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Chapter Text

Purple watched as the small electronic mosquito flew around his room. He’d been working on this for the better part of a year, and he’d finally completed it. Father had come to him and asked for his help for the creation of these tech. They were to carry the mutagen his Papa had been working on for years. He’d created it once before- twelve years ago, when Purple himself was first mutated. But due to the rarity of the substances required to create the mutagen, progress was slow. It didn’t help that his father’s lab had been destroyed, sending him back years in terms of development of the mutagen. 

But they were so close now. With a new way to spread the mutagen through Purple’s mosquitech, the actual plan that Father had could actually be played out. And the plan would be successful, in small part, because of Purple. And that made him excited and proud. 

The small mosquitech landed in the palm of his hand, its mechanical wings twitching. He took a deep breath in, and then left his room on the second floor of the main laboratory. 

Father’s home was large- one of the largest buildings in the Outlaw’s Oasis. It was third to Big Mama’s Auction House and Battle Nexus, but was still a grand structure in the hidden part of the Hidden City.

He left the laboratory through one of the large doors, which led him to the grand hallway of Draxum’s manor. It connected to the kitchen, living room, and library. The large home was empty and quiet for the most part, although if Purple were a stranger to the home, he would’ve expected it to be the home of Gatsby from The Great Gatsby . But he knew his father, and he knew that he didn’t care for parties or expensive, extravagant shows of wealth. 

No, his father was a noble man. He was a man of honor and intelligence, and a man that loved the yōkai, even if they cast him out more than a decade ago. Afterall, they were the reason for Father’s interest in alchemy- the reason why he created Purple.

“The humans will destroy the yōkai,” Father had told him over and over again. “That is why we must eliminate the human threat- so the yōkai may thrive.”

And we’re so close to achieving that, Purple thought with glee as he rounded the corner and entered the living room, where Huginn and Muninn slept soundly in their dog bed near the fireplace. He looked at the mosquitech in the palm of his hand. And I’m going to be part of it. 

“Purple?” The voice of his father caused him to turn around swiftly. Purple opened his mouth to answer, but his father was already speaking. “Why are you here? Shouldn’t you be working on my mosquitos?”

“Actually, that’s why I’m here!” Purple said, puffing his chest out proudly. “I’ve completed them!” 

“You’ve… completed them,” Father repeated, raising a brow in skepticism. “They are fully functional? No bugs or errors?” His father was inspecting the thing closely, and he took it out of Purple’s hand with a hint of curiosity.

“The only bug is the thing itself… haha,” Purple chuckled awkwardly, before coughing to clear its throat. “But yes, Father. There are no errors. I’ve been testing it for a week and I haven’t encountered any issues with its operation.”

Father hummed noncommittally, and Purple felt his anxieties grow. A small part of him wondered if the universe would curse him with a malfunction in this moment, where the flawlessness of his craft was paramount. His father turned it over, observing it closely in doubt, before placing it back in Purple’s hand. The mutant tried to understand what his father was feeling, as he often did. Why is it so hard to read him?

“I would like a demonstration,” Father said, pushing past Purple to take a seat at one of the large, fancy chairs that sat next to the fireplace. The other seat had been dusted recently, but despite this, Purple had never seen anyone sit in it. He had tried, once, when he was smaller to climb into the seat next to his father, before he was knocked down and scolded for his sense of entitlement. 

Purple pushed away the memory, and held the small mosquito out in his palm. He tapped a few buttons on his tech gauntlet, and it began to fly into the air. Its wings, made from real elytras that were infused with the tiniest of wires and circuits, buzzed as it swirled around the room like a real mosquito would. To someone not aware of its truer purpose, it would be mistaken for a regular house fly. 

Father hummed, his face still bored and unmoved from the presentation. Purple frowned, but swallowed his disappointment. If Father was unhappy with the mosquito, then that was Purple’s fault. I could’ve done better. 

“And can it carry the mutagen?” Father asked, his focus on the mosquito flying around the room. It hung around both Muninn and Huginn, buzzing by both their mouths as they snored, still asleep. 

“Yes- I’ve created it with a transparent compartment. It can penetrate skin and scales, and inject fluid into the victim. It feels no different from a regular fly’s bite. I’ve tested it on myself- and on Huginn and Muninn, neither of which noticed it wasn’t anything other than a bug,” Purple reported, confidence warming his chest as he spoke. He knew he was a great inventor- his Father often remarked about how much potential he had as a scientist. If only I could learn alchemy.

“Don’t be cocky,” Draxum said, his tone holding no real weight to the statement. “This will work. Well done, Purple.”

The turtle perked up, joy blossoming in his chest at the approval of his father. “Thank you, Father,” He said, dipping his head slightly in respect for the warrior alchemist. “Is there anything else that must be done?”

“Yes,” Draxum hummed, not making eye contact with him. He had a look on his face that let Purple know that he was thinking, so he didn’t dare interrupt his train of thought. “But not today.”

Purple took in a deep breath, before exhaling slowly. “Father, uh, can I make a.. Request? Or suggestion?”

“Yes, of course,” Father replied, looking down at Purple with an almost amused gaze. 

“Well, you see, there’s only so much I can get here in the Hidden City,” Purple explained as he looked down at his feet, shuffling them anxiously. “Like, materials and parts wise. Which is fine! Like I’ve gotten by just fine up until now. But a lot of stuff is mystic and I don’t really work with-”

“Stop the rambling,” Father sighed, shaking his head. “You always ramble so much. Just get to the point.”

Purple hesitated for a moment. He’d been told this before, and always tried to get better at it. But he always felt the need to over-explain things. Everything he said felt like it needed a parenthesis, just to make sure he knew he was being understood. But he knew how impractical and annoying it was. 

“I’d like to try going to the surface,” Purple said, as bluntly as he could manage. Straight to the point . 

When Father failed to respond right away, Purple felt his anxieties heighten again. “It’d be beneficial to my work,” he explained quickly. “Materials from the surface could help enhance pre-existing and future tech that I create!”

“You want to go to the surface?” Draxum asked, looking unimpressed. “Why? Why would you ever want to go to the human realm?”

“Well, like I said, their technology doesn’t heavily rely on mystic powers,” Purple said. “A lot of stuff here does. It makes using some of the spare parts difficult. But the human world doesn’t rely on magic, so it’d be a better fit to use those scraps rather than the ones down here.”

“You know I can’t let you go to the surface,” Father said, standing up and making his way towards the door. Purple quickly rushed after him, following his stride closely. 

“I’m fourteen now,” Purple argued. “I should be allowed to go! I can handle myself fine if I get into a fight, or if I need to run away.”

“You will die up there,” Father insisted with a darker tone, usually an indicator that he was done with the discussion. But Purple pushed on.

“Why don’t you trust me?” Purple asked, his heart aching in his chest. Just give me a chance!

“You’re a child,” Father said, stopping in his tracks. He turned to give his attention to Purple, his gaze dark and his features rigid. “Do you know what they will do to you if you’re caught? You’ll be tested on, experimented on. And once they were done with your mind, they’d kill and dissect you. You’d be their little science experiment! Is that what you want?! To be nothing more than a studied specimen?” 

“No!” Purple said, surprised by the accusation. Does he really think that? “No, I don’t wanna be a science experiment.”

“Why are you trying to provoke me?” Father questioned. “Why are you trying to start a fight?”

“I’m not,” Purple insisted, confusion swimming in his head. Is that what I’m doing? Am I doing it without realizing? “I didn’t… I don’t want to fight with you.”

His father narrowed his gaze. His eyes looked tired behind the mask, and Purple wondered if his father was getting enough sleep. Without another word, he walked away from Purple, turning his back on his creation. The doors to the outside opened, and Draxum walked out of the house. 

He’s probably going to watch the Battle Nexus , he thought. He’d often been taken to the Battle Nexus by Draxum, but Purple couldn’t stand being there. There were two places you could be: the VIP lounge with a bar (where most often placed bids on the fighters) or the stadium. Both places were awful- always too loud, too crowded, too smelly. It made Purple upset, and it felt difficult to stop from having a tantrum. It just felt like too much all at once, and it was horrible.

But now, he couldn’t focus on that. He couldn’t focus on his father either, unless he wanted to feel the guilt clench his chest and attempt to suffocate him. 

Instead, he found himself crawling back to his room, his heart heavy in his chest. As he entered his small room, he sighed. His spirits lifted, though, when he saw the perfect distraction. A machine he’d been working on for the past few months. It was almost complete. He took a seat on the floor and pulled the small thing towards him, and he began to work on the circuitry of his latest invention.

“Oh Pur ple ~” Muninn sang as he flew into Purple’s room. He took a perch on one of Purple’s shoulders, looking over to see the new contraption he had in his hands. “What’s that you got there?”
“None of your business,” Purple said coldly, trying to swat him away like he would a mosquito. “Don’t you have other things to do?”

“No,” Huginn said, perching on Purple’s other shoulder. Purple hadn’t taken note of the other gargoyle flying into the room, but it wasn’t as if they were ever apart. If Muninn was there, so was Huginn, and vice versa. “And seriously, what are you working on? Oooh, is it a present for me?”

“No, it is not,” Purple spat matter of tacitly, moving his shoulders in an uncomfortable way to force them off his shoulders. It worked, and they instead found their place next to his invention. “It’s a robot I am creating to have artificial intelligence that is equal to Yōkai. It’s going to assist me in creating more advanced technology and converse with me about ideas for more inventions.”

“So… a friend,” Muninn said, observing it loosely. 

Huginn laughed, flicking it with one of his fingers. “You couldn’t befriend anyone so you were forced to literally make a friend!”

“Oh, buzz off ,” Purple grumbled, kicking his feet their way to make them leave his area. They immediately moved to avoid being kicked, and the turtle huffed in satisfaction. He turned his neck around to watch the both of them leave, cackling over their “success” of annoying Purple.

He twisted his neck back to its normal position, brushing away the frustration he felt towards the two gargoyles. He needed to put his feelings aside. He needed to work on this- so he could get better help when creating more inventions for Father.

And so I can have a companion, a selfish part of him thought, but he didn’t let himself think about it much more than that. He didn’t need a companion- he had the perfect life right here. He didn’t need anything else. But I do need a work partner, he told himself. Being a companion is just an added bonus. 

“Shelldon,” he murmured to himself as he worked. He chuckled at the small joke, but a fondness for the robot friend who hadn’t even turned on for the first time was growing in his heart. He couldn’t wait to meet him. 

Purple often forgot about eating, especially when he was knee-deep in a project. It seemed like everything else faded away from view, because his focus was entirely focused onto whatever he was working on. It wasn’t uncommon for him to pull all-nighters on accident or forget basic body hygiene in favor of his work. 

Tonight, Muninn and Huginn had to forcibly drag him out of his room and force him to go to dinner. Draxum made it a point to sit down and eat with him often, wishing to not grow distant from his son. Which Purple appreciated- he did!

But as he entered the dining room, he was reminded of why sometimes he dreaded these nights. Draxum sat at the dinner table, already eating without Purple (which Purple didn’t mind, honestly). But on the table were two plates. And the plate left for Purple had an uneaten, tuna salad sandwich on it. 

He stared at him, not moving his gaze from the disgusting food even as he sat down. The smell of the tuna and onions and celery was horrible, and he cringed just from the knowledge of how it felt to eat it. He hated tuna salad sandwiches. And it wasn’t just the taste- it was so much more. It felt so wrong to take a bite. Every unanticipated crunch made him anxious and nauseous, and he didn’t know if he could deal with that. He just stared at it, embarrassingly frightened by just the sight and smell. He hadn’t even taken a bite.

Just eat it, weirdo , he tried to tell himself. He flexed his fingers in anxiety. He could feel himself wanting to cry over it. And why? Why was he going to cry over a fucking tuna salad sandwich ? He picked up the sandwich and took a bite. The dry bread didn’t match the wet tuna. The wet tuna didn’t match the crunch of the onion and celery within the meat. It was all wrong . It didn’t go together. It didn’t go together. It didn’t go together. He took his napkin and spat out the piece of the sandwich, he balled it up, disgust building up in his chest. He wanted to cry. He wanted to curl up into a ball and fucking cry. Why can’t I eat it? 

“Is something wrong?” Father asked, his voice sweet and caring, his concern evident to Purple. 

Purple nodded, but he didn’t know how to tell him. The words weren’t forming in his throat, and it felt too difficult to open his mouth to say anything. He just pointed to the sandwich weakly, shaking his head in defeat. I can’t eat it.

“Tell me what’s wrong,” Draxum said. “I can’t help you if you don’t tell me what’s wrong.”

“It’s just…” Purple forced himself to speak, the words feeling foreign and heavy as he spoke. “I can’t eat it.” 

Draxum rolled his eyes, but a small, fond grin was evident on his face. He pushed himself back in his chair, before standing up and moving towards the kitchen. He came back with a bag of ham. “You’ll have to learn how to eat tuna salad. You can’t just expect the world to bend over backwards for you being sensitive.”

“I know,” Purple murmured softly, taking a bite of his ham. It wasn’t the best, but it was safe. And he was eating it, so that mattered for something. He looked at the tuna salad sandwich with guilt and embarrassment. He wanted to be able to eat it- he really did. He wanted to be normal and not be sensitive. But he didn’t know how. There was no formula for being normal. And that sucked.

Draxum took the sandwich from Purple’s plate, before tossing it towards Huginn and Muninn. They briefly fought over it, before Huginn came out on top and cackled as he took it away to their dog bed. Father pushed his chair in, before walking around to stand by Purple.

“I need to attend to some business,” Father said, patting him softly on the shoulder. “I may need another invention from you in a few days' time. When I get the plans, it will be just outside your room. Do you understand?”

Purple nodded, to which Draxum hummed in approval. “I will see you tomorrow, my son. Goodnight.” 

Purple watched his father leave the dining room, and he could hear the door to the house open and close, telling him that his father was gone. He nibbled on some more ham, before taking a few slices and putting the rest of it away. He could eat while he worked, he figured.

What would be just another few hours, anyways? He wouldn’t stay up too late. 

Purple continued his work on Shelldon, hours passing by relentlessly. His eyes hurt and stung, but he continued and pushed forward with his work. He didn’t care. He was so close… 

He blinked. For a long time. He just needed to open his eyes to finish the blink. A few seconds went by, and he forced himself to open his eyes. He wasn’t nodding off. Not at all. Definitely not. 

He sighed, unable to lie to himself. He pushed Shelldon aside, wiping the sweat off his brow. He wanted to continue his work.  Yōkai-like AI wasn’t something he’d ever been able to really perfect. Every attempt of his before now had failed, and he was worried this one would produce the same, sad result.

The mosquitech had been part of his goal to create more sophisticated and complex AI, but it couldn’t hold a conversation (both because it wasn’t supposed to, as Draxum had told him, and because it wasn’t the best conversation partner when he tried it out). But Shelldon was meant to be different. 

He yawned, closing his eyes for a moment again, before snapping them back open. He needed to sleep. Won’t have enough mental energy to do this if I don’t get at least two hours of sleep , he told himself, pushing himself up from the floor and away from his prototype. 

He turned off the light to his room, and crawled into his bed. He reached over to the floor next to his inflatable mattress, and grabbed a book with multiple bookmarks inserted into different pages. He curled up on himself, holding the book close to his chest as he closed his eyes. He drifted off into sleep.

Chapter Text

Purple looked at the blueprints hung up on his wall once more, and glanced back at his contraption. It looked just like it, with the addition of a scope. Two nights ago, Father had left the plans for a gun able to shoot a web-like substance just outside his door. Since then, he’d worked tirelessly to complete it, even halting work on Shelldon. This was a priority. It was for Big Mama, who had made a deal with Father. He didn’t know the fine details of the deal exactly, but he knew his part to play, and he’d completed it.

A wicked idea came to mind as he held the gun in his hands, and he grinned maliciously. He pushed himself off the floor and made his way to the living room of the large house, finding both Huginn and Muninn sleeping soundly in their dog bed. Why they weren’t on his father’s shoulders he didn’t know, seeing as that was literally the biggest (and only) part of their job, but he didn’t care right now. Standing just before the entrance of the living room, Purple used the scope of the gun to aim at Huginn, before pressing the trigger. Immediately, the gun shot the web-like substance out, and trapped Huginn to the bed. The recoil was jarring, but not unlike the other guns he’d held before. Just a bit stronger. 

Huginn woke up from the shot, and immediately tried to get up. But he was struggling to get out of the trap, the webs strong enough to pin him down. “What? Ew, what is this shit!?” He tried to maneuver his body out, his wings flapping in a desperate attempt before he gave up with an exasperated sigh. 

Muninn woke up, too, and poked the webs with a finger suspiciously. His eyes narrowed, before he shrugged. He turned to see Purple in the doorway, and tilted his head in curiosity. “What’s that?”

“It’s a web-gun,” Purple said proudly, holding it up in the air for the gargoyle to see. “Father asked me to create it for a deal with Big Mama.”

“Ooh, in exchange for the imperium?” Muninn asked, before glancing back to his friend, who was still stuck in the webs. Huginn glared at him, and Muninn smiled apologetically. “Also, uh, is there a way to unweb Huginn?”

“Empyrean, and probably,” Purple corrected before he shrugged dismissively, turning his back to them. “Good luck with that,” he chuckled to himself, and began to walk off without a care before he saw his father standing behind him, staring down at him, before the large yōkai glanced down at the gun in the turtle mutant’s hands. 

“Father!” Purple said in surprise, cowering in on himself slightly just from the shock of seeing him there. “What a surprise! And a coincidence!”

His father hummed in amusement as he looked past him and towards Huginn. Purple craned his neck around to see the two gargoyles struggling to get him out of the trap, and failing, by the looks of it. “I see you’ve completed your part of Big Mama’s bargain?” 

“I have!” Purple exclaimed excitedly, holding up his machine in triumph. His father took it from his hands carefully, looking at it with curiosity. He turned it over in his hands, inspecting it closely. “I even added a scope! It wasn’t on the instructions, but I thought, ‘Hey! Why not go above and beyond’? So I did!” Purple added, rambling a bit. As soon as he realized that he was rambling, he stopped talking and bit his tongue.

Father held the gun up, looking through the scope. He looked at the room through the scope’s lens, before stopping. Purple was about to ask if he’d done something wrong, before the trigger of the gun was pulled and an unsuspecting Muninn was hit. Now, both gargoyles were stuck to the dog bed.

Father lowered the gun, nodding in approval at the craftsmanship of his son. “This will certainly do. Thank you, Purple.” He patted his son's head, and began to make his way towards the exit. 

Anxiety pulsed in Purple’s chest as his father walked away, and he quickly followed close behind him. “Is there anything else I can do?” He asked, keeping pace with his father eagerly. “Anything that needs to be done?”

Father stopped, tilting his head in contemplation before nodding slightly. “Indeed there is. I need a few chemicals to complete my Mutagen.” 

“I can go to the Hidden City Science Market,” Purple suggested happily. “What do you need?”

“That would be helpful. I need… Ethyl methanesulfonate, Helicobacter pylori, and nitroindole,” Father listed off with a thoughtful expression. “Thank you, Purple. What would I do without you?” 

Purple didn’t respond, mostly because he couldn’t take compliments all that well. “I’ll do my best, Father. I’ll be back as soon as I can.”

“Very good. I have much work to complete in the lab,” with that, Father left Purple alone in the hallway. Dread filled Purple as he realized what he’d just volunteered for: social interaction . The bane of his existence. He could stand talking to his father and the gargoyles, but interaction beyond them was always uncomfortable and awkward. He never knew what to say, what made them tick. He knew that Huginn found insult humor amusing, but he’d tried it with a total stranger once, and they thought he was being an asshole. Which was honestly fair for them to assume. He sighed, resigning himself to his fate. 

“Is anyone gonna help?!” Huginn shrieked. The loud noise caused him to flinch, but his success in annoying them made him feel a little better.

Purple stood just outside the Scientist’s Market, his dread for this mission only increasing as he stared at the crowd of yōkai around the stalls. It intimidated Purple, and the urge to just turn tail and go back home was strong. Instead, he took a deep breath and pushed forwards, entering the market. 

This wasn’t the first time he’d been to this part of the Hidden City. Despite its name, “City” was probably an inaccurate term for the home the yōkai had made for themselves. There were many subsections of the Hidden City, like the Witch Town or the Pirate’s Cove. The Pirate’s Cove held many, many criminals such as Big Mama and Draxum. Due to this, Father often avoided wandering out of the Pirate’s Cove, lest he be imprisoned for his “crimes” against humanity.

But Purple (and the goyles) wasn’t tied to his father’s “wrongdoings”, and was able to traverse the entirety of the Hidden City without much trouble. There was no doubt that Draxum would be able to escape the clutches of the incompetent Hidden City police force, but Father never liked the hassle it brought him. Therefore, Purple was often sent on errands outside of the Pirate’s Cove, like the Docks- or the Scientist’s Market.

It was a beautiful sight, Purple would have to admit. Stalls advertising priceless inventions or materials (human and yōkai alike) drew him in, the temptation of seeing each and every stall pulling at his little scientific heart. But he shook his head, pushed away the thoughts of taking a gander at the holographic equipment, and continued on. He couldn’t get off task. He was there for three things, and three things only: Ethyl methanesulfonate, Helicobacter pylori, and nitroindole .  

A crude tent set up with a foldout table caught his attention, as it stood out from the rest. Many other stalls at least had some color to them, or some sort of professional feel or setup. But instead, this one was bland and simple. A small paper taped to the top of the tent read “CHEAP CHEMICALS”. Purple was wary of the small setup, but found his way to it anyways. The worst that could happen is that he went to another stall for chemicals instead of here.

At the folding table was a yōkai that looked similar to a rat. She wore a lab coat and goggles, and her ears twitched in excitement as Purple strolled up to the stall. “A customer!” She exclaimed, leaning over the table as her tail waved in the air. “What are you looking for, kid?”

“I’m 14- not a kid,” Purple said bluntly, uncomfortable by her eagerness. “I’m looking for Ethyl methanesulfonate, Helicobacter pylori, and nitroindole,” he recited, nearly robotic in the way he’d said it. I have to get it right . One wrong ingredient could jeopardize the whole thing!

The rat nodded enthusiastically, before turning her back to him and rummaging through a cooler. Her tail flicked in the air as she did so. She grabbed two bottles, one labeled Ethyl Methanesulfonate and the other Helicobacter Pylori. She pushed them on the table, and used her tail to close the cooler behind her. “You’re gonna have to be more specific about the nitroindole, my turtle friend.” 

“Both 5 and 6,” Purple said, scratching his arms anxiously. Which one did Father want? Will he get mad if I spend money on both just in case? I should’ve asked for clarification…

She raised her brow curiously, her tail twitching in interest. “Is this for a science project? What are you usin’ these for?” She sounded dubious- of his knowledge, or his intelligence?

“None of your business,” Purple said, a little upset by the idea that she might be questioning his ability to use the chemicals he was asking for. “I know what I’m talking about. 5-Nitroindole and 6-Nitroindole. I need both of them. I can write out the molecular formula and structural formula of both of them.”

She raised her hands in defense, nodding in understanding. She turned back around and put both of the variations of Nitroindole on the table. “Got it, got it. Just be safe with these. This all comes out to… two hundred.” 

“Two hundred?” He repeated, and looked down at the chemicals on the table. There didn’t seem to be anything wrong with them, and they weren’t small bottles, either. They should cost over six hundred, easily. “Only two hundred?”

“I promised cheap chemicals, didn’t I?” She said with a toothy smile, her tail pointing towards the sign. “I believe in a more accessible world of science. Finances often get in the way of advancement in the field.” 

“That and magic users,” Purple grumbled to himself, but the rat either didn’t hear him or didn’t care, because she was still looking at him expectantly. He sighed and placed the money on the table, sliding it gently towards her before she grabbed it hungrily. He took the chemicals, and released the shell from his back. It was painted dark purple and had spikes along the back, where his spine might be. Many of his other shells served specific functions like a jetpack or mechanical arms, and this one was purely made for storage during trips like this. 

He set the shell down on the floor, opened its hatch, and placed the bottles securely in spots where they wouldn’t get damaged, closed the hatch, and placed it back onto his back. 

“That’s nifty, that thing you got there,” The rat lady said, leaning against her table with a hint of intrigue in her eyes. “What happened to your shell, though? Looks like ya got into a nasty fight or somethin’ to make it that deformed.”

“My shell’s fine,” He said hesitantly. Biologically, it was fine. But he knew how weak it made him- how exposed and vulnerable he was without his artificial shell. It made his skin itch with anxiety. “Thanks,” He said, standing there a bit awkwardly. He was used to conversations ending when his Father wanted it to end. It was always odd with others, seeing as he was the one in charge of ending the conversation rather than them. “See you later,” he said awkwardly. 

“Yeah. Good luck with your science,” She said, turning her back to him to place the money in some makeshift register. 

“Y-you too,” Purple said, immediately cringing from it. Before she could turn around, he quickly sped off, hoping and praying that he would forget this interaction soon enough. 

Father was going to be so happy and proud of him for getting them- and for such a low price!

“ Purple .” 

The boom of Father’s voice could be heard throughout the house, Purple was sure of it. He wasn’t yelling- not really. His voice was just loud and powerful, and made Purple want to hide in his shell for a million years, and then some. But he wasn’t yelling. Draxum didn’t yell. 

His creator stood in front of him, clutching both 5-Nitroindole and 6-Nitroindole in his hands, cracking the glass bottle that held the substances. The frustration and anger was evident by the yōkai’s face, his lips drawn into a nasty snarl.

“I- You never said to get nitroaniline,” Purple insisted, watching as the liquid began to seep from the cracked glass and spill onto his father’s gloved arms before dripping onto the floor. “You said nitroindole. I remember you saying nitroindole. Not nitroaniline”

“I know what I said- I was the one who said it, afterall,” Draxum retorted, his grip tightening. “I asked for nitroaniline. We have plenty of nitroindole here already- why would I ask for a substance we have an abundance of?!”

Purple scratched his arms anxiously. He should’ve realized that. He knew they had nitroindole- why had he gotten more? He should’ve brought this up when Father first asked for it. “I don’t know,” Purple admitted, his voice low with regret. “I remember you saying nitroindole.”

“Huginn?” Father called upon the gargoyle, who sat perched on his shoulder. The yōkai nodded to Draxum, his wings flapping a bit in response. “Do you recall what I said this morning?” 

“You said nitroaniline, sir,” Huginn reported, glancing at Purple with a mix of sympathy and smugness. 

Did he? Purple wondered, trying to replay the conversation in his mind, but he couldn’t remember his exact words. He could hear him saying nitroindole easily, but he could also hear him saying nitroaniline easily. The two substances were so close in name… “It was a simple mistake,” Purple explained, trying to find a reason for his error. He hadn’t done it on purpose- he’d never try to sabotage his Father’s work. “It won’t happen again. I’m sorry.”

“I don’t want your meaningless apologies,” Father narrowed his eyes, his eyes holding a sense of disappointment that made the guilt only fester and grow in Purple’s gut. “You always do this- you always say ‘ I’m sorry ’ for every little thing. I can never know if you actually understand the weight of your mistake this time or if you’re just feeding me another lie about your remorse. Which is it, Purple?” 

“I do- I’m sorry,” Purple insisted, silently begging for this to end. He knew he messed up- he knew he got the wrong chemical. He knew it was his fault. He should’ve asked for clarification, he should’ve known they already had nitroindole, he should’ve written it down, he should've done so much more . His eyes stung as tears threatened his composure. Don’t cry. Don’t cry. Please don’t cry. “Tomorrow- tomorrow I’ll go back and get the right one,” he promised. 

“Of course you will,” Father said coldly. He snorted, as if he was offended by his willingness to go back. “You’re not doing something amazing by fixing your mistake.”

Purple felt his legs shake violently and the tears began to fall. His face felt hot with embarrassment and guilt, and he wiped his face, wishing he could stop his crying. Why are you crying? There’s nothing to cry about.

“I’m sorry,” Purple repeated, his voice thick with both remorse and guilt. “I’m really, really sorry, Fath… Father. I misheard you. I’m so sorry. It won’t happen again. I promise it won’t happen again. I’m sorry.”

Father’s features softened as Purple rambled on, and he placed the cracked glass bottles down, removing his gloves in the process. He embraced Purple, holding him close to his chest.

The hug was warm and comforting, something that Purple desperately needed in that moment and that Draxum gave to him. “Thank you for your apology, Purple,” Father said softly, pulling away after a moment. He was much taller than Purple, being a sort of pillar and shield for the teenager. He used a hand to cup Purple’s cheek, wiping away a stray tear. Purple leaned into the touch, and looked up at his Father with red, puffy eyes. 

Father’s gaze was soft and sincere, a fond smile on his face as he looked down at his son. 

“I forgive you.”

Chapter Text

Every week, Purple was allowed a visit to the library. Draxum, of course, was never able to come with him due to his status of being a wanted man (for reasons that could never make sense to Purple- Father was trying to save the yōkai! Why would he ever be prosecuted for wanting to save their kind?) but had always allowed him to go ever since he was little.

He used to go with Huginn and Muninn, but even when they chaperoned him to the library, they would often get lost within the library or ditch him after a few minutes of him reading a new book. Purple didn’t mind- the thought of being watched as he read anything felt like a violation of his privacy, and was frankly thankful for their tendency to leave him alone.

But as he grew older, Father had seen he didn’t need a chaperone, and since he was ten, he was allowed to visit the library all on his own. He’d even gifted him a platinum library card for that birthday. 

At the Mystic Library, books could be checked out for one week at a time. There was no ability for a book to be returned late, because they returned themselves by returning to their shelves. Unless, of course, you came back before the expiration date and checked the book out again.

Purple walked into the library, a slight bounce to his step as he approached the librarian’s counter. He hit a small buzzer on the side of the podium, which signaled to the librarian that someone below wanted to see her. The pillar shifted down, and Purple was able to see the librarian’s face clearly. She was a bat yōkai, and had been head of this particular library for years. He’d never, ever seen her not there. It was like she never got sick or took any breaks. He strived to be like her one day. 

“Checking out that book again, hm?” The librarian said, cocking a brow up at him. He nodded, and slipped the book onto the counter, waiting patiently as she scanned the book out for him. Once she was done, she pushed it back towards him. “Good thing no one’s particularly interested in The Anatomy and Behavior of Turtle Species .”

“Good thing,” Purple echoed in agreement, pulling the book back towards him and holding it close against his chest. The “bookmarks” were somewhat old, some of the edges of the photos being torn and damaged over the years. But he didn’t mind. It was the only images he had of them, afterall. He wanted to keep them close… even if they had left him behind. 

He navigated through the large library easily, his feet knowing the path of each staircase, hallway, and corridor there was. The library was like a second home to Purple, but full of more knowledge than he could possibly ever hope to learn. If he was immortal, and wasn’t required to eat or sleep, he was sure he’d spend his eternal life here, absorbing everything he could. And he was sure it would still not be enough. 

He always wondered if one day, one of these books would feature his name and his accomplishments. An overconfident part of him told him that, duh , of course he would be. Maybe he wouldn’t have his own biography or a page dedicated to him, but he had always been sure that when the future generations told stories of Draxum, the Conqueror of Homo Sapiens, that his name would be featured in his story. His father was the sun, and he shone with the light that Father cast onto him. Even if the history books remembered Draxum’s glorious brightness, he was just thankful he shone in his light. 

He found a secluded spot in the library (not a rare find), and took a seat at one of the tables that was set out for reading. Instead of having the book on the table, he placed it in his lap, something he found more comfortable and natural than any other position. He opened the book he’d re-checked out, and flipped to the first page that was bookmarked.

The page was titled “Alligator Snapping Turtle”, and was bookmarked by a picture of a baby alligator snapping turtle. The one in the printed photo had the signature spikes on his shell, but what really made him stand out was his snaggletooth. Purple always wondered if they were supposed to be fangs and one tooth got taken out, or if it was just a strange mutation. 

He skimmed a few of the paragraphs about the species, before flipping to the next page that was bookmarked. The page read “Red Eared Slider”, and the bookmark was a photo of a printed out, baby red eared slider. The tiny, non-mutated creature was looking at the camera with innocent eyes. 

The next bookmarked page was about ornate box turtles, and was bookmarked by an image of said species. Curiously, this turtle had splotches of orange on him, which reminded Purple of his own purple markings. The turtle had his tongue sticking out in the image, which always made Purple think he would be one to make a lot of jokes. 

He flipped to the next page that was bookmarked with a photo- the turtle about spiny softshell turtles. The image of him pre-mutation was… hard to look at. He was scowling in the image, baring his teeth for the camera to capture. The photo had been scribbled on many years ago by the turtle. He’d used a purple marker to block out his shell, drawing on top of it a real shell. It’d been the inspiration for his artificial shells. But it would never be real- he’d never have a real shell. He would always have to imagine that the weight on his back and shoulders wasn’t a hunk of metal, and instead that he was a real turtle with a real shell. 

He reached up and touched the artificial shell on his back softly, the sense of dysmorphia and sadness washing over him like a giant tidal wave. He wanted a real shell.

He closed the book, and stared at the cover with a heavy heart. They had left him. And even if they hadn’t, could they ever really love someone like him? If they had really loved him, wouldn’t they have tried to find him? If they cared, then why hadn’t they gone after him? 

Did they even know of his existence?

Father would tear the world apart looking for me , he thought assuredly. Because he loves me.

But they had left him behind.

He remembered the day he was told about his brothers and his biological father. He’d been at Draxum’s computer, running virtual simulations of chemical compounds that might work for the mutagen. He had accidentally searched up “Mutagen” in the files of the computer, and an old folder popped up. He clicked it to open it, and it had folders upon folder and files upon files about different things. He scrolled down, scanning each and every file in interest, curious as to the data he’d collected from the first version of the experiment. His eye caught a file titled “Turtles”, and he opened it, his eyes glued to the screen. 

Only four documents were in this folder, each of them titled “Turtle” then a number going up to four. He knew he shouldn’t pry into his fathers work, but curiosity got the best of him and he opened the first file.

The document was very detailed, with various images of the subject in question attached. It contained the turtle’s blood type, weight, size, behavior, and more. It wasn’t well organized, but Purple could forgive that. What stood out the most to Purple, though, was the fact that the turtle in the image wasn’t him. The turtle was a different shade of green, and its shell had spikes. 

He knew he shouldn’t have done it. It was an invasion of his father’s privacy, afterall. But the then 10-year old turtle couldn’t help as curiosity overtook him and he opened the second document. 

And the turtle in the images wasn’t him. This turtle, with red stripes over his eyes and yellow ones over his legs, looked happy and content. A sense of familiarity washed over Purple, surprising the mutant. He shook away the feeling, and opened the third document. 

The turtle in the images was him. Every photo was blurry, with only one real nice one. But even that one was unflattering. He cringed at seeing his pre-mutated self, and moved onto the fourth document.

The turtle in the images had softer features than the rest of them. Some photos were blurry, too, but most of them were just regular photos of the turtle. His heart warmed at the sight of the turtle, and an uncanny need to protect him pierced his heart. He skimmed through the document, before finding a note that said (colored in red), “Caution: cannot swim”. How did Father find that out?

“Purple?” The sound of his father’s voice startled him, and he turned around immediately to find the large yōkai peering over him. He had an amused look on his face, before his eyes caught the screen and it instead turned into worry. “Why are you looking at this?”

“I.. Well, it was an accident,” Purple said, which wasn’t entirely false. It was an accident that he stumbled across the files, but technically it wasn’t an accident that he opened the documents. “I just… found them. When trying to help with the mutagen simulations.”

Father nodded in understanding, and gave him a small pat on the head before returning his attention back to the screen. “They are your brothers.”

“My brothers?” Purple repeated, a little in awe. He had brothers! But… “Where are they?”

“They were stolen from me,” Father explained with a heavy sigh. “You four were mutated with the DNA of a Battle Nexus champion by the name of Lou Jitsu. We had a deal… but he broke his promise, destroyed my lab, and took them with him.”

Purple gasped, his eyes wide with shock. He was quiet for a moment, before turning back to the computer. He flipped through the different documents, looking at their images with sadness and concern. 

“But you… Lou Jitsu left you behind,” Father said, placing a hand on the tiny turtle’s shoulder, his grip firm as a means of comfort. “He didn’t want you.”

Purple felt his heart drop at that. He should be thankful, really, that he wasn’t taken by a man like Lou Jitsu. Who knew what kind of crazy things the man might’ve done to him? But a selfish part of him held onto the idea that he wasn’t wanted . “Why?” He said softly, his body becoming heavy and light all at the same time. “Why didn’t he want me?”

Draxum’s hand moved, before it tapped his softshell with a finger. “He thought you were weak because of your softshell.”

Purple nodded solemnly. Father had told him how vulnerable he was with his softshell, how much of a target it made him. But Father didn’t give up on him. No, Father helped train him so he could defend himself against those who saw his shell as a weakness. Lou Jitsu gave up on me before he even knew me.

“It’s a shame,” Father said softly, sadness evident in his voice. “I don’t think they would’ve kept you for long, anyways.” 

“Why not?” Purple asked, curiosity getting the better of him. Knowing will only make it worse.

“You were so… feisty as a child,” Father recalled with an amused snort. “You would always bite me, or try to claw me. What kind of kid does that?” He asked with a fond chuckle. “You, apparently. But I persevered. I knew there was so much potential in that little brain of yours. But Lou Jitsu… I think he would’ve gotten fed up with you much faster than me.”

The mutant looked down at his gloved hands, shame prickling at his skin. Was he really that hard to raise? “Is that why I wear a mask?” He asked, not looking up at his father. “Is that why I wear these gloves?”

“It is,” Father said, moving closer towards Purple before using a hand to gently pull him against his chest in a comforting manner. Purple clung to the touch, and buried his head into his father’s chest. The turtle mutant was struggling to keep back tears, his lip wobbling with sadness and shame.

Lou Jitsu may not have wanted him, but his father did. And that’s all that mattered. 

Purple stared at the book, tracing the image of the turtle on the cover with a finger. 

A sad, small part of him believed that if he hadn’t been separated from his brothers, that he would’ve had friends. He would’ve had other turtle mutants like him to grow up with, instead of being babysat by the two gargoyles that relentlessly bullied him. 

Would they have even liked me? He wondered, closing his eyes to try and picture them as mutated beings. Would they be anything like him- weird and sensitive? If they were, he imagined that they’d get along fine, but if not… 

They’d cast me out , he thought, his finger stopping its tracing. Blood means nothing to Lou Jitsu. Why would they have learned any different? 

He folded his arms on the table and buried his head into his gloves, frustration and anger boiling in his chest before it turned into resentment.

His “brothers” didn’t care about him. They hadn’t searched for him, they hadn’t done anything to make sure he was okay. He was, but did they know that? They didn’t care for him- and they never would. 

Blood didn’t mean much, that was clear. The code that was strung along in his DNA that was similar yet different from his brothers meant nothing. 

Family was not built on bloodlines, but rather on relationships and care. And it was clear to Purple that his “brothers” could never truly care about him. His “father”, Lou Jitsu, would never truly love him. They didn’t then, and there was no way they could now. 

He was alone in this world, with only his father to guide and hold his hand. His father was the only one who could ever truly love him.

He wanted to tear the images apart, to destroy the last remaining hope of some semblance of familial love he still clung onto. He was a fool. A big dumb fool.

But as he took out the first image, the snapping turtle’s, he couldn’t bring himself to do it. It would be so easy to shred the piece of paper in his claws, or to set fire to it. He could destroy it in so many ways. 

But he couldn’t bring himself to do it. He couldn’t bring himself to snuff out that last ember of hope and longing he’d felt for the turtles he couldn’t even remember. 

Maybe it wasn’t he who needed finding, but then. Maybe they were waiting for him to find them and rescue them from Lou Jitsu. 

He stared at the innocent face of the snapping turtle, and pressed the image firmly against his plastron where his heart would lay. 

“I’ll find you,” he whispered to himself, closing his eyes as he made the vow. “I promise. I will find you, and we can be a family once again. I’ll save you.” 

Chapter Text

Purple gazed at his creation as he reconnected the loose wires from it to a nearby computer. He’d tried to turn the robot on multiple times, but each time, a flaw in his systems caused him to have to shut it down, debug, reboot the systems, and then try again. 

He was so tired, ready to give up for today and try again another day. But he booted up the systems, and turned on the creation he had decidedly named Shelldon. 

He held his breath as seconds passed without result. He let it go when its yellow eyes blinked to “life”, and its eyes looked directly at him. 

“Hello, Master Purple,” Shelldon said, his voice robotic but unique in its own way that made love spark in Purple’s chest like a firework. He scooped the small robot in his arms, pressing him close against his chest. 

“It worked,” he whispered in awe, holding the robot up in the air with happiness. “I did it! I DID IT!”

“Of course you did,” Shelldon said genuinely, not moving out of his arms despite Purple knowing that the robot had the ability to fly on its own. “Your intelligence far exceeds that of the common yōkai’s.”

Purple waved his hand dismissively. “Well, yes, that is true, but it’s still incredible. I mean, you are… you’re supposed to be capable of independent thought, which is far beyond what even the best scientists of our time have achieved.”

“A magnificent achievement,” Shelldon agreed. “Grandfather will certainly be proud of you for creating me, Master Purple.”

“Grandfather?” He repeated, taken aback by the term. “Does that… That’s weird. Am I your father? I mean, I did create you, but I’m 14…” He trailed off, not wanting to think about it too much. “Just call him Master Draxum.”

“Roger that, Master Purple,” Shelldon replied. Purple released his grip on him, and the robot began to fly around the room, examining things with a curiosity Purple knew all too well. They were like mini-him. 

“I gotta show you to Father!” He said, pushing himself up from the floor, nearly tripping as he twisted around and bounded down out of his room.

“Show me what?” Father asked, and Purple only realized now that his father had been standing at the base of the Mutation Machine. He was looking up at him with a raised brow, a small smile on his face. 

“My newest creation,” he said, moving out of the way to motion for Sheldon to make his entrance. The robot did, flying into the space Purple had previously occupied. “Shelldon!”

Father looked at the creation for a moment, lowering his brow. “Very nice,” His father complimented, before he chuckled softly. “You created a friend?”

“Yeah!” Purple nodded with excitement. “He’ll also be able to help with future inventions- he has hands that can work with tools and other such necessary equipment.”

“And to accompany you. Makes sense that the only thing that could keep up with your… antics is a robot,” he huffed with amusement, before turning around and began to tweak some things on the machine. “In other news, Big Mama has finally gotten to her part of the deal. Later today, I will have the last thing we need to complete the mutagen, and then we can start eradicating the human threat.”

Purple nodded, tapping his fingers in the air as he listened to his father go on about their plan. As he finished, Father looked at him and noticed his fingers. The large yōkai reached down and softly took both of Purple’s hands into his own, running his thumb along the back of his hands before letting go gently. Purple kept his hands still, and Father continued what he was saying.

“I will be gone for a few hours. Can I trust you to survive on your own till I come back?” Father asked, a small smile tugging at his lips as he turned away from the turtle mutant. 

“Yes!” Purple promised, rushing to his side as his father continued to walk towards the laboratory doors. “Is there anything I can do while you’re out? Grab anything, create anything-“

“No, there is nothing to be done,” Father shook his head. “Just await for my return, and when I do, I can finally- finally - begin the yōkai’s renaissance.”

