I would like to thank everyone who commented, favorited or is following my story, you guys have no idea how much that motivates me to write. I hope that everyone enjoys this next chapter. :) Oh and just so everyone knows, when the font is like this, it means that's it is someone's thought or dream or a memory. Just so everyone understands, the turtles are only five years old in this chapter.

Five years later-

POV: Splinter

Watching my young sons working on their swordsmanship, I could not help the pride swell up in my chest. I never thought that I would be able to teach anyone the art of the ninja after the incident five years ago, resulting in myself turning into a giant rat and adopting four baby turtles as my sons.

At first I only gave them what they needed to survive, I didn't want to love these little ones, not after just losing my wife and daughter but for one reason or another they opened my heart back up and I could not help but grow to love them as I would my own and soon enough they were mine and I could not imagine living without them.

"You need to keep you're sword up Donnie." My eldest son Leonardo tried to show his third youngest brother Donatello the proper way to hold a sword. I could not stop the smile that pulled at my mouth. I knew from the second I gave my oldest a sword that he would take to it but I never thought that he would catch on so quickly but I was happily surprised. He would keep practicing what I taught him and his brothers until he got it right.

"Oh okay, I think I got it." My third oldest son Donatello told his older brother, copying his brother's stance, which he got after a little bit. He smiled just enough to show the gap in between his teeth. Donatello didn't take to fighting as his brothers did, in fact I would more likely find him taking apart something and trying to put it back together then practicing his stances or katas that I taught him.

Looking over to my other two sons I saw that Raphael, my second oldest was pushing his little brother and my youngest Michelangelo, a little too roughly with their wooden swords. Like Leonardo, Raphael took to fighting rather quickly but unlike his brothers he had a horrible temper when it came to learning something new or when he lost, I hope that he grows out of it when he gets older.

"Hold on Raph!" My youngest yelled, trying to get his footing back. Michelangelo was the fastest out of all of his brothers and caught on quickly to the art of ninja, he has pure talent for it but he is often so playful and imaginative it is difficult to keep his mind on one thing at once.

"Ouch! That hurt!" Michelangelo cried. Walking over to where he and Raphael were sparring, I saw that Raphael was trying his best not to cry while Michelangelo was sitting on the floor, holding his left hand to his chest, tears falling down his cheeks.

Kneeling down beside both of them, I took my youngest into my arms and looked at Raphael, his bright green eyes were shining from unshed tears. Leonardo and Donatello stopped there sparring and came over to look at their little brother, who was still crying in my arms.

"What happened?" I asked in a calm voice. My hot tempered son looked up at me through his tears, which he quickly wiped away.

"I hit his hand with my sword but it was an accident. I didn't mean to hurt him." My son explained more tears came to his eyes. Rubbing soothing circles on my youngest shell, he finally calmed down enough for him to wipe his own tears away from his bright blue eyes. Taking his left hand I looked and saw that it was a little red but that wasn't anything that a band-aide could not fix.

"It's okay Michelangelo; you know that Raphael didn't mean to hurt you, right?" I asked. He nodded his head and without my saying anything he got out of my arms, went over to his older brother and gave him a hug.

"I forgive you Raphie." Raphael hugged his little brother back, forgetting that they had an audience, when he remembered where he was he gently pushed his little brother away, all their tears were dried up.

"Get better with a sword so daddy doesn't have to worry so much." Raphael mumbled under his breath. I could not help but chuckle at my sons. Standing up and going to the front of the room, my sons all kneeled in front of me, like I had taught them, waiting for me to speak.

"I think that this was enough practice for today, once you pick up your swords you may leave." My sons all jumped up and quickly got their swords put away. Before my youngest could escape I called him over and took him to the bathroom to find him a bandage.

I sat him up on the sink and looked through the things that we did have, which reminded me that I would have to go up top to get more supplies later. I was making a mental note of everything that we need when my littlest spoke up.

"Am I a bad ninja daddy?" Looking down at my son, I saw that he was staring at the bruise that Raphael had just given him with the sword.

"No, why do you ask Michelangelo?"

Taking out the bandage that I had found I gently put it on his hurt hand and helped him down off of the sink. He looked up at me with his big blue eyes and then back to his hand.

"I just don't think I'm that good." He mumbled. This made me think of something that had happened to myself and Michael when we were younger. Taking my son's hand in mine, I took him back into the dojo and sat him down in front of the shelves that I had made just for my pictures, from when I was human. Picking up the one of myself and Michael when we were younger, sitting down, my son sat down in my lap looking at the picture.

"Do you know who is in this picture Michelangelo?" I asked. He looked at the picture for a moment and nodded.

"This is you when you were human." My youngest told me, pointing to my human self in the photograph. His finger went over to Michael and went quiet for a moment.

"I don't know this man." He said, looking up at me. "Who is he daddy?" Holding my youngest to me I smiled down at him.

"That's Michael, he's my closest friend, and people went as far as to say that we were brothers." I explained. Michelangelo looked back to the picture, not saying anything, so I took some time to look at it as well. Michael and I were both dressed in traditional Japanese ropes; we were at the fair celebrating our success at becoming full ninjas.

Michael was sending a peace sign to the camera man with his trademarked grin plastered across his face; his free arm was thrown around my shoulders pulling me down a few inches to his height. His curly brown hair was everywhere but he didn't seem to mind. I on the other hand was standing straight face or at least I was trying to. My dark short hair was neat and orderly; now that I actually looked at the picture of the two of us I wondered how we got along so well.

"You're friend looks like a nice human." My son said, bringing me out of my thoughts. I nodded and smiled softly.

"Yes he is, he's a very nice person. In fact you remind me of him." Michelangelo looked up at me, his blue eyes widen.

