be happy about it…
"K-Kelly?" he stuttered, turning his head to take in the beach-blonde hair and deep blue eyes of his ex-girlfriend, his expression an interesting mixture of nervousness and irritation. "W-what's going on?"
She rested her chin nonchalantly on the terrapin's shoulder, grinning back at him with a wide, chesire grin, "Weelllll~ I wanted to grab an ice latte before I met up with some of my girlfriends at the mall…but then I saw you sitting here! I figured that I would just drop a greeting to my favorite turtle… so … hello~"
"Hi… now can you let go of me?" It was rare that Mikey got upset or irritated to the point of rude or icy responses but he couldn't help it. Kelly wasn't his favorite person in the world at the moment; he didn't exactly break up with her on friendly terms.
Kelly pouted in response, reluctantly withdrawing herself from the one-sided hug, "Aw, that was cold Mikey. Why so serious, babe?"
Emily rolled her eyes, twirling her pencil between her fingers—Translation: Oh I wonder…
He ignored her question. "I'm on a date right now, Kel."
Kelly blinked expressively before she turned away from Mikey to lock eyes with Emily's. "Oh! Hey, Em. You were so quiet I didn't even notice you sitting there."
Emily's eyes narrowed into slits before her lips broke into a falsely sweet smile, "Hello, Kelly."
Mikey knew that Emily wanted to say something that was a bit more… colorful but decided to be the bigger woman. Em always seemed to be that way whenever Kelly got on her nerves or said something catty or rude. It made him wonder what the little red head would be like if she had lost control and gave into her temptation of cursing out the blonde. They do say that it's the quiet ones that have the killer temper… they just know how to control themselves better.
Kelly stood up straight, placing her hands on her hips, slanting them slightly, "Well, if you guys are on a date then I won't keep you two love birds~. I have to now, anywayz. I'll check you guys later. Peace and chicken grease~"
The couple nodded in unison as the blonde sauntered away, her swaying hips and long, slender legs drawing the eyes of almost every guy in the room; Mikey hadn't bother to watch her as she went to order her drink. Besides, he was here with Emily, not his past love interest.
Emily visibly relaxed as the tall blonde strode away, her poor pencil strangled in the tight grip she didn't even know she had been exerting on it upon Kelly's entrance. She turned a bashful, apologetic glance to her boyfriend, using her free hand to scratch at the back of her neck—a sheepish gesture. Michelangelo waved a dismissive hand, smiling reassuringly at her as his own form began to relax at his ex's departure. "It's alright, Em. You aren't the only one that feels that way."
Emily nodded in agreement, throwing a quick, disgruntled look over her shoulder at Kelly's waiting form on the ordering line. She turned back to face Mikey, her nose wrinkled slightly with distaste, "Bitch…"
Michelangelo couldn't help but release a hearty guffaw, his body suddenly trembling with laughter.
Ah… that was Emily Hopkins for you.
1:52 pm; Central Park- The Mall (4)
Splinter sighed with contentment as he walked down the wide, moderately crowded pathway before him, his walking stick tapping lightly and methodically against the dark pavement with every other step he took. He would get stares from here and there—some were fearful or appalled, others were curious and filled with wonderment—but it didn't bother him too much; he was too busy enjoying the moment, listening to the gentle, distance murmurs of a living and thriving city.
Although fall was slowly approaching, none of the trees that rose and canopied over the long, stretched pathway had began to transform. The summer sun was still beating down upon the city with a stubborn vengeance and most people were still trying to find cool refuge wherever it was available. Luckily, the park's thick, green foilage was strong enough to block out some of the menacing rays. That was one of the reasons why the old rat was here in the first place. Not only was all of his favorite soap operas off for the day, he was in desperate need of some fresh air. As much as he loved the air conditioning at a time like this, the natural cooling atmosphere he was currently walking through was far more relaxing at the moment.
Splinter inhaled the warm, botanical air that surrounded him, enjoying the sun that showered down upon his back and how simple life seemed to be. After all, he wasn't able to walk around like this a few years back, nor were others of his kind. He didn't have the luxury of enjoying fresh air like he was right now and he didn't have the freedom—or the choice—of walking outside in broad daylight either. Now he did—him, his sons, and his granddaughter all had the freedom to be see without fear.
