The Path

And nothing was ever again the same. Our world as we knew it was turned upside down. It had opened up, like a gaping wound, a vast fissure and swallowed us whole. It was ever so much more than the unknown. Not one of us could grasp what we saw and heard. It would be years...and still, even now... but one thing was for certain; we knew then of our path. It had been set before us, laid out, a great invisible finger pointing towards a dark and uncertain course.

     The floor would have been unacceptable in its filth, if his eyes were open and seeing. It was never clean, impossible to clean, always dirty. He had come to accept it years ago but worked relentlessly despite it, both voluntarily and mandatorily. Neither was satisfying. And now, head down against the counter, two large toes dug in the accumulated dust and grime. It didn't really matter. It was just dirt after all. There were worse things.  But how many years he’d spent having to scrub it!

To the best of their feeble abilities, the four followed their master and father. Splinter led them down the darkened alleys in shadow. It did not seem odd to any of them that he too hid from the outside world…until they approached the back door of a grocer, a small Asian market. The kanji characters over the door beckoned only those fluent in the language, the alley goers to knock for entrance after hours.

Splinter turned to them all, signaling them to stop and hide. They did, ducking in the shadow of the market’s single dumpster. The mercury light of the building, the only in alley’s end, fell on the other side, holding them in complete darkness. After bidding them to remain put while he collected fresh food (with assurances they would each get to try their hand at dumpster-diving later), their master left, approached the back door and knocked. It was only a moment before he was let in and a collective "whoa" passed between brothers.

"How can he do that?" One asked, completely in awe.

Another gave the first a deploring look through the darkness, the dim light reflecting off the whites of his eyes which were prominent as the irises were rolled behind his lids.

"Master Splinter is human." He said, exasperated by the obvious question.

"Ohhhhhhhhhhhhh…really?"

"DORK!" said the third.

"Shh." Came the curt hush from the last.

"I’m goin’ to see." Declared the third suddenly and from the sounds of scuffle that issued from the shadow, one or more of the brothers did not think it wise.

"You can’t, Sensei said to stay here!" Hissed Leonardo finally, firmly grasping Raphael’s twisted arm. "OW!" Resorting to the usual brute force, the younger had managed to escape the hold with a well-aimed punch and took off towards the light and the door. But the door, of course, was locked.

Raphael held his ear to the metal door and listened, a wicked grin upon his face, clearly taunting his brothers. The elder brother, sourly rubbing his sore shoulder, was not fooled. He knew he could not hear anything worthwhile as he let on. And to make matters worse, he was situated directly under the bright light, casting oddly shaped shadows on the concrete step with his misshapen body, in plain sight. The only thing that concealed him, even remotely, were the baggy clothes he wore.

Leonardo had to get him back before their sensei found out and calling for him was out of the question. He was too far away to whisper and shouting would surely draw attention to the both of them. He had to go to him. It was the only way.

"Stay here you guys. I’ll go get him."

A gasp from both Donatello and Michelangelo caused him to hesitate but only for a second and he was tearing across the end of the alley too, ignoring the whispers of protest and hands that groped for his fleeting figure. Leonardo though, did not climb the concrete steps but ducked next to them and yanked his brother’s leg to make his point. Raphael did not take kindly to the annoyance and kicked out at his meddling brother.

As if in answer to their mischief, footsteps could be heard approaching the same door, echoing faintly on the other side. Even Leonardo could hear that. Suddenly the urgency to get Raphael off the top step was paramount. The boy seemed to understand this on his own accord and without further prompting, jumped off the side to join his brother. Together they huddled in the corner. There was no time for a mad dash to the dumpster.

Within a second, the heavy door swung open and a person unknown drug out a wastebasket and crossed the alley to empty it in the large square bin, behind which two rooted children sat. The door shut on its own accord, but hit a small wooden wedge, strategically placed, with a thump. As the worker shook out the sticky remnants of the trash, the door opened again. This time no one walked down the steps.

"They say…" Stated a very familiar voice from the doorway. "…It might rain."

The man at the dumpster grunted something that sounded like a noncommittal agreement as he turned to reenter the store. The door was held for him and lingered open for a while longer, seemingly forever longer, before it was released again. All four boys were plastered against their respective walls, knowing their father was scanning the alley for signs of their behavior. And finally the sound, the door hitting the makeshift wooden door prop as it closed, was music to Raphael’s ears. He popped up from hiding almost immediately, followed by his frantic brother to thwart him.

There was no stopping Raphael on a mission and being stronger than Leonardo, pulled himself from the desperate hands of his brother. His face went in first, sliding through the cracked door, then his body. The sweatpants he left behind in the hands of an irate Leonardo but no matter, the storeroom was dark and creepy, awesome. His brother followed of course, appearing behind him suddenly and attempting to pull him back, mouthing silent pleads. Raphael would have nothing of it. The vast shelves and smells were too tempting, too remarkable to pass up. And the sound of nearby voices… 

They froze, Leonardo gripping his brother’s shell firmly in both hands. The storeroom door was only a curtain, parted in the center just enough…if they squinted just right…

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A well-dressed man turned from his discussion with the shop owner to address their master, who had obviously just entered the room. He was not tall, but muscular underneath his crisp black suit. His fine Asian features, cleanly shaven head and stately demeanor gave the impression of youth and strength. Next to the stateless and burdened father, one would never imagine the two men the same age.

"Well, well…well…Hamato Yoshi."

"Tatsu." The tatterdemalion growled, clearly not pleased to have entered upon such company.

"You look…" He paused, giving the bedraggled man before him a once-over and sneering. "…How is your family?" Having said this, Tatsu chuckled derisively.

"My clan is well." Said Splinter, seemingly unaffected.

"Your clan is dead! You have nothing. Our clan flourishes. Go home Hamato Yoshi. Go back to Japan."

"NO!" A small muffled voice shouted from behind the curtain. The room seemed to freeze. Tatsu looked to the storeroom with interest before locking eyes with his subject again, clearly amused but otherwise unfazed. Splinter paid no attention to the voice behind the curtain, as if nothing had happened.

"Your clan is a disgrace, dishonorable."

Tatsu strode arrogantly to reside over the stooped Hamato Yoshi. The clerk backed away, behind his counter and within arms-reach of the telephone. Clearly he knew something that the common bystander would never guess upon. Tatsu looked ready and able to break his offender’s body in two, the latter indifferent.

"And you are coward… Tatsu." He said matter-of-factly, standing his ground, calm. The man who seemingly towering over him twitched, looking livid. The clerk cleared his throat and Tatsu took a defiant step back, reaching for a package on the counter.

"It is you who hide in filth; for years you hide. You…" He looked over the deplorable man before him with disgust, "…Are no threat to Oroku Saki and Foot Clan. Watch. Your. Step." With a crick of his neck, he walked briskly past and exited the front of the store, taking extra care to give Splinter a particularly wide berth in the process.

   A hand slackened around its brother's mouth.  Both looked at each other momentarily, eyes widened with shock.  They did not realize, in their fear, that they were now being watched with a stern gaze, through the storeroom, through the curtain, all of the way across the store.

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"They are in SO much trouble." Said the first in the shadow of the garbage bin after what seemed like ages and no sign of either their father or their brothers. The second agreed silently with a slow, mesmerized nod of his head.

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