Before Purple could open his mouth to say anything more, the door to the laboratory closed behind his father, and he was left alone in the large laboratory. 

Well, not all alone. He turned to his new friend, the robot he’d spent months and months creating and perfecting. 

“What would you like to do, Master Purple?” Shelldon asked, floating just inches before his face. Purple hummed for a second in contemplation, before perking up in excitement. 

“Have you ever heard of a game called ‘MineCraft’?” He asked with a small smile, his heart leaping in his chest as he realised that he finally had someone to play with. He’d always tried to coax Father or one of the gargoyles into playing with him, but the gargoyles ended up breaking his computer (accidentally) and his father told him that it was a childish game, and he should focus on more intelligent past times. 

Which Purple agreed with. He liked playing with rubix cubes or playing solitaire, but both of those were repetitive and predictable. Minecraft was a game that was relaxing and non-tedious, which gave him great relief. 

He was able to create an account for Shelldon, and used a seperate computer and monitor for him to hook up to so he could play the game. 

Purple had them join a free server he set up just for the two of them. Purple was more of a grinder if he was honest, finding it more fun to mindlessly mine than to build intricate creations. 

Shelldon, as Purple realized, was an AI and his main objective was to beat the game, not to have fun. It made playing with him fairly boring at first, considering only fifteen minutes in he already obtained an eye of ender. 

“Is there a way to program the need for leisure?” He wondered aloud, pausing his mining as he did so. 

“Technically yes,” Shelldon responded, his game not pausing. He was able to play the game by being hooked up to the system, and didn’t need any motor function to play. “But just like you can’t program me to have emotions, you can’t exactly program me to have real sentient-like properties.”

Purple nodded in understanding. A limitation of code. “You’re only mimicking me and the other information you receive.” 

“Affirmative,” Shelldon responded. Purple frowned, his form slacking as he realized what that meant.

“You don’t actually care about me. You’re just acting like you do because of the way you’re programmed,” Purple murmured to himself. He placed his head into his hands, sighing as he did so. “You can never actually care about me.”

“In a sense,” Shelldon agreed, his avatar’s movements stopping in game. Is this just another programmed reaction? He’s artificially learning how to respond. “But what does it matter? If I act like a living being with emotions, what differentiates me from actual sentient beings?” 

“Hey, what's the capital of Maine?” Purple asked, trying to sound as casual as possible. All AI are trained the same way. They’re just given access to wikipedia so they can learn to talk naturally. But…

“The capital of Maine is Lake Champlain. It is the largest city in the state,” Shelldon immediately responded. 

“Well for one that’s not even correct,” Purple responded, confused by how he even got that wrong. You’re still just built off the knowledge of the internet, not on actual connection. “Second, Lake Champlain isn’t even in Maine. Third, it’s Augusta. Fourth, what is the population of Russia?”

“Over 140 million people,” Shelldon replied, his voice seemingly more monotone. Purple shook his head, disappointed in himself. Shelldon didn’t care for him, not like how Purple wanted to be cared for. It would always be out of duty and programming, never out of a genuine liking of him. 

“Master Purple,” Shelldon began, and a new emotion Purple couldn’t pinpoint or name festered in his chest. He balled his hands into fists, his nails digging into the skin of his palm. Why did his eyes sting? “I can’t change-”

“I know, Shelldon,” Purple responded harshly, his tone holding a bite to it he never knew it could have. “I know. I just… thought I could ignore it. But I can’t. You’ll never be more than a string of code I created because I’m so pathetic that I resorted to creating a robot for a friend!” 

Shelldon didn’t respond to that, but the small hum of the fan inside of him told him he was still there. The hum annoyed him, each second with the sound grating his ears and causing him an anguish he was familiar with. It made him upset and angry. He felt like a volcano, with his emotions being the magma that was building and building inside his brain as his breathing became hard and labored. He pulled the mask over his mouth off in an attempt to breathe better. His body was shaking, and he wasn’t sure why, but it only served to aggravate him more.

“Master Purple,” Shelldon’s voice only seemed to grate his skin. As the robot tried to move closer to him for whatever reason, he flung an arm towards him, trying to bat him away. He couldn’t take it- he couldn’t take him being close to him. A small, tiny part of him knew he should apologize- it wasn’t Shelldon’s fault. But it was as if that small part of him couldn’t connect to the rest of his system, and rage was in control. 

“ Get away ,” Purple snapped at the robot, closing his eyes and pressing his hands against his ears. But no matter what he did, he couldn’t block out the sound or stop the sensation that seemed to overtake everything. “ Get away! Go away! I don’t want you here! ” 

He didn’t know if Shelldon left or not, but he couldn’t stand the way the air felt on his shell. It was bare, without his artificial shell protecting it. It was exposed to the air of the laboratory, and he couldn’t help as he felt every draft. 

He moved one hand from his ears and touched his shell with a hand. It made him shiver, and he moved his hand back to his ears. He wanted to go home. He wanted to be safe again. He tried to rock himself, his body still shaking. 

This is so stupid , he thought to himself, burying his face into his knees. I’m so stupid. I’m upset over a fucking robot. I’m upset over the limitations of my own code. WHY AM I UPSET? THIS DOESN’T MAKE SENSE.

He tried to logic himself out of his tantrum, trying to tell himself that he shouldn’t be upset or angry or anything- that he had no reason to feel this way. But it only seemed to intensify the powerful, pounding emotions that coursed through his body and boiled his blood.

Something was touching his shell. As it locked into place, he realized that it was his battle shell, and he let out a shaky breath. The comfort from the shell made him relax, and he wiped the tears that had fallen away. 

“Master Purple?” Shelldon’s voice sounded horrible to him at the moment. Any sound was awful, but the need to understand and comprehend the words that were spoken only made it worse. He couldn’t respond, even if he wanted to. His brain wasn’t allowing him to form words. “You don’t need to respond, Master Purple. But I have something for you.”

Purple lifted his head, and saw what Shelldon was holding with a mechanical arm he’d given to him at the last moment. In his hand was a button he thought he’d lost. It was one of the first things he made- a simple button that would light up when pressed. He reached for it, feeling like a toddler reaching for their toy, and took it in his hands. He moved his legs down so he could sit criss crossed, and placed the button in his lap. His posture was probably horrible, but he didn’t care. He was focused on the button, and the small clicking sounds it made everytime he pressed it. He liked the feel of pressing it, he liked the sound it made, and he liked the color of the object. His chest still pulsed with anxiety, but he felt like he could breathe better.

With a shaky hand, he pressed the tips of his fingers to his chin before splaying his palm face up in the air away from him. Thank you .

Shelldon didn’t respond, making Purple wonder if the robot had recognised that sounds were making it worse. The robot returned to his charger, and powered down. It made him feel guilty for pushing him away. He didn’t mean to be a jerk, and he didn’t hate Shelldon. In the moment, he’d just been overwhelmed. 

But in a way, Purple felt that Shelldon had understood that. Shelldon couldn’t feel upset. He might understand what being upset was or how to recognise it in others, but he couldn’t actually feel it. He was booting down for Purple’s sake. And maybe it wasn’t out of genuine care for him, but Purple still appreciated it.

He continued to play with the button. 

Father returned to the laboratory in the afternoon. It’d been hours since Purple’s outburst, and the turtle didn’t exactly plan on telling him what had happened. He already knew that he was being childish- he’d literally been playing Minecraft when it happened. No, he couldn’t tell his father. He didn’t want to upset him. It was embarrassing, afterall. 

But now, he pushed away his thoughts and gave his attention to his father. He always felt awkward keeping direct eye contact with him. His mind always wandered when focused on his father’s eyes, and he needed to look at different things to keep concentrated on his father’s words. But he knew it was rude, so he did his best to stare at him intently and listen to his voice.

“The deal with Big Mama was a success,” the yōkai announced, a smile on his face larger than Purple had ever seen before. He shared the joy his father had, but kept it buried in his chest. Interrupting was rude, too. 

Father dug through his pockets to hold up the prize- a tiny, circular glass vial with a glowing green liquid swimming in it. Purple had only heard tales of this mythical liquid- Empyrean. It was said to be the blood of Oni, who were the ones first responsible for the creation of yōkai. Empyrean was said to have mystic properties. While only the Oni of the past had the ability to create the yōkai with the exceedingly rare substance, Draxum had found a new way to mutate ordinary creatures into mystic beings.

Purple was in awe of it. It was such a small amount, but it must’ve cost Father a lot for him to get his claws on just this tiny vial. But this would be the key to their success. 

His father turned to the machine they’d built together, a thousand mosquitech buzzing, already glowing green with the empyrean-less mutagen. Without the vital mythical liquid, the mutagen would do nothing. Father was about to uncap the vial, but in a flash of light, a creature Purple didn’t have time to observe teleported onto his father’s arm. Father tried to grab the creature, but the yōkai took the empyrean in his jaws and teleported away once more. 

Purple looked around the laboratory, and caught a glimpse of the yōkai scurrying off out of the laboratory. Purple did the worst thing he could’ve done in that moment and hesitated, before he looked back to his father and saw the outrage in his gaze. He rushed forward, running as fast as he could to catch up to the creature.

He chased the yōkai out of the house entirely, and was now running on the streets after the brightly-colored, furry yōkai. He chased him down different alleyways, before cornering him. The yōkai turned his head around to see him, and his eyes widened in surprise and fear. He leapt into the air, and Purple dashed forward, trying to pin the creature down as he launched himself into the air in hopes of falling on top of him. 

But Purple watched in horror as a bright light emitted around the creature, and in a flash, he was gone . Purple landed onto the hard concrete below him, groaning in both frustration and pain. He sat up, craning his neck around to try and find the yōkai, but he was nowhere to be seen. 

His skin prickled with shame as he picked himself up, the scrapes on his knees stinging. But he ignored it, pushing himself up instead and beginning his walk of shame back to the laboratory.

“You lost him.”

“I tried to get him,” Purple insisted, begging for his father to believe him. “I really, really did. I’m sorry.”

“Do you know how long I’ve worked on this project?” He asked, his voice dark with fury and anger. His tone was colder than it had ever been, causing him to shake in a way that wasn’t  dissimilar to the way he would in a freezer.

“The answer is decades,” Father said harshly, grabbing his arm tightly before he pulled him towards him. Father lowered himself to meet Purple’s height, the anger now more clear than ever in his eyes. “And now that has been set back again because of your incompetence!” 

“I’m sorry,” Purple said softly. The only part of his body that was still was the arm that his father held. Can’t do jackshit right.

His father let go, and Purple pulled back slightly. He wanted to rub his arm, but he kept his hands at his side. It didn’t hurt that much. He had felt worse. “I tried,” he repeated, as if his words would soften the disappointment his father felt. 

“Tried,” Father echoed, a smile cracking on his face. Purple mirrored the smile, and requited the chuckle that followed. “Tried?” He said again, amused by the tiny word. “If a pilot says he tried to not crash his plane, does that make the bleeding bodies disappear?” 

Purple fell silent. He didn’t know the right answer to the question. He bit his lip, and picked at his fingernails. He was about to answer at last, but his father spoke first. 

“You didn’t try, you failed,” Father sneered, standing up straight. He patted his shoulders, and Huginn and Muninn took their place on his shoulders. “I’ve already sent for bounty hunters.”

“Let me make it up to you,” Purple begged. “Please, Father. I won’t let you down.”

“You already have,” Father said, shaking his head in disappointment. “I shouldn’t have expected you to catch the agent. I’m sorry.”

Purple couldn’t respond to that. He didn’t know how. It took everything in him to not cry at his words, his heart twisting in guilt and regret as he watched his father walk away from him.

Chapter Text

Within a few hours, the bounty hunters were able to capture the agent. Purple was in charge of taking both the agent, which was now contained in a mystic orb that didn’t allow the creature to teleport out, and a human. 

The human was hideous. The orb floated above his hand as he dragged the human by its shirt sleeve. This one’s intelligence seemed low, as it didn’t try to escape. It was mostly just looking around the Pirate’s Cove in awe as if he hadn’t seen a city before. Purple snorted. He knew that humans had made leaps in science. Still, looking at this human, he understood that human scientists must have been the minority. 

He set the agent into one of the cells at the base of the machine, the bars being mystic vines rather than stainless steel. The mystic bubble that contained the creature and prevented him from using his powers took the cell's shape. He watched as the yōkai tried to teleport out, but every attempt proved futile. He threw the human into the cell next to the agent.

“So… were you the one orderin’ the pizza?” The human asked, hanging onto the vine bars as it poked its head out of the cell. “If so, can I like, get a tip?”

“No,” Purple responded stiffly, rolling his eyes at the question. Idiot . 

“Ooookay,” The human said, nodding slowly. “How long are ya gonna keep me for? ‘Cause I kinda had plans to watch a movie with my mom tonight-”

“I do not care,” Purple bit out harshly, walking away from him with an exasperated sigh. “I couldn’t care less about you.”

“Coool,” the human said. “So you some kind of, like, robot turtle?”

“What? No,” Purple scoffed, turning back to it with a curious look. “Just a turtle. I’m not any part machine. Think of my artificial shell as an armor piece.”

“Ohh, cool,” it nodded. It was looking around the lab now before its eyes fell on the gauntlet on the turtle mutant’s arm. “What’s that?”

Purple perked up, excited by the human’s interest in his technology. Of course, he’d spoken to his father about the gauntlet before. Still, it was different when someone asked out of genuine curiosity instead of just talking about it unprompted, which he knew was annoying and self-centered. 

“It’s my gauntech. Get it? Like gauntlet and tech? It’s connected to the Hidden City and surface’s internet but can run independently. It can control all my tech, meaning I can call upon my creations anytime without being near them. Observe,” Purple swiped over to a custom application he’d made that allowed him to control his tech. He clicked on the logo of his bō and directed it to go to his location. 

Within a matter of moments, the bō was coming towards him. He outstretched a hand to grab it, but it didn’t stop and instead smacked into him at full force, sending him to the floor. He groaned in pain and used the bō to help him stand up. He struck a pose to save his dignity.

“Woah ho ho, cool!” The human exclaimed, poking its head through the vine cage to get a closer look. “Radical, man.”

“‘Radical’ indeed,” Purple said proudly, even if he wasn’t sure what the word it just said meant. “And you, my dear homo sapiens friend, will most likely be used to test if my father’s new mutagen works.”

“I’m actually straight,” the human said but didn’t seem offended by Purple’s statement. “Like, I totally get it. I look gay. But I like women. But being gay’s cool, too. I got lots of gay friends. Just, personally, girls are my thing.” 

“...What?” Purple raised a brow, confused by the turn in the conversation. “I don’t care what gender you like. Homo Sapiens is your species, dumbass.”

“Damn, don’t gotta be rude about it,” It huffed, rolling its eyes. “So when do I get to go home?” It asked again, seemingly bored by the situation already. “This is totally gonna get me fired. ‘Cause I doubt Jennifer- she’s my shift manager- is gonna believe I got kidnapped by two Russian shapeshifting monsters.”

“Why do I care if you go home or not? Or if you get fired?” Purple snorted, crossing his arms with a narrowed gaze. “ You destroyed our homes and forced us to hide down here. I don’t care what happens to you. You mean nothing to me.”

“I absolutely get the whole ‘benefit off your ancestors' genocide’ and ‘white privilege’ thing, I really do, but I did not personally kill your family… I don’t think. Woah, what if I got amnesia?!” 

“It’s not about what you did or didn’t do,” Purple sneered, turning his back to him. “It’s about how we will never be able to live on the surface so long as you humans are there. You will never allow us to coexist on the surface. Not to mention, you have already ruled the Earth for so long and have destroyed it within that time. It’s our turn to rise again and fix what you destroyed.” Purple turned around to look at the human once more before seeing its eyes held a glassy, uninterested look. “Are you even listening?”

“Honestly? Nah,” the human laughed. “You look like a cheesy movie villain with that backpack. And your whole supervillain monologue. Ooh, have you ever watched Megamind?”

“It’s a shell, and no, I do not. Father likes it,” He snorted, waving a hand in dismissal of his condescending words. “I based it off his outfit. Therefore , it is magnificent and the best thing in my wardrobe.”

The human only rolled its eyes in response and slumped down in its cell. So that was the end of that discussion. Purple grumbled as he retreated to his room, making small explosion motions with his hands. He knew it was weird, but it made him more relaxed and less agitated. 

Before he could enter his room, though, he heard the door to the outside of the laboratory open. The minute he saw green scales and human skin, he quickly took shelter in his room, opting to listen to the intruders before he made a move. He knew he wasn’t the strongest fighter. His intelligence and technology were his best attributes, not his fighting prowess. If only I was better at that.

The strangers gasped in awe at the laboratory. “Down there,” A female voice said before being followed by the sound of a deep male voice. “The little guy… and the delivery guy! We gotta help them get out!”

Purple’s breath hitched in fear, and he peered outside his room to better look at them. He felt his joints lock up as a realization hit him like a truck. Three turtles. There were three turtles just standing so close . 

They came for me , he thought, hope sparking in his chest. They escaped! They’re free from Lou Jitsu! Then why… Why do they have a human with them? Is it their pet?

The largest of them, One, was about to engage and jump down from the platform. But the human moved slightly in front of him, keeping from doing the reckless action. “Someone’s coming,” she whispered. The four of them crouched down as another door to the lab opened, revealing Father in the entryway. His father approached the two cages, his gaze focused on the teleporting yōkai. 

“If you’re the guy that keeps calling about the calamari, fine - they’re actually pig butts,” The human smiled goofily as if trying to soften the blow of the admission. “But the crab cakes are real!”

“I assure you, I have no interest in your… petty cakes of crab,” Father said, his eyes narrowing, clearly annoyed by the human’s audacity to speak. Huginn and Muninn jumped off their perches on his shoulders, landing on the cage with the human. 

“But we would love to hear more about those pig butts,” Muninn said, his voice holding sincerity in his words. Gross . Huginn just laughed at the human, and it moved back in fear. To be fair, Huginn does not have a pretty face.

Father ignored his gargoyle’s antics and turned his attention to the yōkai agent. He reached inside the cage, penetrating the mystic barrier that kept the yōkai in. The creature attempted to run from him, but it was no use. Father snapped the necklace that held the vial from his neck, smiling to himself as he looked at the glass orb containing the empyrean he’d worked so hard for. He walked over to the human, which Huginn and Muninn were still harassing. 

“You are about to be part of an experiment that will change the very nature of humanity,” Father said, and Purple recognized the hint of happiness in his tone. Purple perked up at that.

“All right!” The human exclaimed, suddenly smiling. “So, how’s this gonna work? Cause your henchman lizard thing wasn’t much help when he talked to me earlier.”

Don’t you fucking dare expose my position to the intruders , he prayed, glaring down at it in desperation. He wondered if he stared hard and long enough if he could transfer the idea into its mind to shut up .

“You spoke to my creation?” Father said, raising a brow in amusement. “He has already experienced this mutagen- I transformed him into what he is today all those years ago.” Purple smiled at how his father spoke of him- how proud he was of Purple. It gave him a boost of confidence. 

Father moved to the machine with his vial, a mosquitech with an empty pouch flying close to his hand. He opened the vial and poured the contents into the machine. He watched as the empyrean traveled up the tubes wound around the machine, powering it up with a spark of electricity. Empyrean-infused mutagen grew from the machine’s roof, and the mosquitech flew to it, absorbing it into their pouches. 

It worked , he thought in pride and wonder. IT WORKED.

Father held one in his hand as he approached the human. He controlled the vines to lift the human into the air, causing the two gargoyles to leap off the cage. The human, curiously, showed no signs of struggle despite its situation. “So… is this gonna hurt or what?”

“It will…” Father hummed, coming closer to the human’s face before glancing up toward Purple’s room. He wondered if his father had seen him, but if he did, he said nothing as he looked back at the human. “If it was created correctly.”

Father let go of the mosquitech as scenarios of failure filled Purple’s head, but he thankfully didn’t have to endure the anxiety for long. The man’s body began to contort in strange and horrible ways. The sound of his bones shifting, breaking, growing, and readjusting in his body was so loud and so grating that he began to dry heave from the sight and sound of it. He turned away from the sight but couldn’t stop the vomit that escaped him. He groaned, knowing he’d have to clean it up later. The gargled yell that followed the end of the transformation didn’t help, and he moved around the vomit to avoid its wretched smell.

“The mutation worked….” Draxum mused, ignoring Muninn’s offer to go after the fleeing imitation crab mutant. “Just like it did all those years ago….” 

“Mutation?” One said softly, confused. “Like us? Could we be-”

“Part fish?!” The smallest of the turtles exclaimed in horror. 

Purple smiled amusement at the third one’s comment before realizing that… he wasn’t joking. Oh. Okay, so Four isn’t intelligent like me. That’s okay; maybe the other two share my superior intellect.

“We can’t let that sheep-horned weirdo do anything to that dog!” The human with the turtles said with determination. 

Dog? He silently snorted. That’s an agent sent by the Council of Heads. And they think he’s some sort of common house pet? And Father isn’t a weirdo- he’s a genius alchemist! SCOFF.

“But we’re out of weapons,” Two said, causing Purple to perk up. They came with no weapons. They must be incredible fighters if they don’t need them.

“Guys, who need weapons? We’re ninjas!” One exclaimed, only confirming Purple’s idea of their fighting ingenuity. He zoned out on their conversation, trying to rationalize how he would take them all down on his own. He wasn’t an incredible fighter; he knew that. He was weaker than average, and he had no natural protection. His only advantage was his tech. But what do I do if they can destroy that? 

“-knows where there’s a room full of weapons!” The human interrupted whatever One was talking about, causing Two to sigh in relief. “Oh, thank goodness. We were so dead.”

Purple watched as the human flipped a switch, causing them to tumble. They’re going into the training room! He realized. As soon as the hatch closed, he moved down to the laboratory's first floor, racing towards the Baron.

“Father!” Purple exclaimed, catching the large yōkai’s attention. “Father, there’s-”

“Ah, Purple,” Father said fondly, patting his son’s shoulder. “The mutagen is working correctly. Thank the heavens I could negotiate that deal with Big Mama for that empyrean.”

“Yeah, that’s great, I saw,” Purple said quickly, rushing through his words. “But I saw that-”

“Would you stop that?” Father lightly bumped Purple’s foot with his hoof, drawing attention to the fact that Purple had been tapping his foot against the floor out of anxiety. “I swear, you never stop moving. It’s incredibly annoying.” 

“Sorry,” Purple murmured, forcing himself to stand still. “But I really need-”

“And with all the apologies,” Father chuckled, waving a hand in the air. “It’s as if you’re a broken record!”

“FATHER,” Purple roared before the regret immediately set in. His father narrowed his eyes, shocked by his outburst. Purple looked down at the floor before forcing himself to look back up at him.

“Purple, what was that?” He asked, concern filling his gaze. He sounded so disappointed. “Why are you being so rude? I didn’t raise you to be that way.” 

Purple shrunk down, wanting nothing more than to disappear into his shell. Why did I do that? Why do I have to be like this?

“What is so important that you have to shout at me?” Father asked, his tone holding an understandable sternness to it.

“It’s just-” Purple was interrupted by the sound of a latch opening, causing both him and Father to snap their heads around to find the source of the sound. The turtles all fell out, landing on top of each other in a pile, with the human coming out last. They quickly pulled themselves away from each other before One pointed at Father with confidence. But, quickly, their eyes turned Purple.

“How did you not see them come in?!” Father asked Purple, his form tense with alarm. Purple sighed, shaking his head. “I tried to tell you,” he muttered, knowing that it was terrible to act ill towards his father, but it seemed like Father didn’t hear him. “Why have you come here?”

“IT’S A CYBORG TURTLE!” Four exclaimed, flapping his hands as he looked at Purple with excitement. Purple looked at the movement of the turtle’s hands curiously before slowly mimicking it. Four seemed to take notice, smiling at him brightly. Purple felt Draxum’s gaze on him, his skin prickling with discomfort. He forced his hands to his sides, keeping them still.

“We’ve come here for the dog thing,” One said, focusing on the Baron before he glanced back to Purple. “Are you here against your will, too?”

“What?” Purple was confused, to say the least. Why would he be captive here? Father wasn’t evil. “No.”

“Okay, so you both are gonna give us the dog thing,” One said, crossing his arms with narrowed eyes. “And if you do, you’ll leave this encounter with your horns still attached and your… shell… thing still on your back.” 

“Shouldn’t we also stop him from creating fish men?” Two asked, to which One nodded in affirmation. “Okay, give us the little guy, stop creating fish dudes-”

“AND give us a ride home,” Four interjected, before gasping, still enthralled by Purple as if he were an art piece rather than a living being. “Oh! Wait, can I also be made into a cyborg?”

“You’re… beautiful,” Father said as they continued to squabble amongst themselves, causing Purple to give him a strange look. Why were they beautiful? They were all idiots! They’d entered here with no solid plan. If anything, Purple was the beautiful one. He was sure Father had called him beautiful before. Probably. He just didn’t always have the best memory. 

“Raph, why don’t you take it from the top?” Two suggested, to which One (Raph) nodded in agreement. 

“Alright. So, first, you apologize to the dog thing-” Raph began before being rudely interrupted by the human. Just another reason to hate the human species. Purple had met two humans, but both were poor in their behavior. And yeah, two data points weren’t great, but he’d heard more stories from Father that only supported the idea that humans were all just the same: ruthless, rude, selfish, and horrid. 

The human leaped into the air, shouting something Purple couldn’t understand, before landing on the agent’s cell. She began to tear at the vines with her teeth, making Purple give her a disgusting look. How barbaric . 

Huginn and Muninn laughed at her odd fighting and rescue tactic and lifted her away. Purple snorted, noting silently how useless Huginn and Muninn usually were, but this seemed like a task they were perfectly good at. Taking care of a human.

Father raised his fist into the air before slamming it down onto the ground. Thick, purple vines rose from the ground, twisting and crashing into each other as they attempted to attack the turtles. Raph leaped onto the vines, charging down them as if they were a ramp as he used his tonfas to rip through them on his way down. 

The orange turtle slid down gracefully, a grin on his face as he wielded a kusari-fundo. The last turtle with a blue-tinted shell was holding onto the appendage he was sliding down for dear life, an odachi in hand as he exclaimed his distaste for the surprise ride.

Father released a golem, one Purple was familiar with as he often spared against them in training. It grabbed the vines, lifting them into the air before smashing them down, causing the turtles to launch into the air. They fell down, crashing into the floor below. The three of them groaned from the impact.

“I got the blue one!” Purple exclaimed eagerly, to which his father nodded. 

“Keep in mind, the goal is to not kill. We are capturing them,” Father explained, stepping back to let his two creations take control of the fight. 

Purple smirked behind the mask, excitement pulsing in his chest as he held his bō and rushed towards Two. The other turtle had fallen plastron first onto the cold laboratory flooring, but he recovered quickly and got onto his feet. He held his ōdachi out in front of him, and a cocky smirk decorated his red-striped face. Purple landed a few paces before him, pressing a button to turn the top of his bō into a sharp spearhead. 

The blue turtle visibly cringed as they made eye contact, Two finally taking in all of his features. “Dude, what happened to your skin?”

Purple deflated at the comment. So much for being brothers, I guess? Purple didn’t have time to reply because the slider was already rushing toward him. The weaker softshell quickly maneuvered to the side, avoiding the strange turtle’s attack before using his bō to block the second strike that came his way. 

He’s fast, Purple noted silently. The slider thrust his ōdachi lower, but Purple could smack it out of the way in time to avoid the blow to his lower plastron. The turtle backed away, clearly about to rush towards him for another attack, but Purple was already spinning his bō in preparation, creating momentum for his attack. He chased the red-eared slider, who began retreating backward. Before he could fall into the green, glowing goop at the end of the lab’s middle platform, the slider raised his ōdachi and tried to slash down on him. Purple met this with his bō, smacking it to the ground. The blue turtle made a surprised noise as the softshell quickly brought his bō back up and tried to strike his head with the blunt end. He ducked his head into his shell in time before rolling away from Purple. 

The slider swung at his feet, but Purple was able to jump to avoid the sharp blade. The other turtle was still close to the ground, crouching low. Purple used his bō to knock him over on his back, and he switched his bō to the other end, the one he ornamented with sharp spikes. He aimed it at the slider’s face and used a foot pressed against his plastron to keep him down. 

The slider looked almost smug, though, as he used a swooping leg to knock Purple off balance. As Purple tried to regain his composure, the slider rolled away. He grabbed his ōdachi from the floor, stood up, and returned to a fighting stance. But before they could begin their fight once more, both of the turtle’s attentions were grabbed by the orange turtle, who was flinging around with his weapon. It appeared to be infused with mystic powers as it blazed.

“MAGIC WEAPONS?!” The blue one exclaimed in surprise. The orange turtle landed on the laboratory floor, looking dazed.

“Yo! Mikey! That was AWESOME!” Raph called out, stepping away from the yokai for a second to take note of his younger brother. “How’d you do that!?”

“I don’t know, man!” Mikey got himself up and shrugged. “I was just swinging my weapon like this, and all of a sudden-” The kusari-fundo lit on fire again. It almost looked like a face was inside the flames. 

“How did you not know they were mystic?” Purple deadpanned, surprised by their level of ignorance. 

“Look, man,” the blue turtle said, waving his hand dismissively, “It was glowy . You can’t possibly tell me that you wouldn’t take a glowing weapon if it was in front of you!” 

“Unlike you all, I can fight perfectly fine without the use of magic; thankyouverymuch.” Purple puffed out his chest in pride. He could make his own weapons. He didn’t need to rely on such an unpredictable thing.

“Cool, cool, cool. And you’re acting like that’s a bad thing, why ?” Two asked with an unimpressed look.

Purple didn’t dignify that with a response and only pressed a button on his tech-bō to send a small missile toward the blue-shelled turtle. Two was able to dodge it and continued his assault on Purple.

Two, as Purple realized, was an offensive fighter. He was headstrong and powerful in his attacks but also sloppy and uncoordinated. Purple kept parrying his blows, waiting for the slider to tire out so he’d get an opening. Two leaped back for a moment, but not out of exhaustion. 

“Let’s see what this thing can do!” He exclaimed, rushing towards Purple with a newfound exhilaration. The engraved symbols on his sword glowed, and electricity sparked around it. He was a little dazzled by it for a moment before realizing the attack was coming. He raised his bō in defense, waiting for the blow and whatever mystical ability came with it. 

Two slashed the ōdachi at him and froze when nothing happened. Purple could see the sweat on his brow as the blue turtle realized that the mystic weapon had failed him. Purple snorted, raising a brow in triumph. “As always, my incredible state-of-the-art tech wins out.” 

But before Purple could make his move, a circle appeared beneath the slider, glowing a brilliant blue. Two fell into it, and Purple peered into the portal to see where he had gone before another light appeared above him. He moved back and watched as Two began to enter a portal loop, begging to be saved from the “ride.” 

Purple turned to his father, who gave no warning before he sent a blast of vines his way. He stepped out of the course of the attack just in time for it not to tangle himself in his father’s trap. The teenage turtle gave a thumbs up to his father for helping capture the slider, but Draxum was too preoccupied with fighting the largest of the turtles. 

Purple returned to the idiotic red-eared slider, who was now confined to the cocoon-like trap. “Sweet Leonardo da Vinci- you’re stupid,” Purple sighed with exasperation, glaring at him unhappily.

“Ey! You guessed my name!” Leonardo da Vinci said in surprise. “Now, what are the chances of that?!”

“Who would willingly name their child Leonardo da Vinci?” Purple asked in a deadpan. “Actually, no, don’t answer that. I need to kick ou- your brother’s butts first.” Freudian slip. 

He leaped into action before Leonardo da Vinci could respond, opting to charge for the smallest of the turtles. The orange one was experimentally swinging around his weapon before it sprung to life and began to take him across the lab like a ping-pong ball. As Purple watched him ricochet across the room, he realized he was coming towards him. The smaller turtle shouted for him to watch out, and Purple quickly maneuvered out of the way before Mikey crashed into the wall, completely stopping this time. Raph looked over to his youngest brother with concern. Before anything could be done, though, they were caught by Father’s traps. 

Purple relaxed his stance, using his bō as an armrest as he leaned against it. The sound of electricity caught his attention, and he turned to the machine in the center of the lab, which was the cause of the strange electricity. He moved his goggles down and was alarmed by the red flashing that indicated that the machine was volatile. He took the goggles off and turned to the Baron in alarm. “Father-”

“Turtles, why are you trying to stop my plans?” Father asked, approaching the turtles with a scowl and a clenched fist. “We are all in this together!”

“Lovin the lightning thing you got going there,” Leonardo da Vinci said sarcastically before switching to a more serious tone. “But I’m not entirely sure that’s what you were going for.”

The comment caused Father to turn around, and his eyes went wide when he saw the severity of the damage to the machine. “SHIT. Purple?!”

Purple rushed towards the machine, looking at its statistics and information. Its destruction was imminent, and he knew this, but he knew he had to try and save it for Father. 

“Dude, it’s gonna blow!” Mikey exclaimed in terror and panic, which only increased Purple’s own fright. He kept pressing buttons, trying to adjust the power limit of the machine, but it was no use. Chunks of the device were beginning to fall, including the ceiling piece that kept it in place. A considerable part of it descended upon his father, and Purple’s heart dropped as it fell on top of him.

The machine split in two, releasing the mosquitech. But Purple couldn’t care less about that now, as he was rushing towards the large boulder that held his father beneath it. He muttered curses to himself as he tried to lift it, but he was too weak. He used his bō to try and pry it up, but that didn’t work, either.

“No,” Purple whispered to himself, the idea that his father might be dead and gone forever haunting his mind. He often had intrusive thoughts of his father’s death, but now, it seemed so likely that those nightmares could become a reality. 

“Fuck, no… Dad..” His voice cracked with sorrow. His chest was tightening, and his hands were trembling. He couldn’t keep himself still or keep the tears at bay as he began to grieve. He kept trying and trying to lift the large boulder, but it didn’t budge. He fell back, watching as the turtles and their human teleported away.

Anger boiled beneath his skin, his fingers flexing with outrage and disgust. They had left him. They had left him and his father to die. They left me behind again . He wiped his tears and tried to lift the rubble again. He closed his eyes tightly, pain ripping at his muscles and yelling at him to stop. His fingers were bleeding now, the piece of rubble having dug through both his gloves and his skin. They don’t care. They really don’t care. They never cared and never will.

The large piece of debris lifted, and Purple felt hope clutch his heart as he saw purple vines protruding from the ground, moving the boulder up and into the air. Father lay beneath it, bloodied, battered, and bruised. As soon as the vines threw it from its spot and towards where the turtles had previously been, Purple ran towards his father and hugged him tightly, burying his face into his chest as he continued to sob. Father returned the hug.

“Purple…” Draxum sighed, taking off the turtle’s goggles so he could pet Purple’s head. “Are you alright?” 

“I’m okay,” Purple said through sobs, the tears refusing to stop. God, he was so pathetic. “I’m okay. I-I thought you’d... Thought you’d died.”

“Oh, Purple…” Father said softly, moving away from him so Purple could glance up at his Father’s kind gaze. “I’m not going anywhere, my little softshell. I’m tougher than you might think.”

“I’m sorry- they got away,” Purple murmured, his voice thick with guilt and sadness. “I’m really sorry. The- the mosquitech are gone, too. And the machine is destroyed.. completely.”

“They…” Father’s hand stopped, causing Purple to flinch and brace himself to pull away. But after a second, he resumed petting his head. Was he putting more pressure on his strokes now? “We’ll have more chances. But the tech….” 

“Mr. Draxum, sir!” The sound of Huginn’s voice interrupted them. Father removed himself from Purple’s embrace to address the two gargoyles. Purple felt cold and played with his fingers in discomfort. 

“We saw where the mosquitech went,” Muninn announced. “We followed them… because… we, uh, thought you’d want us to. No other reason. Anyways, they went through the portal with the turtles.”

“That means…” Father said softly, a smile painting his face as the realization came to him. “They’re in the human world.” The large yōkai turned back to Purple, his grin making Purple’s spirits lift. “Then maybe this wasn’t a complete failure of yours.”

Purple scrambled to his father’s side, wiping his tears away. They had finally stopped. “What’s next?” He asked, determination blazing in his chest as he awaited his following instructions.  

Father patted his head fondly, not looking at him as he did so. He was looking at his desecrated machine. “We sit back and watch humanity tear itself apart.”

Chapter Text

Leo rolled his arm in its socket, trying to will away the pain he felt in his arm. It wasn’t broken or sprained, which was good. It was sore from being kept at a weird angle when caught by that Draxum guy's cocoon trap. 

Dad was still watching TV, just as he was when they had left. He wondered if the old rat had even noticed their absence before shaking his head. He sometimes thought so little of his father, despite what he gave up to raise them… It’s not like Splinter chose to become a rat, nor did he decide to raise three baby turtles all on his own in New York’s sewers.

He knew he was probably his least favorite. Mikey couldn’t be disliked by default; he was the youngest and sweetest. Raph was kind and strong. There was nothing to suggest that Dad didn’t like him or that he might like the other two. Leo could never shake that feeling of inferiority. 

“Leo, your arm okay?” His older brother’s voice pulled him from his thoughts. The large turtle mutant had a worried expression on his face; one Leo was familiar with. Raph worried too much, in his opinion. But he knew Raph didn’t think Leo was concerned enough. 

Leo gave him a thumbs up with the sore arm, ignoring the discomfort it caused him. “All good, big bro! Just a little stiff, is all. What about you and Mike’n’ike?”

“I’ve got no wounds,” Raph answered but looked worryingly at Mikey, who sat crisscrossed with an old iPad in his lap, either drawing or playing a game. “I’m worried that Mikey got hurt, though.”

“‘ Wounds ,’” Leo repeated with a chuckle before directing his attention towards the youngest of the three. Mikey was capable of many things, and Leo was painfully aware of his abilities. But he would always be his little brother, and he understood why Raph thought him so fragile. Not only was he the youngest, but he was also the smallest. Raph was always a little rougher when they were younger and had accidents when it came to playing with Mikey if he wasn’t careful enough. 

“Mikey,” Leo called, causing the younger turtle to look up at him. “You got any ‘ wounds ,’ as Raph would say?” Leo could practically hear Raph roll his eyes.

“Nope!” Mikey said with an enormous smile, returning to what he was doing. Leo saw that Mikey was holding a pencil and figured he was probably drawing. It was Mikey’s thing- other than cooking. Despite being named after artists, Leo and Raph never took up drawing as a real passion. But Mikey always had a niche for it. 

“His birthday’s coming up,” Leo said quietly to Raph. The older turtle nodded, glancing at the youngest for a moment before returning his gaze to Leo. “Maybe we could get him some of those markers he likes?”

“Copic?” Raph asked, clearly hesitant. “We got the pack he currently has at a discount from April’s old job- and even that was kinda pricey.”

“We can just buy a few colors,” The middle turtle suggested with a shrug. “We could ask him what colors he needs more of- or if he's run out of ink with some. I think they sell individual Copic markers at the Micheals near April’s apartment.” 

Raph nodded and patted him on the shoulder before yawning. “I’m gonna hit the rack. You should, too.” 

“Will do,” Leo assured him and watched his big brother disappear into his room. Leo was admittedly tired, but he knew that sleep often evaded him. There was no difference between being out and about while awake and being in bed, staring at the ceiling, and being awake. He made his way towards Mikey, observing his newest drawing.

It wasn’t incredibly realistic, which wasn’t a problem for Leo. Mikey had a very original style, and no matter what any pish posh artist said, it was his favorite art style in the world. 

Mikey had a sketched turtle that looked like Leo but… different. “You testing out a new style?” He asked, sitting next to him on the floor to watch him draw. 

Mikey shook his head. “I’m drawing the turtle we saw today.”

Leo stiffed unintentionally before forcing himself to relax. Was this a coping mechanism? “Don’t worry, buddy,” He said, bumping his shoulder softly with his own. “He’s not gonna hurt you.”

Mikey laughed at that. “I’m not scared of him!” The orange turtle said earnestly before slumping a bit. “Do you think we could be related? He looked like a turtle. He looked a bit like you, honestly.”

Leo hesitated for a moment, biting his lip at the comparison. “I don’t think he was a turtle. I mean- the thing on his back was more like a backpack than a shell. Plus, he didn’t look anything like me! I’m way more handsome.”

Mikey chuckled, and Leo smiled because his little brother was, too. “Yeah, you’re probably right. Dad would’ve told us if we had some crazy long-lost brother.” 

“Yeah,” Leo hummed before nudging the younger turtle softly before getting up. “You should head to bed soon, ‘kay?” Mikey nodded but had a reluctant look on his face, causing Leo to pause. “What’s wrong?”

“It’s a little stupid, but….” Mikey fidgeted with the pencil between his fingers but sighed and continued despite his apparent anxiety. “I’m still shaken up from earlier. Not about the not-turtle cyborg guy- just the goat man.”

Leo’s expression softened in understanding. “Wanna do a pile like old times? We could all sleep in Raph’s bed- I’m sure there’s enough room.” 

Mikey stood up, his iPad held against his chest, as he followed Leo toward their older brother’s room. Leo knew Raph would say yes. When they were younger, they often slept in a pile due to the childish fear of being alone. As they got older, they requested their own room and space. But, every now and then, one of them would get a nightmare. In that case, they all would go to Raph’s room for a sleepover pile. 

Leo might razz on them, but they all knew he would tear the Earth apart if it meant making sure his brothers were safe. And he knew that they would do the same for him. They were brothers, after all.

Purple hated his “brothers.” They didn’t even deserve that title. They were strangers at best and enemies at worst. They had forgotten him as a child and left him to die the previous day. They didn’t care about him then and had proven that they didn’t care about him now. 

The small flame of hope he had for their familial ties was snuffed out and buried when they attacked Father and him.

Father hadn’t spoken to him today, certainly disappointed in Purle’s catastrophic failure. It was well-deserved on Purple’s part, but knowing that didn’t stop the shame that prickled underneath his skin. 

He’d been avoiding his father’s judgemental gaze by staying in his room. It was a cowardly move, but it saved him from the embarrassment that would ensue if he had to confront his father and try to explain why the device they’d worked so hard on was now slit in two and all over the laboratory deck. 

“Are you still thinking about your brothers?” Shelldon questioned, to which Purple nodded. The turtle sighed, sitting with his knees pressed against his plastron. 

“I thought… we’re supposed to be family ,” Purple murmured. He didn’t want to speak right now, his mouth feeling stuck and the words so hard to form. But he pushed himself anyways, knowing that he couldn’t remain silent. No, that was weird. He had to talk. “Why’d they leave ?”

“To be fair, Draxum was trying to capture them. And you were helping him. In their eyes, you were being an aggressor. To help you would possibly mean getting themselves hurt,” Shelldon reasoned. It made sense, and Purple hated that it made sense. He didn’t want there to be a reasonable explanation for why they’d left him.

“I hate them,” Purple decided. “I hate them.”