All but one…
His cane's repetitious 'clicking' against the floor stopped as he halted in his steps, his serene expression became mildly melancholic as his mind drifted to his eldest son—the one and only thing missing in his and his families' lives that would have made the joys of this new world complete.
"Leonardo…" he breathed the name out, mentally deeming that he should take a break as he moved over towards a nearby, unoccupied bench to take a seat. He was a bit surprised to find himself thinking of his departed son more and more these days and he couldn't quite fathom why. Of course, he could never forget his eldest son or stop thinking about him, no matter how many years had past since he had been put to rest. Even so, the blue clad ninja had been on the wise rat's mind more often than usual.
… Also, what Donatello had him told a couple of days ago didn't help all that much either. If anything, it was unnerving: "…He was giving off all the signs of a possible suicide victim… but it wasn't a suicide. He had been murdered… and he had been acting as if he knew he was going to die."(5)
A shiver ran up Splinter's spine at the memory, his tail curling in sensation. As Splinter had told to Donatello, he wouldn't have been surprised if Leonardo had a feeling about his impending death… but actually knowing that he was going to die? That was a bit of a stretch.
…But his blue clad son had been acting awfully strange before his death… hmm…
"Um… I'm sorry, is this seat taken?"
Splinter blinked up at the new voice that had interrupted his thought, his dark brown eyes looked up into icy bluish grey eyes. The stranger had appeared before the elder so fast that he hadn't even heard the footsteps draw nearer to his seated person; to say that he was a little startled would have been somewhat of an understatement. Was he so deep in thought that he had lost his focus of the world around him?
Quickly regaining himself from his shock, Splinter cleared his throat, noticing that the stranger was gesturing politely to the empty bench space beside him, "No. The seat is free."
The nameless other nodded before he swiftly took a seat beside the rat, providing enough space between them to give them both personal space. A couple of seconds of silence passed between the two—in which Splinter tried to throw himself back into his previous thoughts of his departed eldest son—before the rat spoke to the stranger, unable to stop himself from voicing his curiosities, "Excuse me?"
The nameless man turned to look at the other, surprised that the rat was talking to him, despite being a total stranger. His light colored eyes blinked owlishly at the elder, "Y-yes?"
"Pardon me if this question offends you in anyway but… why are you wearing so much outerwear? It is over 90 degrees. Surely you must be uncomfortable wearing so much."
The man released a single chuckle, his face—or what Splinter could see of it anyway—shifted into sheepishness, "Well… no. It actually takes me a long time to get warm. I probably won't feel the heat for another few hours."
"Oh?" Splinter said, leaning in slightly to get a better look at the man's obscured face, noticing the green, reptilian skin that was slightly highlighted by the shine of the sun. "Ah… you are a mutant."
"Yes. That much is obvious," he chuckled again, shrugging his shoulders slightly, "Not sure exactly what I'm mutated from but, whatever it is, it kind of sucks."
Splinter released a light laugh, his shoulders shaking lightly with the motion, "Wouldn't it be more effective if you didn't shield yourself from the sun?"
"Well, yes but… well, there's another reason why I'm clothed this heavily." The nameless mutant paused in his words, wriggling his hands and wrists nervously as he did, "I… I'm not sure I should tell you. You're a stranger after all and… and who would want to listen to someone they don't know complaining about life."
"You bring up a valid point—most people wouldn't stop to listen to a soul with a heavy burden—you do not have to tell me if you do not want to, young one. Nevertheless, I have always found it comforting to seek the company of a kind stranger to share my woes with."
"… Why?" The younger mutant sounded perplexed.
"They probably won't see the person. Again, many people believe that it is far more comforting to share their burdens with someone they don't know rather than someone they do know. They don't have to worry about prejudice or judgment from the ones they care about most in life."
The boy nodded with a slow dip of his chin, his light colored eyes slowly saddened as he mentally debated with himself. This did not go unseen by the observant elder. When the unnamed mutant did not talk, Splinter spoke again to vanquish the silence, "Is there something troubling you that much, young one?"
