...

Maybe everything's changed
And maybe I stayed the same
What does it matter to me now, anyways?
If I ever regret it
If I'm ever repentant
Karma sings and we'll dance the dance, baby

–"All That You Are," from Econoline Crush

PAST, PRESENT, FUTURE

Karai had always loved it when the sakura blossoms happened to be in full bloom on her birthday. When she was little, she had thought of it as a secret gift to her from her mother. As she had grown up, she'd learned that the timing of the blossoms could be predicted by the weather patterns and temperatures leading into spring, and varied by region around the country. Even so, looking around the courtyard at the ethereal beauty of the cherry trees on her sixteenth birthday, it was easy to get caught up in her own childhood fancies and smile up at the clouds in thanks when no one was watching.

Her birthday party had been arranged by her father, as everything else in her life seemed to be. At least he had invited her friends and people she actually liked, along with the typical band of Foot figureheads and suck-ups. The gathering was simple and elegant, much like everyone in attendance, aside from herself. She stood out starkly among the business casual crowd in black tights, an oversized Billy Idol t-shirt, heavy make-up, and recently cut black-on-blonde hair. Her unbuttoned jean jacket with studded spikes on the shoulders completed her ensemble, and gave the apt appearance that she might leave her own party at any moment.

It was funny, sometimes, when she remembered how badly she had wished her father would spend more time with her when she was younger. Since Raphael had left, her dad had taken her completely under his wing. She went on business trips, sat in on meetings, and helped with the public dojos. Her own martial arts training was often directly under his instruction, and her formal tutoring had started leaning heavily towards business and finance long ago. Incrementally, he had let her in on the other side of his empire and how the Foot operated within the gray areas of the law or completely above it.

She had felt particularly smothered over the past year, resenting that she had so little time to be herself or pursue her own interests. She had thought dating Kaito would show Father that she was more mature and needed some distance. Instead, she suspected that her father requested reports from Kaito of her actions while he was not there to keep tabs on her himself, which had only succeeded in prompting her to eventually break up with her boyfriend.

So, she found other, smaller ways to assert herself under her father's thumb. Like putting her own spin on projects and missions she was leading, giving orders without consulting him first, by adding more piercings to her ears, or sneaking out to party in the city until one of her Foot underlings tracked her down and brought her home. She lived for the moments that her father would give her that disapproving glare and sigh, almost imperceptibly, before pretending not to care and continuing on as usual.

She toed the line of rebellion without disobeying him outright with tightrope precision.

"We should hit the clubs later," a voice whispered behind her ear.

Karai turned, finding no one behind her, then jumped when she turned back and Shinigami's face was only inches from hers.

"Shini!" Karai scolded, slapping her arm. "I'm going to kill you one day by accident."

The young witch laughed and twirled away with a wink, her black dress flaring out around her. "You are really rocking the new look," she commented.

Her new makeover had been a dare from Shinigami, the most extreme look Karai was willing to try based on photos from a website featuring several punk and alternative bands.

"I actually really like it," Karai said honestly. Not only did she feel more confident and edgy, but it had the lasting benefit of her looking what her dad would deem as inappropriate for any future formal and legitimate business functions.

Shinigami had become a retainer for the Foot Clan six months ago, a consultant and conjurer of all things mystical. Karai wasn't as superstitious as her dad, but there was no denying that Shini was capable of doing some rather inexplicable things. If nothing else, she was well versed in mythology, the occult, and magic, and had the best illusions and deceptions Karai had ever witnessed. Shinigami claimed to have inherited her abilities from her grandmother, who also happened to be the one who raised and trained her in the mystic arts.

"Sorry I'm late to the party," Shinigami said, "but I knew it would be boring."

Karai smirked in agreement. "Come on, there's someone here who has been waiting very impatiently to meet you."

She led Shinigami to the long food table where Yumi stood holding a small plate of appetizers, her free hand resting unconsciously on her swollen belly as she chewed. She wore a plain pink maternity dress with long, flowing sleeves, and a matching ribbon tied her hair back.

"Yumi, this is Shinigami," Karai introduced.

Yumi's eyes widened in excitement and she hurriedly set her plate down to shake Shinigami's hand with both of hers. "It is very nice to meet you! Karai told me that you might be able to tell me if I'm having a girl or a boy? The baby was not cooperative for the ultrasound and I really want to know."

