7 Yoshi the Rat
"Amber, your uncle, Brian, was my first friend since loosing my family, my master, and being abandoned here in America. He was the much-needed aid to our very survival.
I was young in age and new to my recently awakened consciousness from being exposed to the ooze. I was also a new father to four baby turtles also changed by the glowing chemical. Food was scarce and scavenging, dangerous. I would wander all day in the endless maze of the sewers and return to the small hovel we called home with only a handful of scraps. Although I was no longer fully rat and not fully human, I was amazed at my new intellect and at the innocent, little lives fated to me. I did not know why this happened but I was determined to protect them, raise them as my own, and teach them everything I learned from my master.
It happened one night as I prepared to leave our hovel and search for food. I had finished erecting a larger, sturdier 'play pen' for my toddler turtles. They were growing rapidly and more curious. It would soon be too difficult to be away from them for long periods of time. I needed to find more food and more things suitable for children their age to be entertained with. That evening as I traveled from level to level, I found myself following the low sound of music. It echoed off the pipes. The closer I came, the more I realized it was the music from my home land; the quick trill of strings, the low beat of a drum, the sweet whine of a Japanese songstress. As if in a daze I was standing beside an old rusted ladder and looking up at a manhole cover. It was then I smelled fresh fruit coming from above. I climbed up and peeked in carefully.
It was a basement set up as a storage room. In the corner there were crates of apples, potatoes, celery and canned soup. I looked to my left and I saw a small washroom, I looked to my right and saw light coming from a door I could not see. The Japanese song was coming from that direction, scratching through a record player. I did not see anyone in the room nor did I see a figure's shadow standing in the door. I sensed the faint smell of alcohol but ignored it. I quickly climbed through, keeping the sewer lid propped up with my wooden walking stick. I ran to the washroom and filled my plastic jugs with clean water. I then dashed to the crates and grabbed all the fresh produce and canned goods I could, shoving them into my backpack. I turned to leave when I noticed the record had ended. I then heard someone in the far corner behind a large sack of potatoes clear his throat.
"You are a huge rat." The man said flatly. I remember wearing a large black hoodie that covered most of my body, but it could not hide my protruding snout, or my long rodent tail. The man tried to stand up but the stumbled back down where he sat. My terror waned a little once I realized he was very drunk. I tried to take advantage of this. At the time my English was very bad so I tried my best to communicate while slowly stepping toward the lid.
"Please, sorry. I, for babies, need food."
"You speak Japanese?" he said in Japanese.
I was silent. He spoke again.
"You speak Japanese, big rat? I speak, but very little. I go to Japan last year. I buy calligraphy books to sell in my store."
"Ye, yes. I speak Japanese. Please, do not be alarmed. I am sorry for coming into your store. I need food for my children. Please let me leave and I will never come back."
"You have children? Down the sewer?"
"I must go, please forgive me." I slowly headed into the manhole. I wanted to take my walking stick but was afraid.
"I can teach you English, big rat. It can help your babies, yes?"…I was amazed and a little amused as he slurred the words. "You can stay a while. It is fine. My name is Brian, but friends I have call me Bubba. What is your name, rat?
"Hamato, Splinter." I told him. It could do no harm. He would only remember me as a strange dream anyway. I flew down the sewer hole and ran around the nearest corner. I stopped to catch my breath. I heard the man call out to me, yelling down from above the rusty ladder. I hoped he wouldn't fall in his inebriated condition. "Hey, Hamato! You forgot your cane… Hamato!... Yes, I see you later! I have food here for your babies ok? Come back soon! Thank you!" With that he slid the lid shut. I hurried home.
My children and I went through the food I had taken from Brian in a little more than two weeks. It was a relief to be able to stay and prepare healthy meals for them, to play with them and sleep through the night with them. I knew, however, I would have to go and scavenge again soon. My little turtles were walking now and speaking simple sentences. I needed to somehow provide more for them than old flashlights, broken crayons and torn blankets. I would not steal from Brian again, but my curiosity of him made me wander back.
When I returned I peeked my head around the corner and saw that the rusty ladder had been discarded and a brand new metal one had taken its place. There was a lamplight shining down on new black and white tiled flooring. On that floor was a red wagon. I took great care to make sure I was alone this time. I crept toward the wagon and inspected all its contents: Cans full of soup, vegetables and fruit, a can opener, three soft blankets, soap, six bottles of water, baby wipes, toothpaste, three toothbrushes, band-aids, rubbing alcohol, plastic bowls and spoons, batteries, three large flashlights, a pot, a wooden spoon, a switchblade, matches, candles, two teddy bears, two toy trucks, a hammer, some nails, three children's story books, a coloring book, crayons, and a Japanese-to-English dictionary. And my cane with a note attached. It read in Japanese:
I hope you are real.