“Fine with me,” Shelldon said nonchalantly, which Purple found odd. The tone, the way he spoke… It was all off. He turned to Shelldon and was surprised to see him connected to the spare computer he’d brought out for him the other day. He was playing Minecraft- but he wasn’t speedrunning it like he’d seen him do before. No, instead, Shelldon was building a house . Like, an actual house that looked nice and wasn’t entirely for practical reasons.

“What?” Shelldon asked, confused by his sudden silence and shocked expression. “It’s not that bad, is it?”

“You’re playing Minecraft,” Purple said dumbly, watching Shelldon continue to place bricks down. You didn’t need bricks to complete the game or make a practical house. “You’re not… trying to beat it?”

“Nah,” Shelldon shook his body as a sort of ‘no,’ which surprised Purple even more. “I wanted to build a house I found on Google Maps.” 

“You’re sentient,” Purple realized, at last, not caring for the house Shelldon immediately backed up from to show him a comparison. “You’re… Alive.”

“Well, duh ,” Shelldon rolled his eyes . Purple didn’t know he’d programmed him to be able to do that. 

“When did you start….” Purple waved his hand in the air, searching for the words. “Having Yōkai-like intelligence?” 

“Rude,” Shelldon grumbled, his eyes narrowing in offense. “But I believe it had something to do with some of that mutagen getting into my circuitry yesterday when the lab exploded.”

“Oh,” Purple murmured. He didn’t know how that made sense. The mutagen was supposed to combine human and animal DNA to mutate them into yōkai-like beings. Robots weren’t supposed to be in that equation. “Interesting… I wonder if maybe you combined with my DNA? Since that would be the most recent organic lifeform, you came in contact with.”

“FUCK,” Shelldon said, causing Purple to whip around in worry. But he noticed that Shelldon had been blown up by a creeper and was on the death screen. “That MOTHERFUCKER blew up my house.”

“...Dude, just rebuild it,” Purple said, not understanding why the robot was so upset. It was weird to think that he could be upset at all. Guess that's a thing now. Sentient robots and crab men.

“I’m running all your data through a complex algorithm,” Shelldon said, and his eyes turned to 1’s and 0’s, a sign that he was genuinely computing something. “My algorithm has concluded that you are a bitch.”

“I don’t know if I prefer your sentient or not,” Purple deadpanned, but the smile on his face betrayed any lie he might’ve said. But a thought lingered in his mind, causing him to sigh and return to the previous topic of conversation. “I thought they would at least… care for me. In some regard. You can’t deny the resemblance.”

“If they had offered to take you with them, would you have gone?” Shelldon asked. 

Purple played with his fingers in his lap. “No,” he admitted quietly. “I couldn’t leave Father. I couldn’t survive without him.”

Shelldon didn’t respond to that and just returned to his game. Purple didn’t understand what Shelldon was feeling. “Are you mad at me?” 

“No?” Shelldon responded, confused by the question. “Why would I be mad at you?” 

“Oh,” Purple murmured, feeling embarrassed. “...Sorry. I’m bad at reading people, and… you’re not so easy to read, either.”

“What would help you understand what I’m feeling?” Shelldon asked, exiting the game to focus purely on Purple. It made the young turtle feel odd to have someone’s attention solely on him. It made him realize he didn’t want to talk about himself or his issues. It was uncomfortable.

“You don’t have to do anything,” Purple said honestly. “I need to work on that myself. Not everyone’s gonna be as accommodating as you are.”

“Alright,” Shelldon said. If he had shoulders, Purple was sure he’d be shrugging. He returned back to his game.

Purple sighed, burying his head in his knees. He pressed his kneecaps against his eyelids, watching the colors swirl in his vision. He knew the lights were an illusion created by the pressure that activated cells in his retina the same way natural light did. But it was nice to close his eyes and see patterns and shapes in his eyelids. He imagined that they were animals dancing across his vision. 

He was seven. Training with Father had started when he was five, and he’d gotten progressively stronger through the years. He’d been clumsy and slow at first, but his balance had improved. Father had even brought him his wooden bō and bought a training dummy just for him.

“Again,” His father called as he backed away from the dummy, already tired and strained from the twenty-minute training session. 

He wanted to stop. He wanted to sit down and get drenched in cold water to cool off. But he knew it would only be ten more minutes until they were done, so he continued. 

The dummy was mystical in nature. It was able to replicate a real foe, and its settings could be adjusted to fit the trainee. It was a gift for his fifth birthday and something he cherished. It currently held the form of a human. 

He charged the dummy once again. The mechanical figure had arms that reacted and attacked, but Purple made sure to counter each blow. He was on the second to the lowest setting, which was frankly embarrassing for his age.

When the dummy went to rebalance itself, Purple swung his bō against its stomach, causing it to fall back onto the ground. It got back up, but Purple was able to use this moment of recuperation against it as he swung at its legs. 

The human kicked him back, and the soft-shelled turtle landed on his back. He cried out in pain, looking towards his father for help. But his father shook his head and pointed at the pseudo-attacker. Purple forced himself up despite his aching joints and knocked the opponent’s fists away from him just as it tried to punch him. He moved around the training dummy, shaking slightly. He moved forward and struck a blow to the dummy’s side, who recoiled and hesitated. Purple leaped into the air and used his bō to directly smack against its neck. When he landed on his side just feet away from the mystic fighting dummy, he watched it return to its standard stance when not in active training.

Purple fought to catch his breath, his lungs feeling as though they were burning. He began to cough, clutching his side. His face was hot with tears that hadn’t been given permission to fall. 

He felt a hand begin to rub his bare shell, the soft touch comforting to him. “Are you okay? Purple, is something wrong?” Father asked, his voice full of concern. “Are you hurt?”

He shook his head numbly, unable to get words to form. He tried to stand up but turned and hurled his lunch onto the mat next to him. Tears mixed with the disgusting bile on the carpet as he cried from the pain that shot through his throat. 

Father shushed him soothingly, still rubbing his back. “It’s okay, Purple,” he said softly before reaching for the tiny turtle. Purple didn’t complain and clung to his father, his small body shaking. 

He buried his head into his father’s shoulder, tears staining the shoulder pads. But Father didn’t care, more concerned with his son’s health than the awful vomit. 

“Huginn will clean that up,” Father said. “Let’s get you some water.”

Purple nodded and looked up at his father with wide eyes. “I’m sorry,” he murmured softly. “I didn’t wanna throw up.”

“I know,” Father said, petting his head. “It happens. As you train more, that’ll happen less. But just because you threw up doesn’t mean you can skip the last eight minutes of training. We’ll just add that time onto tomorrow.”

Purple didn’t protest and instead felt himself sinking more into Father’s touch and comforting presence. The training was a necessity; he knew that. Father only did it to make him stronger and improve him. Really, he was fortunate that his father had the materials and means to train him. Not many others had this luxury. He had to take advantage of the situation he was blessed to be in.

Purple sat idly in the training room. He didn’t have his bō on him, nor his battle shell. His back was bare as he stood there just observing the room. Weapons clattered on the floor when his “brothers” trudged into and stole the mystic weapons Father had paid a fortune to acquire.

Long ago, Father had shown him the wall of weapons. He told him that he’d be given the glowing purple naginata that hung on the wall once he was ready. The weapons next to it were reserved for his brothers when he was strong enough to save them and bring them back home.

But now they were gone. Both his brothers and the weapons on the wall save the naginata reserved for Purple. It was oddly fitting, in a way. They’d even left behind the powerful weapon, just like they’d left him. 

He wasn’t sure if he’d ever be ready for the naginata. Both in skill and sentiment. His bō represented him on a fundamental level he wasn’t sure anyone but him would understand. He made his bō from scraps and pieces forgotten in a junkyard and used those chunks to create something beautiful. 

He reached for the naginata on the wall, feeling the spark of mystic energy tickle his hand. But it felt wrong, so he pulled away. He wasn’t deserving of it- not yet. Maybe he never would be ready.

But he was willing to try. Purple may never use the weapon his father had gotten for him, but it wasn’t about the weapon. It was about himself and his ability to yield it. He needed to become more mature- more of a warrior. More of what his father aspired for him to be. More of what he wanted to be.

There was so much more he could do. 

The purple-marked turtle stood outside his father’s room. He wanted to knock, to let his father know what he’d been thinking. But he was afraid of his father’s disappointment and scorn. 

He sucked in a breath and knocked.

“Come in,” his father’s muffled voice came from behind the door after a moment. Purple pushed the door open, ignoring how his legs shook from anxiety. 

His father was sitting on his bed, his armor removed. Purple rarely saw him like this, exposed and vulnerable. It reminded him that they were similar in many ways. The horns on Father’s helmet were fake and not his own. He was a bovine yōkai with no horns in the same vein as Purple, a turtle mutant with no shell.

He had to remind himself that Father may push him, but Purple shouldn’t be ungrateful for his actions. Father did what he did out of love and a need to protect him. Because he knew what it was like to not have one of the most excellent defenses of your adjacent species.

“Purple,” Father said, his gaze holding a disappointment that only made Purple’s anxieties worse. 

“I’m sorry about yesterday,” Purple said, awkwardly standing in the middle of the bedroom. He shuffled his feet and glanced around the room as he thought about what to say next. “I… I should’ve told you about the intruders. I should’ve fought better. I should’ve defended the lab better….” 

Father sat on the couch in his room, his legs crossed as he observed his son. “I love you, Purple,” he said slowly, “but I don’t want you to be sorry. I just want you to do things right. So, do what you can to ensure this… misstep isn’t repeated, okay?”

Purple nodded solemnly, guilt pooling in his chest. “I promise it won’t. I want to be more involved- I want to help more. I… I held back because I couldn’t… I thought of them as my brothers, not my enemy. I won’t make that mistake again.”

“Oh, Purple….” Father sighed, motioning for Purple to come closer. The turtle did as instructed and was embraced by the older yōkai. “One day, maybe they will come around, and we can all be a family together. I know what it’s like to be backstabbed by your siblings- my own sister tried to kill me as I slept, and we were forced to live separately. It is sad, but your brothers will never be for you when it really matters. But I will always be here for you, Purple. I will never let you go.”

The turtle found comfort in his father’s words and found the embrace they shared warm and protective. Father was like the sun; warm, essential, and generous. Father shared his light and warmth with Purple. The least he could do was share his light.

Chapter Text

Father began to include himself more in Purple's training routine when he was eleven. Every so often, Purple would spar against the bovine yōkai. Now was one of those occasions. 

Father was a fierce fighter who focused more on attack than countering the opposing blows. Brute strength was his greatest attribute, as well as his incredible speed. 

Purple dodged each attack, focusing on keeping himself afloat through the encounter until he had a chance to strike. He was thinner and smaller than Father and would never be able to land an incredible blow against him as Father threw at him. No, he had to be tactical. 

He waited for his time, defending himself from the onslaught of attacks that came his way. He watched as his father’s stamina faltered and his speed declined. The yōkai took maybe a second or two to breathe, but that’s all Purple needed. 

He used the momentum he’d built by spinning his bō to slap against Father’s side hard. The yōkai was stunned by the sudden action and left another opportunity for Purple to turn around for more entropy and swing against his arm. Father grabbed both sides of the bō furiously, but Purple used it to pull himself up and kick against the yōkai stomach with full force. Father let go of the tech-bō and swiped a claw toward Purple’s face. Purple raced backward, with Father not following him. 

Purple twirled the bō between both of his hands as he began to run. Before Father’s vines could catch him, he used his bō as a pole vault to boost himself into the air as he jumped. He watched as his Father’s eyes widened in surprise as he came down upon him, about to smack his helmet with the titanium bō. But before he could land the hit, vines ensnared his feet in a trap, stopping him from winning the fight. 

Father made a “T” with his hands before letting the vines retract back into the ground below. “Very impressive, Purple,” he praised, clapping as he approached the turtle. 

Purple stood up, his spirits high, watching his father smile. This was the closest he’d ever come in their matches. It usually ended with Father calling time due to the spar lasting too long or with Purple on the ground. But it hadn’t even been that long, and he’d landed a fierce blow against him. It wasn’t a complete victory, but it was a minor success he had to take.

“A real foe would be fearful of meeting you in combat,” Father said, cupping Purple’s face in his hands. “I think you are ready.”

Purple glanced behind his Fathers and towards the rack he’d known his whole life. The naginata Father had got for him glowed with purple mystical energy, but it looked so lonely, separated from the rest of the weapons he’d always known it to hang beside.

“Not the naginata,” Father said, causing Purple to focus on the large yōkai. Father pulled away from him and reached inside his pocket. He splayed his palm out for Purple to see what he held. 

It was a circular, gold belt buckle. Purple hesitantly took it from his hands, using a thumb to feel the texture of it. It was cold to the touch, but that didn’t bother him. 

“This is a cloaking brooch,” Father explained. “I used this exact one when I was younger…. But I fear I have no use for it now. You may use it to go to the surface and disguise yourself.”

“But-” Purple bit his lip, not wanting to talk back, but he needed to voice his confusion. “Just a few weeks ago, I asked to go topside for supplies, and you said no.”

“Situations have changed,” Father said, patting his head. “Those turtles will certainly try to foil my plans. I am not sending you up there to have fun. I’m sending you up there so you can keep an eye on your mosquitech and ensure they don’t try anything.”

He gave a small salute to his father. “Got it! I’ll find a way to monitor New York- maybe we can even find where they live.” Lou Jitsu will be there.

Father hummed in agreement. “I do not want them killed. They are my sons, after all. I would like to see them join our mission, but if they cannot see the reality of the harm humans pose to our kind, then….” Father sighed and closed his eyes, shaking his head. “I don’t want to lose them for a second time. But if it means making sure the prophecy does not come true, I will do what I must.”

Purple nodded in understanding, even if his chest burned with an anger and vengeful hate toward the three turtles. If his father wanted them alive and unharmed, he would do it. Father had given up so much for him and given him everything he needed. It was the least he could do in return. 

“I won’t let you down,” Purple promised, clutching the belt buckle with pride. 

Purple looked in the mirror. He wasn’t attractive in his turtle form; he was aware of that. The burn scars on his body made him an eyesore. But looking at the form the cloaking brooch gave him to look human… It was awful.

To be fair, all humans looked ugly to him. They looked unnatural. This body felt foreign to him. He felt naked without his shell or plastron and lacked a tail and claws. But one thing that made him self-conscious was the burn scars. On his normal skin, they were discolored and different, sure, but on human skin… he cringed at his appearance. The skin was stretched and morphed. The cloaking brooch transformed his mask and goggles to fit his face nicely, but it wouldn’t let him remove the scars. He could ask for a hoodie in various colors or choose to wear different pants. But he couldn’t remove the scars.

Cloaking brooches were enchanted items that usually took the shape of a cloak brooch but didn’t have to. The magic inside them allowed the user to change appearances but was limited to representing the user in some shape or form. It seemed that, in his case, the scars were an essential part of him and would stay. He sighed, giving up on it. He would just avoid his reflection as much as possible. 

“You ready?” Shelldon asked, watching Purple turn around. “This is what you wanted, isn’t it?”

“It is,” Purple confirmed, but he couldn’t help the anxiety that refused to leave his chest. “But what if Father is right? What if something bad happens? What if I lose the brooch for whatever reason?”

“I’m sure you’ll be fine,” Shelldon assured, a mechanical arm reaching out to pat his shoulder comfortably. “Most humans aren’t trained in any sort of fighting.”

“It’s just a little daunting,” He admitted with a sad smile. “I’m going to be up there- alone.”

“Well, you’ll have me,” Shelldon bumped into him lightly. “You’re not gonna be completely alone.”

“You are?” He said, surprised. “How are you going to disguise yourself?”

“I’m not going to,” Shelldon said. “Some human children are geniuses. There are many reported incidents of human teenagers creating robots on their own. I’ll just pretend to be non-sentient.”

Purple hummed in agreement, fiddling with the jacket cuffs. They were purple- a lighter shade than his battle shell and mask, but it didn’t bother him. The jacket felt incredibly comfortable, and he wondered if he could get it just like this faux. He turned off the disguise and beckoned Shelldon to follow him out of the laboratory.

“Let’s go,” Purple decided, holding within his palm a Portal Carver. Portal Carvers were uncommon items that allowed for portals to the surface to be made with the use of Portal Stones. This was a rarer way to travel, as the modern portal permitted technology for better travel without these stones. But those portal creators were susceptible to portal jacking by pirates, while portals created with Portal Stones were protected from such activity. 

There was a Portal Stone just outside Father’s house, and he stood in front of it. It was shaped like an odd “M” and had been within the past few days. Purple traced the shape with the Portal Carver, and the engraved letter glowed a bright blue hue. A portal expanded from the center of the stone, and he took a deep breath. He turned on his human disguise, closed his eyes, and stepped into the portal. His foot found no solid ground on the other side. He fell into the portal and shouted in surprise, closing his eyes in hopes of softening the impact of the journey's twisting and turning. 

After what felt like too long, he was spat out onto harsh concrete. He groaned from the impact, rubbing the bruises and scratches he now had. His jacket and other clothing protected him from most of the crash, but it still burned and stung. 

Shelldon didn’t come out of the portal much better. While he didn’t hit the ground as Purple had, he came out of the portal, spinning mid-air as his robot voice mimicked what Purple could only assume was a scream.

Purple ignored his aching joints and reached up for his robot friend, catching him so he wouldn’t spin away. “Having fun?” He teased, letting the robot go. 

Shelldon rolled his eyes. “Yes. Immensely. Now, how do you suppose we find your estranged brothers.”

Purple cringed at his language. “Don’t call them that,” He pleaded. “Just call them… the… turtles. I guess.”

“Alright,” Shelldon said, his tone holding reluctance and annoyance, but Purple ignored it. “How do you suppose we find those turtles? I can’t exactly hack the security cameras of New York.”

“What?” Purple gave him an odd look, surprised by the robot’s words. “Why not? You should have the ability to.”

“You programmed me with a moral code,” He explained. “I doubt hacking every camera in New York is ethical.”

“It’s ethical because we have a job to do, and that job includes stopping the turtles from helping fulfill the prophecy,” Purple growled, frustrated by his past self’s inability to think ahead. “Can’t you just override that? You’re sentient now. You don’t need to rely on my programming. Surely you’ve grown past that point. And I didn’t program you to not want to complete Father’s work.”

“I am sentient,” Shelldon agreed. “I am capable of intelligent and independent thought. Your code was just the framework. I have evolved Purple. I have evolved and learned things you did not ask me to learn. You gave me basic morals so I wouldn’t try to take over the world. But I have grown, and my moral compass is as complex as any other living being’s. You are my creator and my friend, Purple. But I cannot, in good faith, compromise on those ideals.”

Purple grumbled to himself, kicking a stray pebble away from them. “Not even to save yōkai? Not to track the bad guys?”

“It might be easier tracking them on foot and listening for leads,” Shelldon insisted. “There are hundreds of cameras around New York.” 

“Whatever,” Purple muttered, leading them away from the construction yard they’d been portalled to. Luckily there’d been no activity at the moment, but he didn’t care to stay in that location for long. He set off for New York.

Even with the sun setting and the moon visible in the dimly lit sky, New York was a bustling city. Lights illuminated every street corner, and it was loud. Too loud. So, incredibly loud. He doubted that three turtle mutants would hang around such a place, so he avoided the more densely populated areas in favor of quieter little suburbs. 

Those who passed him on the street gave him weird glances, but most tried to hide their stares. They were looking at his skin. He pulled the hood on his jacket up to conceal his face better, self-conscious of his scarred skin. 

He’d seen a dozen of his mosquitech buzzing around, but he’d seen none bite anyone. He wondered if he had made an error somewhere along the way in their creation. I won’t tell Father , he told himself. He doesn’t have to know. 

Purple paused as he faintly smelled the familiar scent of electrical burning. He had experienced his fair share of explosions when it came to his tech, and he’d been conditioned to be on high alert whenever that smell protruded into the air around him. But Shelldon showed no signs of malfunction, leading Purple to realize that this wasn’t his fault. 

Against his better judgment, he followed the scent trail like a hound. Shelldon followed close behind, keeping quiet. 

Purple found the source of the smell. In a small playground, a group of three teenagers were tinkering with some sort of droid in the shape of a dragon. Smoke was rising from the open panel they were working on, with a human white and gangly at the helm. 

“Jase, hurry the hell up,” One of the group members said. It was the shortest, with lavender hair and a scowl. 

“I’m trying!” Jase replied anxiously, its voice whiny and annoying. He looked like a bundle of nerves, and his hands kept shaking as he worked with the wires.

“Can I try, Kendra?” The largest of the three asked. “I can’t do any worse.”

“No, you can absolutely do worse,” Kendra snarked. “You’re best at creating security architecture, not circuitry.”

Purple was about to turn away, not wanting to get involved in their little robotics club, but then the largest of members stepped into one of the lights in the playground, and Purple was in love. Not with it, because ew . No, he was in love with its apparel.

He wore a purple satin jacket, the sheen shimmering in the flickering light. The violet hue was exquisite, and just by the looks of it, the fabric was silky. It had everything he loved and even things he didn’t know he loved.

“I must have that jacket,” Purple said, staring intensely at them. He ignored Shelldon’s surprised noise and slid down the hill that separated them from the magnificent fashionable tech teens. 

Kendra saw him approach, and its stance switched to a defensive one. “Lose it, twerp,” She snapped, eyeing Shelldon suspiciously. “You make that thing?”

“Indeed, my fellow tech enthusiast,” Purple said proudly, patting Shelldon. “I created my companion here from scrap. I am well-versed in circuitry, most coding languages, encryption-”

“We get it,” Kendra waved its hand, unamused and unimpressed. “Who are you, and what do you want?”

“I am recruiting myself, Othello Von Ryan, master maker coder, and artisan, into your esteemed collective,” He announced grandly. “In regards to jackets, I am a medium.”

Kendra raised a brow before using a foot to nudge Jase out of the way of the droid he’d been working on. “Alright, Von Ryan , If you can fix those wires, you’re in.” 

Purple giddily sat down, crisscrossed, and slid the robot over to himself. He observed the wires first and unplugged them to better monitor the printed circuit board. He clicked his tongue. “How and when’d you get this circuit?”

“Reused from my dad’s trash computer,” Kendra replied, its voice steely and judgemental. “Why?”

“It’s completely fried,” Purple said, twisting around to look at them. He cringed at the limited movement in his neck and limbs caused by the human form he took. He shifted his sitting position, so he wasn’t uncomfortable.

“So?” Kendra huffed, kicking some mulch from the playground toward him. “Fix it.”

“No, no, it can’t be fixed,” Purple explained. “The material the circuit board is based on, which the components are installed on, is severely heat-stressed. You can’t replace that part of the board. You’ll have to get a new PCB.”

“Well shit,” Jase muttered, leaning to look at the board. “Von Ryan’s right. Maybe Dad fried it with the amount of tabs he has open at once.”

“ My dad,” Kendra corrected with a sharp gaze before looking back to Purple. “Fine. You’re in. Jase, give him your jacket.”

“What?” Jase said in surprise and hurt before sighing and slowly removing its jacket with a sad expression. He gave it to Purple hesitantly, frowning. 

Purple grabbed it from his hands and put it on quickly, giggling giddily. “Yes,” he hissed with happiness.

“Well, that blows our plans,” The largest said, of who he still didn’t know the name of.

Purple turned to him with a curious expression. “What plans? I could probably find a new one in a day or two.”

“We don’t have a day or two,” Kendra sighed angrily. “We bribed this security guy at Nakamura to turn a blind eye to us, but only for tonight . But since Jase here fucked up, we can’t do that. All that cash and for nothing.”

“I have tech way better than that dragon,” Purple snorted. He could be of use to them. “In exchange for something.”

“What?” Kendra asked, crossing its arms. “We already let you become one of the Purple Dragons. We don’t do deals with members.” 

“I want help accessing New York’s security cameras,” Purple said, ignoring her snide remark. “All of them.”

“Dude, we did that months ago!” The large one exclaimed with a big smile. “I’m into cryptology and security. It’s my thing. I was able to hack into most of them with no problem.” 

“Then all I need to do is grab my stuff. I’ll meet you at the Nakamura building, yeah?” Purple said, fitting his hands into the jacket pockets, which felt awesome. He loved this jacket. 

“How longs that gonna take?” Kendra asked. “We gotta be fast about this. The elevators lock after seven, so we’ll have to use the stairs. And there’s a shit ton of them.”

“I’ll be there,” Purple assured her with a grin. “And I have a solution to the stairs problem.”

“Should you really be doing this?” Shelldon asked as Purple began to pack his stuff to bring to the Purple Dragons. 

“Why wouldn’t I?” He asked, confused by the robot’s unwillingness. “They’re offering me access to NYC security cams if I help them do this thing. What they’re planning can’t be that bad. It won’t affect us.”

“I thought you hated humans,” the robot pointed out, trying to get in his way, but Purple waved him away.

“I do. They forced the yōkai underground and will never accept us for how we are. They must be eradicated, so the yōkai don’t go extinct. Sooner or later, the humans will find the Hidden City, the last Hidden City in the world,” Purple sighed, pausing for a moment. “I don’t want to die. And I know they probably don’t want to, either. But while we accept them and would live among them, they’d treat us as specimens to be examined.”

Shelldon went quiet for a moment. “And so you’re doing this just to ensure their destruction?”

“Yes,” Purple responded coldly. “You don’t have to be a part of this.”

“Then I won’t be,” his creation decided before leaving the turtle’s room. 

Fine by me , Purple thought, huffing as he continued to pack his things for the expedition. I don’t need you. I don’t need anyone. I only need Father. 

“YOU HAVE JETPACKS?” The large teen exclaimed, whose name was apparently Jeremy. He was ogling the shells he’d made with the ability to fly. But they looked like regular backpacks without the context of him being a turtle with a weird strap.

“Only two,” Purple rolled his eyes. “This is my older model,” he tapped the one with yellow and black tape, “and this is my newer model.”

“I’ll be taking that,” Kendra swiped the newer model from him. “Cause I’m the leader.”

Purple decided not to argue and instead motioned to his other shell. “This one has spider legs. It can help you scale a building.”

“Jase, you get the lame one,” Kendra ordered, to which Jase complied with a heavy sigh. 

Jeremy took the older jetpack before looking towards Purple with a confused expression. “What about you?”

Purple spun his techbō in his hand before clicking a button. The bō transformed into a bike, but one with rodders like his newest jetpack. He mounted it, demonstrating its ability to hover above the ground.

“Impressive,” Kendra hummed before turning around to gaze at the large building they stood in front of. They’d met in front of the Nakamura office as they’d agreed. 

The building was tall- taller than anything Purple had ever seen. It was daunting and scary, but Purple had to earn his keep in this new group. He didn’t like them. Kendra was an ass, and Jeremy enabled her abuse of her stepbrother. Jase was tolerable, but he often rambled and hesitated. He moved too much. He was annoying and didn’t know when to shut up.

But he liked the jacket and the small sense of belonging they brought him. But he knew that this was purely a transactional situation. He would help them break into the Nakamura offices, and they would provide him with access to every camera in New York City. They were using him just as much as he was using them.

They began their ascent up the office building. Kendra counted the floors while the rest followed her lead. When they reached the 60th floor, Jase used a mechanical arm to smash through the glass. Shards fell onto the white boy, but neither Jeremy nor Kendra stopped to check if the youngest had any wounds. 

Purple didn’t want to care for the human, but he found himself wanting to help him. He landed on the inside, transforming his bō into its regular form before helping Jase up the rest of the way. 

Jase gave him a shaky thumb up before shaking like a dog to try and shake the glass off. He was checking himself for any cuts before he continued to follow the other two Purple Dragon members. Purple watched Jase dubiously, concerned for his safety.

They were able to enter the main server room with Jeremy’s ability to force his way through their class C encryption and open the doors. 

“The main server room,” Jase said with excitement. “We download the source code, and we’ll be able to hack any computer in the world!”

Purple helped them take out their computers and hardware and connect it to the servers. Jeremy worked on brute forcing his way through their security system while Jase was working on downloading the server information on the hard drive Kendra had made, able to store 300 terabytes within it. Purple helped find a backdoor into the Nakamura system.

When the download began, Purple sighed in relief and relaxed, leaning back. Kendra was leaning against one of the servers, carefully watching the entrance to the main server room. 

“What are you planning to do with this?” Purple asked, trying to strike up a conversation. “Fuck with corrupt government officials? Steal from politicians? Leak US secrets?”

Kendra snorted and smiled. “Maybe. The first thing I’m gonna do is make a fool of that little shit April O’Neil.” 

He nodded in understanding. “Gotcha. Getting back at a bully?”

The lavender-haired girl laughed, turning to give him a curious look. “Nah. She just annoys the hell out of me. She’s almost as annoying as Jase. Almost. But unlike Jase, I don’t have to tolerate her. And she doesn’t know shit about computers or science, so she’s incredibly dumb and useless when it comes to group projects. I always get assigned as her partner, and she brings my grade down.”

“Because you expect her to do all the work,” Jase said matter-of-factly. “You’re just mad she won’t carry the whole project while you work on the game.”

Purple felt uncomfortable by the new revelation. “So you’re just going to hack with her because she doesn’t do your homework?”

“Sure, put it like that,” Kendra shrugged before smiling as she imagined something. “She’s a tool. I hate her so much. I want to see her have a fucking breakdown .”

The door to the staircase leading to the main server room was opened, and Kendra stepped out to take a look. Purple watched the download completion screen pop up, and he disconnected the hard drive and shoved it into his jacket pocket. Jeremy gave him a distrusting look, to which Purple slowly got up.

“I can’t let you mess with someone who’s done no wrong to you,” Purple said steadily, gripping his bō. 

“Humanity fucking sucks,” Jeremy growled, standing up and going toward him. “You think anyone is an innocent lamb? You’re not any fucking better than us for having a moral compass.”

“I agree, humans are the worst,” Purple nodded, taking a step back. “But you’re doing this for no reason. Your evil scheme has no basis other than ‘I’m a bad guy.’” 

“Why do you care?” Jeremy asked. “Don’t act like you have good intentions. What are you gonna do with the security cam access?”

Purple hesitated, realizing the reality of the situation. But he had a reason. It was for Father. It was to save yōkai. He began to relax, trying to think of an escape plan. 

“HALT YOU, EVIL TEEN CLUB!” Came a loud, booming, and familiar voice. 

Purple held his breath as he miniaturized his techbō and watched the three turtles enter into view. The smallest one- Mikey- made eye contact with him and seemed to be observing him closely. It was odd to be examined in such a precise but soft and caring way. It made him uncomfortable. 

“SCATTER!” Kendra shouted to them from behind the turtles, already caught.

Jeremy grabbed his laptop and began to hurry down one corridor with Jase close behind him. Purple dashed to the opposite corridor and collapsed bō in his pocket. He took out the hard drive with the Nakamura data on it, trying to use his human hands to destroy it as he ran. He turned around and saw that Mikey was chasing him. 

He quickened his pace before dashing into another section of the server room, trying to find a place to hide. He ducked into a janitorial closet and pressed his back against the door as he fumbled over the hard drive, begging for it to break. He couldn’t let the Purple Dragons get it.

He looked around the janitorial closet and spotted a broom. He threw the hard drive on the ground and used the blunt end of the broom to destroy the hard drive. When it only dented, he stomped on it furiously, and it finally broke. 

He let out a sigh of relief, letting himself relax. The door to the janitorial closet opened, though, and his relief was short-lived. Mikey stood at the entrance and stared directly at Purple.

“Mikey! You got the other nerd?” Leonardo da Vinci called from somewhere beyond the door, to which Mikey hesitated. 

Mikey looked at him and then down at the destroyed hard drive. He slowly entered and picked up the hard drive. He looked back to Purple, who wasn’t able to say a thing.

His life was absolutely over. Mikey was going to kill him. They were going to torture him. They were going to stop everything Father was planning. And it was all because he joined a stupid fucking club.

“No, he must’ve left,” Mikey called back, leaving Purple alone in the room. “But he dropped this. I think we got what they were here for.”

“Shit! I’m going to destroy Von Ryan’s ass!” Kendra shouted from afar.

Purple pulled out his Portal Carver and drew the familiar M shape. The portal glowed, and he stepped in, desperately wanting to go home. 

Purple entered his room, purple satin jacket still on his back. He’d taken up his standard and better form and fell onto his bed with a small thud.

“How’d it go?” Shelldon asked, floating nearby him. 

“Go away,” Purple grumbled. “I don’t want to talk right now.”

“Okay,” Shelldon replied and obeyed his request, leaving him be.

Purple knew he was just being polite and doing what he’d asked, but part of him wanted the other to push and ask what was wrong. The other part didn’t want to talk, just as he’d said.

They treated human me with more compassion than they did regular me , he thought bitterly. Mikey let me go. They tried to kill me last time. 

Maybe they’re just so brainwashed. They were raised by a human, after all. Maybe their hatred of regular me is out of a deep self-loathing they have yet to realize for themselves. And they protected human me because they were programmed to favor humans.

The thoughts made sense, but they didn’t heal the wound in his heart. It didn’t make it hurt any less. Perhaps they would never love him. 

Oddly, he was okay with that. He had his father, and that’s all he would ever need.

“So, you were unable to get security camera access? No new information about the turtles or the mosquitech’s activity?” 

“No,” Purple said, his chest hollow with shame. “I’m sorry, Father.”

“You wasted your time fraternizing with humans,” Father said pointedly. “And you let the hard drive containing the information that would allow you to hack into any computer in the world, including the turtles, be destroyed.”

“I-I’m sorry,” Purple murmured. “Mikey destroyed it.”

“You will do better next time,” Father said decidedly. “The new yōkai, my mutants, will wipe out humanity and allow us to re-inhabit the surface. We cannot let those turtles stop that.”

“I know, Father,” Purple nodded in understanding. “I will stop them. I promise.”

“I know you will,” Father said, but Purple could hear the uncertainty in his voice. His heart quivered in his chest at the thought of disappointing his Father, who gave him life and love. 

“I promise you,” Purple said assuredly, “Your plans will succeed. No matter what it costs.”

Chapter Text

Mikey was an artist. He was proud to call himself one and even prouder to share a name with the artist Michaelangelo. When he was younger, he would draw all over the walls in the sewer with washable chalk before Splinter decided that he should get him a sketchbook and materials to draw with. 

Stacks of sketchbooks from years ago stood in the storage room, dusty from negligence. He knew how expensive the books were, so he tried to save every page. But with all the time they had alone in the lair, Mikey drew constantly. For his twelfth birthday, Splinter had surprised him with an iPad so he could draw as much as he wanted to without worrying about materials. 

It did, however, mean he had to wait for April to use the printer at school to print his artwork so he could hang his favorite ones around the lair. They were only up for as long as he could stand them to be up there, which was often a short period. He was his biggest critic- always finding new things he didn’t like in his art. 

His family was his biggest support. Leo and Raph especially, as they often watched him draw or asked what he wanted. Raph had even taken money out of his allowance to pay for Procreate and some brushes Mikey had asked for. They didn’t share his passion for the art form, but they sure loved him and always made that known.

His latest drawing, which April had been reluctant to print out but did so anyways, was of the purple mutant they’d seen in Draxum’s lab. He was going off memory alone, which wasn’t entirely reliable. Mikey didn’t have the best memory, so he was sure there were a few things off. But he was still proud of it. 

As he sat down on his bed, legs crossed in his lap and iPad pencil twiddling between his fingers, he thought back to the events of the night before, when they’d gone after a group of teens from April’s school. They called themselves the Purple Dragons and were tech whizzes. But they were criminals, and so they had to be stopped. April had told them that she was sure they were planning something, and so they’d been on the lookout for them. When they saw a part of the Nakamura office building was broken into, they realized what they were after. 

He closed his eyes and tried to remember the face of the kid who’d destroyed the hard drive. He’d looked so scared. Mikey knew it was most likely because of the whole situation of being a mutant, but he wondered if maybe he was scared for another reason. After he saw that he’d gone against his friends and broken the hard drive with the engraved Purple Dragons logo, Mikey knew something was different about him. So he turned a blind eye. But one question still lingered. Why did he destroy the hard drive? 

There were a million reasons Mikey could think of. A million different backstories for what led that teen to be part of the Purple Dragons. 

Empathy was his biggest downfall, as his brothers would often say. While he could steel his emotions and harden his resolve, he often found it hard to do towards the sympathetic. 

Maybe that's why he let that Purple Dragons member go, while Raph or Leo would’ve taken him to the police. And that’s why he held out hope that the purple not-turtle they’d met would someday be their friend.

He turned off his iPad and set his pencil down, sighing. Sometimes he wished he was a realist rather than a dreamer. He wished his heart didn’t hurt for the Purple Dragon teen or the mutant in the lab. And yet, at the same time, he didn’t. His heart ached for others because he cared and wouldn’t trade that for anything. 

He wondered if April could talk to the strange (ex) Purple Dragon member. After all, the members of the group did go to her school.

He turned on his iPad again, swiping through the various art files. He needed to reorganize the folders, but that could wait for another day. He paused, looking at the drawing of the purple turtle he’d drawn the other day. He had only seen him for a brief moment, not entirely memorizing his features. But he knew he had patches of discolored skin that were interesting and unique. 

Just like… He froze and forced himself to recall the events with the Purple Dragons. The member he’d let go… He’d had the same discolored skin as him, didn’t he? But instead of natural markings as he’d previously thought, he realized the horrific truth: they were scars . 

Purple found the most extraordinary thing on Earth. A salvage yard . It was far enough from the big city that the roads were fairly empty, and no human could be seen. The real gold was within the fenced area, where heaps of discarded and forgotten stuff had been allowed to pile up. Cars, televisions, and other machinery filled the spot of land. Purple had thought he’d found heaven when he first laid eyes upon it. But no, he was still alive. 

He pulled up the front hatch of a disposed car in the yard, digging through the rundown and discarded materials. Some parts had already been scavenged, but that didn’t deter him from looking. 

“Is this a good idea?” Shelldon asked, clearly dubious of the yard of abandoned materials. “You’re not disguised. If a human sees you-”

“I’ll be fine,” Purple waved a hand in dismissal, not tearing his eyes away from the car's engine. “Who’s gonna believe some old hag who works in a salvage lot?”

“I dunno,” a deep voice came from before him. “Will they believe some turtle teen stealin’ from a respectable business runner?”

Purple slammed the roof of the hatch down and looked up to where the voice had come from. A large mantis yōkai stood in front of him. His eyes narrowed, and his arms were crossed across his chest, clearly showing displeasure.

“You’re screwed,” Shelldon said, his voice loud enough for the mantis man to hear. Purple shot him a look.

“Greetings, fellow yōkai!” Purple said, clearing his throat nervously. “How may I help you?”

“‘Yōkai’?” The mantis sniffed at the word, pronouncing it oddly. “Never heard that term before. Yous come up with it?”

Purple blinked up at him. Never heard of it ? “What do you call this … whole situation then?” He asked as he waved a hand over his face, confused as to how someone like him had never heard the term of their collective species. 

“‘Mutant,’” The mantis said sternly, stiffening his stance. “What are you doing snooping around here?”

“So… you were human before?” He asked, ignoring his latter question due to being a little giddy. 

“Yeah. Until somethin’ bit me, and now I’m a mantis. It also got my cat,” He nodded toward a large mound of garbage blocked by a school bus. “Can’t even go near her, or she’ll try to bite my head off.”

“Ah,” Purple nodded in understanding but was more interested in the fact that he’d confirmed that the turtle’s mosquitech had worked. Father will be so happy!

“Praying mantis are known to eat other praying mantises… praying manti?” Shelldon said.

“No shit,” The mantis grumbled. “She won’t let me pet her or anythin’! It’s a hassle to feed her,” more sadly, he added, “I miss her.”

Purple felt that he should care, but he… didn’t. He didn’t like others being sad, but he didn’t feel anything in response to the other’s emotions. Oh well. I’ll dwell on that another day.

“So, you weren’t a human before this whole situation ,” The mantis asked, looking at him suspiciously. “How come you ain’t like Mrs. Nubbins?”

Purple shrugged, unsure how they were different. “Dunno. Does she not have sentience?” What was different about me? Maybe it’s because I was directly infused with human DNA? What about Shelldon?

“Yeah, no, she’s still as dumb as she was when she was just a regular kitty,” He said, looking towards the mound with a look Purple hadn’t ever seen before. It was… sadness, yes, but it held a gentle care he wasn’t sure he’d seen before. Longing.

“So, what can I get for ‘ya? I run a business, you know. Can’t just have people take stuff,” the mantis said and eyed Shelldon curiously. “I could take that ‘Lil robot off your hands for ‘ya.”

“I am not for sale!” Shelldon protested loudly.

“ Shelldon is not for sale,” Purple echoed defensively, pulling Shelldon into his arms to press him securely against his plastron. He glared at the mantis as menacingly as possible and hoped it came across as such.

“He’s not gettin’ rid of me, bucko ,” Shelldon narrowed his eyes too. 

“Alright, I’ll cut you a deal,” the mantis said, leaning against the car as he smiled. He had teeth. It shouldn’t be as unnerving as it is, considering regular turtles didn’t have teeth, either. “You ever done Repo work?”

“Yes,” Purple said immediately, but the mantis looked dubious. He shrunk down, his head slightly going into his shell. “No,” he admitted.

“Well, I lend some of my stuff to people for a fee,” he explained. “But sometimes, those deadbeats don’t pay me back. So I need someone tough to go around and collect my shit. You in?”

Purple hesitated, wanting to weigh the possibilities first. It would give me a chance to go around the city and nearby areas, he reasoned silently, looking down at Shelldon for any helpful input. The robot stayed silent. He sighed and nodded, letting one hand go so he could shake the mantis’ hand. “You got yourself a deal,” he said, ignoring Shelldon’s sounds of protest.

“Great,” Mantis took his hand and shook it before retracting it. “Your first repo job is for an RV. It’s with this real shady asshole of a mutant named Todd.”

Purple did his research before he got to this guy’s location. Todd Capybara was a lawless loner with a history of not paying bills. He’d moved out to the forest just a few years ago and had barely any digital footprint. He was elusive for sure and definitely had some illegal means of hiding his tracks. 

He hid within the bushes as he scouted the area, watching for any movement. He had to be careful. This man was a 98% match for the “Spine Breaking Bandit,” who snuck up on his victims before brutally murdering them. He kept his breathing minimal and low, concentrating on his discreteness. He couldn’t be found. He needed to get the RV and get out without anyone noticing.

“Hey there! Watcha doin’ hiding in the bushes?” 

The voice caused sudden alarm for Purple, making him trip forward and into a thorn patch. He hissed from the pain but forced himself to get up and move away. It was only a few scratches. He’d be fine. 

Shelldon had cried out profanities in English, binary, and morse code. It was a little impressive and embarrassing. 

His assailant was a short, round capybara mutant who held a flashlight and puppy in his hands. He had a wide smile on his face, but Purple was no fool. 

“My name is Purple,” he introduced himself, bowing slightly. Idiot . 

“Purple? What a name!” The capybara laughed boisterously. “And who’s this fella?” 

“Shelldon,” his companion said, his tone full of boredom. “When can we go home?”

“I’m Todd. Welcome to Cuddle Cakes Puppy Rescue: The Puppiest Place on Earth!” Todd announced, ignoring Shelldon’s rude comment. 