Shinigami smiled at her exuberance. "Of course I can," she said confidently. "May I?" she asked, nodding towards her abdomen.

"Yes, yes," Yumi replied, letting go of her hand.

Shinigami crouched and rested her open palm over the baby bump, closing her eyes and whispering under her breath. "Boy."

Yumi squealed in delight, then furrowed her brow. "Is he alright? Is he healthy?"

After a moment of silence Shinigami stood up straight. "Yes," she said, "and he will be very smart, just like his mother."

Yumi pulled Shinigami into a tight hug and thanked her repeatedly, and Karai could only giggle and shrug at the "Help me," face Shinigami directed at her.

Yumi released Shinigami before the witch scattered into bats, or mist, or some other spectacle, and was in the middle of lamenting how she couldn't stop eating when she paused mid-sentence and stared behind Karai. "Oooh, baby kappa grew up," Yumi said quietly, fanning herself with an empty paper plate.

Karai whirled around, her heart suddenly skipping.

Raphael had entered the courtyard, completely ignoring everyone in it and heading straight for her father. Soldiers of every rank practically tripped over themselves to get out of his path, and Karai was pleased at the fear and respect he now commanded within the Foot. He knelt before Saki, head bowed, no doubt thanking him for allowing his return.

She wanted nothing more than to go to him and welcome him home, but he and her father were having a conversation now, and Raphael hadn't so much as glanced her way. She found herself feeling slighted despite knowing that he was obligated to greet Saki first, to figuratively kiss his ring and give him full attention for as long as it was demanded.

Though she had seen Raphael months earlier, it had been in the dark, he had been cloaked, and it had been under extreme emotional stress. He looked so different, and she took a moment to observe him as he stood tall and proud in the broad daylight.

The most notable physical change in him was his shell. As a child, it had been green, darkening a little more every year. It had since matured into a deep mahogany brown, and the scutes looked much tougher. The top left of his shell bore a lighter scar in the shape of a three fingered flame, a symbol that the Foot Elite commonly had branded onto their backs or shoulders.

It was also obvious that he had put a lot of effort into bulking up after his recovery. The way Yumi and Shinigami gawked shamelessly at the wonderfully defined muscle exposed between the black wrappings on his arms and legs made her cheeks heat up.

Once Saki dismissed him, Raphael scanned the courtyard until his eyes met hers. His stoic facade cracked into a small grin as soon as he recognized her, banishing any embarrassment she had felt at being caught staring.

"Go," Shinigami urged with a nudge as Raphael began crossing the yard in their direction.

People scurried out of the way as they closed in on each other, away from the mutant boy who had catapulted himself to feared assassin and Foot Enforcer. While others fled his path, Karai practically flung herself into his arms; she had never felt anything but safe and secure in his iron grip, and she hugged him savagely.

He squeezed her tight for a moment, hard enough that it challenged her ability to breathe, then held her out from him to take a look at her. She felt self conscious under his gaze; despite Shinigami's approval, Karai knew her father didn't like her new look, and Kaito had kept asking when she was going to 'go back to normal' before their breakup.

"You look great," Raphael said.

"So do you," she answered, laughing when he snorted and rolled his eyes at her compliment.

He rubbed over a fresher looking scar on his left bicep, covering it with his hand. Karai noticed how nicked up his shell was, and all the thin lines of scar tissue here and there where his skin was exposed. It was par for the course when training with live blades and living the kind of life they led; she had earned a few of her own in the past four years.

"Did my father give you a mission already?" she asked. "That looked like a serious conversation just now."

"Yeah, babysitting you. I'm told you are evading your bodyguards and sneaking around in the city."

"I've been doing a fine job taking care of myself so far," she countered, annoyed.

"Yes, I've heard. The Butcher, is it?" he said drolly. "I have to agree with Master Shredder on this one, it should be me taking care of that, not you."

Karai wondered at how casually they could bring death into a conversation, and who should be killing whom. She couldn't pinpoint the exact age that she had realized her life was vastly different from the norm and that she was the heir to a criminal empire, but it had really hit home the first time someone had tried to assassinate her.

She had been clumsy and unprepared mentally, but years of training had made her self defense almost automatic. Her would-be murderer had ended up with his throat slashed, staggered backwards into some netting, then tripped and fell off a dock. His foot had tangled into the net as he fell, suspending him upside down while he bled out. Not knowing what else to do, Karai had shakily called her father and had even managed to stop weeping by the time he had come to collect her.

