Historical
History was a strange thing. It mapped out the past of the world, twisting and turning itself into impossible shapes. It was funny, how history bent itself to the will of the one needing it, reading it. History would never be the same for two people at once, even if they believed the same facts exactly.
Sometimes, he wondered if they would be remembered. There defeat of the Shredder would be recorded in the history of the Utroms, but would they ever be known on earth. Would, years after they had gone, things be found? Would stories be told, legends be made?
Would there finally be acceptance and approval from the world, long after the fear of them had gone?
Or would they fade into the darkness like the shadows that they were, melting into the nothingness?
Would their feats be seen as historical achievements? Or would they simply remain unknown as they were meant to?
Donatello wasn't too sure he wanted to be twisted to the whims of an argument, to individual interpretations. Was it worth the remembrance, to have your life twisted, discussed, for all to see? To have every action discussed, for good or evil, and your way as a ninja dishonored.
Mostly, Donatello scoffed at the thought, knowing the cons far outweighed the pros. He'd pick his tools back up and get back to work on his latest ground-breaking invention.
But sometimes, just sometimes, he wished he could have his moment in history.