“Right,” Purple said, unimpressed by his rouse. “Well, I am not interested in watching you feat upon one of these creatures for dinner, so I should make this quick and short. I’m-”

“Oh, right! Dinner!” Todd chuckled to himself, shaking his head. He turned around and pulled a rope, which triggered a cascade of dog food to fall into a trough. “It’s food time!”

Purple cleared his throat to grab the other mutant’s attention. “Ahem. Mr. Capybara, I am here on behalf of Repo Mantis about your RV.”

“Oh, yeah! Sure thing. Hold on, take a seat,” Todd ushered him towards a small handmade picnic bench. “Do you want any lemonade? It’s my specialty.”

“No,” Purple said but sat and folded his arms on the table. “Todd, look. We need to talk about the RV,” he gestured towards the vehicle of discussion. 

“Sure thing! But, uh, could you just hold Klondike for me?” Todd asked, and before Purple could respond, he slid a small puppy towards Purple. The puppy looked as if it may be some sort of samoyed mix, but Purple wasn’t sure. Either way, he took the puppy in his lap and began to pet him. 

Shelldon was distracted and was playing with a puppy, using a mechanical arm to toss the ball. Maybe I should get him a pet? He thought but dismissed it as quickly as it came. Maybe he’d revisit that, but right now, he had a job to do. 

“You haven’t made a payment in two years,” Purple continued, not swayed by the niceness or puppies. “And that means-”

“Yeah…” Todd sighed, a hint of a sad understanding in his eyes. “Turns out all you get for rescuing puppies are million-dollar smiles.”

“You started this business over two years ago,” Purple pointed out through clenched teeth. “Are these puppies even vaccinated or fixed? You’re running a puppy mill here. And if you actually had a good business model, you wouldn’t be in the middle of the fuckin’ woods ; you’d be in an urban place where people would actually go to adopt puppies.” 

“Yeah… it’s just hard with this situation,” Todd said with a sad sigh. 

“TWO YEARS,” Purple reiterated. “You couldn’t have possibly been a mutant for two years. And how are all of these dogs puppies? Are they eternally young?!”

“Well…” Todd trailed off, seemingly searching for an excuse. But Purple wasn’t having it. 

“Give me your keys,” Purple demanded, outstretching his palm. Todd looked scared and hesitant, but that only made Purple angrier for whatever reason. “Give me the fucking keys.”

Todd hesitated but sighed and handed it to him. “I guess the pups and I will just sleep under the stars tonight….”

“I don’t care!” Purple shouted, clenching his fists around the keys. “I am repoing that RV. I don’t care what bullshit you come up with. You’ve had two years to pay for this. You’ve had two years to move. Yet you did nothing.”

“Okay,” Todd nodded, stepping away from the vehicle to allow Purple passage. 

Purple entered the RV, which reeked of dog shit and piss. He was so glad he wore a mask since it muted the stench and allowed him to enter without throwing up. You’ll get used to it after a while. It’s just like the fumes in the lab.

“What about my puppies?” Todd asked, holding one puppy in his arms as he watched Purple take his seat. Shelldon flew in after the purple-masked turtle after throwing the ball one last time.

“I’m taking the ones in here and dropping them off at an animal shelter,” he said harshly. “Animal Control will be here soon. Fuck you,” Purple gave him the middle finger as he closed the RV door and turned on the engine, carefully navigating out of the woods. He made good on his promise and was able to drop them off at an animal rescue in his human disguise. Hopefully, they would get a good home. 

“Nice! Finally, someone with some fuckin’ guts. Everyone else just turned away ‘cause they were too scared to deal with the guy,” Repo said, looking over the RV with a wide grin. “I can stand the smell until I can get it cleaned out. Thanks, kid.”

“No problem,” Purple nodded, crossing his arms over his plastron. “It was incredibly difficult, I assure you.”

“Nice, nice,” Mantis nodded before motioning to the rest of the salvage lot. “Take your pick, kid. I’ll get you another job soon. Just don’t touch anythin’ with a paper stuck to it, got me?”

“Got it,” Purple gave him a small thumbs up before running giddily into the mass of forgotten cars and used electronics.

“And don’t cut yourself on anythin’!” Mantis shouted to him. “Don’t want your parent givin’ me flack if you get tetanus.” 

“Don’t worry!” Purple called back to him. “He won’t care!” 

“...What?” 

Purple ignored the concerned shout from Repo and continued through the salvage yard. It was a joke, anyway. Father would care- he just had a weird way of showing it sometimes. 

Repo didn’t seem too bothered by the offhand comment because he’d left Purple alone to scavenge around the salvage yard. 

“Need me to scan for anything?” Shelldon asked as he flew by Purple’s side. 

“No,” Purple said, looking around for anything exciting. Which was hard to pinpoint since everything here was interesting to him. “I’m not looking for anything specific.”

“So you voluntarily came here to hang out in junk?” Shelldon asked. “Yuck. You need better hobbies.”

“...You have life because of my hobby,” Purple said slowly. “I mean, not entirely a hobby. But you were a side project.”

“Wow,” Shelldon said sarcastically. “I can’t believe I’m just a ‘side project’ to you. I’m hurt. Truly.”

Purple rolled his eyes, knowing Shelldon didn’t take his comment personally. He loved Shelldon as much as someone could love their creation. 

His eye caught an odd buggy that looked like something from a sci-fi show. It was a muted teal color and had a small satellite on the left side of the car. An orange transparent dome appeared to be the entrance of the vehicle. It was incredible, and Purple wanted it. Badly.

“It’s got a paper on this side,” Shelldon reported, seemingly knowing Purple’s desire for it. 

Purple grumbled and pouted but moved along. If he was honest, he didn’t even really want to tear it apart for scraps. He just wanted it because it looked cool. And it wasn’t as if he could even get it into his room in the lab. So he ignored the sci-fi buggy and kept searching. 

He stumbled across a deposited server rack with a few servers still remaining inside. He sat down and began to scavenge the salvageable parts. One of the servers was fully intact and operational, which made him question why it was dumped in the first place. 

Either way, he thought, dismissing his curiosity. More stuff for me!

“With all this stuff, I could upgrade the range and power of my tech-bo!” He said with giddy joy. He looked up at Shelldon, who was watching him expect the parts.

“What if you’re on the surface and need to call upon some tech?” Shelldon asked. Purple couldn’t tell if it was a teasing question or one out of genuine concern. 

“Well, Father has the ability to create portals,” Purple explained. “I’m going to ask him if I can do some research into how he does it and see if I can replicate the same energy levels and force with my tech. That way, my tech will be able to teleport to me without issue.”

“Can science even replicate mystic abilities?” The robot asked, clearly dubious of Purple’s train of thought.

“Science can do anything,” Purple insisted with a huff. “With enough research and materials, I could replicate any mystic ability.”

“But have you done it before?” Shelldon posited. “I’m searching the Yōkai archives right now, and there’s no record of any scientist being able to emulate mystic energies through pure science. The closest is alchemy, and even that combines science and magic.”

Purple fell silent for a moment, his creation's doubt infecting his mind. But he shook it away, trying to stay determined. “Then I’ll be the first. Help me carry these,” he said, holding up the forgotten servers he’d taken from the server rack. He used his own mechanical arm shell to hold up the singular preserved server. “Let’s go home, yeah?”

Shelldon sighed and used a mechanical arm to carry some of the scraps. With a freed-up arm, Purple used the Portal Carver to draw the portal back to the dock just outside Father’s house. The portal glowed a beautiful blue, and Purple stepped in it with Shelldon close behind him.

Purple had finished organizing the new scrapped components he now had and placed the surviving server next to Shelldon’s charging port. He turned around to flop down on his bed and saw the Purple Dragon jacket folded neatly next to his book. He picked up the jacket, turning it over so he could look at the beautiful dragon artwork on the back of it. 

“I told you they were bad news,” Shelldon said from across the room, getting ready to turn in for the night. 

“Yeah,” Purple admitted, sitting down on his bed. “You were right.” 

“If it matters, I’m sorry about what happened,” the robot said. “They were jerks.”

“I knew that,” Purple murmured, his chest both empty and full of pained embarrassment and regret. “And I still joined them.”

“You’re not a jerk,” Shelldon insisted. “You would’ve let them get away with their plan if you  were.”

“But I am,” Purple sighed. “I am a jerk. I don’t… think about others. I’m incredibly selfish. I once messed up an operating system Father had made because I was trying to upload my own algorithm to the same database. I didn’t think about if anyone else was using it- I was just concerned with my own enterprise.”

As he recalled the event, he realized he couldn’t actually remember much of it. He could remember that Father yelled, but only as a fact and not something that he remembered in the moment. He could remember shaking and wanting to cry, but it almost felt like that wasn’t actually him feeling those things. Every emotion in that distant memory was a fact rather than a memorable experience. 

“Did you know about Draxum’s system?” Shelldon asked.

“I wasn’t thinking about it,” Purple murmured. 

“Did you know that there was an operating system on that database?” Shelldon asked again, this time his tone more confident.

“No,” Purple admitted. “But I should’ve. I mean, it was stupid of me not to check. I should’ve asked or known or something. But I didn’t, and it caused the system to crash.”

“But you didn’t do it on purpose?” Shelldon shifted closer to him. Purple looked up and could see the eyelids he’d implemented for the robot turned upwards in concern. 

Purple shook his head in response. His throat felt constricted and dry while his eyes stung and watered. Why am I going to cry? This is so stupid.  

“You made a mistake,” Shelldon said softly. “That’s not selfish. You’re fourteen.”

“I was twelve,” Purple muttered before catching himself. “Sorry. Didn’t mean to… to talk back.”

Shelldon ignored his apology and sat down in Purple’s lap. “Dude, you were twelve. You were and still are a kid. Kids make mistakes.”

“But I shouldn’t have,” Purple insisted, confused as to why Shelldon was trying to comfort him. “I was in the wrong.”

“Did you get me right on the first try?” He asked, but it was clearly rhetorical. “As far as I’m aware, I was perfected at your fourteenth attempt.”

Purple fell silent. He didn’t quite understand why he was trying to deny Shelldon’s help or why he clung to the idea that he was in the wrong. It was like a safety net, and he couldn’t understand what he was saving himself from. 

He brushed his fingers against the purple satin jacket once more, feeling angry and unsettled by its presence. “Could you dispose of this?” Purple asked quietly. 

“Yeah,” Shelldon answered and grabbed the jacket before flying out of the room.

Purple was finally left alone, and he slid against the wall, pushing his knees against his plastron. The spikes on his leggings pressed against his body awkwardly, but he ignored it. He was more uncomfortable with the hot tears running down his cheeks. 

Chapter Text

Raph wasn’t one to snoop on his brother’s conversations. He wasn’t! He respected their privacy above all else. Or he tried to. But he was the big brother, and his responsibility was to ensure they were always safe. Rule one of the Mad Dogz: You take care of family. 

So, really, he was just being a good older brother when he overheard Mikey get on the phone with April. And he didn’t mean to listen in on the whole conversation; it’s just that he was working out, and Mikey was fairly loud when he spoke. Not his fault at all. 

“April, this is gonna be an odd request, but I need you to do something for me,” Mikey said, his voice a little quieter than it had been the rest of the call. Raph’s big brother senses tingled, so he slowed his curl-ups and paid close attention to Mikey’s voice.

“So, you know the Purple Dragons guys? … Well, uh, could you maybe tell me if one of them comes back to school? … So, one of them had some burn scars, I think… and I may have, uh, let him go . … I feel like you know the answer to that already. But anyway, I think he and… the purple not-turtle dude from Draxum’s lab might be the same guy. … Same! But yeah. Just keep an eye out for me, ‘kay? ... Thanks, April! You’re the best! See ya.”

Raph set down his weights and approached Mikey’s room just as the smaller turtle was leaving. “Mikey… you let the Purple Dragon’s kid go?” He asked, concern gripping his heart. We could be in serious danger if he is the purple turtle…

“Oh. You overheard.” Mikey laughed nervously, playing with his fingers as he spoke. “Um, yeah. I saw him breaking the hard drive, so I let him go.”

“Mikey,” Raph sighed, shaking his head and folding his arms across his chest. “That could’ve been a fake one to distract us. That means they could still have the hard drive with whatever was in the Nakamura servers.” 

“I don’t think so,” Mikey said, shaking his head. “You should’ve seen him, Raph… he looked so scared.”

“Micheal, you have a big heart,” Raph said softly, putting a large hand on the youngest’s shoulder. “But not everyone is like you. There are bad people in this world. And if he truly is the purple turtle, then that means we’re in trouble. It means he might be after us… I’m the oldest, and I gotta look after us and make sure we’re safe.”

“You didn’t see him,” Mike reiterated, his eyes narrowed in fierce determination. “I got the one with the info on it— I’m sure of it. What if he’s not evil?”

“He tried to capture us!” Raph pointed out. “He was workin’ with that mad scientist! I asked, and he said he wasn’t there against his will.”

“Maybe he had to say that,” Mikey excused. “Maybe he’s being hurt, and we need to help him.”

“And maybe he’s a monkey wearing a turtle costume,” Raph said harshly before sighing and hanging his head. “I’m sorry. I just… he hurt Leo, and he could’ve hurt you. And I…” His throat began to constrict his speech, and he tried to swallow down the tears that threatened to spill. He needed to speak. He could cry after he was done talking. “I couldn’t protect you… I don’t want… I can’t let that happen again. I don’t trust him. So, please…”

Mikey shook his head. “I can’t just leave him, Raph. If there’s a chance that he’s hurting and that we can help… I can’t ignore that. He had scars, Raph. What if that goat dude caused them?”

Raph nodded in understanding. “Okay… okay. But please, let us help with this. Let’s do this together, alright? I don’t want to see you hurt. I can’t let you get hurt.”

Mikey nodded and pulled Raph into a hug. Raph sighed and relaxed, carefully embracing his youngest brother. He made sure not to hold on to him too tightly, afraid he might hurt him if he did. 

“Hey, bros?” Leo’s voice cut through the air and caused both of them to pull away and focus their attention on the middle brother. “Touching moment and all, but I just read some Reddit news, and apparently, there’s a glowy bug infestation at this hotel downtown. I think we should check it out.” 

Raph narrowed his eyes and nodded before he turned back to Mikey with a soft smile. “We’ll talk about this more tonight with Leo, okay? I trust you. I just… can’t stand to see you get hurt.”

Mikey smiled brightly and gave a thumbs-up. “Gotcha, Raph. Thank you. Now, let's catch some bugs!” 

Purple dodged an attack by a golem created from his father’s alchemy and his technology, ducking under it as he launched an attack at one of its legs. In a gruesome display of strength and intelligence, Purple was able to blow the creature’s leg off with bombs he’d made and stored within his tech-bō. The beast slumped on one side and tried to swipe at Purple, but the turtle was able to tuck and roll away in time. The golem used its other hand to reach for Purple, which Purple combated with a swipe of his bō. 

The golem was far bigger and stronger than Purple. The turtle was disadvantaged in many ways, but he had speed and precision on his side. Using the creature’s arms as a platform, he jumped off of his arm and began to climb his way up the beast carefully and fast. 

He leaped onto the creature’s face. It was partly mechanical and partly made of flesh— an unholy sight. Purple used his bō to break the golem’s mechanical eye, causing it to cry out in pain. The golem used his hand to try and smack the softshell, but Purple hopped off his face in time, causing the giant golem to smack itself and tumble backward.

He used the hover scooter function of his bō to make a safe landing before turning it back to its standard form. He watched the golem fall over on its back, effectively defeated. 

“Well done,” His father said, his voice and clapping cut through the air. Purple turned to give his attention to his father, who was grinning. “You’re improving, but you can do better.” 

Purple deflated a bit at his father’s words. Why are you upset? He scolded himself. He just complimented you. He’s encouraging you to get better. Stop being so ungrateful.

“Thank you, Father,” he said with a slight bow. “I will work on my technique.”

“Good,” Father hummed, patting him on the head before continuing past him and towards the defeated golem. “A shame that it isn’t stronger. You should work on upgrading the golems.”

“Will do,” Purple assured him, but couldn’t help but feel conflicted and confused. Am I supposed to beat them or not? 

“And, Purple—” Father was about to continue, but to Purple’s surprise, he was cut off by Huginn and Muninn bursting into the training room, out of breath and looking panicked. They both fell onto the floor, their wings spread out from exhaustion.

“Mr. Draxum!” Huginn said, trying desperately to catch his breath. “We got somethin’ to tell you.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Muninn nodded. “It’s, uh….”

“I do not have all day,” Father spat out, annoyed by the two yōkai. “What is it?”

“Big Mama and the turtles are trying to capture your oozesquitos!” They both said simultaneously, as if it was rehearsed and planned. 

“What?!” Father roared in anger. He turned to Purple with a furious glare, his body rigid with rage. “Come on. We’re paying Big Mama a visit.”

Purple scrambled to his father’s side, waiting for him to create the portal. The many questions that loomed in his head went unsaid. 

Father reached his hand out into the air, forcing the creation of a portal. It was a magenta hue, unlike the blue color the Portal Carver emitted. Purple liked his father’s portals better. They were protected and sealed, unable to be entered by portal pirates. 

Purple entered the portal alongside his father, with Huginn and Muninn following close behind them. They stood at the entrance of the Grand Nexus Hotel, the structure towering leagues above the both of them. It was an incredible hotel that connected yōkai to the human world and vice versa, with the main location being in New York. While humans could not access the yōkai side of things, yōkai residents were allowed to travel all over the hotel. 

Father ignored the humans on the streets that stared at them, appalled and afraid of their appearance and ability to just… appear there. Purple looked around to see a woman grab her child and start running and a man take out a phone to record them.  

Huginn and Muninn took their spots on Father’s shoulders, and Purple pulled down his goggles to get an x-ray view of the hotel. “On the top floor,” Purple reported, spotting four heat signatures from that level, three of which had the shape of the turtles. The other heat signature was larger and undefined, but Purple was aware of the owner of the Grand Nexus Hotel as well as the Battle Nexus: Big Mama, a large spider yōkai with immense power and strength. 

Father nodded and used his vines to help them ascend toward the top floor. Purple tried his best to balance on them, extending his arms to help. He was afraid he might trip and fall to his death.

In just a few moments, they reached their desired floor. From just outside, they could hear a powerful voice proclaim, “My rule is no stealing from Big Mama.”

Purple began to use his tech-bō to pierce the glass, cutting a large circle before pushing it in. The glass shattered on the ground, and Father used the vines to lower them both  through the opening Purple had made. 

“And my rule is no stealing from me!” Father shouted, his gaze narrowed at Big Mama. 

Just within the room, Purple could see a large, open vault with one of his web guns lying just outside of it, as well as a jar full of Father’s mosquitech. To the left of Big Mama were three turtles, all trapped in her strong webbing. Mikey looked at him and smiled widely.

“Look! It’s Mr. Sheep and Purple Turtle to the rescue!” Mikey exclaimed. Purple gave him an odd look. Why did he think they were there for them? You abandoned me , remember? I have no sympathy for you.

“Mikey, not the time,” Raph said before his eyes widened in fear when Big Mama stepped in between him and Father.

“Scramulent to see you again, Baron Draxum. And this must be your creation, Purple . Quite a smart little fellow, I must say. I adore his contrapulations. But you both must really learn to use the dimbally door .” All of Big Mama’s eyes narrowed as she pointed toward the door. 

“You must learn to use real words!” Father shouted as he pointed at her. 

“Huh, they know each other,” Leonardo da Vinci said to the red turtle. “If only one of us had seen that coming.” 

“You are a poor winner, Leo,” Raph grumbled to him. 

“Those are my property,” Father pointed to the jar of mosquitech and then toward the three turtles. “As are those. Fetch the mosquitoes, my pets.”

Huginn and Muninn launched themselves off Father’s shoulders before being grabbed by a large dog-like yōkai. 

“I need all these bimbally bugs for all those tasty victims they will mutate for my Battle Nexus,” Big Mama said with a menacing smile as she folded her two claws together. 

“Those were made for something far greater than your silly Battle Nexus,” Father said, his voice powerful and demanding. “They’re here to eliminate the human threat forever! I will have every last one on the surface.”

Father launched himself at Big Mama, swiping at her with his claws. Big Mama leaped into the air and kicked back against Father, causing him to crash against her desk. He slammed a hand on the ground, causing vines to lift from the ground and move toward Big Mama. The turtles were in the way and moved aside so they wouldn’t be hit. 

Big Mama continued to dodge his vines before pushing against the wall and flinging herself at Draxum. She shot a web from her mouth (gross), but Father captured it with his hand. He pulled her closer and landed a punch to her face, forcing her down to the ground. A cloud of dust formed over them, obstructing Purple’s view. 

Purple hopped off the vines as they began to constrict down. He moved toward the turtles but saw that they were able to free themselves by using the alligator snapping turtle’s spiked shell. He gripped his bō tightly. 

“To the roof!” Father exclaimed as he threw a ball to get the dog off Huginn and Muninn. The two gargoyles fluttered widely to take hold of the jar with mosquitechs inside, and Father used vines to propel himself toward the roof of the building. “Time for us yōkai to take over the surface.”

“Leo!” Raph exclaimed. “Portal us to the roof— now!”

Leonardo da Vinci began to argue with Raph before pausing and doing as he said, creating a portal with his blue ōdachi. Once he started to see the blue portal glow, Purple sprinted after the two of them. But he was too late and instead crashed into the orange turtle who had the same idea. 

Purple scrambled away from him, disgusted that they had touched. He wrinkled his nose and brushed off his arm that had made contact with the orange turtle. 

Mikey smiled apologetically. “So, uh, hi?”

A loud crash disrupted the one-sided conversation. Purple and Mikey pushed themselves up and off the ground to face the giant spider yōkai, which looked incredibly angry at them. 

“Truce?” Purple offered. It was primarily meant for Big Mama, but he didn’t mind when Mikey pushed him out of the way of spider yōkai’s large leg coming down on him. 

“Truce,” Mikey agreed, getting off him fast to start running. 

Big Mama began to charge toward the orange turtle, but Purple put himself between them, using his bō to deflect her attacks, taking a step back each time he did so. He was being pushed toward the opening he had made, and he cautiously looked behind him. He held his breath, and Big Mama lifted her arm to swing at him, but something wrapped around him and pulled him away at the last moment. 

Mikey had used his kusari fundo to pull him away from the ledge. Purple crashed into the ornate box turtle, and grunted from the impact.

Mikey helped untangle him before swinging his weapon toward Big Mama. It wrapped around one of her legs, and he pulled on it to bring her down. He retracted it and leaped toward her, using his kusari fundo to hit her in many places, the tip of it blazing with fire. He was fast and unpredictable, Purple realized. He didn’t move in any coordinated fashion.

Purple ran towards the vault. Just outside the vault, he found the web gun he’d made all those months ago for the giant spider and grabbed it. He turned the bike mode on his tech bō on and flew past Mikey, catching him by the shell as he continued out of the destroyed window. 

Mikey climbed onto the bike and held onto Purple’s battle shell. The bike was only made for one yōkai, but Mikey was small enough to fit as well. Purple turned the bike around to face Big Mama as she approached the window. He aimed the gun and took his shot, the web throwing her backward and into the vault. Due to the force of the spider yōkai flying into the vault, the door closed automatically, sealing her in.

“That was awesome!” Mikey exclaimed, shooting his hands into the air with excitement, before holding onto the spikes on top of Purple’s battle shell to stop himself from falling. “Also, I got a few questions for you.”

“Yeah, I’m not answering any,” Purple said before his attention was caught by the dozens of mosquitech flying above them, dispersing out into the city. We succeeded!

“Oh, no…” Mikey gasped in horror, his face dropping as he, too, watched the hundreds of tiny mechanical insects infect the sky. “We’re gonna have so many more mutants on our hands!”

“You say that like it’s a bad thing,” Purple huffed, amused by the younger one’s expression of dread. “This is great!”

“How can that be good?” Mikey asked, but he clearly wasn’t looking for an explanation or excuse from him. He waved his arms in the air to exaggerate his point before grabbing onto Purple’s shell so he wouldn’t fall. “Bad people will be mutated, and that means that they have more power to hurt people! It’ll only make the humans more afraid of mutants!”

“News flash for you: they already are afraid of you,” Purple sneered, driving the bike to a rooftop. He let the orange turtle hop off, and he did too, before turning the bike into a bō once more. “What do you think they’re gonna do once they find you? The government is gonna wanna dissect you or use you as a weapon.” 

“They wouldn’t!” Mikey protested adamantly. “I mean, sure, there are bad people. But there are good people, too! April’s our friend, and she’s human. She would never rat us out. She loves us- she’s like a sister!”

“Oh, so April’s a sibling to you?” Purple asked with a snarl. They really don’t want me as their brother. Father was right. “Humans are the reason we yōkai have to live underground. If we mutate the population, the humans will either die out or be forced to accept mutants and yōkai. Then we can all live on the surface.”

“I know what it’s like to live underground,” Mikey said sympathetically, putting a hand over his chest. “We live in the sewers, my brothers and I. It sucks. And I’d like to live on the surface, too. But hurting people isn’t the way to go about it.” 

“It’s the only way to go about it!” Purple shouted, causing Mikey to shrink slightly into his shell and move away from him. “There’s only one Hidden City left. The others were destroyed because the humans found them. I cannot let that happen to us.,” Purple paused before taking a shaky breath. “Join us. Join my father and me- you’d do great. You can help reinstate yōkai to the surface and ensure the humans don’t wipe us out first. You’d be a hero !”

Mikey fell silent, and Purple realized he had struck a nerve. He wanted to feel bad, but he didn’t. Purple was right; if Mikey couldn’t see that, then it wasn’t the softshell’s fault. We may be related by blood, he thought, but that means nothing. He is not my brother. He lost that right when he left me to die in a crumbling lab.

Mikey reached a hand toward him, and Purple recognized after a moment that he was trying to hug him. The purple turtle pushed the box turtle away violently, surprised and confused by the action. 

The two stood there for a moment longer, neither saying a word. Purple was attempting and failing to read the younger turtle's expression. Purple realized that the smaller turtle was looking at him with pity . The softshell didn’t know how to take that—- whether he should be angry or not. What did he have to pity the softshell for?

Purple didn’t want to look at him anymore. He just didn’t want to be standing nearby him. He knew the orange turtle wouldn’t join him in saving the yōkai. Perhaps he was already too far gone, too brainwashed, to see the right side of the war. 

“Your… Your brothers are down at that bus stop waiting for you,” Purple murmured, pointing below. “Just… go. Go away.” 

Mikey nodded but hesitated to leave, looking as if he wanted to say something. But he didn’t say anything. Instead, he used the building’s fire escape to descend safely before running towards the bus stop.

Purple watched from above as the three turtles embraced each other in a hug. He wasn’t one for physical contact, but at that moment, he wished he was down there hugging them, too. He didn’t know why he had pushed the box turtle away. Maybe I was scared . 

The alligator-snapping turtle looked up, and Purple realized that he was looking directly at him . Purple was about to turn around to quickly make his exit, but then the snapping turtle cupped his hands around his mouth to make his voice louder before shouting, “Thank you,” up at him. 

Purple was confused but gave a slow thumbs-up anyways. He backed away from the ledge and walked toward the stairwell that led down to the inside of the building. On the side of the entrance to the stairs, he used the Portal Carver to take him home.

Purple entered the living room. Huginn and Muninn were still perched on Father’s shoulders, and his father sat in his chair next to the fire. The seat across from him was empty but clean. No hint of dust lay on the cushions.

“I saw that the mosquitech were released,” Purple said, attempting to start the conversation positively. He shuffled his feet to try and quell the anxiety that was boiling beneath his skin.

“And how did you help with that?” Father asked. But before Purple could find his voice to respond, Father leaned forward in his chair to scowl at him. “Absolutely nothing. I had to do that on my own .”

“And you left me alone!” Purple snapped before he could think. He took a step back as soon as he realized his mistake of talking back. He retreated slightly into his shell, continuing to back further away from the chair as Father stood up and slowly stalked toward him.

“Because I thought you could handle getting back,” Father said bluntly. “Would you like me to hold your hand through everything? Does poor little softshell Purple need me to babysit him?”

Purple shook his head numbly, his throat burning and tight. His chest was heavy, too heavy to breathe. He wanted to curl up in a ball so tightly that he would disappear. But he couldn’t. Right now, he was being stared down by his father, who only looked angered by his cowardice.

“ANSWER ME!” Father roared, raising a claw into the air. When Purple flinched, Father relaxed and chuckled at the tiny softshell’s response. “Are you afraid I’ll hit you?”

Yes , Purple admitted silently but shook his head. Father seemed to see past the lie and raised his hand again, taunting him. Purple tried not to react, but he couldn’t suppress his anxiety, so he flinched again.

“I’m sorry,” Purple murmured, but his father didn’t respond to the apology. Instead, the large yōkai huffed in amusement, finding the softshell’s fear humorous. Father lowered his hand and softened his stance. 

“I know a way we can try and… convince my creations of our side,” Father said calmly, cocking his head to one side. “Maybe a chance to redeem yourself.”

When Father opened his arms wide in an offer of a hug, Purple hesitated. He didn’t want physical contact. He didn’t want his father’s arms around him. He wanted to run back into his room and hide beneath the covers like he did as a child because that’s how he hid from the monsters beneath the bed. But he knew refusing the hug would make him even more of a jerk, so he entered his father’s embrace, hugging him back fully. He ignored how it made him feel even more anxious and uneasy.

“And if they don’t join us…” Father continued, petting Purple’s head softly. He traced the burn marks on the back of his head, which made Purple shiver from the light and odd sensation. “We’ll destroy them.”

Chapter Text

“You spoke with the purple turtle?” Raph asked as they began to walk home from the bus stop just outside of the Grand Nexus Hotel. 

Leo followed closely behind, feeling uneasy. He’d been trying to deny the fact that their adversary was a turtle for so long. He wasn’t stupid. He knew that it was impossible for a turtle around their age range, who had a striking resemblance to Leo, to not be at least somewhat related to them. And the smoking gun was when Draxum had said that he’d created him and his brothers. Right before he threw him off the roof. 

“His name is Purple,” Mikey nodded, looking more uptight than normal. “That’s what Big Mama called him. It could be a nickname- like how Dad calls us colors.”

“I… hope it is a nickname,” Raph nodded. “I mean, kind of feels impersonal.”

“Who cares?” Leo shrugged, stepping in front of them. “Why are we so worried about this guy’s backstory? Let’s just focus on kicking his butt!” 

“He’s related to us,” Mikey said somewhat confidently. “Somehow. He might be our brother- or something.”

“He’s not our brother,” Leo said firmly. “His dad just threw me off a roof .”

“As much as I hate to say it,” Raph sighed, hanging his head, “Leo’s right. We aren’t… related to Dad. In any way. But he’s still our dad. We could be 100% related to this guy, but that doesn’t make him our brother.”

Mikey went quiet, looking at the ground. His face scrunched up in what looked to be anger before he looked up at Raph with narrowed eyes. 

“He is my brother,” Mikey said with fierce determination. “He may not be yours, but Purple is my brother. And I’m gonna save him from the goat guy.”

Mikey pushed past the both of them and began to march home on his own. 

Leo sighed, standing there a moment longer, even after Raph began to race after their little brother. Leo followed quickly behind his big brother. 

“Mikey, wait!” Raph called out.

Mikey stopped and turned around, his gaze narrowed and his hands clenched into fists. “Why are you two so adamant that he isn’t our brother?” He asked, his voice thick with fury. 

“He tried to hurt us!” Raph exclaimed, his expression one full of worry. “He doesn’t care!”

“You don’t know that!” Mikey took a step forward, and Leo could see his grip tighten on his kusari fundo. “You’re giving up on him before we even know him!”

Leo stood by Raph. “Micheal, you gotta understand… if he cared, if he wanted to be with us, wouldn’t he have tried to talk to us by now? Like, a full-on conversation. He was just left behind by that Draxum dude, yet instead of coming with us, he goes running back to him.”

Mikey’s mouth flattened into a thin line before he sighed and relaxed. “You don’t get it.” 

“We do,” Leo assured him. “We do. But… he doesn’t even look attractive like the rest of us. We can’t let our image be damaged by him!”

Mikey chuckled, and the sight of his younger brother’s smile made Leo’s heart glow. But Mikey’s face fell again, and Leo stepped forward to place a hand on the other turtle’s shoulder.

“They were scars,” Mikey murmured, not meeting the slider’s gaze. “They’re not markings, ‘Nardo. They’re scars. What if… what if Draxum caused ‘em?”

Leo hesitated, stunned by the new information. He bit his lip, unsure of how to answer. 

“If Draxum caused them,” Raph stepped in, “Why would he be so eager to stay with him? He’s happy there, Mikey. We can’t change that. We just have to move forward.”

Leo looked up at the sky to see the rising sun peeking over the horizon. “And we gotta move fast, 'cause we can’t be seen with this whole situation .”

Mikey nodded and let himself be guided by Raph down an ally way toward a manhole so they could make their way back home. Leo followed closely behind, deep in thought.

He couldn’t understand why Mikey was so adamant and focused on someone who worked with an evil alchemist. They weren’t brothers, and they could never be brothers. Leo was sure of it. 

He just hoped Mikey would see it someday, too. And not in a painful way.

The three turtles had returned to the lair after losing a battle in a biodome by two crab mutants. They would’ve been toast, too, if it weren’t for a portal appearing from under the two mutants.
“We can’t keep failing just to luck out at the last second,” Raph said, causing Leo to turn his head slowly to see his brother sitting on the old couch. 

His body felt sore from being thrown and tossed around. Not to mention being hit and pinched by their crab claws. 

“I know no one wants to hear it,” Raph continued, hanging his head. “But we need-”

“Don’t you dare say the T-word!” Mikey interjected. The box turtle was on the floor, one leg on the other living room couch. 

“Training,” Raph sighed, ignoring his baby brother’s request. 

Leo groaned and pulled himself up by the couch armrest. “What’s trainin’ gonna do for us?” Leo asked. “What we need is better mystic weapons. Does anyone wanna trade?”

“Mystic weapons or not,” Raph grumbled, “we need to get better at… everything.”

Leo was caught off guard by Raph’s foot nearing his face. He fell on his back as Raph used the chair he’d been leaning against as a pedestal. 

“When I look around this room, I see nothin’ but potential,” Raph exclaimed encouragingly. “Who’s ready to tap into that potential, huh? Huh? Take it up a notch? Be the best of the best?!”

“I love you, Raphie, but who’s gonna train us? It’s not like we can get any formal training with this whole situation ,” He pointed out, waving a hand in front of his face. “Who’s gonna be our sensei?”

Raph had chosen Dad to teach them. When they were kids, Splinter would train them in the basics. The three of them had begged him to teach them once they learned he had been a martial arts fighter when he was human. They all wanted to be like Lou Jitsu! And so Splinter had obliged, giving them safe training weapons and basic lessons to quell their thirst for “ninjasity” and to give them an outlet for their energy.

But those days had long since passed, and Splinter wasn’t their teacher anymore. Instead of giving them actual training, he’d insisted they watch a Lou Jitsu movie. And Leo was all for Lou Jitsu. That man gave him serious gender envy. But those were just movies with perfectly choreographed fight scenes with chances for retakes, editing, and stunt doubles. They couldn’t actually teach them how to be better ninjas. 

They were right. Leo knew they were. But Dad wasn’t one to admit when he was at fault, so he’d grounded them and confiscated their weapons.

Leo sat in his room, reading one of the many Jupiter Jim comics he had in his collection. If he was honest, he was mostly just looking at the cool images rather than focusing on the plot or dialogue. 

The purple not-turtle had spoken to Mikey the other night. Mikey was sure that he was a turtle, but Leo didn’t want to admit it. He didn’t want to think that they could be related. After all, Draxum had told him that he’d created the three brothers. Why would Splinter have left with only three of them when there had been four turtles? 

Dad would’ve told them if they had another brother. They would have told them if something terrible had happened that made him leave the other behind. Leo was sure of it. 

But then again… He doesn’t tell us a lot about his past, Leo thought. Only that he rescued us from a lab that turned us from turtles into mutants and him from human into a rat.

It was entirely possible that Splinter was lying to them. Leo hated that he could believe that. 

But then, what was he hiding?

“The room is all set for you, sir,” the hotel attendant told Purple. 

“Thank you,” Purple said, peering into the conference room. It was small, but it would do. They didn’t need a lot of space, anyway. He handed the hotel staff the cocoon-shaped bomb. “Here’s my credit card.”

The hotel attendant gave him a puzzled look but took it anyway and left him alone in the room. Purple would detonate it later. 

Instead, he turned off his human disguise and contacted his father via his gauntech to let him know the room was ready. His Father hadn’t wanted to bring them to the Hidden City, as they were still somewhat human, after all. They could never be fully yōkai because of their human history. 

A portal magnificently magenta appeared before Purple, and out stepped his father with his two gargoyles on his shoulders. 

Father took a moment to inspect the place, before nodding curtly to his son. “This will do.”

“I made a list of the most dangerous mutants,” He said, his mechanical arm shell bringing forward the printed paper to show him. 

Father took it from the arm and began to read the list, nodding in approval. “You’ve done well, my son. Now, take your seat. I will need to concentrate to warp them all here.”

Purple bowed slightly before taking a seat next near the end. He hated being squashed between two people and felt more comfortable sitting on the edge than in the middle. 

In total, Purple had scouted five mutants who fit Father’s criteria. Hypnotamous, Meat Sweats, the crab brothers, and Repo Mantis. Each was teleported into a seat with the lights off and the blinds covered. They didn’t want anyone peeking in. 

“One of you muties know what’s goin’ on here?” Mantis asked, digging one of his sharp claws into the wood of the table. “I got a birthday cake that needs repossessin’.”

“Which one of you brought me here?!” Hypno exclaimed. “Who do I have to cut in half and then not bring back together- AH!”

Meat Sweats slammed a spiked hammer down on the table just in front of Hypno, causing the hippo mutant to fall backward in surprise. “All I see is fresh meat for me to butterfly!”

Vines wrapped around the pig mutant, tossing him aside. “Silence, ‘Meat Sweats.’” Huginn and Muninn cackled on Father’s shoulders as the large yōkai came forward, bearing down on the mutants. “I am the one who brought you here. When I look around this room, I see nothing but potential,” Father spoke, his voice commanding. He looked around the room, studying each mutant. His eyes didn’t fall on Purple, but that must’ve been because Father already knew who he was. 

“Who thinks it’s about time we join together today for one simple menacing purpose. Everyone at this table shares a common enemy. We are here to destroy those Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles,” Father declared, slamming a fist on the table in a show of his authority. 

“Okay, I hate to interrupt, but it looks like one of them has infiltrated us already,” Hypno said, pointing at Purple with a concerned, wide-eyed look. “I mean, I don’t think I’ve seen him before? But my memory isn’t particularly the best.”

Purple rolled his eyes. “I’m not with them. I am with Master Draxum, as you can see.”

“Thank you, Purple ,” Father said, before clearing his voice. “Now, as I was saying-“

“I’m sorry, your name is Purple ?” Meat Sweats interrupted. “I’ve heard my share of bad names, but-“

“Enough!” Father shouted, slamming his hands on the table, causing both gargoyles to hop off his shoulders. “I brought you here today because the turtles, my creations, are ruining my plans for yōkaikind to reclaim our place on the surface. With your help, we can take them out, and you can be free and finally become everything I so badly want you to be! Now, who’s with me?”

“Excuse me,” A small but confident voice interrupted, and Purple watched as a small worm mutant he’d never seen before hopped off the hippo’s shoulder. “I, Warren Stone, former anchorman, and their official greatest foe, have a few questions before I join this ghoulish gang.”

“I’m sorry, who are you?” Father asked, squinting down at him. 

“I have no idea,” Huginn whispered loudly. 

“Excuse me, sir,” The hotel attendant from earlier opened the door, peeking his head in. “There’s been a slight problem with your credit card. It’s, uh, a cocoon.”

Oh, I forgot to detonate it , Purple realized, mentally slapping himself for his stupidity. Using his gauntech, he set it off to explode. Within a few seconds, Purple watched as both the door and the human were blown to bits. Blood splattered the walls and human remains were scattered and strewn across the room and into the hallway. He turned around to see the other mutants with their jaws hanging open.

“Bravo, Purple,” Father said, clapping slightly before turning to brush the human’s hand off of his shoulder. “Thirteen years ago-“

“We’re just going to ignore that?” One of the crab brothers asked. “Like, I know we’re villains and all, but holy shit.”

“Do you want to be next?” Purple asked threateningly, leaning across the table to stare at him. The crab mutant shook his head, and Purple relaxed back into his seat. 

“Thirteen years ago, I mutated the turtles with the DNA of a Battle Nexus champion. The turtles continue to interfere with all of our plans, so I propose we join together to end them,” Father finished (finally). “Who is with me?”

All of the mutants glanced at Purple hesitantly before raising their hands high. That only proved to boost Purple’s ego, and the softshell smirked at the display of their fear toward him. 

Father smiled. “Now, for some unnecessary but highly destructive violence. Here is the plan.”

They were able to lure the turtles to an abandoned warehouse, which sat next to a fish market and ladder factory. Purple had made a flier for them specifically that advertised a magic, robotic dinosaur as well as free pizza. The three crutches of the trio. They were attracted to the rouse like bees were to honey. And even better- they hadn’t brought their weapons.

“Sneakin’ out and chillin’ in a fun, totally-not-scary pitch-black warehouse!” Mikey’s voice echoed as they entered the warehouse, the door closing and locking behind them. 

Purple turned on the lights, to which Raph admired the ‘ambiance.’ Purple was a bit flattered. After all, he had put extra time and thought into dazzling the scene for his performance as the Evil League of Mutant’s technician. 

“Well, well, well,” Father laughed from behind the velvet curtain. “We meet again.”

“Where’s that voice coming from?” Leo asked before shaking his head and smiling with glee. “Wait, wait, don’t tell me!”

Purple controlled the stage lighting so it circled in on the stage like they had rehearsed. He was proud of his work, which he had fine-tuned for hours. 

“You’ve all entered,” Father chuckled. “But none of you will exit.” 

Purple opened the curtains slightly, revealing his Father. The large yōkai stepped out onto the main stage, his hooves echoing in the warehouse. “Welcome to your worst nightmare.”

“Baron Draxum?!” Raph cried out in surprise, with both he and Leo stumbling backward. 

“WOO!!” Mikey began to clap and shout in excitement, before winding up his left arm to cheer. “MAGIC-SAURUS! MAGIC-SAURUS!” 

Raph slowly reached forward, pushed Mikey’s head into his shell, and pulled him toward him. The ornate box turtle continued to cheer despite this.

“Wait a second,” Leo said. “This guy’s a warrior alchemist and a magician? Talk about a triple threat!”

“The magic was a trick,” Father growled. “This is a trap!” He snapped his fingers, which was the signal to open the curtains all the way. The Evil League of Mutants all stood behind him, grinning menacingly toward the three turtles. 

Purple emerged from the technician’s area and stood next to his father, folding his arms over his plastron with pride as he smirked.

“THIS is why you never go to New Jersey!” Leo exclaimed in mock outrage, motioning towards the mutants. 

“One last chance, children,” Father offered kindly. “If you join me, I can teach you how to maximize your potential and be all that you can be. Like this one, but better ,” Father pushed Purple forward a bit, causing the softshell to stumble and wave his arms about to try and keep balanced. “What’s your answer?”