"Huh?" The stranger breathed, wondering what the other was referring to; he hadn't said anything yet.
Splinter quickly clarified, "Your eyes—they remind me of one of my younger sons' whenever he feels burdened with too much emotional stress (6). They are filled with such inner turmoil and chaos… it seems like you have a lot to think about these days. Am I correct in assuming this?"
"…Yes," the boy conceded, his shoulders slumping forward with slight defeat. "Is it that obvious? What I am feeling, that is."
Splinter smiled with understanding, "To me, I suppose. When you father four sons for more than two decades, reading faces gradually starts to becomes as easy as breathing."
The boy smiled behind his scarf, his obscured expression brightening only a little, "You have four sons? How old are they?"
"They are twenty-six now and…" the elder paused, frowning slightly, "… and I only have three sons now."
The younger mutant blinked, his curiosity quickly overshadowing the sadness, "Three? What happened to the fourth?"
"… He died… four years ago."
"Oh… I am so sorry," What else could he possibly say? It was only proper and polite to provide comfort, even if he couldn't fully understand what the furry other was feeling right now. "I didn't know. I'm sorry if the question was too forward…"
"No, no," Splinter dismissed with a gentle flick of his wrist. "Anyone in your position would have asked the same thing."
"Hmm." The other hummed in agreement, "Do you… do you still think about him?"
Splinter nodded, smiling sadly, "Everyday. I highly doubt that I will ever be able to stop thinking about him."
"… You sound like a very devoted father."
"Ah, I can only hope that that is how my sons see me." He paused, turning more fully to the mutant beside him, "How old are you, young one?"
The boy hesitated, his posture becoming withdrawn and uncertain, "Uh… I've been told that I'm twenty-two but I'm not exactly sure."
Splinter blinked with puzzlement, "You were told that you were twenty-two?"
"Y-yes. You see, I don't know who I am, exactly," he started as he began to wriggle his wrist again. "All I know—knew—to be true was told to me by others for the past year. And now," he sighed, slumping forward even further so that he could rest his elbows upon his knees. "It turns out that everything that had been told to me, more than likely, was nothing but lies."
"…You suffer from memory loss?" It came out more like a statement rather than a question.
The boy nodded, his hands fisted into the material that covered his legs, "And now, I don't know where I truly belong. I don't know if I have parents, siblings, or friends. I don't know if anyone is looking for me. I don't even know what my real name is… if my name was falsified as well. I've been doing nothing but searching this entire month. Nothing has turned up and… and I am beginning to lose hope…"
Splinter's heart reached out to the nameless boy. He didn't know how he would feel if one of his sons disappeared. All of his thoughts and dreams would be plagued with the 'what if's' and 'what could have happened's' until the whereabouts of his son, dead or alive, were found. And what would make the situation worst is exactly what this young man was going through. If the boy had his memories, or at least a significant portion of them, he could easily find out where he truly belonged. It was a lose-lose situation; the people he was looking for had no idea where he was— or even if he was still alive—and he had no idea who to look for, and it was a very unfair situation for both sides.
Not only that, but the young mutant had, apparently, been told fictitious stories of who he was and his origin. Someone had taken advantage of his weakness and filled his head with falsehoods—they had manipulated him when his mind couldn't tell the difference between what was true or untrue; right or wrong.
"That is very dishonorable," the old rat said finally, shaking his head sadly at his anonymous companion. "I am sorry that you had to go through that."
"It's alright. At least I'm on the right track now," he replied before he reached up to tug at his scarf. "And… the other reason why I'm wearing this much is because I do not want to show my face to others. Not until I have some semblance of what my identity is."
"That is a wise choice. Have you thought of ways to get your memory back, young one?"
"Uh, no," he admitted, "I thought that it would just… gradually come back to me."
"But it has already been a year, correct?" Splinter said, gesturing gentle, open palm towards the other, as if to offer another point of view to the situation, "It is obvious that your mind is withholding your memories from you. What you must do is strengthen all parts of yourself—mental, physically, and spiritually—in order for you to access them."
