Chapter Text
Hamato Splinter was not one to be wary of death.
It came to all beings when their natural time on Earth had run its course. He had seen death one too many times when he was but a pet rat; the deaths of his Master and Master’s wife were unnatural indeed but his sons had avenged them. Well, indirectly, as the Shredder they fought was simply the imposter, Ch’rell.
Splinter noticed his age one morning when he tried to turn around in bed. He had had a sore back for a week. The years were catching up to him, and it was the first time he had to be careful with the position he fell asleep in.
The next time the Rat noticed his age was on his 60th birthday. The day went by like any other. His sons had arranged for a special burnt cheesecake only available from a city bakery and had gotten Casey to bring it to them. While grooming himself for the family photo at the behest of Donatello, Splinter found balding spots in his grey fur that refused to grow back.
He looked into the mirror now, alone in the bathroom. The Rat staring back at him didn’t look much different in his 70s than in his 60s. He never really quite felt his age. That is, until now.
There were patches of pink skin where his fur did not grow back, and scabs that did not fully heal.
He knew he was at the end of his lifespan. Splinter wasn’t sure how old a typical rat, let alone a Giant Mutant Rat, was supposed to live.
No, Splinter did not fear death.
The Old Rat feared how his sons would react. They only had each other. They had spent their whole lives in the sewers.
The age-old comfort of knowing you were leaving your kin with their lives established was lost on him. It was the common wish every parent had for their child: to be married, with children, and have someone to rely on when he was not around anymore.
Sadly, their situation of being Mutants living underground did not permit such an idyllic life.
Splinter toyed with the idea of reaching the moment in time where Humanity would advance just enough to usher in the age of multispecies inhabitants from when he and his sons had travelled to 2105.
The devastating realisation that he would not live to that age set in this morning.
The Old Rat inspected his two front buck teeth. He had bitten something hard in one of the vegetable stews Mikey had made for them for dinner one evening resulting in both teeth chipping. Leonardo spent the rest of the night reprimanding him and insisting they checked for loose debris in the leaves of vegetables.
Honestly, it made Splinter feel invalid.
Not long ago, he was a champion of the Battle Nexus Tournament.
Now, he needed his sons on rotation to help him to the bathroom.
Sighing, Splinter grabbed onto the sink basin with both claws, steadying himself. He knew he would fall without one of his sons to help him out and into the living room but today he was determined.
He needed this.
He needed to feel useful still. That he remained capable of at least walking himself to the TV and sitting down.
Just like he taught his sons as infants, one step at a time.
Splinter put one hind paw forward, stabilising himself with the sink basin. Almost losing his balance, the Old Rat took a moment to steady himself and tried again.
The feeling was all too familiar.
It’s been happening more and more lately.
First, the seemingly rock-solid foundation of his stance.
Then, a quivering of his leg as the muscles, too old and too worn out from years of abuse.
The buckling of a knee.
And a tumbling to the ground.
He only hoped he fell loud enough for his sons to hear him.