All reviews are welcome! Seriously, tell me if I'm doing anything right.
Sunlight trailed through the genin training facility, shining on the heads of the ninja recruits who were moving their way through martial arts forms.
Toshiro wandered amongst them in silence, occasionally correcting a mistake or nudging a stray elbow or knee back into place. He had been doing this job for so long that it took almost no effort for him to train the new recruits — except when someone of exceptional ability arose from the ranks, someone who might have a chance to distinguish themselves in the Foot Clan. Those he recommended to Karai.
Sadly, it had been almost two years since he had seen such an exceptional student. This lot were competent in their practices, but he knew just by watching that none of them would ever rise to the level of Elite or Assassin.
When they finished the forms, the students bowed deeply to Toshiro, who accepted the gesture with a gracious nod of his head. It was almost noon, he reflected, and he was looking forward to a very fine bottle of sake with his lunch.
As his students scrambled off in the direction of the dining hall, Toshiro walked meditatively back towards his room. One of the benefits of being an instructor was that, unlike the genin-in-training, he had a room all to himself.
But then he heard it — the soft purr of a car's engine, and the click of a door opening. He tensed, ready to leap into action if it were to be an enemy.
"Toshiro-sensei?" a deep voice said.
Merrit. Toshiro breathed a sigh of relief as he recognized the man's voice, and turned to face him. Merrit was a dark-skinned, hulking ninja who easily stood a foot taller than the old master, a fact that Toshiro had been acutely aware of when he trained him. He was wearing a suit today, which made him look vaguely uncomfortable, as if he were worried that he was going to explode out of it.
"Yes, my student?" he said, folding his hands. "Do you bring news from the city?"
"Yes, Toshiro-sensei. We're to bring you back to headquarters immediately. This very minute."
Toshiro's brows knit together. "This very minute? I still have several hours of training exercises to—"
"Master Shredder commands it."
Toshiro sighed. Those four words were an effective way of ending any argument within the Foot Clan. Incurring the wrath of their master was always a dangerous activity, and refusing him what he willed was a good way to find one's head removed from the rest of the body.
Apprehension stirred in the old man's heart as he followed Merrit to the car. Had he done something to displease the jonin? He couldn't remember having done or said anything that Master Shredder would be displeased by, especially since the two men rarely saw one another. On the rare occasions when direct contact between the training facility and the headquarters was needed, Karai was the one who spoke to her old teacher.
"I've been ordered to see to your comfort, Toshiro-sensei," Merrit said, sliding into the car seat directly opposite Toshiro.
Ah. So, Master Shredder was not displeased. He wouldn't have bothered with that order otherwise.
"In that case," Toshiro said carefully, folding his hands, "would you mind stopping for some food?"
Merrit obtained a hamburger from a nearby restaurant, and the journey to New York continued as planned. Toshiro watched the rolling hills and forests melt away into suburban houses, and then again into shimmering skyscrapers that loomed over the car like metallic giants.
He felt the apprehension rising again as he arrived at the headquarters of the Foot Clan, and was quickly ushered inside to the Shredder's throne room — a wide, dark room with few people in it, except for the Elite who clustered around their master. He still wasn't sure what was going on here, but there was a faint air of tension about the room.
Much of that came from Karai, he decided. His former pupil was standing at her grandfather's right hand, her face locked in a mask of sullen anger that Toshiro recognized all too well. Her pride had been wounded, and that was one thing that she never forgave.
"Approach, Toshiro," the Shredder said, gesturing at the old man.
Toshiro came closer and bowed deeply. "I understand you have need of an old man's services, Master."
"I have a new student for you. For the foreseeable future you will focus entirely on training him, excluding all others."
Toshiro looked up sharply, forgetting himself in his surprise.
"But surely the genin training facilities…." he began.
"… are insufficient for the student I am bringing you now. He is… unique, and requires specialized training." Shredder raised a hand and gestured to one of the Elite. "Bring him in."
A door to an adjoining room was opened, and two ninja appeared, pulling a third figure between them. Toshiro felt his mouth fall open as he saw who — or rather, what — it was. It was a creature that seemed to be halfway between a man and a turtle — he had a visible shell and skin of a deep green, but he walked upright on legs that looked more human than animal, and he stared around with eyes that seemed too intelligent for a mere reptile.
"This is your new student," Shredder said, in a tone that brooked no disagreement. "His name is Raphael."
"What in the name of the gods is he?" murmured Toshiro. The creature before him looked like nothing he had ever seen or dreamed of. The closest thing he could recall were the stories his grandmother had told him of kappa, but surely this could not be one. They were old myths, fairy tales.
"He is a mutant turtle — a happy accident, which I am putting to good use for the glory of the Foot," Shredder said, leaning back in his throne.
"You wish me to train a — a mutant turtle in the ways of the Foot," Toshiro repeated.
"Precisely. He may be the first of many mutant soldiers that our clan creates — that is, if he can be properly trained as a ninja."
Toshiro moved closer to Raphael, and immediately felt the tension radiating from the turtle. His eyes narrowed into slits, and his three-fingered hands clenched into fists, as if he were ready to strike if Toshiro showed any signs of aggression. The old man smiled slightly, circling around the turtle. That was good. Raphael had already shown some qualities that could make him a formidable ninja.
"I am not here to hurt you," he said soothingly to the young turtle.
Raphael blinked at him, but did not relax his stance. "Hurt… you," he repeated haltingly.
Toshiro's eyes widened. Raphael spoke like a child who was only just learning what words meant.
"How old is he?" he asked, as politely as possible.
"He was mutated only yesterday," Karai said stiffly. "Before that, he was an ordinary turtle."
Yesterday! Toshiro felt a headache coming on as he realized why Raphael had been so quiet during this exchange, and why he had become so hostile when approached by a stranger. His body was that of an adolescent, he estimated, but his mind was still that of a very young child — perhaps no more than a baby. How was he to teach the complexities of a ninja's skills to someone who could barely understand him?
Shredder seemed to sense Toshiro's hesitation, because he descended from his throne, and swept close to the young turtle. "He learns quickly. The words he knows are ones that he has learned in only a day's time, and he acquires more with every passing hour."
"Master," Raphael said uncertainly.
Toshiro sighed, looking into the young turtle's stubborn brown eyes. This might be the greatest challenge of his long life — to make a ninja out of a mutant who was not even fully fluent in any language, and whose knowledge of the world dated back only a single day. It was as if he were teaching a baby in a teenager's body.
"Raphael," Shredder rumbled. "You will follow Toshiro and do as he says. Obey me."
Raphael's eyes flickered uncertainly between the two men, as if his obedience was at war with his fear of a stranger. Finally obedience won out, and he nodded, letting his fists unclench.
"Obey," he said, lowering his head.
The Shredder made a pleased sound in his throat, and lifted Raphael's face, as if surveying a fine piece of art that he had obtained. Or, Toshiro reflected, perhaps a horse. Or a slave. "He is all yours, Toshiro," he said. "Make me a ninja out of him."