"I… I'm afraid I don't fully understand," the stranger admitted reluctantly, reaching a hand back to scratch at the back of his head.
"Well, I cannot understand what you are going through based on first hand experience… but I do know that you must feel like you are a stranger to yourself. That cannot be a good feeling for anyone."
"No… no, it isn't."
Splinter sadly smiled at the young man's weak reply, "What I am trying to say is that your mind is probably having a hard time connecting to the rest of you. If you quiet your mind and get rid of all other distractions—even for just a little while—you may be able to reconnect yourself to the memories that have been taken away from you."
"R-really?" The boy's eyes brightened slightly with hope.
The wise rat nodded, "It is called meditation. It is the practice of fully relaxing the mind so that it can go beyond the basic function of mere thinking. It also helps to heighten one's awareness and spiritual strength. All you have to do is create a comfortable space for yourself so that there is little to no room for distractions. Once that is done, you just merely… clear your mind of all earthly worries. Simple, yes?"
"Sounds like it… but knowing me and my clumsy self, I'll probably do it wrong." The stranger admitted shyly, "I haven't been able to do anything right lately."
"Trouble does not always last. Good things are always sure to follow." Master Splinter said with a wide, reassuring smile, "As the great sages say, one cannot have a rainbow without rain."
"Huh… I guess you are right," the boy said, an enlightened, genuine smile spreading across his hidden lips. "…No rain, no rainbow."(7)
Splinter stared back at his anonymous companion; a sense of déjà vu came over him that he could not place. Had he heard those words somewhere before?
"Oh!" The younger mutant suddenly gasped, looking at his wrist watch with shock. "I lost track of time. I should've left the part ten minutes ago."
Splinter's bristly eyebrows furrowed and he slowly stood on his feet after the other. "Ah, my apologies for keeping you, young one. I did not realize you had some place to be."
"Oh no, I should have been paying attention to the time…but, if anything, your words have been very helpful; thank you," the boy chuckled, slightly bowing his head respectfully to his elder. "I guess you were right about finding comfort in talking with a stranger."
Splinter smiled again, bowing his head to the boy in return. "Glad to help, young one. I wish you the best of luck with finding your identity."
"Thank you… heh, I'm going to need it," were the boy's final words before he took off down the long pathway, providing the Master with a brief departing wave just as his figure faded away into the distance.
Splinter paused, watching as his nameless companion ran to his next destination. He silently wished he had gotten the lad's name before the lad left but a part of him—for some odd reason—felt he would see the boy again someday. Why did he feel this way? He had no idea.
Not questioning his senses, the wise rat took one last glance in the direction that the boy had taken before he turned and began walking in the opposite direction.
(1) Mrs. Jones = April Jones, formally April O'Neil XD
(2) LNPD stands for Late Night Pizza Delivery, the band that Mikey and Emily play for
(3) Adult Swim is the adult Cartoon Network; Robot Chicken is a fifteen minute show that is so random that it is ridiculous XD
(4) The Mall in Central Park- this isn't an actual "Mall" where you buy clothes and what not. It is this long stretch of walkway that has these beautiful, tall trees canopying over it. It is very beautiful, especially in late spring. If you want to see a picture of it, google it~
(5) Donatello said this to Master Splinter in Chapter 2, Life Goes On? (Pt2)
(6) Master Splinter is talking about Donatello
(7) The title of a song by Home Made Kazoku, that is where I got that from. It is a very nice song—it's in Japanese : D
A/N: I am so sorry for the long wait. School has been getting on my nerves but I final finished this chapter, yay! Let me know what you think through reviews please; they are very much appreciated (smiles). I want to also thank all those who have read and reviewed the story so far. It means a lot to me (bows). Also, I would like to thank all those who nominated this story for the Stealthy Stories TMNT Fanfiction Competition. I was surprised to see my name and story title up there (blushes). Again, thank you and see you later~
Random Notes and Questions (; D): Based on what you have read so far, do you think Leo had a feeling/hunch that he was going to die or do you think he actually knew he was going to die? If you think he actually had knowledge of his coming death, how do you think he came across the information?