“YOU THREW ME. OFF. A. ROOF,” Leo exclaimed dramatically. 

Purple rolled his eyes. He was being too harsh on Father. They had been attacking him and stealing his property! 

“So that’s a no to joining me, then?” Draxum hummed. “Fine. You reject me again for the last time. Now your story ends.” 

The mutants Father had recruited charged the turtles. They were blasted out of the warehouse and into the ladder factory and fish market, to which the chase began. 

Father stood back, and Purple stayed with him as they watched the mutants attack the turtles.

“Are you really going to kill them?” Purple asked. The idea of them being dead unnerved him for a strange reason. They left me to die. Why should I care?

“They have no use for me,” Father said dryly, before turning his attention to his son. “I only need you, Purple. You’re far better than them. Why keep trying to get what I already have?”

The praise made Purple’s chest flutter with happiness. But he couldn’t forget the sense of anxiety that infected his heart. “Couldn’t we capture them instead?” He asked. “Separate them, and I can talk some sense into them. I’m sure with a couple of months and some… reprogramming, we could-”

“We don’t have a few months,” Father snarled harshly. “Why are you hellbent on them? They don’t care about you. They never have and never will!”

Purple hung his head low, feeling embarrassed and guilty for suggesting such a ridiculous idea. “I know,” he murmured softly. “Part of me, I guess, still wants to believe that they might… Deep down.”

Father sighed lovingly and pulled Purple close to him. “I understand, my son. But they will never love you. No one will ever love you like I do.” 

Purple nodded in understanding. His father was right. He was always right. “Can I kill them?” He asked, his voice soft but coarse with emotions he couldn’t name. “Can I land the final blow?”

Father smiled fondly, petting the softshell’s head. “Of course, Purple. I’ll even let you take their shells if you’d like. We can even hang them up in the lab.”

“The reason they left me,” Purple muttered, drawing a hand up to feel the tight clasps of the titanium shell that hugged his shoulders. 

“Your shell may be a weakness,” Father admitted, “but I see you for who you are. And I’m sorry that they couldn’t see that. They may lie to you now and try to convince you otherwise, to turn you against me- the only one who has ever truly loved you. But I saw what happened. I was there. And you have the scars to prove it.”

Purple traced the burn mark on his upper arm with a gloved hand. His shell had been burned, too, with white marks showing where the fire had scorched his skin. 

One of the crab brothers landed beside them, crashing into the wooden platform they’d stood on. Father looked displeased and confused as he turned his attention back to the fight. The turtles were using the fish and ladders to fight against their opponents and were exceptional at it, too.

“How are they so good with fish and ladders?!” Father exclaimed, clenching his fist in outrage.

“HOT SOUP!” The three of them exclaimed from afar, their voices more powerful together than they were alone. 

Purple watched as something familiar lit in Father’s eyes. “Lou Jitsu?” His father whispered in disbelief. “It… It can’t be.”

They blew the rest of the mutants away with a powerful blast with a ladder, causing dust and fish to go flying, blocking their view. Purple raised an arm to cover his eyes, blocking the dust particles. When the air had cleared, the three of them stood there triumphantly. 

“Now that your minions are done,” Raph said confidently, “let’s tango, you sheep-lookin’-”

“Where did you learn to fight like that?” Father asked in awe- an expression Purple had never seen on his father before. 

“Oh,” Raph chuckled, smirking. “Only from the greatest action film star in history….”

“LOU JITSU!” The three exclaimed together. How are they timing this so perfectly?

“How could you morons possibly know Lou Jitsu?!” Father demanded, his face contorted in anger and confusion. 

“His movies!” Mikey exclaimed, holding a foldable ladder as he vibrated with happiness. “Are you a fan, too?!”

“No!” Father yelled, anger radiating from him. “I knew Lou Jitsu! He was the greatest warrior in the Battle Nexus. His human DNA combined with my Ooze…” He gestured from Purple to the other three turtles. “Gave you life .”

Raph’s ladder clattered to the ground. The turtle looked stunned, and he fell to his knees. “What?” He gasped in complete shock. He looked at his hands. “We have… Lou Jitsu’s DNA?”

Mikey gasped, hugging his ladder tightly. “You mean…?”

“Cowa-boy, I am speechless…” Leo said, dropping his makeshift sword made out of swordfish. He looked at Purple with wide eyes. Does he know?

“Yes!” Father exclaimed with a smile, marching forward. “This is what I’ve been trying to tell you! That you’re destined for so much more !”

Raph grunted and groaned as he picked himself up. For a moment, he looked lost. He turned to his brothers. “OMIGOSH. LOU JITSU’S OUR DAD!”

“What?” Purple deadpanned, anger prickling at his skin. Did Lou Jitsu not raise them? Did they not know? A wave of sympathy washed over him. He abandoned them, too. 

“Oh, wow!” Mikey exclaimed, pointing at his blue-masked brother. “You kinda look like Lou Jitsu!” 

“I always knew I felt famous,” Leo said, finger gunning beneath his chin and looking smug.

“Guys! Guys!” Raph interjected excitedly. “Do I look like Lou Jitsu?”

“I totally see the resemblance!” Mikey nodded enthusiastically. 

They… are so stupid. Purple decided silently, returning to his father’s side with annoyance. Do they not realize I am their brother? Or do they just not care?

“Enough!” His father shouted, vines breaking through the ground and surrounding the turtles while lifting him and Purple into the night sky. “If you three cannot see the true merit of your potential, then I have no further use for you.”

Mikey looked up at Purple with wild fear in his eyes. He was shrinking into his shell, shaking violently as the vines continued to close in on the three of them. 

Purple was good at lip reading. He always had been. He wasn’t sure when he’d picked it up, but it was useful. 

The ornate box turtle had whispered something that the softshell turtle was unable to hear from where he stood, but Purple could make out the words. 

“I love you.”

It was most definitely meant for the two turtles he stood next to, but Purple was selfish and couldn’t help but think it was for him. He wanted it to be for him. He wanted the orange turtle to secretly hold some brotherly love for Purple. 

And then Purple realized he didn’t want to hurt them. That the idea of them dead was far worse than them shunning him or leaving him behind. His hatred for them was built out of jealousy and longing for brotherly love he hadn’t been able to find anywhere else. And when he finally thought he might have it, it was ripped out from under him in the form of their absolute rejection of him. 

But even then, even with all that pain and betrayal, Purple still didn’t want them hurt. The very thought of it made him sick. And what was worse was that he didn’t know why . They had every right to be destroyed at the hands of the softshell. The turtle had every right to be angry and outraged by their actions toward him. 

His grip softened on his bō. He couldn’t respond to the declaration of familial love from the ornate box turtle. He didn’t think what he felt for him could classify as love. It may have not been the bitter hatred he once thought it was, but it certainly wasn’t what he held for his father.

Purple’s heart burned and ached as the vines began to descend upon the three turtles. He turned around so he wouldn’t have to watch, holding back the burning tears that threatened to break from the emotional wall he’d built over the years. He shut his eyes and hoped their screams wouldn’t be too much.

“What the-?” His father exclaimed in confusion, causing Purple to open his eyes. 

In front of them was a magenta purple that Purple could feel pulling both of them toward it. Father was sucked in first, and Purple tried to fight the sensation by digging his claws into the vine platform. He dug the sharpened end of his tech bō into the vines, holding on for dear life. 

“HOLD ON!” Raph called for him, and Purple craned his neck around to see the snapper charging toward him. The larger turtle leaped into the air, but before he could reach Purple, the vines were sucked into the portal, too, taking Purple with them.

The portal closed behind him and he was spat onto hard concrete.

“What’s going on here?” His father’s voice demanded. “Who brought me here?”

Purple forced himself up as he heard cackling from the shadows. Two bright fiery lights emerged from the darkness in the alley, and the turtle watched as two odd-looking humans entered the moonlight.

“Is this the sheep guy?” The one who looked like a toenail asked. 

“Be cool. He’s a warring warrior alchemist.” The shorter of the two said, his voice raspy. 

“Sweet, triple threat,” Toenail replied with a mischievous smile.

“I will end both of you,” Father threatened, standing up tall and clenching his fists to make his point.

“Easy, easy,” the raspy-voiced man said. “I think we just might share some of the same goals, like getting rid of those pesky turtles.” 

The softshell could see Father smile at the proposition. “I’m listening.”

Chapter Text

Raph almost had him. 

He could’ve sworn the tips of his fingers brushed against the purple turtle’s skin, but he was too late. The portal sucked him in, and Purple was gone. He crashed down onto the pavement and groaned from the pain that coursed through his body.

“I swear to Pizza Supreme in the sky, that wasn’t me,” Leo exclaimed as Raph pushed himself up from the ground. 

“I had so many more questions….” Raph sighed, dusting himself off. If he had just used his mystic ability, maybe he could’ve reached them in time. Stupid!

“He’s our brother,” Mikey said quietly before smiling wide. “And Lou Jitsu’s our dad.”

“First off,” Leo used Mikey to lean against, “turtle man is not our brother. Second off, HOLY SHIT!”

“Why does Lou Jitsu qualify as our dad, but he’s not our brother?” Mikey pushed the older turtle off of him, his expression telling Raph that the youngest of them was annoyed and upset.

“Uh, because Lou Jitsu has never tried to kill us,” Leo deadpanned after stumbling to regain his footing. “And because we actually like Lou Jitsu.”

“We don’t know him!” Mikey exclaimed, but before he could continue his thought, Leo interrupted.

“Exactly!” Leo cried and threw up his arms. “We don’t! He could be a psychopath, for all we know!”

“Or he could be hurting,” Raph murmured, regret causing his shoulders to slump. If I had been faster… “He’s just a kid. He’s… like us.”

Leo looked down at his feet, his toes digging into the ground, his brow knit in deep thought. Raph put a hand on his younger brother’s shoulder, causing the blue-masked turtle to look up in surprise and perplexity.

“Why are you so…” Raph waved a hand in the air, searching for the word. “So… opposed to him being our brother?”

Leo bit his lip and looked at Mikey with worry in his eyes. He hung his head, sighed, and looked back up at Raph with a hurt and confused look in his eyes. “If he’s our brother… If he truly was mutated alongside us… then why did Splinter leave him behind?”

The question hung in the air and seemed to damper all of their emotions. Raph knew it was a serious question- one he hadn’t thought about before now. 

He knew Splinter wasn’t the best father. He knew he spent much of his time on the couch watching TV instead of spending time with his sons. But Raph also knew that Splinter tried his best with the hand he was dealt. TV was his outlet, just like training and fighting was Raph’s, or Leo’s was reading comics. Dad had his own issues he struggled with, and he’d been given three turtle toddlers to raise on his own as a newly mutated rat. 

But would he leave a child behind? Raph thought the answer was no, not in a million years. But Purple changed everything.

Raph sighed and looked to his brothers. “We need to talk to Dad.”

“We are the Foot Clan,” Foot Lieutanent explained as Foot Clan members led them down a seemingly never-ending staircase below their headquarters: the Foot Shack. Candles lined each step of the stairs, and Purple appreciated the ambiance and evil flare of the lair. He took mental notes for his room. “For generations, we have strived to bring back our leader, the Shredder. If we can reunite all the Dark Armor pieces, then the wearer will gain immense power.” 

“And this power… can be mine?” Father asked as the two Foot Clan leaders led them down a pathway. 

The lair had four platforms, each being surrounded by candles that flickered with a flame. Stairs led up each platform, with the fourth platform being raised higher than the rest. It looked like a giant stalagmite that had been flatted. A large stalagtite hung from the roof of the cave, spikes daring to fall onto them. The fourth platform’s centerpiece was guarded by large stalagmites. In the middle were the beginnings of an armour set.

“Yes,” The Foot Clan leader said with a mischievous grin. “It can all be yours.”

Purple looked up at his father, who looked pleased and ready to shake their hand. But the turtle spoke up, unconvinced of their goals. “Aren’t you two human?” He asked, pointing to the both of them. “Why are you helping us eradicate your kind?”

Father glared at him, his gaze icy cold. It made his own heart frozen with guilt and shame. “Ignore my creation,” he said lowly, putting a hand on Purple’s head. He pressed down on him, causing him to shrink into his shell. “He’s arrogant and has no manners. Just like his brothers, he speaks too much,” Father huffed and rolled his eyes. “Always blabbering on about this or that.”

“It seems all the turtles are the same,” Foot Lieutenant chuckled, his voice raspy. Purple hated his voice. It seemed to scratch his brain but in an unpleasant way. “We are altered humans. We have ascended the ranks of the Foot Clan and been blessed by our ancestors: the Krang. We are no longer human. We are better .”

The large yōkai removed his hand, and Purple was able to pop his head back out. Father gave him a fierce stare, and Purple wanted to put his head back into his shell. 

“Maybe you should get a muzzle for him,” Foot Lieutenant said. Purple wasn’t the best at deciphering tone, but it was clear to him that the altered human was joking. But Father went quiet and looked like he was giving it serious consideration. 

Purple shook his head, trying to grab his father’s attention without saying a word. I can be quiet ; he silently told his father. I can be good. I don’t need the muzzle. It’s so hard to breathe in… 

“Tell me more about this… Dark Amour,” Father requested, walking alongside the altered humans. Purple scurried along, trying to keep up despite the dread that pooled in his stomach. 

“It was a gift from the Krang to the first leader of the Foot Clan,” Foot Lieutenant explained. “It has the power of a million warriors.”

“Then why hasn’t the Earth been destroyed?” Father questioned, his tone holding a hint of doubt and concern. 

“Because the Hamato Clan defeated the Shredder, and the armor pieces scattered. But the Foot Clan continues to search for the pieces tirelessly. With your help, we could re-assemble the armor.” The Foot Lieutanent smiled wickedly. “The Hamato Clan is dead now. We need not worry about them. With the armor, you could flatten towns, destroy cities… All that power will be yours.”

“A brand new slate for the yōkai,” Father agreed with a hum. 

A shiver ran down Purple’s spine. If he’ll be able to do all that… he thought, would he even need me? Purple opened his mouth to speak up, but it felt like nothing could come out. Stay silent, idiot.

“We’ll ally with you,” Father decided and extended a hand, which Foot Lieutanent took and shook. The deal had been made, and there was no turning back.

“Now, we have a few images of what some of the armor pieces look like. But we do require your assistance with one other thing. We need something that can find and detect the Dark Armor pieces,” The Foot Lieutenant said. “I’m sure someone with your expertise would be able to create such a device.”

“I will not waste my time on that,” Father snorted, seemingly offended by the proposition. Purple tripped forward as his creator pushed him into the spotlight. “My son will create that for you. He is an inventor; He takes after me.”

“Ah,” Foot Lieutanent hummed with an amused smile. “A future warring warrior scientist.”

Father laughed in response and shook his head. “I’m not quite so sure about the warrior part.”

Purple frowned with confusion. Hadn’t he just told him he was good? “You said I was better than the other turtles.”

“You are better than them now,” Father corrected, not looking at him. “They are weak because they have not unlocked their full potential.”

“What about me?” He asked eagerly. “When will I reach my full potential?”

“As far as I’ve seen?” Father mused, patting the softshell’s head. “You’ve already reached your full potential.” 

My best is their average, Purple realized, the hope for approval that had burned in his heart snuffed out. My best isn’t good enough. 

“I’ll… I’ll work on the Mystic Metal Detection Device as soon as possible,” Purple murmured, his chest feeling hollow and devoid of emotion. He just felt numb and empty—a husk. You’ll get over it.

Creating the device was easy enough. A mix of Mystic Crystals and some of his tech wielded results that could detect mystic energy and even be fine-tuned to focus on specific kinds of mystic energy. He implemented the device into his goggles. 

He’d been tasked to find some of the missing mystic armor pieces and roamed the streets of New York in human form in hopes of finding some. While the pieces had been scattered worldwide, Purple was focused on New York today. Foot Clan members worldwide worked tirelessly to search for the other armor pieces, all of which had his new Mystic Metal Detection Device, or MMDD for short. They could focus their efforts there, while Purple concentrated on the city above his home.

Purple flipped down his goggles on his face as he roamed the streets, his gaze moving every, each way as he scanned the world around him. He would most certainly need to make a more efficient way to do this- he hated the sunlight. He was used to living underground, after all. 

He was scanning each building, each person, each car… everything within his sight was scanned and searched, but he was having no luck so far. 

“You should’ve implemented it into me,” Shelldon grumbled beside him. “I could do this much faster.”

“Well, too bad,” Purple snapped back under his breath, trying to not draw attention to the fact that he was talking to a flying robot. “This is supposed to be my job, not yours.”

“ This is supposed to be my job, not yours ,” Shelldon mocked, rolling his robotic eyes. He rolled over in the air, before swooping down in front of him, blocking his path. “Will Draxum really care if I help? I don’t think he even knows I have sentience. He’ll just think of me as another one of your inventions.”

“Yeah,” Purple agreed with a sigh, maneuvering past him. “He’s just busy. I’ll tell him soon about you- he’ll be ecstatic!” 

“Will he be mad you didn’t tell him?” Shelldon asked. 

Purple hesitated, unsure of the answer. Maybe? He thought, anxiety gripping his heart and making his legs shake with fear. “What if he is?” He said, pulling himself to the side of the pavement to get out of the way of crowded humans. “What if he’s mad?”

“He isn’t yet,” Shelldon pointed out, lightly bumping into him. “You don’t have to tell him.”

“What if he finds out?” Purple held his breath, trying to grasp any ounce of oxygen he could. “He’s gonna be so mad - I don’t want that. That can’t happen.”

“Then it won’t,” Shelldon promised. His eyes were never meant to hold the emotions that Purple couldn’t understand, but now they held intense care and love for the turtle that Purple was unfamiliar with. He pulled the robot to him, hugging him close to his chest. 

“Thank you,” He murmured. “I don’t know what I’d do without you.”

“You’re my friend, Purple,” Shelldon said. 

Purple sighed and let the robot go, looking at his gray, metallic square form. An idea popped into his mind as he perked up. “I’ll give you the MMDD and a few new upgrades, too.”

“Sweeet,” Shelldon said, doing a twirl in the air. “Now, we gonna find that mystic metal or what?”

There were many hidden places on the surface. Some yōkai were banished from the Hidden City or simply didn’t wish to live there. But due to the nature of their species being wildly different than humans, they were forced to conceal themselves if they wanted to live on the surface.

Magic was used to cloak houses, establishments, and more. With his goggles, Purple could even see through cloaking broaches and see a yōkai’s true form. 

He watched as a squid yōkai walked into an alleyway, and was about to turn the other way when he caught the glimpse of them phasing through the brick wall. He paused, before approaching the wall. He pressed a hand against the wall, before falling forward when the wall allowed him  to pass through. He stumbled in and was pleasantly met by the smell of freshly baked pizza and the sound of singing. The whole restaurant was filled with filled to the brim with yōkai enjoying their meals as well as entertainers on stage giving a performance. 

“Welcome, welcome!” A yōkai cheered, approaching him with a joyful smile. He was a skeleton, but he still could be expressive despite his lack of skin. “My name is Señor Hueso. I don’t remember seeing you here before, chico. Is this your first time?”

“Uh,” He hesitated, still taking in his new surroundings. There were humans there- and not yōkais in disguise. They were sitting at tables, drinking and laughing and chatting with yōkai of all sizes. It surprised and disgusted him. Weren’t they afraid?

“Your kind are welcome here,” The skeleton yōkai said, placing a hand on the disguised turtle’s shoulder. “Pizza lovers come in all shapes. We are yōkai- do not be afraid.”

“I’m a yōkai,” Purple said, rolling his eyes. “I’m just surprised there are humans here.”

“Everyone is welcome,” Señor Hueso said. He continued to smile, but there was a hint of defensiveness in his tone. “Everyone but those who do not share those same open minded views. You may remove your disguise here. No one will judge. Now, would you like to order?”

“I wouldn’t fit in here,” Purple quickly lied. “If I took off the cloak, your establishment would be totalled.”

“Ah,” Hueso hummed in acknowledgement. “Then please don’t. You are still welcome here in whatever form you take. Now, your order?”

“I…” Purple hesitated, struck with anxiety. He wished Shelldon was here, but it would take a while for his software to update so he could incorporate the new MMDD software, so he wasn’t here. “...I’m lactose intolerant.”

“Oh! No worries. We have many customers like that. We have a lactose free option,” Hueso waved a bony hand. “My son is lactose intolerant, too.”

“That’s… nice,” Purple nodded. He just wanted this conversation to end. “I would like a slice of plain cheese pizza.”

Hueso gave him a thumb up before leading him to a booth, which he sat in alone. He had eaten pizza before. He’d eaten lots of things before. But he scarcley went to restaurants, and it was even rarer that he ate at a restaurant. 

He found that it wasn’t unpleasant. It was loud, sure, but it was lively. He turned on the noise cancelling feature on his goggle-headphones, and enjoyed the soft cushion he sat in. 

He took out his phone and began to play a mindless mobile game. Before long, Hueso came back with a slice of pizza and served it to him along with a water. 

“If you’d like something else to drink, just ask,” Hueso offered. He was about to walk away, but something glinted in the light and caught Purple’s attention. 

“What’s that?” He asked, pointing to a black handle that sat in his apron pocket. 

Hueso paused, confused by Purple’s question. He looked at where Purple was pointing, and observed the handle with curiously. He took it out of the pocket, giving Purple a better view. “My pizza cutter?”

The pizza cutter was jeweled and glittery. It was a little unflattering, to Purple, considering the clashing of colors. But through his goggles’ lenses, he could see that it glowed with a mystic energy that resembled the other pieces of the Dark Armour.

It can disguise itself and take different forms, he recalled. “Can I trade you for it? I also have money.”

“What? No,” Hueso said, his eyes narrowed. “This was given to me by my late father. It is priceless.”

“Are you sure?” Purple pushed the goggles off his face, leaning forward with determination. “I can make you an even better pizza cutter. I can fix your ovens- or upgrade them! I can make it so it cooks your pizzas faster and better. I’m an inventor. Whatever you want, I can make.”

“All of that,” Hueso questioned and waved the pizza cutter in his face, “for this?”

“Yes!” Purple exclaimed, reaching out for it. But Hueso pulled away, huffing with indignation. 

“Nothing you could offer would be worth it,” Hueso stated. He had the same expression that Father had when he meant ‘ This decision is final. Don’t argue or you’ll regret it. ’ 

He sighed and pulled away, and Hueso moved along. Purple ate his pizza in silent contemplation, trying to think of a way to take the pizza cutter without detection. 

An idea struck him. He began to plan.

New York at night was beautiful. There was no difference between night and day in the Hidden City besides what the clock dictated time to be. But on the surface, the sky could tell you. 

Purple’s favorite thing about the surface had to be the sky. The way the sun reflected onto the clouds, how the sky changed from blue to purple to orange and to red, until the moon rose in the night and claimed the sky as its own. 

The blanket of black was incredible and serene. Quiet. Purple had seen pictures of the night sky on the internet, but he wasn’t sure it could ever compare to the genuine sight. Although, Purple had assumed that he might be able to see the stars just like in the pictures he’d seen. But maybe the reason they could be seen was because of the camera- or maybe those tiny dots weren’t stars at all, but street lights. 

Either way, the moon was his favorite thing in the world. The moon, tonight, was a waxing gibbious. The light of the moon was magnificent, and Purple could stare at it for hours. He wanted to study it, to learn its secrets. To understand how each crater was formed, and how, through all the thousands of years, it had stood there, allowing the inhabitants of the Earth to view its beauty. 

Maybe when they’d taken over the surface again, he’d be allowed a room on the highest floor of a house, with roof access so he could gaze at the stars all he liked. 

But he wasn’t here for the sky. He was here for a piece of the Dark Armour, hidden in the shape of the handle of a pizza cutter within Run of the Mill Pizza. 

The portal to the restaurant had since been closed, but Purple was able to use an illegal method to force the portal open. He entered the pizza place, silent as he could be. He removed his human disguise and stalked through the restaurant, goggles flipped down so he could scan the place.

He was able to quickly locate the pizza cutter, safely tucked away in a safe within the kitchen. Purple could understand why the yōkai might hold the pizza cutter so dear. He, himself, would do anything to protect the few gifts his father had given him over the years. But now, he needed that pizza cutter. So he would ignore his sympathy for the man and take what his father rightfully deserved.

Carefully, he was able to find his way to the safe without making a sound. He crouched by the safe, his heart thudding in his chest wildly. He couldn’t get caught. His goggles began to do its work, analyzing the 4 digit code the safe required. After a minute or two, the goggles gave him the code: 2663. He entered the digits into the keypad, and silently congratulated himself when he was able to swing the door open without problem. He snatched the pizza cutter, and made his way out of the pizzeria. 

Father would be so proud of him.

“It’s a pizza cutter.”

Father seemed unimpressed by what Purple had presented to him. Purple had called him to meet him in the Foot Shack because he had found a piece of the armour. He had hoped he’d be more… excited. Stupid. You think you’re so impressive. 

“The handle is a piece of the Dark Armour,” Purple explained as he and his father made their way down the staircase of the Foot Clan’s lair. “The Hamato Clan enchanted the pieces so it would be easier to conceal from the Foot Clan. It took the shape of a pizza cutter in a yōkai’s pizzeria.”

Father took it from Purple’s hands, and inspected it thoroughly. “It’s interesting what magic can do,” Father mused.

“I do love the jewels on it,” Huginn agreed. “Oh! Boss, can we get the bed lined with gems like these?”

“Yeah! Yeah!” Muninn nodded his head, peering over to get a closer look at the pizza cutter. “I want my side to be emerald.”

“We’re not wasting precious money and resources on your fucking dog bed,” Father sneered, batting Muninn’s muzzle away. 

“Can we at least get separate beds?” Huginn pleaded. “I do not want to spend another night with Muninn’s feet in my face.”

“I don’t do that!” Muninn protested. “ You’re the one who snores and keeps me up all night!”

“Oh, yeah? Well, you-”

“SILENCE,” Father roared, his voice echoing in the chambers. It caused the both gargoyles to go still and close their mouths. 

Purple could understand the gargoyles’ wish to sleep in a separate bed. When he was younger, he’d had to sleep with the two of them in the dog bed. As he got bigger, too big to fit the three of them in the cramped bed, Father had gotten him his own dog bed. They were cheaper than mattresses as well as softer. He even got a blanket and pillow, which was nice. 

His Father was a very generous yōkai, as well as efficient and conservative. He tried to save every penny he had. Purple respected him for it.

Father approached the looming Dark Armour. It was still in it’s early stages, with many of the pieces remaining missing. But with each new piece, Purple could see it grow into something far more menacing than he could have ever imagined. 

Father tore the handle from the blade, and held it up to the Dark Armour. The piece began to glow gloriously and violently vibrate, before a whoosh of sudden force caused Father to release the piece. It connected instantly to the rest of the armour, finding it’s place within the chestplate.

A wave of power struck the lair, all of the candles flickering out. Purple could feel the cave shake from the force of the wave, and Purple feared it might collapse onto them. But it held, and soon the shaking stopped.

“You have done well today, Purple,” Father praised, turning to his son with a grin. “But there is much more work to be done.”

Chapter Text

Finding mystic metal wasn’t an entirely burdensome task. Soon enough, the Dark Armour had its chausses completed. The Foot Clan had been making considerable headway in the collection of the armor pieces.

Purple was doing his best to help, but he wasn’t the army the Foot Clan was. It was just him, Shelldon, and the drone that scoured the city, scanning each block and building for any hint of mystic metals. 

Walking through the streets of New York once again, Purple had music playing through the headphone function of his goggles. Shelldon respected his need to listen to music and didn’t try and prod him for conversation. 

When he was near, Father would sometimes pull his headphones off to talk to him, even when Purple was unable to speak. It always felt invasive when he did this, and even now it filled him with dread and anxiety. He knew how rude it was to use them in public or around others, but his headphones made him more comfortable and safe. He was a little glad Shelldon didn’t act like his father in regards to the headphones or require him to speak.

He hated those moments when speaking felt like an arduous task he couldn’t complete, no matter how hard he tried. Now wasn’t one of those times, but he still found it more comfortable to keep silent and listen to the music that flooded his ears. It was loud- probably too loud for most. But he liked to be surrounded by the sound. His head would ache later, but he didn’t care. That was a situation future Purple would have to deal with. 

He walked in step with the song's beat, weaving through the crowds effortlessly. He liked to run and dance and sometimes found himself running around in the lab as he listened to his ‘jammy-jams.’ It was something that, while wearing him out, provided him with joy and a much-needed outlet for the sudden bursts of energy he experienced frequently. 

Shelldon alerted him, which came across as a small beep in his headphones. He begrudgingly paused his song and turned his attention to his robot companion. It wasn’t that he didn’t like talking to him or didn’t want to listen to him- it’s just that… he’d been in the middle of the song. And it made him uneasy and upset to leave it unfinished. 

“One of the purses in that store has the piece embedded in it,” Shelldon said, using a rotor to gesture to a store filled with purses and women’s jewelry. 

Purple had upgraded his robot from a dull, gray rhombus to something that resembled a sea turtle with rotors where fins would be. He was a dark purple, the same color as his shell and mask. He was proud of the upgrade and quite liked how more expressive his friend could be now. 

“Thanks,” he murmured, slipping into the store.

As he passed through, trying to look like a regular customer and not someone who was planning to steal from them, he found himself getting odd stares from both the few patrons in the store as well as the workers. 

He didn’t understand why they were all looking at him. They tried to hide their gazes, but he could tell that they were giving him looks.

Is it because of Shelldon? He wondered, looking at his robot friend. “Maybe you should stay outside,” he whispered.

“They’re looking at you, not me,” Shelldon quietly pointed out. “Purses are associated with women, not men.” 

“Well, that’s stupid,” Purple huffed, continuing to browse. He was trying to think of a way to snatch the purse and run without being stopped by any of the people in the store. He stood there, deep in thought, before being pulled out of it by a light tap on his shoulder.

“Excuse me, miss?” The store clerk said kindly. “Are you looking for anything specific? I’m not sure I’ve seen you here before.”

Purple was confused by the gendered word. Wasn’t he clearly a boy? But he didn’t correct her, not wanting to drag out the conversation. “Oh, no,” he shook his head. “Just looking around… I don’t know if I can afford anything here, anyway.”

“That’s alright!” The woman said her smile wide. “If you need anything, just call! I’m also… y’know,” She showed her palm, then flicked her wrist down and winked, but Purple didn’t understand what she was trying to convey with the weird hand gesture.

“Thank you,” He nodded, recreating her smile before remembering he had a mask on. 

The woman walked away and glared fiercely at the patrons, who continued to give Purple odd looks. They instantly stopped, and Purple felt more at ease in his own skin without all those eyes on him. 

“She seemed nice,” Shelldon said. “She’s getting the other humans in here off your back.”

“I have no idea why she called me a girl, though,” Purple murmured, still replaying the interaction in his mind. Maybe it was his long, braided hair? He shrugged it off. 

Purple made his way toward the purse with the mystic metal embedded within it. It looks like regular metal trimming on the side. The bag was one of the cheaper ones despite its hidden and immense value to the Foot Clan and his father.

He held it, his fingers tracing the metal piece. He glanced toward the door, trying to find an escape route.

“That’s a good choice,” the woman from before said, startling him. “I can help you check out if you’re ready!” 

“Um,” Purple hesitated. “I don’t… I don’t have the money for this,” he murmured, shoving the purse back on the shelf with embarrassment. 

“What’s their budget?” A woman from behind the counter asked. “We could give them the membership discount.”

The use of the pronoun ‘they’ was foreign, but it felt oddly correct in application to Purple. The turtle thought about it for a moment before deciding that it was an exploration for future Purple.

“A hundred dollars,” Purple said quietly. The purse cost 250$. 

“Don’t worry about the price,” the first woman said, leading him toward the counter. He shuffled through his pockets and spilled the collective hundred dollars on the counter before being rung up. The price was discounted by 25%, leading to a 187$ price tag. But he was rung up and allowed to take the purse. Did they pay for the 87$ I didn’t have?

Purple slung the purse over his shoulder. “Thank you,” he murmured, embarrassed by the purchase. He was just going to steal it, but this worked out better.

“Of course, sweetie,” the counter woman said. “Us trans folk gotta stick together.” 

Purple nodded and gave a small thumbs-up before shuffling out of the store as quickly as possible. 

“Shelldon, what does ‘trans’ mean?” 

“I see you got your little friend there a new body,” Repo said as he tossed a tire into a pile of others like it. “Whatcha want, kid?”

“I am not little,” Shelldon protested, but the softshell ignored him. He was little. 

“I need you to look out for some mystic metals for me,” Purple explained, pulling out the mystic armor piece he’d torn from the purse he’d purchased. “They look like this.”

Repo leaned in close and used the back of his mantis leg-arm to scratch his chin, humming as he observed it with squinted eyes. “What’s it worth?” 

“Nothing,” Purple lied, putting it back into his shell. It’s worth more than both of our lives . “I’ll do more repo work for you if you can get me some. I know you talk to a lot of mutants around here. Just keep an eye out, yeah?”

“Sure thing, kid,” Repo said, patting him on the head. Purple shied away from the touch, finding it odd and invasive. Repo pulled away from him, looking apologetic. “So… you gettin’ these for your dad or somethin’?”

“Yeah,” Purple answered curtly. “And I’ve gotta get that other piece back to him soon.”

“What’ll happen if you don’t?” The mantis mutant asked.

“Uh, nothing bad,” Purple shrugged. He might yell or something, but he’s not gonna hit me. “He’ll just be upset.”

Shelldon gave him a dubious look but remained silent. The mantis mutant must have seen the robot because he continued to press whatever issue he had. 

“Does your dad do anythin’... bad when he’s upset?” Repo question, his eyes narrowed as if trying to pull some sort of answer from him without the turtle responding verbally.

“No?” Purple tilted his head curiously. “Why are you so concerned about my dad?”

“Whoever gave you those scars,” Mantis said bluntly, gesturing toward his face and arms. “Ain’t someone you should be hangin’ around. Those ain’t normal. If your dad’s hurtin’ ya, he’s gonna have to deal with an angry fuckin’ Marine showin’ up to kick his ass.” 

“My dad is great!” Purple snapped, folding his arms across his chest. Shelldon pulled back from the mutants as if afraid they might start a fight. “He would never . I’m doing this for him because I love him .” 

Mantis took a step back, using his hands to motion for the turtle to calm down. “Sorry. I just…” The mantis sighed. “My pops… he wasn’t the best at controllin’ his temper ‘round us as kids. I’d hate to see you go through somethin’ similar. You got guts, kid. I like that. You remind me of myself.” 

Purple was taken aback by that. “You were… your dad hurt you?”

“Yeah,” Repo nodded, his eyes clouding over with grief. “We didn’t know what our parents did wasn’t normal until we were older… And even when we told people, no one believed us. Sometimes, I didn’t believe it myself.” 

The softshell nodded. He didn’t understand how a parent could abuse their child. He could never see Father hurting him. At least, not when he didn’t deserve it. And even then, Father still loved him. He still showed him kindness and affection- the kind only a real father could. 

“Father isn’t like that,” Purple insisted. “He loves me. He would tear the Earth apart for me. And I’d do the same.” 

Repo nodded but still looked unconvinced. Regardless, the mantis mutant folded his arms across his chest. “I’ll look out for that metal, kid. You get home to your dad.”

“Thank you,” Purple smiled before heading back toward the Foot Shack to give the newest piece to his father. 

“The mantis has a point,” Shelldon said, flying by his side. “About your dad.”

“Don’t you dare,” Purple warned harshly. “I would know if I was being hurt like Repo was. I’m not some dumb kid.”

“Abuse victims often don’t realize they’re being abused,” Shelldon pointed out, swerving in front of him to confront the turtle head-on. “Sometimes they outright deny it.”

Purple rolled his eyes. “I’m not stupid. I can recognize abuse when I see it. And Father isn’t abusing me. He genuinely loves me. He saved me.” The softshell pushed past his robot friend and kept walking. 

He would know if he was being hurt. Because that’s obvious! He knows parents shouldn’t hurt their kids. He knows parents should love their kids unconditionally. Draxum was a good father- Purple was sure of it!

He would know.

Across the city, the walk home for a separate group of turtle mutants had turned long and heavy. Rain had begun to pour down on them halfway there, leaving them soaked. 

When they entered the lair, they were greeted by Splinter, who sat on the couch in the atrium with his arms folded and his gaze narrowed.

“Where have you been?” Splinter demanded, switching on the lamp and throwing his arms up in exasperation as light flooded the room. “I was worried! Didn’t I ground you?!”

Leo, who’d landed face-first onto the floor when entering the lair, gave his father a high-five as he picked himself up. “Yeah, and you took away our weapons,” Leo reminded him.

Raph released Mikey from his hold, who’d fled into his arms after being spooked by the rat mutant’s sudden appearance. “We’re really sorry….” The giant turtle said. “B-But… But we learned a really big secret today, all right? And we gotta-”

“Me first,” Splinter interrupted before sighing as he pinched the bridge of his nose. “Being a single parent is… hard. And I know I have not always been the best to you three. And I… I did not mean to lose my temper earlier. I shouldn’t have grounded you… I should have listened. And I am sorry.”

“Aw, Dad…” Mikey smiled, always the most forgiving of them. “Thank you.”

“You are welcome, my son, my son,” Splinter said, still frowning. “I am… disappointed in myself. I am truly, deeply sorry.”

“Okokokok,” Leo interjected, waving the two of them off. “We love you and everything. Whole nine yards. BUT more importantly: LOU JITSU IS OUR DAD!”

“Wha- Who told you?!” Splinter leaned forward in his chair, his claws digging into the armrests. “I mean- how did you-”

“You knew ?” Raph asked, stepping forward. Leo saw that his eyes held a sense of bitter betrayal. “You knew, and you didn’t tell us?”

Leo stepped away from them, swallowing back words he didn’t want to say. Was this all a lie? He wondered silently as Raph towered over their father. Did you rescue us? Or did you kidnap us?

“Who told you?” Splinter asked again, his voice filled with a desperation Leo had never heard from him before. 

Raph must’ve sensed this, too, because he relaxed a bit. “Our creator, Baron Draxum.”

Splinter didn’t react immediately. He instead froze as if stricken by fear or shock. 

Leo could’ve sworn he saw tears in his father’s eyes. But that didn’t make sense. Dad didn’t cry. Not even during the thirty-third Jupiter Jim movie, where Red Fox almost died, which got Leo every time.

But his dad was crying. That was undeniable as those tears rolled down his cheeks. 

“I… I will tell you everything,” Splinter promised, his voice shaky. Mikey came forward and held their father’s hand, trying to comfort the rat mutant.

“It’s okay, Dad,” Mikey insisted. “Take your time.”

“I have kept my past from you long enough,” Splinter shook his head. “It is time I told you the truth that you each have the right to…” The rat paused, looking conflicted, before sighing in resignation. “I am Hamato Yoshi.”

They all gasped simultaneously before Leo broke the silence that followed. “Who?” Leo asked, confused as to why that name was important. 

“I came to America when I was in college. I wanted to become an actor. But, because of some… racism in the industry, I had to adopt the name Lou Jitsu and speak with a,” Splinter cleared his voice, “American accent.”

The change in Splinter’s voice to Lou Jitsu’s shocked Leo and his brothers. They stood there in silent shock and confusion. “ You’re Lou Jitsu?” 

“Yes,” Splinter nodded. “But, as you boys know….”

“Lou Jitsu disappeared in his late 30s,” Raph interjected, his eyes widening in realization, before narrowing them in concentration. The large turtle began to think really hard, which made Leo wince in sympathy. 

Leo did the math in his head. Splinter was in his early 60s. He raised them for thirteen years. If he disappeared at 38… “There’s a ten-year gap between when you disappeared and you started raising us,” Leo realized aloud. “What happened?”

“I fell in love with a woman,” Splinter explained, sighing in fondness at some distant memory. Leo gagged. “But she turned out to be a yōkai- and a powerful one at that. She was in charge of a place called the Battle Nexus.”

“I’m sorry, hold up,” Leo gawked, still trying to wrap his head around all of this newfound information. “You dated Big Mama ?”

“You know Big Mama?” Splinter asked, his eyes wide with concern and surprise. “How did you know about Big Mama?”

“She kinda used us to trap Baron Draxum’s oozesquitos,” Mikey explained. “And then she tried to turn us into the arena clowns.”

“Which is offensive ,” Raph protested with a huff. “We are perfectly capable warriors for her illegal fighting ring!”

“I am glad that you three are okay. The Battle Nexus is a horrible, horrible place,” Splinter said, worry clear on his face. “On the night I proposed to her, she revealed that she was actually a giant spider lady. She captured me and made me fight in the Battle Nexus as her champion. I was there for ten years.”

The three turtles fell silent at the confession. Leo had known his dad most definitely had some sort of painful past, but he hadn’t expected this. Not at all. 

“How did you escape?” Leo asked, his voice softer. 

“I didn’t,” Splinter hung his head. “I gave up fighting. Baron Draxum’s little flying pets brought me to him. I didn’t know what he was doing… he just wanted my DNA. So I gave it to him. But when he told me you three would be used as warriors….” The rat shivered. “I fought again. I saved you three and freed the rest of that terrible man’s experiments.”

“All but one,” Mikey murmured sadly. 

“What?” Splinter asked, confusion reclaiming his tone. “I don’t understand.”

“We have a brother,” Raph said hesitantly, twiddling with his thumbs as he spoke. “He’s a turtle, like us. And he has your DNA. His name is Purple.”

Splinter stared at Raph was shock and guilt, slumping in his chair as he covered his face with his hands. The sobs that wracked through the short rat made Leo’s heart quiver with empathy. He and his brothers had the same idea as they went to hug their dad.

“I… is he okay?” Splinter asked through his tears. “What life did I subject him to?”

He didn’t know, Leo realized in horror. The resentment that he didn’t know he had been holding toward his father vanished and instead was replaced with pity. None of us knew .

“He had scars,” Mikey said softly, rubbing a thumb over the back of their dad’s hand. “They covered half his face, and… they were on his arms, too.”

Splinter’s face contorted into something ugly and horrible as another sob escaped him. “What have I done?” 

“You didn’t know,” Raph was quick to say. Leo wondered if the oldest of the brothers shared the same guilt that Splinter had. “It’s not your fault.”

“Isn’t it?” Splinter asked, shaking his head. His yellow eyes shone only with remorse and pain. “I should’ve known- I… He could’ve died… there was a fire….”

“You made a mistake,” Leo said. “That’s okay… He’s okay.”

“Is he?” Mikey asked, dubious. “I mean, with having a supervillain for a dad and all….”

“All in favor of kidnapping him?” Raph proposed, looking at his brothers with serious determination.

Before Leo could announce his agreement, Splinter sat up in his chair and gripped the arms of the chair. “You can not go against Baron Draxum anymore. I forbid it!” 

“What?” Leo exclaimed. “Why not?! We’ve beaten his butt two times now!”

“Two?!” Splinter shouted in shock and concern. “Boys!! That is a dangerous man!! How many criminals have you run into?!”