"Really, how do I do that?" He asked me. I took the picture from his small hands and held it up for the both of us.

"Well you see, Michael is an accomplished ninja, as much as I am but when we were younger I thought that he wasn't cut out to be one."

"Make sure to keep your feet apart at all times!" My father told both myself and Michael, the kid my dad took in a few months ago. We were once again sparring against each other, my father was teaching us both the art of the ninja but I had no idea why he was teaching an outsider, an American no less, our secret art.

Following my father's instructions I quickly took down Michael for the fifth time that day. No matter how much he tried Michael was never able to get the upper hand but that was the thing with him, no matter how many times I won he would get right back up and try again. And just like the other five times, Michael stood up, shakier then before and got back into a fighting position. Before we could go again my father stepped between us.

"That is enough for today." Walking over to Michael he put his hand on his shoulder. "Why don't you go and take a shower Michael." He nodded to my father and walked out of the dojo without another word. My father went back to his place in front of the room and motioned me over. I knelt down in front of him.

"Do you not like Michael?" My father asked in a serious tone. Looking up at him, I saw that he was indeed more than serious.

"It's not that father."

"Then what is it?" He asked me, not sounding as stern.

"It's just that I don't understand why out of all the people on this earth that you would choose someone like him to take in and teach him the way of the ninja. And with all due respect father, he's not good at it and I highly doubt that he will get any better."

My father only looked at me after my little outburst, just stroking his chin; he only did this when he was thinking deeply about something. It was a few minutes later before he said anything.

"How long have I been teaching you this battle art?" Looking down to my hands, I had to think about it for a moment.

"I believe since I was about five."

"Were you naturally good when I first started to teach you the basics?" My father asked me. I shook my head.

"No. In fact I remember a few times when you would stomp out of the dojo and not come out of your room for a few hours." I winced when he reminded me of our childish I was back then. "You're both twelve years old and yes I have been training you longer and you get the hang of it a lot faster than Michael does but Michael has one thing that neither you or I possess, that we cannot simply learn."

My eyes widen at the possibility of that being true.

"What is that?"

"His fighting spirit and unwillingness to give up, you must have noticed that no matter how many times that you have beaten him in a sparring match." I nodded my head. "And yet he gets right back up and tries again. That persistence and determination will carry him far, maybe even farther then you."

"My father left the dojo, leaving me alone with my thoughts. That night I could not get what he had said out of my mind. The idea that Michael was stronger than I was and I had trained longer than him, well that made me want to prove a point to everyone, including myself, that I was stronger than him."

"What happened next?" My youngest asked, his bright blue eyes sparkling with how earnest he was. I chuckled at him and patted his shell.

"What happened next was…"

Michael and I walked to the dojo, where my father was waiting for the both of us. Without waiting for my sensei to speak I bowed to him and asked him for a real fighting match between Michael and I. My father didn't say anything for a bit.

"Is this okay with you Michael?" My father asked.

"Hai sensei." With that my father cleared the floor. He stood at the front of the room, watching over our fight. I readied myself into my most effective fighting stance and watched as Michael got into a beginners stance.

"Hagmai!"

We locked eyes, his blue, greenish eyes looked into my dark brown eyes. Without waiting for him to attack first I ran at him, bringing my fist back to hit him in the chest, he blocked and turned himself around so he was facing my unprotected back. Before he could do anything I lifted my leg and kicked him in his stomach, sending him flying into the wall.

Michael started coughing and his long hair was out of its small ponytail but it could not hide that spark in his eyes. He looked like he was going to the finish this fight, no matter what. He stood back up and came at me, ready to fight.

"Sadly he only got a few punches and kicks in through the whole fight and I kept sending him flying into the dojo walls." I told my youngest, who was hanging on my every word.

"But in the end he ended up winning by using some awesome move right daddy?" He asked excitedly, a big grin plastered to his face.

"No. He lost, pretty badly but it was how he lost that made me feel like I was the loser of the match." I explained. My son looked up at me, confusion was written all over his face.

"What do you mean?"

"My father had to stop the fight himself when he thought Michael shouldn't continue. You see Michelangelo, no matter how many times I threw him to the ground or how hard the punch or kick was, Michael got right back up and kept fighting."

"Wow! That is so cool, so no matter what he never gave up?" My youngest asked, the spark was back in his eyes, smiling up at me. Patting his head, I chuckled at him.

"Yes and that is also how you remind me of him."

"Really?" Michelangelo asked, his eyes widening once more.

"Yes, you have the same fighting spirit that Michael has, that and your ability to smile no matter the situation." Michelangelo looked down to his hands, like he wasn't sure to trust my words or not. Picking him up in my arms, I placed the picture I was showing him back with the others.

"My point Michelangelo is that you shouldn't doubt you're abilities because one day you will surpass even you're greatest ideals." Both my son and I looked at the picture without saying any words.

"Where is he now daddy?" I glanced over at my son and saw that he was still looking at the picture.

"He went on a long trip." I told him, it was the only thing I could come up with on the spot.

"Will he back someday?" My son asked, looking over at me with curious eyes. I gave him a small smile and nodded.

"Yes, I know that he will be back one day and on that day, I know that he will so happy to meet you." My son beamed at me and leaped from my arms, running into the other room, most likely to tell his brothers about the story I had just told him.

Smiling to myself, I looked back over to the picture of Michael. And I could not help but chuckle. Even though he wasn't here in person I knew that he would be so proud of my sons and that was comfort enough until I get to see him again.

I hope that everyone enjoyed this chapter and I know that this was centered on Mikey and Splinter but the next chapter will be in the point of view of Michael and how he is seeing things, until the next chapter, reviews are always welcomed. :)