The restrictions on her freedom doubled down after that. Frustrated that some lowly mercs and assassins prevented her from any chance of enjoying a normal life, especially when she was able to slip her father's tight leash, she let anger strengthen her resolve to prove herself against any others who tried to do her harm. There had been two more attempts on her life since that horrible night at the docks. Karai had purposely recreated the scene of her first kill to make it clear to the Yakuza that it was her, personally, that was the one taking down their hit men, hoping they would heed her warning and leave her alone. Her predictability should have been a handicap; they had known she would go for their throats, but they still couldn't beat her, and she took a vicious sort of pride in that. By the time she had left her third foe hanging face down over a puddle of their own blood, she was nicknamed The Butcher by the enemies of the Foot Clan.

And now here was Raphael, wanting to protect her, half convinced by Father that she was some damsel in distress. She laughed aloud at the thought, giving him a wink and a devilish smile.

"What makes you think you can keep up with me?" she challenged, using her shoulder to nudge him back a step.

It took a moment for the playful smile she used to know so well to come to his lips, the defiant glint in his eyes. It was if he had to remember how to have fun again, and it made her heart ache a little.

"You think you can take me?" he scoffed, his grin broadening.

Her hand slipped under the denim jacket to the hilt of her wakizashi at the small of her back. "Let's see if your time with the Elite gave you more than just an ego," she said slyly, drawing her weapon in one fluid motion and arcing it towards his chest.

Raphael blocked her easily, the pair of sai from his belt in hand and crossed before him in a second. He used them to yank the tanto to the side and down, trying to push her off balance. Karai recovered quickly, freeing her blade and spinning to his left.

The guests watched out of curiosity or for their own amusement, but the setting remained relaxed. This was a Foot gathering, after all, and impromptu mock battles were not unusual and tended to involve far more alcohol.

Karai led Raphael further out into the courtyard and away from the crowd as their sparring became more spirited, steel flashing faster between them as they laughed and threw taunts at one another. Their movements disturbed the delicate sakura blossoms hanging heavily on the branches of the trees they weaved around, the white petals floating slowly to the ground all around them.

She was surprised by her own joy, by how genuine and pure it felt. She was transported in spirit to a time when they had been small enough to climb these trees and sparred beneath them with sticks, when their friendship and futures had never been in question and they'd known that they would never be apart.

"Not bad," Karai teased, "for a warm-up." She glanced wistfully into the nearby forest, their childhood domain, then back across the courtyard at the gathering. "Let's get out of here," she whispered conspiratorially.

She sprinted without another word, weaving through the natural cover of branches and bushes without looking back until she was deep within the woods. Crouched low beside the thick trunk of an ancient tree, Karai steadied her breath quietly and remained alert, hand on the hilt of her weapon.

Raphael was no where to be seen, but that was hardly a surprise. Slowly, she unfurled herself to stand up straight and survey the serene landscape around her. She took a step away from the gnarled trunk, her exposed back feeling immediately vulnerable. Trusting her instincts, she pivoted on one foot and turned back, shuriken flying from her hand to embed themselves on one of the lower branches of the tree she had just been sheltered under. The shadows seemed to shift, and Raphael revealed himself to have been perched just left of where the silver shrapnel struck.

"You missed."

Karai grinned. "Of course I did, I wasn't actually going to hit you."

Raphael jumped down from the branch, katana lifted over his head. He brought it down towards her as he landed, the sweep of his blade clashing against hers with tremendous force. It took all of her strength and a double handed grip on her short sword to block it, and still it inched dangerously towards her face. He followed up with a knee to her hip that had her scrambling to keep her footing as she disengaged his blade and backed off.

He stood with his katana pointed directly at her, all playfulness from earlier gone. "Don't hold back," he said in a low, serious tone, then attacked again with the same punishing power behind his strikes.

Karai hated to admit it to herself, but she was startled by his sudden intensity; had it not been for all of the sparring she had done with her father, she would have been completely overwhelmed by Raphael's hulking size and strength.

Defensively blocking and trying to hold ground directly against him wasted too much of her energy, so she focused on redirecting his blade with her own instead while she fought to regain some control. Karai had always had an edge over him with quickness and maneuverability, and she danced in and out of his guard more and more confidently, the warm buzz of adrenaline in her head.