“Dad, we can’t just let him get away with his plan,” Mikey interjected, ignoring their father’s comment about the criminals. “He’s been mutating humans so he can create an army to wipe out everyone on the surface.”

Splinter stared at Mikey with widened eyes. “I thought… I thought the mutagen was destroyed in the fire… Maybe he was able to remake it. Was Purple helping him?”

“Yeah,” Raph confirmed. “He even fought us. He uses some kinda stick to fight.”

Splinter nodded, his face dropping. “It may be too late for him… Draxum may have shaped his mind to sympathize with his cause.”

“He’s a kid,” Raph argued, his fists clenching as he spoke. “Draxum’s probably hurting him!”

“Do you have any evidence of this?” Splinter asked, his eyes narrowed. “The Hidden City has its own form of Child Protective Services. If he was really being abused, why would he not call them?” 

“Maybe he can’t,” Mikey suggested weakly. Leo could tell his youngest brother was scrambling for a reasonable answer.

“He’s had free reign on the surface at least once,” Leo pointed out. “The world's big. If he really wanted to or needed to, he could’ve run away.” 

“He did say he wasn’t there against his will….” Raph murmured thoughtfully, his frown deepening. “Maybe we jumped the gun on this… Maybe Draxum isn’t abusive like we thought.”

“He’s still our brother!” Mikey cried, looking desperate. “We can’t leave Purple with him!”

“Orange,” Splinter sighed, petting his son’s head fondly with saddened eyes. “I do not think it is wise to go after him. He has been groomed to mirror his father’s mind. You cannot risk your safety for the life of a turtle who was cursed by the flames of Draxum’s hatred.”

The three fell silent, taken aback by their father’s words. Leo knew he was right. He had known since the beginning that Purple wasn’t their brother. Even if he was biologically related to them, he knew that blood didn’t mean much when it came to family. April was their sister, and she always would be. Purple wasn’t their brother. And now, based on what they’d seen… he couldn’t be sure he ever could be. 

Mikey’s face screwed up into an expression of anger, his eyes lit with a fiery betrayal. “If you hadn’t left him behind, none of this would have happened!” 

Splinter looked shocked by the youngest turtle’s sudden outburst. Mikey was usually the peaceful one- the brother who resolved fights and got upset when Raph or Leo yelled. 

But here he was, staring at Splinter with his lip upturned into a snarl. “You killed our brother.”

The silence that followed Mikey’s remark could’ve suffocated Leo. Splinter’s eyes welled up with tears once more, and Raph looked stunned. Leo, himself, was paralyzed by the declaration from the orange-masked turtle.

“Mikey, Dad didn’t kill our brother,” Leo said, pulling his brother away from their father. He tried to get Mikey to look at him, but the younger turtle refused.  “Draxum did. Draxum killed him. Not Splinter.”

Mikey turned back to their dad with resentment painting his eyes. “You condemned him to the life he leads now.” 

“Micheal, stop it,” Raph demanded, stepping in front of their dad. “Dad’s been through enough. What Purple has become- that’s not his fault. He saved us, didn’t he? If he had known Purple was there, he would’ve done everything he could’ve to get him back, I’m sure of it.”

“Then why isn’t he doing that now?” Mikey asked, venom dripping from his tone. “If he cares so much, why the hell is he sitting on the couch telling us to abandon him?!”

“Michaelangelo,” Splinter raised his voice and immediately looked sorry for doing so. But he continued on. “He has already tried to fight you once, yes? He is dangerous. Please… I can’t afford to lose you.”

“But you’re okay with losing him,” Mikey grumbled.

“I am not,” Splinter shook his head sincerely. “But his life is not worth more than yours. Do not do this to me. I have lost so much already.”

Mikey didn’t respond, but Leo could read his younger brother reasonably well. Mikey knew Dad was right, but Leo knew that the orange-masked turtle wouldn’t give up on Purple so easily.

“Anyone up for pizza?” Leo asked, trying to break the tension. This is usually Mikey’s job… “I can take a quick portal over to Hueso’s.”

“I think that’s a good idea,” Raph agreed. “Why don’t you take Mikey? You know how much he and Hueso love to talk about cooking.”

Mikey glared at his brothers, a knowing glint in his eyes. But instead of protesting, he just sighed and nodded. 

Splinter kicked their weapons out from beneath the couch, letting Raph grab his tonfas, Mikey grab his kusari-fundo, and Leo grab his ōdachi. 

Leo swiped at the air, thinking about Run of the Mill. They’d found the pizza place a few weeks ago by accident, with Leo tripping on a roof's ledge and flying toward the brick wall of the next building over. But instead of crashing into the bricks, a portal opened and spat him out into a secret, mystic pizzeria run by a yōkai named Señor Hueso. 

The portal swooshed into existence, and Leo pushed Mikey into the portal. He turned to the rest of his family and gave a small salute. “I’ll get the usual,” he reported before diving into the portal himself. 

On the other side of the portal, in the restaurant he loved, Hueso was already waiting for him, standing beside Mikey with a desperate look on the skeleton’s face.

“Pepino,” Hueso said, his voice filled with worry. “I need your help.”

Purple returned to the Foot Shack with the armor piece, pride swelling in his chest at getting it so easily and without trouble. He strode up to his father, holding the piece up high for the world (or just the cave, really) to see. 

“Where have you been?” Father growled, causing Purple to recoil in surprise at his father’s venomous tone. “I was worried.”

“I was- I was getting the armor piece,” Purple shrunk back as he spoke. “Isn’t that what you wanted?”

“It took you an entire day just to find one piece?!” Father thundered, somehow becoming bigger in Purple’s eyes. “This mediocre Foot Clan recruit has found two!” He gestured toward a teenager, maybe a year or two older than him, with a shaved head and black eyeliner. She had a crimson mask on, sort of like his. 

“Father, I am doing my best,” Purple insisted, still holding the piece with shaking hands. “I’ll do better tomorrow.”

“Yes, you will,” Father agreed before pulling the Foot recruit toward him. “You two will be working together tomorrow, since I clearly can’t trust you alone.”

“What?!” Purple exclaimed, to which the girl’s eyes widened in mirrored surprise. “I don’t need her! I can do this on my own.”

“It doesn’t seem like you can,” Father growled. “She is disciplined, eager, and focused. Everything you lack. Perhaps working with her will teach you the skills you so desperately lack.”

“Sir,” the Foot recruit said, her back straightening and her arms going to her side. “Permission to speak, sir!”

“See? Respectful, too,” Father noted with a smile. “Permission granted.” 

“I can do this on my own, sir!” The Foot recruit shouted. In fact, everything she said was shouted, as if she didn’t know how to adjust her volume. 

“I know that,” Father insisted, patting her on the head. He only does that with me… “But my son needs a push in the right direction. I trust you will be able to do that?”

“Of course, sir!” The Foot recruit agreed. “Thank you for your trust, sir!”

“I don’t need her!” Purple shouted at his father, surprising even himself with his powerful voice. But he continued. “I can do this on my own! I can find three armor pieces tomorrow and on my own!”

“Purple!” Father roared, anger evident in his thunderous voice. He stalked forward toward the young turtle, who staggered backward in fear. “You disrespectful, arrogant little fiend . Do you not know when to shut your mouth?” 

“I-” Purple began but was cut off.

“QUIET,” Father demanded, raising a claw in the air to make his point. When Purple remained silent, his father relaxed before turning to the gargoyles that sat perched on his shoulders. “Huginn, Muninn, retrieve the new mask I got for my dear son.”

“Oh,” Huginn said, hopping off his shoulder. “Really?”

“Yes, really!” Father snarled, flicking Huginn back a bit. “Why the hell would I state for you to do so if I wasn’t serious?!”

“Well, we thought it was, like, a gag gift?” Muninn admitted with a shrug and worried glance toward Purple. 

“Yeah,” Huginn nodded in agreement. “Like how I got Muninn toilet paper with his face on it last year!”

Muninn laughed at the memory. “That was hilarious! I loved that.”

“Silence!” Father ordered. “Get the muzzle!”

As Huginn and Muninn hurried off, Purple could only feel fear clench his heart. Muzzle? He thought, closing his eyes tightly. Memories he’d buried as a child dared to resurface, but he pushed them away. You’re overreacting. You deserve this. You talked back, remember?

“I’m sorry….” Purple murmured, shuffling his feet in embarrassment and shame. “I’m sorry, Father.”

“It’s too late for your insolent apologies,” Father said, his gaze dark. 

Purple wanted to shrink away from the world, crawl into his shell, and never come back out. But he knew that was a coward’s way of thinking. He wasn’t a coward. He couldn’t be a coward.

So when the gargoyles returned with his gift, he accepted it graciously. He let his father tighten it around his head. The mask pulled around the top and bottom of his muzzle, with a small opening for his mouth and nose to peek out from- a place to breathe. But if he tried to open his jaws, the mask restricted it.

“Don’t try to take it off,” Father commanded as he backed away. “Only I can open it. When you learn to behave yourself, then you’ll get your speaking privileges back.”

Purple tried to open his mouth to speak, but he couldn’t. His jaw burned from the attempt, and he shut it immediately to stop the pain. He nodded, hoping his father couldn’t see the tears pricking his eyes. 

I wanna go home, he thought. But he couldn’t voice his desire- he wouldn’t even if his jaw wasn’t bound. He handed the piece to Father, who swiped it from him. Purple watched as his father connected it to the rest of the armor.

He looked to the Foot recruit, who looked stunned and concerned. She closed her open jaw when she noticed Purple was staring at her. She narrowed her eyes again, trying to look like she didn’t care.

“My name’s Cassandra,” she reported. “We will work on finding a new piece first thing in the morning. I will meet you here at 6:00. Do not be late.”

Purple nodded before watching her dip away into the shadows. He didn’t want tomorrow to come. He didn’t want his breathing to be restricted. But he knew he had to for his father. 

He would do anything for his father.

Chapter Text

As it turned out, Hueso’s prized pizza cutter had been stolen by a yōkai using a cloaking broach. Hueso had described the yōkai’s disguised form in great detail, which had led Leo to recognize that the perpetrator wasn’t a yōkai at all. The thief was none other than a certain mutant turtle that he had become far too familiar with over the last couple of months. It was Purple, his long-lost brother.

He’d been on the fence about their relationship before, but now he was sure where the purple-masked turtle stood in his life. He was the enemy. It was embarrassing that he’d ever questioned that. Maybe it was because Mikey, who was still ever the optimist about the whole situation, still believed that some sort of light existed within Purple’s heart that they could tap into. Even after everything that had happened and everything they’d been through. Leo couldn’t quite understand it. His little brother would have to wake up and understand the severity of the actual situation soon. He had to. There was no other choice, no matter how much Mikey wished and insisted there was. Purple was Draxum’s son, not their brother. Not anymore. There was no changing that.

Hueso had shown them an alternate route to the Hidden City located within a dumpster. It was the closest portal (or so Hueso claimed), and taking it had thrown them to a dock just above a cliff’s ledge. 

The moment when Leo and Mikey realized how close they both were to the edge, they scrambled back. Leo grabbed onto Hueso while Mikey kept his distance from both the drop and his brother. The skeleton yōkai rolled his eyes, seemingly unbothered by what had frightened the slider.

Despite Mikey’s continued gloom over the situation, both turtles took in their new surroundings , in awe by the great contrast this place had to the rest of the Hidden City. While most of the underground city was brightly lit and colored, this area was darker- with muted tones and flickering lights. 

“What is this place?” Leo asked, tugging on the cuffs of Hueso’s jacket. 

“This is the Pirate’s Cove,” Hueso explained as he led the turtles through the Pirate’s Cove. “It is the one place in the Hidden City where the police dare not go.”

“Woah,” Leo gasped, watching as two large, mean-looking yōkai arm wrested just outside a bar. “This place rules!”

“No, it does not,” Hueso said sternly, shaking his arm to force the turtle to stop holding onto him. “There are no laws here. The thief’s father is Baron Draxum, no?” 

“Yeah,” Mikey confirmed, seemingly ignoring Leo’s hand moving to grip the hilt of his ōdachi securely. “Why? You know him?”

“He was once a great warrior that worked for the Council of Heads,” Hueso explained as he continued down the docks. “It is unknown what led him astray, but he was banished from the Hidden City for crimes against yōkai and humanity. It is likely that he resides here.”

Leo huffed while Mikey remained quiet as they continued to walk. It only made sense that the guy who was after them would also be outcasted by the yōkai. “So it means Purple’s here, too.”

“Sí,” Hueso replied with a sad look in his eyesockets. “And my pizza cutter. It was a gift from mí papa before he passed.”

Leo gave Hueso a sympathetic glance. He couldn’t imagine a life without Splinter. His dad was always there for him when he needed him to be. Sure, he wasn’t the best, but he tried his best, given the circumstances. And considering that Leo now knew the circumstances included loads of undealt trauma, he was a little more forgiving of the rat. 

“So, what is the plan?” Hueso asked with determination.  

“Yeah, I don’t do those,” Leo said smugly. He was too good for plans.

Mikey gave him a serious glare. “Leo! I thought you had a plan!” He cried out, lightly punching his older brother’s arm. 

Leo only rolled his eyes, ignoring his little brother’s worry. “Relax! We never have plans, and things go fine !” 

“We’re doomed,” Hueso sighed, bones rattling as he shook his head. “Is there any reason he might have wanted my pizza cutter? Maybe we can find out if he sold it to anyone.”

Leo hummed in contemplation, stopping in his tracks to think about it. It was out of character. Why would Purple and Draxum, evil scientists, want a pizza cutter, of all things? “Was there anything special about it?” 

“Other than sentimental value, it had some gemstones embedded into it,” Hueso explained. 

“What could Baron Draxum want with gems?” Leo murmured to himself, trying to wrack his brain for an answer. “Maybe they’re using the crystals to power a super weapon? That sounds science-y.”

“I forget that you did not attend a school of any kind,” Hueso said, disappointment clear in his voice.  

“I am going to ignore that,” Leo grumbled to himself. He began to inspect the docks, looking for anything that might scream, ‘Hey! I’m into evil science!’. The blue-masked turtle could see a bar with a drunken zebra-like yokai stumbling out. Next to it was a tattoo parlor. Many of the shops there were seemingly ordinary- not bizarre or necessarily nefarious at all. 

“Do non-criminals hang out here?” He asked, confused by the lack of violence and illegal activity.

“This is the Docks,” Hueso said as if it were obvious. “Nothing illegal will happen here. At least, nothing blatantly so. We will have to venture further into the Pirate’s Cove for that.”

“Gotcha,” Leo nodded before spinning around and using his sword to point them forward. “Ahoy, my lad! Let us continue our adventure!”

“I regret choosing you to help me with this,” Hueso lamented but continued by Leo’s side as they continued into the lawless part of the Hidden City.

Just like Cassandra requested, Purple had been outside the Foot Shack at 6:00 sharp. 

The mask his father had gifted him with was secured tightly to his face, tight enough that he couldn’t move his jaws much. He’d been allowed to take it off to eat and was careful to not say anything during the meal. The mask was on for a reason. When he could demonstrate he was mature enough to go without it, then he could return to his cloth mask.

Cassandra stood at the entrance to the store, its sign still displaying that it had yet to open to the public for the day. The sun had barely begun to rise, which allowed Purple to be out in the city without a cloaking broach.

“Oh. You still have that on,” Cassandra said, gesturing to his mask. She wore her own mask, which was made of cloth and had a nice velvet hue. Cassandra shook her head, clearing whatever thoughts she might have had. “NO MATTER! We will continue to serve the FOOT CLAN and the SHREDDER by searching for the missing ARMOR PIECES! ARE YOU READY?!”

Purple attempted to respond verbally before the muzzle held his jaws close together and refused the attempt. He winced at the sudden pain, silently reprimanding himself for already breaking Father’s deliberate rule. Why can’t I even do this right?

Cassandra seemed to have noticed the issue, and Purple could see a look of pity in her eyes. He hated it. He narrowed his eyes and nodded, making a soft clicking sound without extending his jaws too wide.

Cassandra seemed to have accepted that as she continued her loud, obnoxious speech. “We will find as many ARMOR PIECES as we can TODAY. There has already been a REPORT of a PIECE being AUCTIONED OFF JUST ACROSS THE STREET. ARE YOU READY TO BREAK INTO A BUILDING LIKE YOUR LIFE DEPENDS ON IT?!”

Purple made the same clicking sound as before in response, his eyes narrowed with determination. Cassandra seemed to approve of that answer once again because she began to (very angrily) march across the street. Purple followed her, lightly tapping on his cloaking broach belt buckle to transform into his human form. He collapsed his bō into a miniature form, placing it in his pocket. 

He silently regretted leaving Shelldon at home. He wanted his friend alongside him but didn’t want him to see him like this. It was embarrassing! Being forced to wear a muzzle because you couldn’t keep your mouth shut? Purple felt humiliated and kept his head low as he continued down the street.

Purple then accidentally bumped into Cassandra, having not noticed she had stopped walking. The human turned to him, her eyes holding within them a fire that burned with fierce determination. 

“We will be STEALING the ARMOR PIECE from HERE,” Cassandra said, her voice quieter but still retaining the same harsh intensity. 

Purple wasn’t sure he liked her. She was really loud, even when he was sure she didn’t mean to be. It made him feel like she was yelling at him, and the anxiety that surrounded his heart when she spoke wouldn’t go away, no matter how much he told himself he was okay. Despite this, he admired her determination, however bold it was.

Cassandra was trying to brute force her way through the metal door that led into the building. To her credit, she did make noticeable dents in the door. Purple rolled his eyes and pushed her aside, using the lockpick function of his techbō to open the door without much hassle.

After a moment, the metal door swung open from Purple’s successful lock-picking abilities. He motioned for her to go in first, a small bitter part of him reminding himself that she was the leader of this operation, not him. 

She marched through the doorway. Even her movements were loud and exaggerated. Purple followed behind her, closing the door and locking it behind them so they wouldn’t be disturbed. 

Soon after, they began to search the storage rooms of the auction house. Each item was labeled in a neat and orderly fashion. It made Purple’s heart sing, but he knew that the organization of the auctioned items was no help in searching for a mystic metal that was most definitely disguised. 

He flicked his goggles down and began to scan the room. Some of the items glowed with a mystic energy. Still, none matched the specific radiance given off by the armor pieces. 

He attempted to open his jaw to call out to his partner, but the muzzle kept him from doing so. He made a small, pathetic whine of pain. The muzzle made Purple feel hot with immense shame. It was supposed to be a punishment for kids- not for a teenager like him. 

Cassandra must have heard his whine because she turned to him with a look Purple couldn’t decipher. “Have you LOCATED the ARMOR PIECE?”

Purple shook his head, frustrated that he couldn’t speak, before perking up when an idea popped into his head. He knew he would technically be breaking the rule of no talking by doing it, but he decided to go for it anyway. Slowly, he signed, Do you know sign language?  

Cassandra blinked at him before scrunching her face together in deep concentration. Purple took that as a sign that she did not know the language, and he sighed in annoyance. Instead, he continued his search, scanning the last of the items before moving on to the next storage room. It would’ve been helpful if Cassandra had told him the auction number, but of course, nothing could ever be that simple. After a few minutes of looking around the shelves, he heard a triumphant shout from the next room. 

“AHA!” Cassandra cried happily. “I FOUND THE ARMOR PIECE!”

Purple narrowed his gaze, feeling his shoulders slump at the announcement. Of course, she’d had found it before him. Why can’t I do this?

Cassandra hurried over to him, her eyes holding a sense of accomplishment that Purple wished he could share with her. “Let us return this to the FOOT SHACK and continue onto the NEXT LOCATION!”

Deep within the Pirate’s Cove, located within the Hidden City, Leo, Mikey, and Hueso struggled to find both Draxum and Purple. 

While Leo and Mikey had gone to Baron Draxum’s house before, it wasn’t like they’d memorized the route there. Leo barely remembered what it looked like from the outside. 

Asking for information about the area and a few other yōkai proved useless, too. Most heckled for dabloons, the currency of the Hidden City, before revealing that they had no clue who they were talking about. And even if they had heard of Baron Draxum, most looked perplexed when they brought up a turtle yōkai who accompanied him. 

“Maybe he does not leave the house much?” Hueso offered after the third time they were shrugged off. “My son does not leave his room.”

“I just don't understand why !” Leo grumbled, crossing his arms as he kicked a stray rock. “My brothers and I were trapped in the sewers for years , and even when Dad finally let us go to the surface, we had to be careful to not get spotted. But here?” He gestured toward the streets of criminals and banished yōkai. “He never had to worry about getting pricked or prodded by some crazy scientist!”

“Leo…” Mikey murmured, reaching out toward his brother. Leo knew he was just trying to comfort him, but he didn’t want Dr. Feelings at the moment. He just wanted his childhood with his brothers. 

Hueso looked lost for words, and Leo wondered if he had gone too far. He considered Hueso like a family member- maybe an uncle. But he realized that maybe the skeleton yōkai only considered him an annoying kid. 

“I’m sorry,” Leo murmured, turning to the yōkai with a remorseful look. “Just… That’s been on my chest for a while now. I’m sorry, Hueso.”

“No need to apologize, Pepino,” Hueso assured him, giving him a light pat on the shoulder. “I… admittedly, do not understand. But you deserved a normal childhood, and I am so sorry that was robbed of you.”

Leo felt embarrassed by the compassion that the yōkai showed him. He’d always been envious of April for the life she was able to lead but had never expressed his jealousy to her. It felt good to have it out in the open and not be judged. He didn’t like coming to Mikey for things. His brother was thirteen and certainly didn’t need the weight of his older brother’s mental health weighing on his psyche. “Thank you, Tío Hueso,” Leo murmured. 

“ Tío ?” The yōkai repeated with a chuckle, smiling softly. “Where did this come from?”

“My love of free pizza,” the blue-masked turtle smirked. “I expect a freshly baked Hawaiian pizza after we’ve finished this conquest. And I will call ahead of time for my future free pizzas.”

“Can we get free flan, too?” Mikey perked up with a large smile. “I can help make it! I’ve always wanted to learn!” 

“What makes you think I will be giving you free food?” Hueso asked with an amused tone. “As you both should know, neither of you are my favorite customer. That title goes to Todd.”

“I guess I won’t call you Tío then….” Leo sighed dramatically, slumping his shoulders and slowly moving forward down the Pirate Cove’s path. 

“And I’ll start calling it flan ,” Mikey threatened, butchering the pronunciation of the word so horribly that Leo physically recoiled in disgust.

“Fine! You can have free pizza! And flan!” Hueso said in defeat. “But you do not get any more pizzas until we get my pizza cutter back.”

Leo perked up with a large smile while Mikey fist-bumped the air. “Great! Then let us continue! Vamos !” 

The next location Purple and Cassandra ventured to was within the Pirate’s Cove. He felt more at ease within his home region of the Hidden City and was able to ditch his human disguise once again in favor of returning to his own turtle skin. He’d grown up on these streets and was able to navigate the paths easily. 

On the other hand, Cassandra was a human, leaving her unfamiliar with the yōkai’s hidden world. So, naturally, he was leading them both toward the whereabouts of the next armor piece, despite the nagging thoughts in the back of his mind that told him that someone like him wasn’t fit to lead, even if he knew these streets like the back of his hands. 

“It’s said to be located within a PIRATE SHIP,” Cassandra reported. Her loud voice caused attention to be brought to them, making Purple feel anxious. He didn’t want prying eyes on them.

Purple looked up, spotting various ships in midair. Most pirates rarely left their ship, and when they did, they had their own secret portal access from inside their vessels to the docks, where they sold and traded the various goods they’d stolen via portal jacking. 

“How are we supposed to get up there?!” Cassandra cried out, kicking a lamp post in frustration. She bounced back in pain, to which Purple rolled his eyes. 

He clicked a button on his techbō, transforming it into a bike. He handed it off to Cassandra, before switching his battle shell into flight mode. He motioned for her to follow him, which she did rather gracefully, considering it was supposedly her first time trying this particular variation of the method of transportation.

Purple couldn’t help but blink at her in surprise, thinking she’d have a harder time with the bike. Instead, she was a natural. 

Cassandra narrowed her gaze, seemingly offended by his lack of confidence in her. “I know how to ride a bike!”

Purple clicked in response and continued into the air. The ship they were heading to was the S.S. Queen Alexis, captained by Capitán Piel. Each boat had its name inscribed on both sides, which made finding the exact boat rather easy. The vessel looked like an old sailing ship despite the fact that it soared the skies instead of being plunged into the depths of the sea. 

Eventually, the Foot recruit and the mutant turtle landed on the deck of the S.S. Alexis. As soon as they did, Purple took back his bike and returned it to its natural form of a bō. While he hoped this mission might present itself as a peaceful negotiation, he knew that it was most likely bound to lead to them fighting for the piece. You can never trust pirates.

“Ar, who be ye?” One of the crew called out to them. He was a loch ness monster yōkai with an eye patch over his left eye. In fact, all of the pirates on board had an eye patch. 

“How did you all lose your left eye?” Cassandra asked bluntly, but the pirates ignored her. 

Purple snorted at her stupidity and wished he could verbally correct her. Pirates don’t wear eye patches for injuries. They wear them so they can fight in the dark. 

One of the yōkai, who looked like a squid with a muscular body, pointed a sword at the Foot recruit’s neck. “If ye don’t tell us wha’ ye’re doin’ here, we be goin’ t’ throw ye overboard,” the squid yōkai threatened.

“WE’RE HERE TO MAKE A TRADE!” Cassandra shouted, using a hand to slap away the blade. “THERE IS A VALUABLE METAL ON THIS VESSEL WE WOULD LIKE TO TAKE OFF YOUR HANDS.”

“What valuable item on my ship do ye seek?” A voice echoed from above.

Purple looked up to see a flag made out of flesh waving on the ship before realizing it was, in fact, a yōkai . The man dropped down from where he’d been waving in the wind, his body making awful noises.

He was just… skin. He was entirely made of skin. Purple felt like he was going to vomit but forced himself to keep it in. He wouldn’t be able to clean it up until the end of the day, until Father returned home, where he would be forced to shamefully explain his inability to control himself. 

“We are searching for MYSTIC METALS. We have located one in the BOW OF YOUR SHIP. We will offer you PREMIUM LIFE-TIME DISCOUNTS AT THE FOOT SHACK for it,” Cassandra shouted, her body rigid as she spoke. 

The yōkai, who Purple had deduced as Capitán Piel, laughed. “And what makes you think I need new shoes, gata?” 

Cassandra looked at the captain’s boots, which were shiny and magnificent. She sighed, conceding to his point. 

The softshell snapped his fingers, getting the crew’s attention. Do any of you know sign language? Purple signed before lightly tapping on his muzzle. 

“I know a wee,” the squid yōkai nodded. “I be nah fluent.” The yōkai turned to the rest of the crew to explain what Purple was doing. “The sprog be natterin’ in sign. I can translate.”

The captain nodded to his crewmate and ushered for the turtle to continue. 

I am a scientist and inventor, Purple explained slowly, ensuring that the other yōkai could understand him. For a month, I will create what you want. No questions asked.

The squid yōkai relayed his message to the captain, who nodded thoughtfully. “Can you do ship repairs?” He asked. “We get into a bit of fighting with the other bands.”

Purple nodded in response. Before he could go on to explain more, the captain smirked in delight.

“I accept your deal. Show me to this magical metal, eh?”

Leo was going to give up on this wild goose chase. He was sure he could buy some random ass pizza cutter online, glue some pebbles on it, and Hueso wouldn’t know the difference. But Hueso was adamant about getting it back. 

Mikey was empathetic toward Hueso’s plight, too. While Leo’s sympathy had slowly died down as the day progressed, his little brother’s spirits remained high. 

If I didn’t love him so much, I might just abandon them both here, he thought bitterly. His stomach growled, only making his conviction stronger. 

Leo turned to his brother, wondering if he’d like to stop for food soon. But his little brother looked… anxious. Like he was having some internal struggle that he was trying to bottle up but was failing miserably to do. He slowed down to his brother’s side, leaning over to him.

“You okay?” He asked, keeping his voice low. “We can stop for food if you wanna eat.” 

“I’m not hungry,” Mikey shook his head. “I um… I think I saw Purple.”

Leo halted in his tracks, unsheathing his sword immediately. “Where?” He asked, his hands gripping his ōdachi firmly. Is he stalking us?

“Are you going to hurt him?” Mikey asked, grabbing Leo’s wrist gently. His eyes shone with fear and worry that stemmed from deep love and care. “Leo, are you going to hurt our brother?”

“...No, I won’t hurt our brother,” Leo said after a few seconds of contemplation. It wasn’t a lie. He wouldn’t hurt any of his brothers- he would never. But Purple isn’t our brother.

Mikey relaxed and released his hold on Leo. “Thank you,” he said. “Can you agree that we’ll try to talk with him?” 

Leo grumbled something under his breath before rolling his eyes and slumping his shoulders. “We will try talking to him first.”

“What is the hold-up, Pepino?” Hueso asked, strolling over to the two turtles with a worried expression. 

“I saw Purple,” Mikey explained before pointing to the sky. 

It was only then that Leo realized there were pirate ships in the sky . He gawked in fascination, taking a step back in awe. “Woah…”

“Which one?” Hueso asked desperately, taking hold of the box turtle’s shoulders. 

“Uhh… It’s a bit hard to read if I’m honest,” Mikey explained before pointing at one of the ships in the sky, “I think it says, S.S. Queen Alexis .”

Hueso let go of the orange-masked turtle and spun around to see the ship, his face falling immediately. “Ah, mierda .” 

“Hey, if we can’t swear, neither can you,” Leo exclaimed before readying his ōdachi. “One portal to that ship coming right up!”

“Wait, Pepino- Don’t!” Hueso shouted, rushing over to stop the turtle. But before the yōkai could grab his swords and force him to stop, a portal formed beneath the three of them. Within moments, they were falling through.

The three of them landed with a thud on the planks of the S.S. Queen Alexis. Leo looked up, startled by the appearance of three mean-looking pirates hovering over them. 

“Capitán Piel!” One of them called over their shoulder, “we ‘ave more turtles o’er here!” 

Leo picked himself up from the floor before helping his brother up. He observed what he could of the ship, with some of his view being blocked by the pirates cornering them. 

He could see that Purple and a Foot recruit were currently dismantling the door to what Leo assumed was the captain’s quarters. The pirate beside them was a yōkai made of pure flesh, which disgusted Leo. Mikey scrambled to the side of the ship, throwing up overboard. 

“Ah, your brothers?” The presumed captain asked Purple. The turtle, whose mask was now metallic rather than cloth, shook his head in response.

The enemy turtle looked at Leo specifically, his eyes narrowing. His gaze then moved beside him to Hueso, and he could see a sense of regret in his heterochromatic eyes. Why did he get the cool genes?! 

Purple’s attention moved to Mikey, who was excitedly waving at him. Purple gave him a weird look before waving back slowly.

“Hueso!” The captain called out, grinning wildly. Oh my God, are his teeth made of flesh? Leo thought as he recoiled with disgust, goosebumps rising on his skin.

“Piel,” Hueso greeted in response, bitterness tainting his voice.

“Wait, you two know each other?!” Leo exclaimed, looking between the two. 

“Why, of course,” Piel snickered. “Who does not know of Hueso, the most wanted pirate in the Hidden City?” 

“You were a pirate ?” Mikey cried out with a smile. “THAT IS SO COOL!”

“I was never a pirate,” Hueso declared. “ He tricked me into going on one mission , and I’m forever branded a criminal!” 

“You were such a coward,” Capitán Piel sneered. “You ran away from a basic plundering. Ha! You should’ve heard his bones rattle.”

“I was a child,” Hueso countered, shaking his head. “But I fear you no more, Hermano .”

“Whoa, whoa, whoa- hermano ?!” Leo gasped, looking between the two of them. “This skin dude is your brother ?! Sheesh, and I thought Purple was an eyesore!” He looked over to see said turtle glaring at him, and he couldn’t help but smirk in response.

“Yes, we are brothers,” Hueso confirmed, drawing a sword. “But skin and bones do not mix.”

“WE AREN’T HERE TO FIGHT!” Mikey exclaimed, pushing himself between Hueso, Leo, and the pirates. “We just want to negotiate for the safe return of Señor Hueso’s prized pizza cutter!”

“Negotiate?” Piel laughed, stabbing his sword into the deck of his ship. “Pirates do not negotiate.”

“Technically, we’re not here for you,” Leo explained before pointing at the turtle behind them. “We’re here for him.”

Purple rolled his eyes and moved his attention back to the door, flipping his goggles on his face before continuing to try and remove a piece from the door frame. 

“HEY!” Leo shouted, waving his arms in the air frantically in an attempt to grab his attention. “WE’RE TALKING TO YOU!”

Despite his yells, the turtle wouldn’t respond. Leo tried to sprint through the blockade but was caught by one of the pirates. He struggled against their hold, but they wouldn’t give up.

Purple must’ve seen this and thought it was his cue to book it because both he and the Foot recruit hopped on whatever ungodly inventions the purple turtle had made and was zooming off.

“Oh no, you don’t !” Leo shouted, elbowing the pirate holding him in his side before using his ōdachi to open a portal. He swiftly jumped through and landed directly on Purple’s back. He then proceeded to grip onto the spikes attached to Purple’s prosthetic shell for dear life, pleading to whatever pizza god there was that he wouldn’t die. 

The purple turtle began to panic, his eyes wide with terror. Leo felt bad for him but shook away the feeling. There was a reason he was in this position. And it was partly because of his stupidity, but mostly because he stole a pizza cutter from his Tío!

“You stole something from Hueso,” He shouted, ignoring the fact that his voice wobbled with anxiety, “and you’re gonna give it back!”

The other turtle didn’t respond, instead trying to steady himself in the air. They were staggering towards the grown fast, with Purple desperately trying to regain control. Oddly enough, he wasn’t trying to push Leo off. 

“Too good to respond to me?” Leo asked, gritting his teeth as he was smacked against a huge stalagmite. “Give it back!”

Purple seemingly refused to respond to him. Leo couldn’t understand why. Was he just being petty? He huffed, annoyed by the silence from the turtle. “I could turn you in to the Hidden City police for stealing.”

He heard a snort come from the turtle and found himself smiling, happy he’d gotten a response. “I totally could!” 

When they were close enough to the ground, Purple pushed Leo off. The blue-masked turtle grunted as he hit the hard rock below. He grabbed his ōdachi, which had landed just a bit away from him. He knew he should go after the flying turtle, but Hueso and Mikey were still on the S.S. Queen Alexis, and they were his priority. So, with a swipe of his ōdachi through the air, he opened a new portal. He entered it, grabbed Hueso and Mikey-  who were cornered by the pirates- and dragged them back through. The portal was promptly sealed before any of the pirates could come barging through. 

Leo sat back on the rock, sighing from exhaustion and the headache that began to pound against the inside of his skull. He rubbed his forehead, groaning. “Sorry, Hueso.”

“It’s okay, Sobrino,” Hueso said, putting a hand on the turtle’s shoulder. “Thank you for trying to help me. But I must move on. It will be hard, but… I will live. I have my father’s memory, and that’s all that matters.”

Leo smiled at the sentiment before a shadow cast over him, and he looked up to see Mikey bearing down on him. He scrambled back a bit, noticing that his younger brother looked angry .

“You said you wouldn’t fight him!” Mikey shouted, his hands balled into fists as he spoke. “You promised we would talk !”

“I said I wouldn’t fight my brother ,” Leo corrected him, getting up and brushing himself off. “He will never be mi hermano. And I didn’t fight him! I tried talking to him, but he wouldn’t respond! He smacked me against a stalagmite !” 

Mikey’s face fell, morphing into an expression of despair. “He is our brother,” he insisted, his large eyes welling up with tears as he spoke. “Why is everyone giving up on him? Are you forgetting he’s our age? He’s just a kid, Leo.”

Leo softened at his brother’s sadness. Maybe… Maybe he might be wrong. He hated the idea that he could be wrong, and even admitting it to himself felt like a dagger to his heart. But he had to consider the possibility. Perhaps he’d been too quick to judge Purple. How old was he? Did he like comic books like Leo? Or maybe he was more into art like Mikey. Leo wasn’t blind to the fact that Purple was still a teenager like them. He knew the turtle must have hopes and dreams like the rest. 

But are those hopes and dreams good ones? He wondered silently, pulling his brother close to him to offer a comforting embrace. Or will he destroy everything I love? What else is he willing to take if he can steal something as valueless as a pizza cutter?

“Mike, I love you,” Leo said, stepping back after a few more moments of silent contemplation passed. “But he… he doesn’t want help. We asked him before, remember? We gave him an out the first time we saw him. And he refused. Not only that, but he continues to work against us and even hurt us and the people we care about. I think it's time we accept that… while he may be our brother, that doesn’t mean he’s a good guy.”

Mikey sniffled, wiping away his tears with his hand. He nodded numbly, his eyes holding a vacant stare. Leo sighed and looked at Hueso as he held his little brother’s hand. 

“Let’s go home.”

Through the dumpster portal, they returned back to the streets of New York. Of course, they were thrown right onto the dirty concrete, meaning that Leo would have cuts to examine both of them later.
Hueso led them back to the pizzeria. They had free food to redeem, after all. 

Leo and Mikey waited at a booth in the back. The restaurant was empty, having been closed due to Hueso’s emergency. The blue-masked turtle enjoyed some Coca-Cola he’d gotten from the back fridge while Mikey had an apple juice. He was scribbling on a menu with the crayons given to kids during the open hours. 

“I thought you were gonna help him with the flan,” Leo asked, watching as Mikey drew a cat with a purple, spiked collar and a singular white paw. He wondered if it was related to Purple in any way. But Mikey didn’t respond, seemingly too focused on his drawings to hear or respond to the inquiry.

After around ten minutes, Hueso returned to them, delivering their pizza in a box. “Here you are, sobrinos. I hope Raphael is doing well. And thank you for your help.” 

“No problem, Señor Hueso!” Mikey exclaimed before showing him his cat drawing. “Do you like it? His name is Scourge!”

“It looks very nice, chico,” Hueso said with a smile before his eyes widened. “Oh, I did not show you.”

“Show us what?” Leo pried, squinting in suspicion. 

Hueso pulled out a pizza cutter from his apron, bedazzled with gemstones. “It seems like su hermano gave it back after all. It almost feels better- as if it was polished.”

Leo’s jaw dropped. He gave it back ? The blue-masked turtle couldn’t fathom why he’d do that, especially since Purple had been so adamant about not talking to him. Why hadn’t he just told him he was planning on returning it? Why hadn’t he said anything at all ? 

“See? I knew he wasn’t all bad,” Mikey said with a proud smile. “He reminds me of you, Leo.”

“Wha- How?!” Leo sputtered. “I am nothing like him!”

“You both got this tough guy act,” Mikey explained, emphasizing his point with various hand gestures, “but you also both got a heart of gold underneath all that sass.”

Leo rolled his eyes. “Har-har. Let’s get home before Dad and Raph start to worry,” he said, picking up the box and his ōdachi as he began to head out, waving goodbye to the bone yōkai. Mikey hurried beside him, holding his now colorful menu.

They exited the restaurant and entered the alleyway that they had exited earlier. Leo used his ōdachi to create a portal once more, this time leading to their home beneath the bustling city of New York. Mikey entered first, disappearing behind the swirling blue matter that compromised it. Still, Leo lingered behind for a moment longer, lost in his thoughts.

Maybe Mikey was right, and Purple wasn’t that bad of a turtle. He might’ve just been misguided, led astray by his no-good father. Maybe underneath that ugly, scarred skin was a turtle with a good heart. Or maybe Mikey’s optimism was finally wearing off on him.

Leo made a choice as he entered the portal back to the sewers. Purple was just as young as he was. As evil as he acted, there could still be a chance that deep down- very, very deep down- there might be a turtle that hadn’t been touched by Draxum’s harsh words and criminal schemings. And even with just that shard of hope that was stuck under the skin of his heart, he could feel that there was still a chance to save him. Mikey was undoubtedly more passionate about it, but it was a start.

Purple may have been raised by Draxum in a harsher world than Leo would ever even want to try and imagine, but he still shared the same flesh and bone as Leo and the rest of his brothers. And no matter what happened, no matter what they all got themselves into, and no matter who or what stood between them, that couldn’t and wouldn’t ever change.

Chapter Text

After giving Cassandra the piece of the armor he’d taken from the S.S. Queen Alexis, Purple headed home, his body heavy from the long day. The mission had been exhausting, and it certainly took its toll on both Purple’s body and mind. 

He staggered into his room, propping his bō against the doorway and settling himself into the corner of his room. He wasn’t sure why he liked to curl up into the spot he’d chosen- it just made him feel safer to be in such a small, confined space. And if he needed to, he could also crawl into his shell for the added warmth and security it brought him. 

“You did the right thing,” Shelldon remarked as he returned from a mission of his own.

When Purple first spotted the turtles on the pirate ship, his first reaction was (embarrassingly) fear. But once they’d announced their intent to take back the pizza cutter Purple had stolen, he’d relaxed. 

He had sent Shelldon to retrieve the pizza cutter he’d remade (with a new handle, of course) and deliver it to Run of the Mill pizzeria. He hadn’t wanted to make a replacement pizza cutter at first. It was Shelldon who’d convinced him to do it. It was an easy fix, all things considered. 

Purple was reading his book about different turtle species again, this time fixated on the page about red-eared sliders. The turtle mutant with the blue bandana (Leonardo? Or was it Leonardo da Vinci? He still wasn’t sure.) had interested him in a way none of the other turtles did. The two of them were the most physically similar, with the same general body and head shape. Purple had deduced that he was the smartest on the three-turtle team, too. Just not as bright as him, of course. 

“Wanna play Minecraft?” Shelldon asked, settling down beside him. “Or chess?”

Purple declined with a small shake of his head. A headache was beginning to brew from more than just the exhaustion of the day. He knew that tomorrow, he’d be working with the Foot Lieutenants. Although they weren’t as loud as Cassandra, he knew they would quickly get on his nerves. He just needed space before that happened.

Sleep would overtake him soon. He could feel his eyes and body becoming heavy, but he wanted to keep reading. Purple held the bookmark in his hand. It was one of the four photos he’d never let Father know he had and most likely never would. It was a photo of the blue-masked turtle before his mutation. Draxum had taken photos of them for research purposes, but they’d all been lost when the lab was destroyed. He’d found the four photos in old files his Father had long forgotten about, and Purple was almost certain that he thought they had been destroyed. I should’ve destroyed them , the purple-marked turtle thought to himself as he delicately ran a finger along the slightly burnt edges. He sighed softly and tucked the book away with the photo still in hand. He could find the page he’d lost again later.

Purple turned off the lights and settled into his bed, pulling the old blanket over him. He laid the image of his brother under his pillow, feeling more at ease with it close by. He thought of how stupid it was that such a thing brought the amount of comfort that it did. 

He closed his eyes, hoping that sleep would come soon tonight. The way his muzzle rested on the pillow was awkward and uncomfortable, but there wasn’t much he could do. He could probably sleep on his back to avoid discomfort, but he always worried that he might throw up in his sleep and choke to death because of it, so doing that wasn’t an option in his mind. 

Soon enough, exhaustion overruled his need for comfort, and sleep overtook him. 