I wondered how long this peace offering had been sitting down here. He must have checked for its disappearance everyday. I did not want to give him any hope of our existence. But, his wanting to help me touched me. I took the wagon and went home.
I returned two weeks later. I took along the empty red wagon. At the bottom of the steps was another red wagon. There was another note attached:
Hello again, friend. I am glad to help you. Please tell me what you need and I will get it. –Bubba
I looked in the wagon. There was more food and water, also a cassette player and a stack of tapes. I took the new wagon. I left the old wagon and attached my own note:
If you are willing to help my children and me, I take it thankfully.
I wrote a list of provisions needed and left.
This went on for the next two moths. I'd run out of supplies, go the bottom of his manhole cover, take his gifts and leave. As my children enjoyed their new toys and music, I fervently studied English using the dictionary and the children's books Brian gave me. I tried my best on my own, but I needed a tutor for application.
One night after I put my turtles to sleep I ventured out with my empty wagon to pick up more supplies. I turned the corner and saw Brian fixing up the other wagon. As I stepped back my wagon creaked. He looked toward me but couldn't see me clearly. I chided myself, becoming too comfortable with this risky arrangement. He called out.
"Hello…? Konnichiwa? Is that you, Hamato?"
"Hello Brian. It is I."
"Told you to call me Bubba. Friends call me Bubba…. I'm almost done with the wagon if you want to check it out." He climbed back up the ladder. I didn't move. He came back down with another bag full of various things. He looked over toward me and smiled wide. I decided to walk over.
I walked into the light, dragging my wagon behind me. I stood a few feet away from him, removed my hood and looked up at him. His smile did not waver. He was a tall thin man with dark skin and hair that sat in all direction on top of his head. He wore blue jeans, work boots and a buttoned up shirt with blue and shapes all over it. He gave me his hand in greeting. I reluctantly shook it.
"There now, nice to meet you." He looked me over and gave a knowing nod. "People think they're so damn smart. Just throwing their experiments down the drain… You used to be human or were you always a rat?"
I was slow but I did catch his meaning. He spoke both English and Japanese words. Neither of us was proficient in each other's tongue. "I was a normal pet rat. But fate led me to my current being, me and my children."
"Oh, well I know a couple cans of food don't make it right but I'm glad to help."
"You have done more than enough, Brian… Bubba." He smiled at me. My whiskers twitched. I don't believe I've ever smiled before. "I cannot offer much but I would like to do something to thank you."
"You don't give something just to get something back, Hamato. It's not the way the world should work."
"I can teach you Japanese and ninjitsu. It is what I learned from my master, my father, Hamato Yoshi."
"You know karate?"
"Hei." I said.
"Then I'll teach you English and help you with your children. Deal?"
"Yes. Deal."
Over the next year Bubba and I grew to be good friends. I learned English and kept my children fed and happy. Bubba learned basic martial arts and meditation techniques. I told him I was starting to teach my sons the art of traditional fighting. He took a two-week trip back to Japan and tested out his new language skills. He came back with stories of how he haggled book dealers. He also provided my children with their first set of practice weapons and a beautiful ornate trunk. In that trunk were a pair of thick, bamboo nunchaku, a traditional monk's bo, a pair of leather bound sais, and a set of Kirisowa katana, sheathed in black silk. These would be the weapons of great ninja masters someday.
I was speechless. Bubba was a true friend and I trusted him. He had filled the void of sorrow I was swallowed in for so long. I asked him to help me carry the trunk home so he can meet my children.
When we reached my home we set the trunk in the corner. Bubba looks around and whistles. "Wow, Splinter! You've done wonders! It looks a lot like a little cottage and less like the lowly sewer den you've described all this time.
"Thank you, but I've had some help." I said.
We walked over to the now three-foot-tall playpen. "My sons, I would like you to meet someone." I said.
Donatello was building with blocks. Leonardo was reading a book. Michelangelo was dancing and singing to music and Raphael…
"Where is Raphael!" I hollered.
Two of the turtles shook their heads but it was Leonardo who looked up from his book. "He's out playing 'Adventure' again. I told him to obey but he never listens to me, Master Splinter."
"Did he say where he was going?" I demand.
"He said he was going to the water falls, the place you said for us to never go."
"Do not go anywhere! I will return soon." I had such fear. But Bubba caught my shoulder.
"It's ok. I'm coming with you."
We ran out the den and plunged deeper into the sewer. It was not long until we heard the sound of rushing water. And then I saw Raphael testing his swinging skills on a rusty railing.
"Raphael!" I called out. He looked down toward us and was startled. One of his hands slipped and he fell over the edge towards the black, churning water. I watched in horror as my little boy flailed. I didn't notice Bubba has stepped back. But I did see him sprint and jump over the edge where we stood. He lunged himself into Raphael and crash landed onto a protruding ledge twenty feet down. I hurried over to them, carefully dodging the torrents of water smashing through the grates. I found my son huddled in my friend's arms, crying but unharmed.