Enjoying the challenge, Karai sharpened her offensive game and chose her strikes with careful calculation. Raphael countered her with equal enthusiasm, if not a bit predictably at times, and it was she who drew first blood when her blade flitted across his thigh just above the knee. She paused out of courtesy to make sure it was nothing serious, but Raphael used her momentary distraction to crank that very leg up and kick her.

His foot felt like a wrecking ball to her entire torso, and her breath left her in a whoosh as she was flung back a few feet, landing hard on her butt in the damp grass. She had lost her grip on her wakizashi midair, and it laid hopelessly out of reach. She only had a few seconds to collect her thoughts as Raphael lunged for her, and having barely caught the breath that had been jarred from her, all she could do was sweep his feet as he closed in. He tried to avoid it a beat too late, tripping up just enough to give Karai an opening to exploit.

She rose quickly from the ground and launched her shoulder into the top right of his chest with all of her strength, seizing control of his sword arm and turning so her back was against him in an attempt to wrest the katana from his grip. This should have also been the perfect position from which to throw him, but she met the resistance of a stone wall as she tried to pull him forward; she grunted with the effort of it, thinking that he must outweigh her three times over to be giving her this much trouble. Her situation was perilous now, her back pressed fully into Raphael's unforgiving plastron with both arms and most of her strength occupied with the task of immobilizing a limb as thick as her body. In seconds, his free arm crossed over her and across her throat, closing in for a choke.

Karai was already pissed off that Raphael was testing her; it was intolerable to her pride that he come back and beat her in their very first fight as if she'd been coddled all this time. Assessing her options, she decided to cut her losses with disarming him; she was too close to Raphael for him to really be able to use his katana effectively without risk to himself. In one efficient movement, Karai released his sword arm and spun violently in his tightening grip. Though she was still pinned to him, at least facing him protected her ability to breathe. The move was one she was practiced in, and against a human her next course of action would have been a knee to the groin or abdomen. She cursed internally at herself, since against Raphael this would only result in her slamming a knee into bone-hard armor.

His eyes sparkled like cold emeralds, confident in his imminent victory over her. His foot nudged between hers as he prepared to throw her to the ground and no doubt drive his katana into the grass next to her head, signaling her utter defeat at his hands.

Karai was having none of it.

Crushed face to face against him, she simply lifted her chin and kissed him. His eyes widened in surprise as her lips pressed into his, the tension in his muscles slowly draining away. She was able to rock back in his softened grip, admire his dumbfounded expression, then whip forward in a vicious headbutt that made him reel back and let go of her completely.

She seized the katana from his lax hand before throwing her weight into him to knock him on his shell. As soon as he hit the ground Karai had one knee pinning his arm and the other atop his chest, with his own blade pressed delicately to his throat.

"You fell for the oldest kunoichi trick in the book," Karai teased with a grin. "Serves you right for testing me. Who the hell do you think you are, my father?"

"We need to know what we are capable of apart, before we can fight well together," Raphael grumbled as he sat up, a blush on his cheeks.

Karai flopped down on the ground next to him, tired, and handed back his sword.

"Is that how you beat the others, too?" he asked, trying to sound smug.

"Nah, I didn't need to resort to trickery for them. They weren't as good as you."

Raphael smiled wanly and looked away.

"Hey," she said softly with a gentle nudge. "I missed you."

She hugged his arm and rested her head on his shoulder, his closeness making her relax. The forest was peaceful once again, and she couldn't think of any other place she would rather be at that moment.

She felt his warm breath in her hair as he tilted his head to hers.

"I missed you, too."

oooooooooooooooo

"Where is Shinigami?" Saki yelled at the two hapless Foot Soldiers in his office.

"I'm sure she will be here any minute, Master Shredder," one of them replied quickly, the nervous tremor in his voice only aggravating Saki further.

He growled impatiently, glancing down at the unconscious mutant turtle sprawled out on the Oriental rug in front of his desk.

"Keep post outside the office," he barked. "Don't let anyone in but the witch."

"Yes, Master Shredder," they said in unison, retreating hastily from the room.

The Foot Clan had been on an upswing recently. Since Raphael's return a month ago, he and Karai had been making waves in Tokyo, visiting the city together often and keeping the Yakuza in their place. There were portions of the city that the mob still controlled, but with both of his successors by his side, they were not trying to challenge for new territory and the Foot held much more influence over the district.