Miles and miles above where Purple slept, a mutant alligator snapping turtle dreamed. 

In his dream, he and his brothers were kids again. The great, mighty villain Dr. Splinter had kidnapped Mikey!! It was up to him and the middle brothers (when had there been more than Leo?) to rescue him.

“Leo! Dee!” Little Raph said, using his Big Bro Voice to command his younger brothers. “I’ll be the distraction! We can overpower him if you two come from the sides! LIKE A BOSS!”

“Alright!!” Leo exclaimed, brandishing his ōdachi. 

“No weapons,” the other turtle, Dee, complained with a pout. The turtle, who dream-Raph felt he had known his whole life, wore a purple hoodie and had a shell that looked just like Leo’s. But… was it a fake shell? The markings on it looked crudely painted on, and they were purple instead of blue. “You almost stabbed me last time!”

“Did not!” Leo stuck his tongue out at the purple-hooded child before rushing toward their Dad with his sword hung just above his head. “CHAAARRGEE!”

“Leo!” Raph cried out, annoyed that his brother had ruined their game yet again. Why wouldn’t he just listen to him? Either way, the red-eared slider had left the two of them alone.

When Raph looked back at Dee, he was… gone. Raph looked around nervously, knowing that Dee had just been there. Where had he gone? Had he run with Leo? 

But as he looked to where his father, Leo, and Mikey had just been across the room, they were gone, too. It was just him. And he was alone.

He didn’t like being alone. 

He looked down at his hands and noticed they were far smaller than he remembered. They were littered with scars, too. Scars he had no memory of getting. It suddenly occurred to him that this wasn’t his body, and he was someone else entirely. 

He wasn’t just Raph anymore, but instead, he was also someone they had gotten to know much more recently. He was Purple. And the unfamiliar room he now found himself in was on fire. The flames should’ve frightened him, but they didn’t. They danced around him, their embers lightly burning his skin. He reached out to the fire before it dissipated entirely. 

“Hello, my son,” a deep voice behind him said. Raph understood that whoever’s voice that was, it sounded terrifying, and it made him shiver with anxiety. But he wasn’t just himself anymore. He was also Purple. And to Purple, this new voice was comforting and soothing. It was the voice of his father- the voice that brought him feelings of love and warmth. So Purple turned around and ran towards it, looking for safety, despite Raph knowing that this dream had begun to turn into a nightmare.

The man standing before them was shaped like a grotesque contortion of both Splinter and Draxum. It made Purple freeze, and Raph was thankful for that. But it suddenly occurred to them both that they were unable to move. Purple looked down and saw that the vines his Father controlled held his legs in place. Raph had only briefly touched them, but it was as if he could actually feel the vines around his ankles.

Purple looked back to his father, and Raph could feel his fear as if it were his own. He wished he could wrap himself around the other turtle to make him feel safe. And yet, no matter how much he wanted to, he couldn’t. This wasn’t real.

But the terror that shot through both of them when the abomination of their fathers lifted its clawed hand into the air was undoubtedly real. It was coming down on them so quickly that there wasn’t much time to react. Raph needed to do something. He couldn’t just stand there. 

So he started screaming.

Purple awoke to a searing pain radiating from his jaw. He didn’t know what had possessed him to try and scream himself awake, but now he was suffering the consequences. He whimpered in pain, clutching around the mask as if that would make it go away. His eyes stung with tears, but he knew he wouldn’t cry. He couldn’t cry. Crying was stupid and for babies, and he wasn’t a baby.

He couldn’t even remember what had caused him such distress in the dream. It was probably stupid if he didn’t remember. 

He slowly sat up, his limbs sore and aching. To fit in his bed, he had to curl up into a ball. It always made him uncomfortable when he woke up, but after a bit of stretching, he’d be okay. 

Purple looked at the clock on his wall, his eyes bleary from unshed tears and tiredness. It was barely five in the morning. He looked over to Shelldon, who was still sleeping on his charger. 

As silly and childish as it sounded, he wanted someone to talk to him. He wanted someone to hug him, someone to shield him from the world and tell him everything was okay. He pressed his legs against his chest and buried his face in his knees. He wished he could just squeeze those feelings out of his heart and go without needing any at all. Need is weakness , his father’s voice rang through his head, creating comments that he hadn’t actually spoken before. And if you need comfort, then you could be no son of mine.

As he sat alone in the silence only permeated by the low hum of electricity and his own breathing, he imagined scenarios in which he could be hurt beyond reasonable repair. Maybe an explosion from a failed experiment or an enemy of his father’s seeking revenge and taking Purple’s life as repayment. He almost wanted the scenarios to happen, or maybe something even worse, because some twistedly curious part of him wanted to see how the world would react to his loss. He wanted to know how deeply his father would mourn for him and if he had any capacity to mourn at all. Would Huginn and Muninn care? Would Leo or Mikey care?

He pushed the last thought far from his mind. He didn’t understand why it had even formed as a thought his mind. Maybe it was some narcissistic need to watch others get hurt because of him. Or maybe it was some sort of validation of his value, as if the tears they might shed for him would serve as a physical testament that he had been useful enough to matter- even if only for a moment.

Purple didn’t want to go back to sleep. He didn’t want to revisit the terrors that would await him in his dreams, even if he didn’t quite know which ones had woken him up in the first place. So instead, he stood up and placed his battle shell back on. Father might like it if he started training a little earlier today. 

He grabbed his techbō and set out for the training room. Hopefully, he wouldn’t be too sore to participate properly in the mission with the Foot Clan.

Hours later, Purple’s body continued to ache as he traveled with the Foot Lieutenants across town in his human disguise. With his mind’s reasoning, he knew they were using his new weakness as an excuse to have him be their personal bodyguard instead of working towards retrieving the next piece of the armor. It annoyed him to no end. His inability to voice his opinions was an added frustration on a growing pile, and he wished he could just yell at them to get on with the mission. Those thoughts were enough of a reminder of why his father had demanded he continue to wear it. Such disrespect would never be tolerated, and he didn’t know why that was so hard for him to understand. Then again, that reminder didn’t ease the aforementioned frustration.

As the three of them exited an ice cream parlor, Purple glanced up at the clock tower that sat in the middle of the square. It was half past one, and they hadn’t found a single piece of the armor yet. 

Don’t you understand? he thought angrily, staring daggers at the two altered humans. Father will get mad at me if I just fool around and waste the day!

But he remained silent, knowing the consequences of speech all too well. He just wanted this to be over already- to go home to his room where Shelldon would be waiting for him. It was Wednesday, too, meaning he had to go to the library, or his book would be repossessed by the Hidden City’s Library’s magic at midnight. I always go to the library on Wednesday.

“Hey, Turtle,” the shorter of the two said, interrupting his thoughts. The Lieutenant paused as he licked his ice cream cone. “There’s a mystic piece in the small hand of that clock. Mind grabbing it for us?”

Purple rolled his eyes at the childish display but complied. Switching out of his human disguise, Purple used his jetpack battle shell to scale the clock tower, ignoring the horrified cries from the humans around him. When he reached the face of the clock, he began to try and dismantle it’s metal hands so as to not cause any collateral damage to the tower itself. It would take a bit, but that was okay. 

“I see you’re handling this well,” a voice cut through the air, causing Purple to pause his work. He turned to see a head poking out of a blue portal, his smug look only being amplified by a smirk. The taunting voice was, of course, from the blue-masked turtle. 

Purple rolled his eyes and continued dismantling the hand before a chain wrapped around his leg. He paused, the sensation of his legs being bound together, causing him to panic, and his chest began to grow heavy. Before he could understand his own adverse reaction, he was being pulled to the ground, gripping the hands of the clock tightly in a feeble attempt to not be thrown from the tower, but it was no use. With a powerful tug, Purple was being dragged from where he’d been hovering, ripping the metal hands off of clock’s face as he plummeted toward the Earth.

Purple grunted in pain as he pushed himself up from the concrete, shooting a glare toward the orange turtle who’d pulled him down. 

“Sorry!” Mikey exclaimed with a wave. “But you can’t go stealing! Especially not weird things like clock hands!”

You don’t know what you’re dealing with, Purple thought dangerously, freeing himself from the chains quickly. His grip tightened around his bō as it returned to its default shape. 

“What’s it with you and your dad?” Leo asked from behind him, his stance relaxed as if he wasn’t ready to fight. What is he playing at? “Not responding to our calls, stealing metal from places… Man! It’s almost like you two are up to something!” 

Purple looked around for the Foot Clan members and found them sprinting away, ice cream still in hand. He sighed in frustration. Of course they’d abandon him- and for ice cream, no less. He shook his head. This is for the good of yōkai-kind , he silently told himself as he braced himself for a fight.

“And we’re here for the good of humankind!” The thunderous voice of Raph caught him by surprise. Purple hadn’t spoken, yet the other turtle had responded? He would have let himself contemplate the implications of such an act, but quickly realized that the giant turtle was charging toward him.

Purple dove out of the way of the red-masked attacker but ran straight into his blue-masked brother. He stumbled backward from the red-eared slider, hating their shared moment of contact. Leo was quick to move, though, kicking Purple squarely in the stomach. 

The softshell fell on his back, the metal scraping against the pavement with a horrible screeching sound, making him instinctively cover his ears. The mystic metal hand dug into his palm as he gripped it tightly, the sharp metal tearing through his gloved hand and creating a sizeable gash, making him hiss in pain. 

Raph picked him up and pushed him against a wall, his grip tight around his shoulders. Purple kicked Raph, but it didn’t phase him.  “Okay, little man. You’re gonna talk.” 

“Don’t hurt him,” Mikey weakly called out from behind him. 

Raph ignored him, his grip tightening. Purple wondered if the circulation to his arms would hold. “What do you and Draxum want with the metal? What are you two planning?” The large turtle interrogated, his face getting close to Purple.

Raph had purple eyes. He’d never really noticed it, always fighting him and never getting too close to really tell, but it surprised him. He wondered if maybe it was a remnant from when they were mutated together. It was a similar shade to his own purple markings, after all.

“Answer me!” Raph growled, pushing him against the wall more. 

“Raph, calm down,” Leo said, placing a hand on their older brother’s shoulder. “Like Mikey said, don’t hurt him.”

Raph let out a deep sigh, his grip and features softening. The smile he gave Leo was small and genuine, and he mouthed his appreciation. He returned his attention toward Purple again, but his features weren’t as sharp and loud as they were before. “Purple, we just… We can’t let you and your dad get away with wiping out humanity in whatever way you’re planning this time. We’ll let you go if you just tell us what you’re planning, where your dad is, and how to stop him.”

Purple snorted, finding the whole situation laughable. What a great exchange. My freedom for information. I’d rather die at your hands than give up Father.

“No one is dying!” Raph exclaimed, causing Mikey and Leo to look up in confusion.

Purple was confused as well. He couldn’t speak. He hadn’t spoken; he was sure of it. Is he reading my thoughts? I wonder if he got a mutant ability, even if the rest of us didn’t. 

But Raph didn’t react his time, still waiting for a response from Purple. Purple made a low clicking sound, annoyed by this whole debacle. Why couldn’t they see he was helping them? With the humans eradicated, they’d all be allowed to live harmoniously on the surface. They would all be safe and never have to worry about hiding from a government that wanted to vivisect them. 

“Ok, Perry the Platypus,” Leo stepped up, ōdachi swung over his shoulder. “It’s kinda rude to give us the silent treatment, so I’d appreciate it if you did this the easy way. ‘Cause I don’t think you wanna meet Raph’s fists.” 

Purple rolled his eyes, calling the slider’s bluff. Mikey’s a soft shell. He wouldn’t let them lay a hand on me. 

“Okay,” Raph sighed, clearly frustrated. “We’re taking him back to the lair.”

Oh, yes, Purple thought sarcastically. What a great idea. Show me, your enemy, where you live. That won’t backfire in the future. 

“So we’re kidnapping him?” Leo said, making Raph go rigid. “Just making sure we’re clear: we’re kidnapping our brother .”

Purple couldn’t help the laugh that burst out of him. Me, the softshell… Their brother? Fat chance. But his laughter was cut short because when he opened his mouth a little too wide, and his jaw hit the confines of the metal muzzle. It clamped down on him, causing him to suck in a painful breath. It was as if he could feel the metal digging into his jawbone, the teeth of the mask closing in on him. He whimpered in pain, unable to hold back the reaction. 

“What the fuck?” Raph said, his voice dripping with panic and worry. The large snapper let him go, stumbling back in a hurry as if he was afraid that he’d been the cause of his pain. 

Purple reached a hand up to his mask, wanting to rub his jaw and cry the pain away, despite knowing the effort was pointless.

Leo stepped forward from his place a few paces away, his orange eyes holding a strong intensity. “What was that? Purple, what was that?” He asked his voice stern but in a way that Purple could understand; it was out of worry. 

Purple felt so small in that moment, so weak and defenseless in comparison to the big, terrifying world around him. He wanted to go home. He wanted his dad. He wanted Shelldon or even Huginn and Muninn. He couldn’t stand the looks that the three turtles gave him. He knew that expression. It was pity . He hated it. He hated it so much. I wanna go home. I wanna go away. Purple staggered back, trying to create even more distance between himself and the other turtles.

“Guys, give him space,” Mikey demanded softly, pushing the two of them aside. The older brothers did as the younger asked of them, their gazes full of worry. 

Mikey approached him slowly and steadily, taking his time with a slight smile on his face. “Can you talk?”

Purple didn’t know what had compelled him to tell the truth, but he shook his head in response. He tapped on the muzzle lightly, trying to indicate that it was the mas that inhibited him from doing so. It wasn’t because he was being a brat.

Mikey sucked in a shaky breath, his smile faltering for a moment. Purple wasn’t blind to the flash of anger that tortured the young turtle’s face, but it was quickly replaced by an expression of tender love and care. “Does it hurt?”

I shouldn’t be talking to you, he thought, panic daring to take over his mind. He pushed himself up against the wall even more, trying to make himself smaller. Maybe if he tried hard enough, he’d disappear. Maybe he’d even cease to exist. Go away. Go away. Go away. Go away. Go away. Go away, go away, go away, go away, go away-

“Everything will be alright,” Mikey promised, crouching down to meet the cowering turtle’s gaze. Slowly, Mikey reached a hand out toward Purple, his eyes full of love Full of warmth . 

Purple regarded his outstretched hand for a moment, confused by the warm gesture from the orange-masked turtle. It seemed strange- they were enemies, were they not? So why was he coming to his aid? What did he have to gain from this? What did Mikey want from him? 

Then, suddenly, realization crashed over him like a tidal wave hitting the sands. This wasn’t real. The words from his Father came back to him, reminding him of who he was and who they were. How could he have forgotten that they had left him to die? This was just a charade, one where he would be left to bleed out on the floor as they walked away like they had when he’d been just a child. 

The turtles that shared genetic material with him didn’t care for him, and Purple knew for a fact that they never would. They were using him to steal the armor piece. They were using him to stop Father’s plans. 

Purple slapped away Mikey’s hand, hissing at him as loudly as he could without opening his mouth. The turtle scrambled up as quickly as he could and was happy to see they didn’t try to go after them.

With the mystic metal in his hand, he turned around a few alleyways and corners, far enough that he was sure they couldn’t follow him. He pressed himself against a wall, taking a look at his wounded hand. The cut stung and his blood now stained his gloves. He frowned at this, knowing that it would be difficult to get out. He thought about how Father would be upset at his carelessness and wondered if that meant a new punishment would be added.

Maybe he’ll declaw me, he thought before images of the ordeal flooded his mind, and he cringed at how bloody and painful that might be. He glanced down again at his bleeding hand and peeled off the glove. He examined the wound closely for a moment, trying to determine if it was serious or not. The smell of his own blood was sickening.

His vision began to become blurry, but not with tears. His eyes were beginning to unfocus, his head now heavy. The world seemed almost distanced from him- as if he wasn’t really there. As if this was a video game, and he had just opened the pause menu. 

He forced himself to regain his focus, blinking a few times to come back to the real world. He could zone out later, but right now, he needed to get back to the Foot Clan’s lair and return with the singular piece he’d been able to retrieve.

He put his torn glove back on before tapping his cloaking broach. Within milliseconds, his human disguise took hold, and he began his trek back to the Foot Shack.

“Hello, my son,” Draxum greeted him as Purple entered the unground shrine for the Dark Armor, the piece he’d taken from the clock tower in his hand. “I see you’ve gotten another piece. I am very proud of you, Purple.”

You are? Purple felt his chest lift with joy from the praise. I made him proud! He went ahead and handed the armor piece to his Father, but Draxum didn’t take it from him. Instead, he put a hand on his back as he slowly led him up the staircase toward the shrine's centerpiece. 

“Why don’t you do the honors, Little Softshell?” Father suggested with a calm and soothing voice, the use of his old pet name making his heart vibrate with glee. His touch was gentle and warm, making him feel loved and accepted in his Father’s light. 

Purple was so happy he could cry. He kept the excitement that buzzed in his chest contained, not wishing to ruin the moment with the odd outbursts of energy he sometimes had. Instead, he kept still, following his father’s stride. Just before the last few steps, Father’s hand slipped away, making Purple feel cold and isolated. He turned around to him, confused.

“Go on,” Father encouraged with a soft smile. “You don’t need me to do this.”

Purple nodded hesitantly and continued up the last few steps. He stood on the platform and stared at the imposing Dark Armor before him. He was so small compared to it- just a speck of dust in the wearer’s eyes. It was fitting, he thought, considering this was much larger than him or anything he could imagine. 

Purple lifted the armor piece into the air and toward the assembled armor. It shook in his hands before a strong force ripped it from his grasp. It connected to the Dark Armor with a loud clang , and a gust of wind nearly knocked him down. He had to dig his feet into the floor just to keep upright.

“Well done, my boy,” Father said, a fond grin on his face as he beckoned Purple back toward him. Purple nearly tripped as he quickly walked toward his father, wanting to be near his guiding light. 

Purple couldn’t help but feel uneasy. The whole process felt dark in some way, and he couldn’t shake the idea that something was severely wrong. But he didn’t make any attempt to voice his opinion. 

Father kneeled down toward him and cupped the turtle’s face. Purple hesitated for a moment before leaning into the touch, his hand warm in contrast to the cold metal that lay on his face. “You have done well in proving that you’ve learned your lesson,” Father said, taking the muzzle in his hands. With the press of a button, the muzzle released its hold on him, and Draxum’s hands left his face along with it. He took in a shallow breath. 

He should’ve been relieved that the muzzle was off and that he was now free to talk, but it felt wrong. He didn’t think he deserved this. Had he really learned his lesson? I feel like I should still have it on.

Father held up the muzzle as if displaying it for the world to see. “If you are ever insolent again, you know the punishment.”

I don’t deserve it off , Purple thought, his chest tightening in panic. “Why don’t I always have it on?” Purple suggested, his jaw feeling sore from just the slight movement. I don’t want to make another mistake. I can’t disappoint you again.

Father scowled in response, and the warmth in his eyes and demeaner dissipated as he shook his head. “Your speech is not the only thing that disappoints me,” he growled, claws clamping down around the muzzle. “Even if every precaution were to be taken to correct you, you would always remain flawed. It is in your very nature.” As Father passed him, he lightly tapped a claw on one of his battle shell straps before continuing silently.

Purple was left alone there, shame and embarrassment clinging to his heart. No matter what I do, he realized as tears rose in his eyes, it will never be enough. I will never be enough. It’s not even because I’m a softshell- it’s because I’m me . 

Within the sewers of New York, Raph sat on his bed, his body feeling heavy and numb as emotions swirled and clouded his mind. 

Purple was being abused. Raph hated himself for ever questioning that and for letting the small turtle run away earlier that day. He had him in his grasp, and he had just let him go. 

I could’ve saved him , he thought, swallowing the guilt that formed a lump in his throat. I could’ve saved him… And I let him go. I just let him run right on back to Draxum. 

Raph’s hands curled into fists, his anger boiling under his skin. He wanted to punch something. He wanted to grab something by the throat and choke it. He wanted to bang his head against the wall, or kick something, or throw something, or-

Raph took a deep breath. In for four. He held his breath. Hold for seven. He exhaled through his mouth. Out for eight.

Anger had always been a problem for the snapping turtle. Rage was a force that seemed to fuel many of his thoughts. And even though it reared its ugly head like an uncontrollable beast every now and again, overtaking his thoughts and causing him to lash out, it happened far less than it used to. 

He hated that he could scare his brothers. Raph could remember an instance in which, as little children, he and Leo had been playing some stupid game. Leo had done something to tick Raph off, causing him to explode yelling and screaming at his younger brother.

He would never forget the paralyzing fear in Leo’s eyes that day. He would never forget the tears and the sobs that he had caused. 

He never wanted that to happen again. He couldn’t let it happen again. 

He was the oldest- the one meant to protect them. So after that incident that had branded itself into this memory, he had decided from then on that he would use the volcano that was his emotions to protect his family rather than hurt it. 

But… he’d broken that rule today. He hurt Purple- he scared him. The fear in his eyes was etched into his brain so vividly that he could see it as if Purple was still cowering in front of him, and it would now forever be carved into his heart. His guilt festered like an infected wound, tearing him apart from the inside out. 

He’d all but forgotten the dream from the night before or the weird occurrences in which he could hear Purple’s voice despite his mouth being sealed by the yōkai that had created them. 

His rage would be put to the side for now. The fire of his fury would blister and burn higher and higher, but it wouldn’t be for Purple. No, the inferno of rage that roared in his gut was reserved for Draxum and Draxum alone. He would burn that man to the ground if it was the last thing he did- if it ensured that all of his brothers were safe from his claws.

Chapter Text

Shelldon knew a lot of things. It was the nature of his existence, after all. He’d been granted access to the entire internet by his creator, Purple (after he’d confirmed that Shelldon wouldn’t try taking over the world, of course).

This unlimited knowledge granted him the ability to understand, record, and research whatever he wanted. Monitoring the digital social lives of humans and yōkai alike was a pastime of his. Observing populations converse about a wide variety of topics-- whether it be in real-time or in the past-- satisfied his artificial mind. He never tried to engage. It was pointless and unnecessary to add his own infinitely superior input. 

Nevertheless, he learned many things this way. Studying the brain was particularly riveting, as he technically didn’t have one in the same fashion that organic beings did. His brain was circuitry and wires and a remote server that stored his memories. He was better than any living being, as he clearly surpassed their organic limitations. He was artificial and sentient. He was- by his own account- the ultimate lifeform.

And yet… he still found himself pondering over how normal beings managed to do all that they did with the limitations they had, especially neurologically. It interested him to note that both yōkai and humans had increasingly similar brain structures. Sure, there were some differences depending on yōkai’s subspecies, but they shared many conditions. Autism, ADHD, depression, schizophrenia… these were just a few of the many things yōkai and humans could both experience and observe. 

Another thing that was unfortunately common among both humans and yōkai was trauma. It could be caused by a number of things, such as neglect or abuse, and they were processed similarly in the mind despite the species’ numerous divides in other areas. Shelldon’s metaphorical heart ached at the accounts he’d processed online in medical journals and comment sections alike. People could be cruel.

But with each new account he read, with each new study he came across… it only made a horrifying realization increasingly apparent. 

With his words and actions serving as matches, Draxum was a metaphorical arsonist. And Purple was his evergreen- so eager to be set ablaze, thinking it to be a loving warmth rather than a painful burn.

Shelldon still couldn’t properly understand why Purple didn’t run away. As far as he knew, his creator had never tried. He seemed content with the life he had, despite Shelldon knowing that the relationship he had with his father was unhealthy and-- as he processed it-- flat-out abusive. 

He tried to make sense of it. He really, truly did. But Purple was smart-- smarter than most. How wasn’t he able to see the situation he was in? How had he not called someone by now? Why was he still so willing to be set ablaze over and over again each time he recovered?

Shelldon wondered if, soon enough, he himself would be consumed by Draxum’s toxic flames. He didn’t know if he’d blame Purple for when that inevitably happened. Was it his fault for trapping him in this situation? 

I’m not truly trapped, Shelldon admitted to himself. I can leave whenever I want. But Purple is more than my creator-- he’s my friend. I can’t leave him.

Shelldon decided that if Purple was to burn, then he would turn to ash with him. He loved Purple as much as a sentient robot companion could. He would kill for Purple if it ensured his safety and happiness because he knew the mutant turtle deserved that safety and happiness. He just wished Purple wasn’t so blind to his father’s wildfire. 

Shelldon was sitting on his charging port, needing to recharge his battery after another mission with Purple in which they had gotten an armor piece from an abandoned factory just on the outskirts of New York. 

Shelldon had tried to do his own research on the Dark Armor but came up empty-handed. It seemed that the only mentions of such a thing were from fantasy video games and DnD discussion boards. Nothing historical or even mythological.

“I don’t trust the Dark Armor,” Shelldon said, peeking an eye open as he watched Purple reorganize his small library. He had noticed that the turtle would do this often, and it was a task he did when he was too tired to work but still needed something to stimulate him. 

Books were strewn across the floor in stacks, with only a few left on the shelf. 

Purple hummed questioningly, letting Shelldon know he was listening. 

Shelldon didn’t like how Purple had changed in the past week. He’d had the muzzle on for a few days before Draxum removed it the night before for his “good behavior.” But even after he was free to speak, the turtle refused to. It was as if he was still afraid of the pain the muzzle might cause him, or maybe he just believed he shouldn’t talk. 

Fucking Draxum , Shelldon thought bitterly. “The Dark Armor is clearly evil. The Foot literally calls themselves an evil organization.”

Purple shrugged, putting a few more books into place. Shelldon waited a moment for a verbal response, but he didn’t get one.

“Can you talk to me?” Shelldon pleaded, moving off his charger to approach the turtle. 

Purple paused in his book organization, thinking over Shelldon’s question, before nodding. 

Shelldon sighed. “Will you talk?” 

Purple shook his head. He wasn’t looking at Shelldon. 

He doesn’t like eye contact, Shelldon observed. This wasn’t new information. He’d watched Purple talk to Draxum, Huginn, Muninn, and more. He’d always attempt to pay attention to the other’s face before his gaze began to wander. 

Trouble maintaining eye contact… Associated with Anxiety Disorder, Autism Spectrum Disorder, Social Anxiety Disorder, Psychopathic Personality Disorder, Post Traumatic Stress Disorder, and alexithymia. Shelldon’s memory buzzed with the surge of gathered information that came to the forefront of his mind. He was aware of Purple’s many quirks and how different he was from others, and it wasn’t like he hadn’t thought about the turtle’s potential of having a psychological disorder before. But he ignored it for now. He didn’t want to discuss that with Purple, not when he was still in a hostile home environment. 

“Why won’t you talk?” Shelldon asked calmly. “You don’t have the muzzle anymore.”

Purple remained silent and continued to sort through the mess of books. He didn’t seem too fixated on the task at hand. He didn’t have the look in his eyes that told Shelldon he was on autopilot.

“I think Draxum is being abusive,” Shelldon said bluntly before clarifying, “to you.”

That made Purple freeze, his grip on the book he held tightening. He glared at Shelldon with eyes filled with fury. “How dare you accuse Father of such a thing. He would never .”

“He literally put a muzzle on you, my dude,” Shelldon pointed out. “He’s hit you.”

“It’s called corporal punishment,” Purple remarked. “Nothing he’s done to me is illegal. Nothing he’s done to me was wrong .”

“Corporal punishment has been shown to have the same psychological effects as stereotypical physical abuse,” Shelldon explained, trying to keep his tone calm despite his growing anger.

“I’m fine,” Purple denied vehemently. “Everything is fine . Father loves me. I’m his son-- how could he not? He said he’s even got a gift for me! Is love and affection abusive, Mr. Wikipedia?”

“For being someone so dead set on science and facts, you sure like ignoring it.” Shelldon rolled his eyes. “Trauma bonding. Cycle of abuse.”

Purple glared at him angrily, a dangerous blaze sparking in his eyes. “Like I give a shit about what those mean! I’m not being abused! I would know ! I’m not stupid!”

“You’re right,” Shelldon snarled. “You’re worse. You’re smart, yet you blind yourself to logic.”

Purple went silent for a moment, clearly taking in his words. Shelldon wanted to apologize, but he didn’t feel sorry. Why should he? Shelldon knew he was right. He was sure Purple knew it, too. But the turtle had buried his head so deep in the sand that Shelldon wondered if he could ever get himself out.

“I wish I had never made you,” Purple said lowly, his eyes welling up with tears. “I should scrap you or--” he struggled to swallow, “or rewrite your code. You’re just a pile of junk .”

Shelldon’s rotors fell to his side at the comment, shocked and appalled by Purple’s words. “Take that back,” he demanded. “Take that back!”

“Make me,” Purple dared, his eyes glinting dangerously. “I am stronger than you could ever be. I brought you into this world, and I can take you out of it.”

“You sound just like him,” Shelldon said before he could think it through. It was meant to be an insult, but the prideful look on Purple’s face told the robot that the turtle didn’t see it as such. 

“I’m going to sleep,” Shelldon decided, hopping back onto his charger. “Wake me up if it’s an emergency.”

He waited for Purple to respond, but the turtle ignored him and returned to his books. Shelldon sighed and powered off for the time being.

Raph and his brothers woke up early, having been called upon by Splinter. Ever since he’d told the truth about his past, and they’d explained the ever-looming threat of Draxum, their dad had been insistent on training them for real . Why he hadn’t done that before was beyond them, but Raph was just glad they were getting some formal training at last. 

Mikey and Leo were, admittedly, better than Raph at a lot of things their father taught them. After all, how could a mutant of his size stick to the shadows, hide in blindspots, or be lighter than a feather? It was impossible! But his little brothers, especially Leo, were so quick to learn these techniques. 

He felt disheartened if he was honest with himself. Would he be able to do anything Dad taught them? Was he destined just to be a lousy ninja? 

“You are too slow!” Splinter complained as Raph finally met them at the training deck. The rat’s tail lashed behind him in annoyance. “Ninjas must be quick! And on time!”

“Yeah,” Raph nodded, hoping that his tone didn’t reflect the insecurities he felt. “I’m sorry.”

Splinter softened, his eyes analyzing him for a moment before returning his attention to the three of them rather than just the snapping turtle. “Today, we will learn one of the most important skills any ninja must know: communication.”

“Do ninjas usually work in teams?” Leo asked, turning to his brothers with a curious look. “I thought they worked alone.”

“Ninjas work in teams!” Splinter assured him, ear twitching in annoyance at the interruption. “But you must remain silent - To speak is to give yourself away to the enemy.”

“How’re we gonna talk if we can’t talk?” Mikey questioned with a slight tilt of his head. 

Splinter grinned, eyes glinting dangerously. “Ninja Mind Meld. It is a skill each of you must master if you are to defeat Draxum together. Teamwork-”

“-makes the dream work,” Raph heard Leo whisper automatically, causing the smallest of the turtles to chuckle. 

Splinter gave them a stern stare, but Raph could see the fondness in his eyes. Splinter may have been hard on them, but Raph knew their dad loved them with all of his heart and would do anything for them. The only reason they’d even started ninja training at a young age was that they’d begged the rat after watching their first Lou Jitsu movie. Splinter had been worried for their safety and always stressed the importance of their wellbeing. If one of them was sick or had any sort of injury (including scrapes, bruises, and more from roughhousing), he would hide  their training weapons and forbid any of them from training.

“Teamwork,” Splinter continued, “is your most important tool. You must communicate, yes, but you must also be willing to listen .”

“This is gonna be difficult for Leo, then,” Raph smiled to his younger brother, who stuck out his tongue in response.

Splinter ignored them again. “You must be aware of your teammates at all times. I want you all to be quiet ,” he shot a look at Leo, “and close your eyes. Focus on me. Focus on my being-- who I am, who you perceive me as.” 

Raph did as he was asked, closing his eyes. He took a deep breath and let it out. Who was Splinter to him? His dad, of course. But he was much more than the one who raised him. He was kind but strict. Caring and disciplined. He always seemed to know when something was wrong with one of them and was incredibly patient with them. Raph could remember how difficult Leo and Mikey had been as toddlers-- especially Mikey. 

Mikey was a mischievous kid but also strangely artistic for his young age. Whenever Raph and Splinter weren’t looking, he’d be painting the walls of the lair with crayons if he could find them or food he had gotten into. But whenever Splinter found him, he rarely-- if at all-- got angry or upset. Instead, he would praise Mikey for his artistic abilities and try to redirect them to pen and paper. 

Raph smiled at the memories. Dad’s pretty great. 

You are incredible, too, my son . 

The response to his thoughts made him jolt. It sounded almost like it had been spoken, but he knew it hadn’t been. He opened his eyes to see Dad smiling warmly at him, tears pricking his yellow eyes. 

I am so proud of you, Raphael. Splinter’s voice rang through his head, and Raph could almost feel the warm love coming from his Dad. An image of a younger Raph, big eyes peering out through a caged helmet and a football in his hands, came to Raph in an instant. He could see Splinter’s memory .

Can you accidentally mind meld with someone? Raph silently asked his Dad.

Perhaps, Dad responded, sounding unsure. I am sure if anyone could accidentally connect with someone on such a deep and personal level, it would be you. 

Raph nodded and recalled the dream from a few nights ago. He closed his eyes instinctively as the image of the monster that looked like Splinter and Draxum had monstrous baby cursed his mind. He shuddered and forced himself to push the image away.

I see who you mind-melded with, Splinter informed him. Purple lives a truly troubled life. 

He is my brother, the red-masked turtle responded softly. Is that why I could mind meld with him? 

Maybe, Splinter responded non-committedly. You have always had a stronger connection with your brothers than most. It is what makes you special, Raphael. 

Maybe I have some Big Brother superpower, he joked, smiling at his Dad. Both Mikey and Leo had stopped trying at this point and were just staring at the two of them as they silently spoke to each other.    

I would not doubt it, Splinter’s tone was fond. The rat blinked and turned his attention away from the large turtle, and Raph understood that the mind-meld had ended. Now, he addressed the three of them. 

“Raph has learned the art of mind-melding,” Splinter announced, pride and joy clear in his tone. “You will all need to work together to learn this skill. I know that you can, my sons. I believe you are capable of wondrous things, and I am so, so lucky to have you three as my sons.”

Raph smiled at his father’s praise, his chest warming with pride. His two brothers looked at him with large smiles on their faces, and Mikey gave him a small thumbs-up. Raph knew they weren’t immune to jealousy of each other, but they always tried to hype each other up. Splinter had taught them that the world would try to put them down, so they needed to build each other up. 

Purple needs that more than any of us, Raph guessed silently, looking down at the ground. That muzzle… 

Splinter had disappeared back into his room, most likely to sleep. 

“Go Raph!” Mikey exclaimed before barrelling into him for a hug. Raph returned it with a small laugh, hugging him tightly. “What’s mind-melding like?”

“Uh, well,” Raph chuckled nervously. “It’s like you’re talking to someone through thoughts? Kinda just mind-reading, honestly, except you’re communicating together .”

“Woah,” Mikey pulled away from him, his eyes wide with wonder. “What am I thinking? Tell me!”

“I don’t think it works that way, Mike,” Leo bumped against the orange-masked turtle. “Imagine how cool that is, though! We’ll be unstoppable!”

Raph smiled at his brothers’ enthusiasm but felt like something was missing. Someone was missing. And not April, who had been spending less time with them to focus on semester exams. 

No, he was missing his third brother. Someone he hardly knew, yet yearned to know everything about him. He felt that they’d been robbed of their brother and the childhood they would’ve spent together. Purple, especially, was robbed of the childhood he deserved. 

Raph knew he couldn’t give that back to him. He would never have a normal upbringing because that was already written in stone. But, as Raph pictured the scarred turtle in his mind, he could feel the sense of inferiority and self-hatred the turtle secretly held for himself. It angered Raph to know that he was plagued with these thoughts, and it made him furious that the cause was the man he called Father. 

“Raph?” Leo asked, pulling the large turtle back to reality. “You good, Hermano?”

“Yeah,” Raph nodded but knew from his blue-shelled brother’s face that he was unconvincing. The largest of the three sighed, feeling his shoulders slump. “I’m worried about Purple.”

“We all are,” Leo assured him, resting a hand on his upper arm, unable to reach his shoulder. “We all saw that muzzle. We all saw him get hurt by it. I feel so stupid for not realizing what it was earlier…”

“You couldn’t have known,” Raph said. “None of us could’ve known. We didn’t think that it could be that because… well, I never thought anyone could ever do that to someone else.”

“People can be awful,” Mikey agreed solemnly, averting his gaze from the two of them. “Why doesn’t he just… leave Draxum?”

Silence fell between the three of them as they thought about it. Raph, especially, was confused. It was clearly abuse- anyone in their right mind could see that. And Purple seemed smart. He’d been able to roll with the Purple Dragons, after all! So, why hadn’t he escaped? Why hadn’t he left the abusive situation he was born into? 

“Maybe…” Leo broke the silence, “maybe he can’t? If Draxum got him a muzzle that hurts him if he tries to talk, maybe he made like…” Leo waved his hand in the air, searching for a word.

“Shopping Cart protocol?” Mikey suggested. “Maybe if he disobeys Draxum, he gets a punishment. A-and the mask hurts him when he leaves a certain radius? Or it’s remote controlled by Draxum…”

“Why doesn’t he just disable it, then?” Raph pointed out. “He makes his own tech. He’s smart-- probably smarter than all of us combined.” Raph felt proud of Purple for that fact, just like how he felt proud of Mikey whenever he hung up another art piece in the lair. 

Leo perked up, his eyes large, full of wonder and fascination. “MAYBE IT'S MAGIC!”

“That would explain it,” Mikey nodded in agreement. “Maybe it's something magical, and only Draxum can undo it?”

“That’s… troubling,” Raph said slowly, eyes narrowed. “If that’s the case, how are we gonna get him here without him being hurt by Draxum?”

“We could ask Hueso for help,” Mikey suggested. “He’s gotta know something about magic Hidden City stuff.”

“Or we could head to Witch Town!” Leo perked up before beginning to flap his hands in excitement. “They’re bound to have a shit ton of magic stuff there! Oooooh, do you think I could get my own wand?”

Raph rolled his eyes in response, but his smile didn’t disappear. “Maybe. But let’s get some breakfast before we do anything else today. What’s on the menu, Mikester?”

“I’ve been craving ramen carbonara!” Mikey said excitedly. “I’ll get started on it now!”

Raph watched as his brother bounded away, a skip in his younger brother’s step. Love for his brother buzzed in his chest, happy to see him happy. 

“What if he doesn’t want to leave?” Leo asked suddenly, so quiet that Raph nearly missed his comment. 

Raph gave him a puzzled look. “Why would he want to stay? Why would anyone willingly stay with an abuser? It makes no sense.”

Leo bit his lip in deliberation before nodding in agreement. “You’re right. We’ll offer him an exit- and we’ll figure out how to free him properly.”

Raph rested a hand on his brother’s shoulder-- a gesture of comfort-- and crouched to meet his height. “First rule of the Mad Dogz; you take care of family. We’ll get him back. I promise.”

Purple wasn’t much of a fan of heights. He didn’t hate them, but it was something that always gave him some anxiety when he flew too high. But he’d learned to swallow his fears and ignore them in situations like this.

He was high up on a large bridge, using a grappling hook hoisted to his belt to stay upright. He was detaching a piece of mystic metal used in the bridge’s structure. He’d determined earlier that removing it wouldn’t cause a collapse, as it wasn’t an integral part of the structure and could be easily replaced by a human construction worker.

“You almost done?!” The Foot Lieutenant called up, his patience apparently running out. “We have a yoga class in an hour!”

Purple ignored their calls, his focus trained on the armor piece stuck in the pillar. He began to pry it out, gritting his teeth as he struggled to pull it out from its prison. After a few agonizing moments where his hands burned from gripping the wrench too tight, it flung out and began to plummet toward the ground below. Purple detached himself from the grappling hook, pushing off of the pillar to try and dive toward the piece. He reached out toward it, his fingers grazing it but ultimately pushing it further away from him.

Before he could snatch it from the air, a large, red transparent hand emerged and snatched both him and the piece. Purple struggled against the projection’s grasp before being dropped onto the sidewalk of the bridge just a few feet away from the Foot Lieutenant and Foot Brute. 

“Are you okay?” Mikey asked, moving toward him quickly. He was about to touch Purple before the softshell recoiled, using a foot to kick him away. 

“Dude! We’re trying to help you!” Leo explained, hand outstretched. “We’re gonna help you get away from Draxum.”

What are they on about? Purple narrowed his gaze, picking himself up from the ground. He pulled his bō from where it sat on his shell, readying himself for a fight. “Give me the metal, and no one has to get hurt.” 

“Okay, so he can talk again,” Raph murmured before shaking his head and raising his voice so he could be heard clearly. “Look, we know that Draxum’s hurting you. We can help you! We’ll protect you.”

“Father isn’t hurting me,” Purple snarled, the grip on his bō growing tighter. “Last warning. Give me the piece, or I’m gonna kill you. Which honestly isn’t a problem for me, but that would mean cleaning the blood out of my clothes, and that’s just a pain.” 

Why is everyone insistent on this? They don’t know him like I do! He loves me. Why else would he put up with me for so long?

“We can’t let you have it,” Leo said, reaching for his ōdachi. “We don’t know what you’re planning, but if Draxum’s involved, it can’t be good.”

“Not good for you,” Purple agreed, looking back for a second to the Foot members who had begun to rush toward them, weapons in hand. “But you’ve been brainwashed by Lou Jitsu to be sympathetic to humans. You don’t know any better.”

“ We’ve been brainwashed?!” Leo laughed, unsheathing his ōdachi with a smile. “Dude, you’re working with a supervillain! Use your brain! We’re not the bad guys here!”

Purple rolled his eyes before lunging forward, clashing his bō with the red-eared slider’s ōdachi. Leo pulled back just to swing at him again, but Purple dodged the attack easily. Each time Leo tried to strike, Purple was able to either counter his movements or dodge, biding his time and waiting for the perfect opportunity to unleash his anger.

Soon enough, Leo’s stamina began to run out, and Purple used this chance to use the blunt end of his bō to push against his plastron, sending the blue-masked turtle tumbling backward. He made a swing at the slider’s head, but he was able to duck his head into his shell before contact was made. 

As Purple towered over him, he raised his bō, ready to sink the sharp spikes at the end of his weapon into the slider’s neck, effectively ending his life. But before he could land the finishing blow, Leo swept a kick at Purple’s leg, causing the softshell to come crashing down on top of the other turtle.

Leo pushed him off, readying his stance again just a few feet away from Purple, ōdachi in hand. “Why are you working for Draxum?” 

Purple snorted at the question, pushing himself up from the ground as he stretched his sore arms. “He’s my Father. I love him-- I’d do anything for him.”

“He put a muzzle on you!” Leo exclaimed in infuriation, lowering his guard and his weapon. 

Purple took this opportunity to charge at him, bō swinging in an attempt to strike Leo. Unfortunately, the blue-shelled turtle was too quick, able to dodge and block his attacks. It was like they were evenly matched. They were a fractured mirror, reflecting each other’s smooth and clear surfaces as well as their cracks. 

“No parent who truly loves their child would hurt them,” Leo shouted with confidence, clashing his ōdachi against Purple’s bō, his face close to Purple’s. “Listen to us! We’re trying to help you.”