"Brian." I said. My friend however was in pain, his left shin broken. I held onto Raphael with one hand and allowed Bubba to lean on my other.
We made it back to our den and I laid Brian down on the tatami mat in the living area. With all of the supplies he had given us, I had every thing I needed to secure his bone and brace his leg. He stayed down there with us for a week, he ate with us, played with and read to my children, helping them with their katas, and watched over them as they slept. I was so full of joy in my heart but also fear wracked my mind. I owed Brian my son's life, but I knew this would not be the last time my turtles' curiosity would allow them to wander again. It was not what I wanted but there was a greater need to consider.
Leonardo, Raphael, Donatello, Michelangelo and I removed the sides off the red wagon, placed the folded up tatami mat on top and allowed Brian to sit down as we slowly rolled him back to his home. This was the first time the turtles were so far from the den and I stressed them to be careful and stay together, especially Raphael. As we approached the black and white tile, I advised my children to stay with the altered wagon as I help Brian to stand up on his still healing leg.
I looked at him and he at me for a long moment. He nodded.
"I think I'll hang onto this." He leaned down carefully and shouldered the folded tatami mat. We took our time climbing the metal ladder. He finally got through the manhole and sighed in relief. I stood there, my hands held the top rung. He looked over and smiled and me. I tried to smile but I either lacked the ability or I was too sad to form it.
"You've really changed my life Hamato Splinter. You are a fantastic Sensei and a wonderful father. Your master Yoshi would be so proud."
"It is I who should be thanking you, to show such kindness to us… to me. I will never forget you Bubba.
"You think I'll ever see you again?"
"Somehow, some way, there is always a chance we will cross paths again." I smiled. I did smile.
I helped him close the lid and I walked the rest of my family home.
…
We sit around the table silent. I still feel the story swirling in the air around us. Mikey is staring into space. Donnie is shaking his head in amazement. Amber is lightly dabbing tears from her eyes with a napkin. I think Splinter has a tear as well. And Leo is sittin' there all stale -faced. I can't stand him!
"Wow…" Amber whispers, "What a beautiful story. I never knew this side of him. I knew he was kind and loved to travel, but I never knew he was so brave."
Splinter nods, "Brian gave much of himself, but the larger miracle is that he did so freely. And to know you, Amber, as a part of his family adds to that blessing. I hope that we can continue thanking him through you."
"Then please, all I ask is that I can call you, Uncle Splinter?"
"I would be honored." He smiles.
"Whoa…" Mikey finally says. "Then, Bubba's like our Uncle Bubba too, huh Sensei?"
"Yes, I suppose so."
"And we spent an entire week with him when we were four years old… I'm surprised I don't remember that?", Donnie says.
"Hmm…well you were preoccupied with building blocks at that age. Brian could have had three heads and you would not have paid him much attention." Splinter says.
We all laugh, even Amber. Wait, Leo ain't laughin'.
"So Leo, whatcha think of Master Splinter's story? Kinda risky what he did huh?" I ask.
He looks up at me. A small grin on his face, 'Like father, like son, I suppose."
I smile back and nod.
It starts to get chilly and we decide to head down to the living room. Everyone finds a comfortable place to sit. We talk and tell stories and Splinter snores loudly as he nods off in the recliner. We all laugh. It's almost midnight. Before we get up to leave Amber has another surprise for us.
"Guys as you know I own and run a bookstore."
"Wow, no kidding..." Mikey teases.
She giggles, "Yes. And I have some gifts for you on behalf of Bubba's Bookstore." She hands out bright blue bags to everyone. "Please go head, look inside. I bet you can't guess what they are."
I look in mine: A large photo book of vintage motorcycles… This is sweet!
"Omigosh! The Halo Easter Egg guidebook? Wicked! Thanks Amber!"
"Donnie, I hope you can use those books. There is a lot of complex computer jargon and Java something. I think one book tells you how to program your computer from scratch?" Amber says.
"Yes! Amber these are astounding! All the latest editions too!"
"Uncle Splinter, I've given you some original Japanese haikus. They were printed in 1857. And you can have Uncle Bubba's journal. It's about you, so it's only right."
"Thank you. Thank you Amber… it is like meeting him all over again." He holds the book close to himself.
Leonardo pulls out a large yellow scroll tied with a blue ribbon. Amber walks over. "This scroll is from one of Uncle Bubba's many trips to Japan. It's a fighting technique manual from the Edo era. It's all pictures. The figures use a sword so I though you might enjoy it. Maybe learn something new… or old, how ever you want to see it." He on unrolls the ancient parchment carefully across his lap. The ink is still crisp and black.
"Thank you. I thank you very much, Amber." He smiles.
I look around and everyone's face is chessin'. I can't help but give her all the credit. And Master Splinter is right. I did find a gem. And I want to make her mine.