All it had taken was one simple phone call to derail Saki's spirits.

Chris Bradford had contacted him about an hour earlier, and alerted him to a news broadcast that had aired in New York. It was a very short clip, speculating on the presence of ninja in Manhattan over a single shuriken found at the scene of an altercation. It was something Saki would normally scoff at as trash news and sensationalism.

Except that the shuriken was engraved with the Hamato Clan crest.

Enraged by the idea that Hamato loyalists or possibly even Yoshi himself had somehow escaped, he knew the situation would have to be investigated immediately. His mind would never rest until he knew for sure that the legacy of his most hated enemy had been eradicated from this world.

Raphael stirred on the floor, and Saki dourly watched him come to. Karai was busy teaching classes in the public dojos, but he had summoned Raphael for a debriefing after watching the clip.

"That's the Hamato crest?" Raphael had blurted, uncharacteristically interrupting Saki before he'd even really begun to explain the full extent of his grievances.

The turtle had turned a sicklier shade of green before uttering one word and fainting. Splinter.

Raphael groaned, shaking off his confusion and rising to his feet. "I'm sorry, Master, I don't know what happened," he said.

Saki waved off his apology. "You recognize that symbol," he stated, pointing at the screen mounted on the wall.

Raphael winced and swayed slightly on his feet, looking pained, but nodded.

The office door burst open and Shinigami rushed in.

"Finally!" Saki snarled. "I need you to retrieve some of his memories."

Unfazed, the young witch breezed by Saki and invited Raphael to sit across from her on the rug. She held up a large bauble containing what she called a hypno stone by a chain and lifted it to her face so it aligned with her right eye.

"Look into the stone, Raphael," she whispered. "Focus on nothing else. It will ease the pain and dizziness in your head."

Within moments, the mutant's body seemed to relax, his expression vacant.

"He is in a trance state, Master Shredder," she said. "You may speak freely."

"I need to know what memory was triggered by him seeing the Hamato crest," Saki said. "Someone had started training him before I brought him here, and now I have to know who."

"Understood." Shinigami stared into the void of Raphael's green eyes, one hand touching his temple. "My grandmother did good work," she commented, impressed. "The wall remains strong, even after all these years. But be warned, Master Shredder, there will be cracks in the barrier once we are through, and it is possible that it may crumble completely."

"Do it," he ordered.

oooooooooooooooo

"Bradford, change of plans," Shredder said sharply into the phone.

Chris Bradford muttered incoherently into the receiver on his end, more asleep than awake, and squinted into the darkness at his digital clock. It was just after four in the morning.

"Your North American tour is canceled. I need you to stay in New York. Hamato Yoshi is alive, a mutant rat going by the code name Splinter. There are three other turtles that he has trained, possibly others. He could have an entire army, rule nothing out. Start with the sewers. Team up with Xever, he knows the city inside and out, organize your best fighters and recruit them into the Foot. Find Hamato Yoshi."

Bradford held the phone away from his ear, listening to Saki's angry voice from a safe distance while his groggy mind digested the rant and sorted through how all of this was going to affect him.

Cancel the tour? His agents could figure that out.

He grumbled in disgust at the thought of tracking down more mutants. Dealing with that one turtle freak years ago back in Japan had been bad enough, but three more? And a rat!

The prospect of working with Xever was only slightly more appealing than spelunking in the sewers. He groaned and took a deep breath, then put the phone back to his face.

"Sounds great," Bradford said, thankful for all of his voice acting. "Mark my words, I will track them down as soon as possible."

"Track who down?" a confused feminine voice asked from behind him as he hung up.

"Oh, uh, Annie," he said, surprised. "You're still here," he added under his breath. "It was just a phone call, go back to sleep."

"It's Marie," she countered dreamily before drifting off once again.

He sunk back down in bed, defeated, and regretted ever having sent Shredder that news clip in the first place.

Author's Note: First off, I apologize for how long this took to come out. I've been going through a lot of personal issues lately, but I'm doing better and I'm back in the saddle, so to speak. Thank you to the people who helped me through this and supported me no matter what.

Secondly, the hypnosis portion of this chapter makes reference to the drabble Smokescreen in the Promise series, in case you wanted a refresher/haven't read it.