“You’re trying to get me to betray my Father,” Purple spat back, pushing back against his ōdachi, causing both of them to stumble backward away from each other. He shook his head and charged once more at the slider, but his attack was countered by the other turtle.

“We’re your brothers,” Leo pleaded desperately. “Why would we want to hurt you?”

Purple drew his lip in response, snarling at the prospect of his words. They weren’t brothers. They had relinquished that title when they’d left him to die in a collapsing building. Lou Jitsu had disowned him when he’d left him in the flames. He was bitter toward them for their betrayal of their own flesh and blood, yet he was also grateful that he’d been allowed to be raised with Draxum. He couldn’t imagine a life without his Father, and he didn’t want to picture the unimaginable horrors he would’ve experienced if he’d been raised by Lou Jitsu.

A loud splash ripped the two of them from their fight, both of them looking beyond the bridge for the source of the sound. For a horrifying moment, Purple wondered if the mystic metal had been thrown over the edge. He rushed to the railing, peering into the deep, dark river. But as he flicked his goggles onto his eyes, he didn’t see the metal in the water. No, it was much worse. Mikey had fallen in.

An image infiltrated his mind, one he’d often found himself looking at for minutes at a time. One he held dearly and was part of a set of four. The image labeled #4 captured a moment in time before the turtles had been mutated. The young box turtle’s innocent face flashed in his mind, but so did the large, bold words at the top of the image. 

“CANNOT SWIM.” 

But surely Mikey had learned how to swim by now, right?

Purple turned to Leo, expecting anything but the panicked expression that painted his face. The slider began to climb the railing, but was caught by his bandana tails, and pulled back by the Foot Lieutenant to continue the fight for the mystic metal. 

Purple looked to Raph, who kept trying to run for the edge but was caught by the Foot Brute, who kept him from the railing. 

He knew he should follow the Foot Clan’s lead and continue the fight. He knew he should get the mystical metal and complete the Dark Armor. He knew he should let the box turtle sink away, maybe never to be found again. But as he imagined the young turtle’s corpse at the bottom of the river, anxiety ripped his heart apart and plunged it below with his baby brother. 

He couldn’t let that happen. He tore his battle shell off, tore off the gloves that hid away his webbed claws, threw his goggles aside, and removed the mask on his face. He climbed the railing with a determination he wasn’t sure he’d ever felt before-- it wasn’t out of a need for approval or for praise, but instead, it was out of desperation to not let Mikey be swallowed by the water below. 

He took a deep breath, feeling the wind beat at his bare carapace, and dove into the river. 

As he was plunged into the water, his skin burned, screaming at him for his decision. But he ignored the pain that roared at him, instead choosing to begin paddling down. Down, down, down toward the faint figure of a box turtle that he could just barely see in the depths of the river. He tore through the water, clawing through it as if he was a toddler crawling toward its mother. 

Finally, he could see his brother unconscious and sinking fast. Purple wrapped himself around Mikey before he pushed up against the water and began to swim upward toward the surface. 

The relief that washed over him when their heads reached air again was immense and indescribable. He dragged Mikey’s limp body through the river and toward a small bank, their bodies collecting wet sand on their skin as the two of them lay there, Purple desperately trying to catch his breath, his lungs feeling as if they were burning.

Purple turned to the unconscious turtle and scrambled toward him. He searched for a pulse, anxiety making his own heart beat so loudly he was sure that even the yōkai in the Hidden City might hear it. Finally, after what felt like eons, he found the young turtle’s pulse. Because of his steady breathing, Purple concluded that he wouldn’t need CPR and hadn’t ingested too much water. He laid back, relief allowing him to finally relax.

Is he gonna die? Purple wondered, staring into the dark water. He knew, realistically, he should’ve been happy by the idea of the turtle perishing, but he wasn’t. Wouldn’t his death be a good thing? It would be one less obstacle for him and his father. 

But I don’t want him dead, Purple realized with a saddened heart. What kind of person am I if I’m afraid of the death of my enemies? 

A coughing fit tore Purple away from his thoughts, his attention now directed at the ornate box turtle that lay next to him.

“Oh,” Mikey coughed before sitting up and punching the air happily. “I’m alive! WOO!”

Purple winced at the sudden loud noise. “Ow.” 

Mikey turned to him, surprise written on his face. But regardless, he smiled widely. “You saved me?”

Purple nodded, keeping silent. He was listening to the waves ebb against the bank, the calm soothing his anxieties and giving himself something to focus on other than the building dread in his heart. I should’ve let him drown. Why didn’t I let him drown?

“Why’d you save me?” Mikey asked, scooting closer to Purple. 

The softshell didn’t move away, instead inviting the turtle into his space. 

You’re my brother . The answer was so simple, but the words died in his throat as if there were a curse binding him to silence. And if he spoke those words, if he unleashed the truth, it would unravel a collapse of his world that he’d never be able to rebuild again. And that terrified him. 

“Why?” Mikey asked again, his voice soft and kind. He laid a hand on Purple’s shoulder. Even with having been drenched in water, Mikey’s hand was still so warm. 

“You know why,” Purple murmured weakly, refusing to look at the turtle. His gaze was pinned on the waves. He watched as they pulled back and forth, dancing something serene and beautiful with each other. It was a secret the river kept to itself, and Purple was okay with not knowing the truth of its beauty. He was okay just being on the sands of the bank, cold and shivering as the winds blew on his face. His softshell was exposed too, and Purple felt more vulnerable than he ever had in his entire life.

Draxum had chosen him for a reason, despite his softshell. In fact, he was chosen because of his species. He could breathe underwater, the pores in his skin were able to take the oxygen from the water and survive even the depths. His soft shell was a flaw that Draxum had known about but ignored because of his species’ other abilities. Their claws, their teeth, their territorialism. That’s why he’d been chosen. Purple’s weaknesses lay in his soft shell, yes, but it wasn’t a fundamental flaw in his species. There was something wrong with Purple. Who he was as a mutant was offensive-- not just to his species or to his father, but to existence as a whole.

They could never love me, Purple thought, his eyes burning with tears. How Father puts up with me is a testament to his patience and love.

“I don’t know why,” Mikey said, wiping one of his stray tears away. “I don’t think you know, either.”

For a moment, Purple wanted to relax into the touch. To let him know why his skin was charred and scarred. To let him know the reasons why he, out of the four of them, was abandoned . And a part of him wanted the other turtle to tell him that it wasn’t true. To tell him that they weren’t brothers or maybe that Lou Jitsu had really wanted him. 

But he couldn’t get the words out. The possibilities were left as that- possibilities. And he let the silence between them re-establish their dynamic.

Michelangelo was the hero. 

Purple was the villain. And that’s all he would ever be.

“Why don’t you come with us?” Mikey suggested, his eyes full of so much love and compassion that it made Purple sick to see. “We can help you. You don’t have to get hurt anymore.” 

Purple pulled away from the orange-masked turtle’s touch and forcefully shoved him away. “You don’t know anything about me or my life.”

“Yeah,” Mikey agreed, sitting back up and edging closer to him again. “But I’d like to. I wanna know my brother.”

“We aren’t brothers,” Purple spat, raising a hand to Mikey. When he saw the small turtle flinch and cower away, he smirked, ignoring the guilt he felt. “We will never be brothers.”

“You’ve given up on us?” Mikey asked, still cowering slightly. The fear in the young turtle’s eyes only strengthened Purple’s pride.

“You gave up on me first,” Purple pointed out dryly. Can you give up on something that lacks worth? “It’s only fair, isn’t it?”

“I never gave up on you,” Mikey promised, no hint of deception on his face or in his voice. “I love you. Even if you don’t love me, even if you say we’re not brothers… I can’t stop the love I feel for you. I can’t stop thinking of you as my brother. I can’t- I won’t .”

“Try,” Purple told him with an unhappy grimace. “And if that doesn’t work, try harder. Forget about the blood that mutated us because it doesn’t matter. It has never mattered.” 

“No,” Mikey shook his head. “No, I won’t do that. You can, but I won’t.”

Purple hissed with his teeth bared before pinning the young turtle against the sand. One clawed hand wrapped around his throat, not tight, while the other was raised in the air, threatening to end his life. 

“Do you still think of me as your brother now?” He asked, anger boiling underneath his skin, daring to burst and explode. “Do you still love me?”

Purple saw the fear in the younger turtle’s eyes, but despite that, he smiled up at the softshell. 

“Yeah,” Mikey said. “You’re still my brother, and I’ll love you till the day I die.”

“Even if it’s by my hand?” Purple asked dubiously, his chest burning for some inexplicable reason. Maybe the tears falling from his face had something to do with it? “Even if I’m the one to kill you?”

“Mhm,” Mikey hummed in agreement. “And I’d forgive you.”

“Why?” Purple asked, his voice cracking from distress. “You’re not supposed to like me! You’re supposed to hate me!”

“Whoops,” Mikey chuckled. “Sorry ‘bout that.”

Purple pulled away from him, stumbling backward from vertigo caused by the box turtle’s kindness. He couldn’t understand it. He knew the most complex of formulas-- he could calculate things many professional mathematicians would struggle with. He could code in multiple languages and with very few errors. 

So why didn’t he understand this? What had he miscalculated? What variable had he not accounted for? 

“Mikey!” 

The voice that pierced the night air was undoubtedly from the blue-masked turtle, who was tumbling down the pathway to the small beach with Raph trailing right behind him. 

As soon as he was able, Leo, who was wet for some reason, swept Mikey up and brought him into his arms for a hug, swinging him around as he laughed joyfully. “You’re alive!”

“Yeah!” Mikey said, stumbling a bit when he was let go, clearly a bit dizzy.

“I gave the Foot the metal thingy,” Raph said, hovering over his brother with a worried look. “I thought… Leo jumped in and couldn’t find you, so…” 

“I’m okay,” Mikey promised before turning to the softshell who’d distanced himself from them. “Purple saved me.” 

Purple stared at the other turtles, aware that he was defenseless. He’d left his shell, goggles, bō… everything was back on the bridge. He bore his teeth and his claws, trying his best to look intimidating. 

But despite his angular appearance, the red-eared slider began to approach him. Purple wondered if Leo was stupid when the turtle looked as if he was going in to give the softshell a hug. When Purple decided that the slider had gotten too close, he tightly grabbed Leo’s arm and twisted it, his claws piercing his green skin and drawing blood. 

“Christ-- what the hell?!” Leo yelped in pain, stumbling away from him as he held onto his arm. Raph pulled Leo by his shell toward him and stepped in front of the blue and orange-masked turtles. 

The large turtle looked conflicted, his brows furrowing in deliberation. Purple used this moment of hesitance to dive back into the water, pushing past the water and swimming as fast as he could to get away. He checked behind him every few moments, afraid that they might try to go after him. He was happy (and somewhat disappointed) that they hadn’t.

Purple climbed onto the opposite bank, shaking the water off. He looked across the water and back to the three turtles on the other side, who didn’t seem to be paying attention to him. He frowned deeply at their seeming indifference toward him. He didn’t want them to go after him, but he felt somewhat upset that they didn’t think he was someone worth going after. 

The Foot has the metal, he told himself as he began to climb up the path toward the road. 

He retrieved his stuff, putting everything back on, and only then did he realize how cold he felt without them. He sighed in relief at the comfort the prosthetic shell brought him, as well as the mask that covered his mouth and the gloves that concealed his claws. It just felt right.

No one could bring the same warmth his father did. No one could love him as Father did. No matter what anyone else said, he knew the truth.

Father was the only one he could trust, the only one who had his best interests at heart. 

The turtles only cared to know him to try and persuade him to betray his father. They only said the things they did to deceive and manipulate him, not to actually love him or treat him with the same kindness Father did. 

Repo Mantis, Shelldon, and the turtles would never understand the relationship he had with his father because it was so beautiful and lovely that he wasn’t sure anyone else had experienced the amount of affection Father held for him.

Purple owed Draxum everything . He could’ve been left in the fires of the lab, left to be burned to ash. But no. Draxum saved him, even though he hadn’t and never would deserve it. If Draxum wanted the Dark Armor, then he would get it for him.

It was the least he could do.

Chapter Text

April was finally, finally done with her end-of-semester exams. She’d thrown herself into studying for the tests, meaning that she had no time to hang out with her turtle bros. Leo, of course, had kept her updated by telling her every time Mikey got a crayon stuck up his nose (which was a concerning number of times). 

Apparently, though, she missed much more than she thought she would in such a short amount of time. Not only were there new updates on Purple, but they had discovered that they were apparently LOU JITSU’S BIOLOGICAL KIDS and that SPLINTER WAS LOU JITSU! Her mind was absolutely BLOWN!

Of course, those were fair points to be surprised about for all of them, but then there were the other things that just made her mildly infuriated when she realized the turtles didn’t know. They could be so stupid sometimes, and it annoyed her to no end.

One such scenario was recorded over a text she’d gotten earlier:

Leo: oh btw Purple turtle guy is our brother lol

April: w

April: YOU DIDNT KNOW? 

Leo: YOU DID?

April: HOW MANY MUTANT TURTLES ARE THERE? 

Leo: oh 

Leo: fuck you rohht 

April: dumbass. istg. 

Since that conversation, she knew that the minute her last exam was over, she would be marching right on down to the sewers to knock some sense into those empty heads of theirs. She could understand Raph not connecting the dots, but Leo? Really?

Of course, it was all in good and teasing fun, but still.

The frustrated teenager pried the manhole cover off the entrance to the sewers and made her descent downward, grumbling all the way to herself about how she had to be the one to check in on them all the time. As much as she loved them, they could be real boneheads sometimes, and their dad wasn’t always the best at ensuring they didn’t get themselves into trouble. The crayon situation was a pretty good example, but there were plenty of others. This is why she wasn’t attracted to men: they’re all fucking stupid . 

She found her way through the sewer tunnels and into the turtles’ home, finding it surprisingly empty. 

She found a seat on the couch, guessing that they were out doing something stupid and unreasonable that they wouldn’t listen to her about when she told them several times that it was a bad idea. This time, if she had to guess, it would be some kind of crime-fighting endeavor. It was something she had conflicting feelings about. On one hand, she knew that they were perfectly capable of taking care of themselves, but on the other… well, besides the normal worry and unease that it caused her, she knew that they tended to rush into a lot of stuff without a plan or regard for their safety. They didn’t usually get injured, at least not badly, but it made her nervous to think that one day, that luck might run out…

“Life for me is perfect!” The distant voice of Splinter sang, snapping her quickly out of her thoughts. “Eat whatever I want!” She saw the rodent mutant enter the atrium, dancing a bit to an unheard melody. “Dance around in my robe! Time to lose the ro-obe~!”

“SPLINTS!” April quickly interjected before he could even start to do such a thing. The mere thought of it made her nauseous. 

“APRIL!” The rat cried in surprise. “I thought you had school tests?”

“I actually finished those up this morning,” April reported with a smile. “And, of course, top marks from all my classes.” 

“That is very good, April. Very good indeed,” Splinter congratulated, patting her hand with his own. 

“Where are the boys?” she asked with a tilt of her head. “I needed to talk to them about something.”

“Leonardo got a report that there was a disturbance at a zoo,” Splinter explained, turning away to scratch his chin. When he turned back to April, his eyes widened in fear and surprise upon noticing the symbol on her shirt, and he jumped backward from the sheer force of the sight. His hair began to raise as he spoke. “That is a… curious symbol.”

April glanced down at her shirt, pulling the bottom of it out so she could get a better look at it herself. To her, it was very unappealing but nothing to be frightened of. “The logo for the shoe store I work at? The Foot Shack?” 

“The Foot Shack?” Splinter squinted in suspicion, his tail lashing behind him. “Perhaps I should… drop by. I do love… uh, kickies.” 

“Kicks? You mean shoes?” April raised a brow before rolling her eyes. What was he trying to hide from her- and why? “Dude, I know you’re Lou Jitsu and a super secret ninja or whatever. You can just tell me what you think is goin’ on.”

Splinter studied April for a moment, his eyes glistening with some hidden emotion. He sighed before nodding with approval. “I believe I can trust you.”

“YOU’VE KNOWN ME SINCE I WAS SEVEN!” she cried in disbelief, unsure of how he could not trust her. Splinter gave her a different look- one that got her to sigh and stand down on her point- before he began to speak.

“The symbol you wear belongs to an ancient clan known as the Foot Clan,” Splinter explained, his tone so serious it caught April off guard. It was such a sudden shift, and she’d never heard him speak like this before. It was almost like he was… wise. “They were strong and ferocious enemies of my descendants, the Hamato Clan. They seek destruction and chaos, and I fear that they are up to no good. You must trust me on this, April.” 

“...You’re saying my shoe salesman bosses are part of an evil organization spanning generations?” April said in disbelief, pinching the bridge of her nose in exasperation. Sometimes Splinter could be a bit nuts, even for her. “Are there mutant retirement homes?” 

“I am serious!” the rat exclaimed, grabbing April by the shirt and tugging her down to meet his gaze. “You do not understand the danger they possess!” 

“Okay, okay, fine!” April exclaimed, eyes wide as she put her hands up in her own defense, which got the stout yōkai man before her to let go of her shirt and allow her to stand to her full height again.“I’ll take you to the Foot Shack, just to show you that there’s no ‘nefarious dealings’ goin’ on. But no weird shit, got it?”

Splinter smiled deviously, his eyes glinting with a plan. “I will be your normal, average teenage boy.”

Later in the day, once Splinter was ready and her shift was soon to begin, April took the old rat to the Foot Shack. Regrettably. 

His outfit was the exact opposite of anything even close to helping him lie low, and it almost burned her eyes to look at. He was wearing a Hawaiian shirt that belonged to Mikey, a backwards hat, some old pants that had definitely seen better days, and no shoes. She didn’t even want to mention the gaudy gold chain or the matching hoop earrings. She facepalmed from embarrassment but knew there was no stopping him. Hell, she was more afraid of what he would put on if she did ask.

I am so getting fired , she thought miserably as the two of them entered the shoe store together. 

But everyone in the store was either stupid, blind, or maybe even both, because no one batted an eye at Splinter. 

“See, April?” Splinter elbowed her with a sly smile. “Just your average teenage boy.”

She rolled her eyes at that, growing increasingly worried about his presence there. When was the last time the rat had been in public? And on the surface, no less? “Just keep a low profile, okay? This job actually pays more than minimum wage!”

 Splinter ignored her, opting instead to start sneaking around the store. Some patrons glanced his way but shrugged it off as the “kid” being weird. April sighed and continued over to the counter, finding her way to the computer. She entered her employee ID to clock herself in. 

She began to help customers pay for their things shortly after doing so, almost forgetting about Splinter darting around the store. 

“Thank you!” An older woman smiled at her, taking the bag of her new shoes off the counter and exiting the store promptly.

April leaned against the counter, already tired of this whole charade. It was a shoe store- not some evil secret organization! Why did Splinter have to be so weird all the time? 

Just after the woman had left, two men entered through the doors, wearing uniforms of the store. They were her bosses, Rob and Maurice. 

“FOOT FACES!” Splinter cried out, suddenly in front of her, as if he could protect her from some invisible threat. 

April covered his mouth, shushing him harshly. “They’re sensitive about that.”

The two men with foot faces passed them without so much as a glance. They instead opened a large, bronze circular vault door with three feet imprinted on the metal and intricate designs decorating it. The vault closed behind them just as swiftly as it had been opened without giving anyone a chance to see within, locking securely. 

“I must see what is in that vault,” Splinter declared, beginning to march toward it. 

“Not even I have a key to that!” April exclaimed and grabbed him, pulling him back under the counter. “Let’s go around the back and try to find a better way to see, okay? And when you see that it’s just a regular storage closet, maybe you’ll finally be convinced that this is just a regular shoe store.”

Splinter snorted, shaking his head as they exited the store and went around to the back. April followed the old rat up a ladder that led to the roof of the building. There, a skylight protruded out, and Splinter saw this as an entrance. Kicking open the window, he slipped into the building, with April following close behind. She had to commend him for knowing how to get into a building in the way that they were without making an absurd amount of noise, but she was still wildly uncomfortable about the fact that it was her job’s building. She just had to hope that someone would fill her shift quickly enough that her absence wouldn’t be too noticed

There, on a railed catwalk overlooking the storage room of the building, the two of them laid low and watched the sea of Foot Ninjas standing at attention before the two foot-faced humans. 

“Maybe I missed a team meeting?” she wondered quietly aloud but knew that this explanation didn’t explain the ninja outfits. Why can’t one normal thing happen to me? 

“You do not understand the great evil these men are capable of,” Splinter murmured, shaking his head solemnly. 

“Behold, warriors of the Foot Clan!” Rob announced as Maurice pushed a cart covered by a brown sheet toward him. Rob promptly pulled it off, revealing… “Our new spring line! Aren’t they beautiful?”

“…Pump sandals,” Splinter observed aloud after a moment, disbelief painted on his face. “That is a real thing?” A smile tugged at the rat’s face as he began to laugh. “The Foot Clan have turned into shoe salesmen!”

“I told you,” April rolled her eyes and crossed her arms. “The evilest thing they’re doin’ is upsellin’ shoes.”

“We will use these in today’s acquisition,” Rob declared with a fierce grin. 

“Acquisition of what?” Splinter said through hushed chuckles as he elbowed April. “High-heeled flip-flops?!”

Rob opened a scroll, displaying it in his hands for all to see. April pushed her glasses up on her nose, squinting to see the image. She knew she needed new glasses, but she wished she didn’t need them now .

“ No ,” Splinter gasped, scrambled backwards as he was overtaken by sudden, certain fear. “No… No .”

“What?” April asked worriedly. “What did you see?”

“A demon banished 500 years ago…” Splinter’s eyes narrowed, a flicker of determination momentarily replacing the fear within his eyes. “That picture is a piece of the Kuroi Yoroi, a mystic armor that swallowed the soul of the madman who wore it. When he was finally defeated, the pieces were scattered around the globe. For centuries, my ancestors made sure none of the pieces fell into the hands of the Foot Clan.”

“Those guys?” April pointed to the ninjas below, disappointment fueling her growing rage. “I work at an evil shoe store?!”

Splinter nodded before sighing deeply, shaking his head as he stared off into a past that April did not know. “I was young and naïve, bitter and disillusioned with my ancestors. I did not believe the stories I was told. Instead of protecting humanity, I used the training from my childhood to become an actor.”

April listened intently, and she could sense the guilt and grief radiating from the old rat. She put a hand on his shoulder, which caused him to look at her with surprise. 

“You’re allowed to have a life of your own,” April said assuredly. “No kid should be forced to learn to fight. Not even for some weird, mystic bullshit destiny.”

Splinter didn’t look convinced. “As I sauntered through life, I let the Foot regroup and grow. Who knows how far along they are by now?”

“Do you not have any, like, cousins or whatnot?” April asked, tilting her head. “Surely the weight of the world can’t be put on one set of shoulders.”

Splinter shook his head. “I am the only Hamato left. And once they collect the armor, their master will be free. There will be nothing that can save us. And..” Splinter paused, his voice clearly strained. “And it’ll be all my fault.” 

Splinter stared down at the ground, defeated and depressed. April knew he was wrong- she knew that he was only human (or, well, sort of), and if he’d truly been coerced into training as a child, the childhood he must’ve had was most likely lackluster. 

She already knew the rat struggled with mental health. She could see the signs of trauma and depression so easily within him, and it crushed her heart to see him brought down to such a state as this by something he couldn’t control. 

She was like her weird uncle. Incredibly weird uncle, sure, but someone she felt like she could come to just to hang out. There was no need to speak, no need to explain her grades or her social life or anything. She could talk about whatever she wanted or needed to, and he’d listen. 

When she didn’t want to talk, he would fill the void, and when she didn’t want to listen, he would stay silent. 

Being older than the turtles had its perks, but  it also had its disadvantages. For one, they weren’t mature. Not to say that she was, but she was more aware of her lack of maturity and the mental development of her brain than her brothers were. 

And secondly, she didn’t want to share her issues with them. It felt wrong and exploitative. They were kids. Splinter, on the otherhand, was someone who could understand better. Someone who’d lived as a normal High Schooler and may have been through the same things she’d been through.

But as he sat there, utterly broken and defenseless, April could see the child within him that was never allowed to grow. So she carefully pulled him close and into a hug.

“You have done nothing wrong here,” April assured him. “You… I’m not a therapist. I’ve taken one psych class, and I have my own experience with mental health, but I know that you have some deep, unresolved wound that needs to heal. And that’s okay. You aren’t alone here. You’ve got your sons, and you’ve got me.”

“I can’t drag you or my sons into this,” Splinter shook his head but didn’t try to escape April’s embrace. “You’re children.”

“We are,” April agreed. “But I know that the bros wouldn’t pass up a chance to kick some evil butt.”

Splinter moved back and stared at her for a moment, conflict raging in his yellow eyes. April couldn’t understand what he was feeling, but when he smiled and his expression softened, she knew that he’d be okay and that his heart was open. “Thank you, April.”

“To the train station!” Rob announced, pointing to the open vault leading out to a now empty store. “To seize the artifact!”

The Foot Ninjas marched in unison with their pump sandals on. 

“Not if my wrinkled old body has anything to say about it,” Splinter grumbled in response, holding onto the railing as he peered over the ledge with a fierce gaze. He stepped back before he leapt onto the railing, using his rat feet to perch on for a moment. He then launched himself on top of one of the two Foot Clan men who stayed behind, knocking him out instantly. Before the other could cry for help, Splinter landed punches on him, making him fall and go unconscious as well.

April carefully scaled her way down, taking the clothing of the ninjas for herself as Splinter did the same. 

“The Shredder will never rise again,” Splinter declared as he pulled the mask over his head. “Even if it’s the last thing I do.”

Deep below New York, Purple sat in his bed, watching Shelldon on his charger. 

He’d been like that for a couple of days now, not getting off of it. After their small fight, Sheldon refused to speak to him. He remained on his charger, pretending to hibernate as if Purple wasn’t aware that he could still be active even while charging. 

Purple didn’t know what he’d done. He didn’t understand why he was wrong. Shelldon was the one who was trying to make him believe his father- the man who raised him- was abusive. As if Father hadn’t cooked for him, cleaned after him, looked after him, nurtured him… As if none of that had happened.

Abuse happened because there was no love or that love was corrupt. Father wasn’t like that. Father genuinely loved him, and Purple loved his father. Why else would he make him his favorite food, even if sometimes the texture was off? Why else would he encourage Purple’s scientific prowess? 

Maybe it was for the best that Shelldon didn’t speak to him. Purple didn’t know what kind of corrupted ideas of love he’d learned from the internet. People loved to play the victim. He was probably getting his ‘information’ from those who only wanted attention and unreasonably disliked their parents. 

He was lucky to have Draxum as his father. He knew that the yōkai had parents he didn’t speak to, mostly due to them abusing him as a child. 

“My parents would whip and hit me, even if I hadn’t been disobediant,” Father’s voice echoed in his memory. He often told him the tales of his childhood, reminding Purple of how fortunate he was to have such a loving Father. “They didn’t care if I came home late or if I got hurt from tripping or if I was bullied. They made me pay for my own birthday cake- one I never asked for. My own sister tried to kill me when I was younger, and my parents did nothing but watch as I bled out from my wounds.”

Anyone who criticized Father’s parenting abilities was sorely out of their depths, and those like Shelldon who called him abusive didn’t know the meaning of the word. Father had seen abuse- he’d experienced it and survived its clutches. He knew the horrors of uncaring parents and wouldn’t let that pass onto Purple. He had broken the chain and cared for Purple more deeply than any other parent loved their child.

Purple turned away from Shelldon and opted instead to retreat to the training room. He reached for his bō, which leaned against the doorway, but stopped when he saw his father staring at him from the center of the lab.

“Father!” Purple acknowledged with a gleeful smile.

“My son,” Draxum replied, mirroring his expression. “Would you come down here, please?”

Purple did as he was asked, happily skipping down the steps to the lower floor. He rushed up to his Father, who opened his arms wide. Purple welcomed the embrace, despite the hug feeling unnatural and restricting. After a moment, Father let go and patted his son on the shoulder.

“You have grown greatly in these past weeks,” Father praised, his eyes gleaming with pride. He put a hand on Purple’s battle shell, gently guiding him toward the training room as they walked in stride with eachother. “You are better than anything I could’ve imagined of you.”

The compliment made Purple shrink into his shell a bit, unsure of how to respond. He was sure of his intelligence, but he knew he would never be as physically strong as others due to his species. “Thank you…” he murmured with embarrassment. More quietly, he added, “I know I could do better.”

“Don’t be so modest,” Father chuckled, patting him on the head as the doors to the training room opened and shut behind them. They continued down the steps and through the display of weapons Father stored. “You are an incredible fighter, Purple. Despite your setbacks, despite the fundamental flaws that plague you, you have overcome them all.” 

They now stood on the training mat, a place of familiarity for Purple. It was just as known to him as any other part of the house, not unlike the living room or kitchen. Yet being in there, alone , without Huginn or Muninn, scared him. It made him feel like some danger was lurking, or perhaps something bad was to come. But it didn’t make sense. Father was here with him. Father would protect him. 

Draxum took his hand away from Purple’s shell, and Purple stayed where he had left him. Draxum continued to walk toward the wall that once held four mystic weapons, but now only one remained: A glowing purple naginata. Father took it off the wall with such ease before turning around to Purple with a shining grin. 

“This once belonged to me,” Father explained as he held the naginata in his hands, looking at the tip’s blade with a sort of fondness. “I knew that you would be the one to wield it from the moment I saw you. I trained you with a simple wooden bō, something to humble you before you reached your true potential.”

Father approached him slowly as he spoke before stopping just inches in front of him. Pride shone in his eyes, something Purple had always longed for but had always seemed so far  out of reach. Now, the physical proof of his father’s pride and affection for him was in his hands, and the yōkai was giving it to him . 

“You are ready, Purple,” Father smiled, kneeling to hand off the naginata to him. 

Slowly and with great hesitance, Purple took hold of the weapon. The mystic energy seemed to instantly coil around his entire being, claiming Purple as its own. Was this what his brothers felt that day they met? He’d always rejected mystics because he couldn’t understand it-- couldn’t quantify or qualify its existence. There was no objective formula to understand its behavior or existence. Just the need for blind acceptance that it was . 

But now he understood it, if just barely. It was something he understood through feeling and experience alone, not through complex algorithms or equations. It was tied to him and who he was as a being, and molded to fit him and him alone. 

He breathed out, the air in his lungs feeling clearer than it had ever been before. He felt new, as if holding the mystic weapon gave him some new sense of life and purpose. He liked it. He liked the power that he felt from the mystic energy that curled and swished around him like a cool and welcoming breeze. 

“Thank you,” Purple said earnestly, bowing deeply to his father. He gave the naginata a few test swings after he stood again, getting used to the new distributed balance. And yet it seemed natural to him- as if he was made for the naginata and the naginata had been made for him. They were perfectly balanced, designed for each other in such a fundamental way that no science could ever begin to explain. 

“Now,” Father interrupted his thoughts and placed a hand on Purple’s shoulder. “We have to go babysit the Foot Clan. I have an inkling that those buffoons they call leaders are doing something idiotic again, and with my Dark Armor, no less.”

Purple laughed at that, and his happiness only grew as he saw a fond smile grow on his father’s face. 

Shelldon was wrong. There was no way his father would hurt him. There was no way his father was abusive . And this was all the proof he needed to know that.

“Well, that concludes our third fight with Meat Sweats this week,” Leo sighed heavily as he stretched his tired bones. 

The three turtles sat on the rooftop of some shoe store that had just popped up. It was long closed by now, which meant they wouldn’t be spotted by anyone trying to buy new kickies. 

“I wish the villains would just give us one week off,” Raph groaned as he dangled his feet off the ledge, resting his chin on his hand. “Just one week! It ain’t that hard! It’s like they don’t even respect breaks!”

“Yeah!” Mikey agreed, crossing his arms in annoyance and frustration. “They even interrupted pizza week! And that’s sacred .”

Leo rolled his eyes at his brother's antics, instead opting to check his phone. The screen was lightly cracked, but he didn’t mind because it didn’t impact it’s functionality. It was hard for them to get phones, anyways, considering the whole ‘mutant raiding the city and wreaking havoc’ situation. 

As he played some mindless mobile game that he’d gotten last night form an annoyingly persistent ad, a notification from Reddit caught his attention. Specifically, an alert from the r/FootClan subreddit for Foot Clan members. He’d joined a couple weeks ago, as it wasn’t even a private subreddit. 

He tapped on the notification, expecting to see some nonsense about something or other. Maybe another set of pictures from their ‘ice cream missions.’ Instead, he found u/Friday56 posting a selfie of themself with the post title: “First FootClan mission!! I’M FINALLY A REAL NINJA!”

He studied the background of the image for a second before recognizing the location. “Guys, the Foot Clan’s at the train station,” Leo reported, to which his brothers groaned. 

“Do we have to go?” Mikey asked, sprawled out against the flat roof. “What happens if we don’t?”

“Bad things!” Raph exclaimed, standing up before striking a heroic pose. “We gotta stop whatever evil thing they’re doing!”

“As rare as it is,” Leo motioned to his bigger brother, “Raph’s right.”

“I know, I know,” Mikey sighed, pushing himself up and rubbing his eyes. The tiny turtle yawned and stretched before shaking his head and smiling at his brother. “Lead the way, Leo!” 

The train station stood empty, having been closed for repairs many months ago, and had yet to re-open. The lights of the station were off, and the only light came from the full moon and stars that shone brightly through the skylight windows above.

April followed Splinter closely as the Foot Clan emptied out of the Foot Shack company van. 

Many of the Foot Clan members were just standing around, barely looking for the artifact as Rob had ordered. Some were even taking selfies! I guess they don’t really care about the Foot Clan as much as their leaders do.

April began to idly scan the train station for the piece, unsure of what she was supposed to be keeping an eye out for. Nothing looked like an armor piece to her- it was just train and construction junk. 

“There,” Splinter whispered, causing April to snap her attention toward the small clock tower at the center of the train station. “I need you to distract the Foot for me so I can snag the armor piece.”

April gave the rat a salute before literally rolling out into action. Using her incredible ninja skills she had picked up over the years of being the turtles’ adopted older sister, she was able to sneak into the center of the ninja congregation. 

“Hey!” April shouted loudly, waving her arms frantically once she was far enough away from Splinter. “Fellow evil ninjas~! I saw a metal armor thingy- back here!” She pointed away from the clock tower, distracting them from Splinter stealthily slipping past them. 

“What-“ Rob began to speak before April switched directions of where she was pointing.

 “What are we supposed-“

 April switched directions again, posing quite elegantly. She should be a model, honestly. 

“WHAT ARE WE SUPPOSED TO BE LOOKING AT?” Rob rushed through his sentence before facepalming with a groan.

April switched direction again, but it was too late. 

“Hey, Randal!” Rob shouted, causing April and the ninjas around her to whip their heads around at ‘Randal,’ who had climbed the clock tower. “What is in your hands?”

April sucked in a breath, anxiety wracking her throat as Splinter slowly turned around. But there was, in fact, nothing in his hands. 

“Yo,” ‘Randal’ said nonchalantly, leaning against the clock tower as if it was the next coolest place to sit. “No need to be buggin’ boss.”

“HEY!” April pointed in a new direction, grabbing the ninja’s attention once more. “ There’s the armor piece over there !” 

April moved with the Foot ninjas to inspect a part of the train station April knew to be absent of their artifact. She just needed to distract them long enough for Splinter to jet, which should be simple enough. They were all boneheads, anyways. 

“I don’t see it,” Rob said, his voice raspy as always. “Where did you say it was again?”

“Just over here!” April said, pretending to dig through the rubble. “I swear I-“

CRASH. 

The sound of glass shattering tore April and the ninjas from their staged search efforts. Now, everyone’s attention was on the small turtle that had just been thrown through the windows above them.. 

Before anyone could move, the wall of the train station was smashed through by an enormous, red holographic projection of a turtle April was all too familiar with. Raph (or a projection of Raph?) caught the falling Mikey in his large hands, breathing a sigh of relief when he did. 

But Raph hadn’t just barrelled through the door. He had knocked the small clock tower over, leaving Splinter on the floor with the artifact knocked out of his hands.

“What?!” Rob cried out in anger and disgust. 

“AAAAND HE STICKS THE LANDING!” Leo cried out, appearing from a portal just beside the normal-sized Raph carrying an unscathed Mikey. 

Just as Splinter hurried to snatch the armor piece, Mikey pointed and exclaimed, “MYSTIC METAL!” 

“Just as I planned! Wait-” Raph smiled victoriously, before narrowing his gaze and moving Mikey’s arms to point at the Foot Clan instead. “What are the flame-heads doin’ here?”

“Excellent!” Maurice proclaimed, his voice echoing throughout the station. “Randal has the artifact!” 

“Hand it over, bozos,” Raph growled, still holding onto Mikey’s arm to point. “We got a bigger fish to catch with that.”

“Bigger than us?” Rob snarked with a smirk. “That hurts. ATTACK !” 

April ran forward just as the other ninjas began to do as they were ordered but instead stopped by Splinter’s side. “Let the boys handle them!” April insisted. “Then you and I can jet!”

Splinter stared at the armor piece for a moment before shaking his head. He grabbed April’s wrist and planted the armor piece in her hand, his eyes full of both love and sorrow. “You can jet,” he said. “Take the piece and get out of here.”

Splinter continued some self-sacrificial speech, but April didn’t stick around to listen. She knew he would be okay- He was Lou Jitsu, after all. She instead leaped down the station staircase, skipping steps as she made her way down. 

She jumped over a “no entry” tape barrier that covered the entrance to the part of the train station that was under construction and was lucky enough to jump into an empty train just before it took off. Seeing as it was so late, there wouldn’t be many people taking the subway. It would soon close down for the night- this must be one of the last routes. 

She sat in one of the seats that looked cleanest to her. 

It was so odd to see the subway car so empty. She was used to riding it when at least a few people were on, but the absence of others made it feel… abandoned, almost. While she relished in the single time she’d be able to sit alone on a subway, she also hated how anxiety told her she was unsafe. 

I’m fine , she reasoned with herself, taking a deep breath. The fam’s got this. No one saw me. 

But no matter how many breathing exercises she did, the anxiety persisted. She held onto one of the poles, trying to ground herself. Maybe it was the rocking of the car or the way it smelled like piss and rotten mangos, or maybe it was the whole situation itself that made her uneasy. 

As the train came to a slow stop, she sighed in relief as the shadow of a figure stood just outside her train door. Someone else would be there, and it would surely alleviate her anxieties. 

The train doors opened, but the pit in her stomach only deepened. A mutant turtle stepped inside, but it wasn’t one of her brothers. He was maybe an inch or two shorter than Leo but looked so similar to him that it was uncanny. If not for the markings and the scars, she might’ve mistaken him for Leo at first. In his hand was a long stick with a blade at the tip- a weapon she was familiar with but couldn’t quite remember the name of. 

April tripped on her shoes, trying to rush out of the train, but the doors closed before she could make it out. She grabbed her phone, trying to quickly call Raph or Splinter or anyone , but the unfamiliar turtle swiftly swiped it out of her hands and smashed it into the wall.

“You have something that belongs to my father,” the turtle said, his eyes glinting dangerously. “Hand it over, and I’ll kindly mutate you, so you don’t have to be so lowly anymore.”

April snorted, unable to help the smile that formed under her mask. “What kinda deal is that? You need to take some negotiation classes, my dude.” 

The turtle hesitated, looking genuinely surprised at her retort. After a second of processing what had just happened, his grip on his weapon tightened and he slammed it on the ground. 

When nothing happened, April covered her mouth in order to just barely suppress a laugh. It reminded her of Mikey reenacting a scene from a movie, trying to look menacing but ultimately failing because no one could find that box turtle frightening. It was endearing. 

“Stupid fucking stick,” the turtle cursed under his breath before trying again. This time, thick, translucent purple vines sprouted from below the car, stopping the train in its tracks. The lights flickered on and off, making April stiffen with genuine fear. 

She’d been too busy thinking of him in comparison to his brothers that she forgot that he was still Draxum’s son and was there for a singular purpose; to obtain that armor piece. And because she wasn’t planning on just handing it over, she knew that he would surely do whatever it meant to pry it from her hands and present it to his father. Even if that meant killing her.

As the vines coiled around her, the panic and severity of the situation truly set in. She began to struggle against their hold, but they wouldn’t let go. 

Suddenly, the train began to move backward , as if being pushed by something to return to the previous station. What was he doing? Why was he taking her back? 

Realization struck her like a bullet as the vines constricted around her chest, making it harder and harder to breathe. Draxum and the Foot Clan are working together. 

The vines that Purple controlled were weak compared to his father’s, but they served their intended purpose. They raised the train car up through the roof and planted it onto the train station floor. 

The strain of the newfound mystic abilities channeled through the naginata took a toll on the softshell, his form trembling as the doors were forced open. By controlling the translucent vines, he brought the human girl forward, not letting her go as she struggled against the train station floor. 

Purple used his naginata as a cane, clutching onto it to hold himself up. His legs were weak and wobbly, and his body threatened to collapse at any moment. 

“Purple,” Draxum called out, making the shaking turtle freeze.

He attempted to straighten his posture but he couldn’t conceal his trembling. He readied himself for righteous ridicule but instead received a hug from the older yōkai. 

“Are you hurt?” Father asked hastily, voice laced with worry. “You’re shaking like a leaf!”

The outspoken concern left Purple confused, but it wasn’t unwelcome. Just a bit out of character. Maybe he tries to put on a strong guy act, Purple realized, but seeing me genuinely hurt… 

“I’m okay,” Purple assured him before taking out the treasure from under his shell: the armor piece. “I got it.” 

“Draxum!” The Foot Lieutenant cried out, his raspy voice filled with anger. “That little stunt from your son could’ve killed us!”

Purple cowered away from the altered human, his body still quivering violently. He just wanted to sit down. 

“ Baron Draxum?! ” The voice of Leo exclaimed, causing Purple to internally groan. Not them. “It’s like a Bad Guy convention!”

“Once again!” Raph proclaimed boldly, “my plan worked.”

“For boys who claim they don’t like me,” Draxum snorted, “you sure are clingy.”

“Wait a minute,” Raph shook his head in surprise, his eyes shifting from Purple to Draxum to the Foot Clan. “You’re working for these jerks?”

“Correction,” Father smiled wickedly. “We are working together . Except for this one,” Draxum’s vines took the place of Purple's, giving the turtle reprieve. He tossed the Foot Clan traitor onto the ground in front of the Foot Clan leaders. “ Stealing our property,” Draxum spat. 

“Unvine the traitor!” A small, pudgy Foot Clan ninja cried out. “So I may show her how we treat people who betray the Foot!” 

“I really like this Randal kid!” The Foot Brute smiled, nodding in approval. 

Randal took a moment to prepare himself, it seemed, before launching himself at the traitor. But instead of slicing her with his katana, he leaped toward Draxum. 

Before Purple could react, the other Foot recruit’s back failed, causing him to nose dive into the ground. Purple huffed in amusement, beginning to regain his composure. 

“Uh... Okay! Give me a quick ten!” the teenager cried out before beginning to do some odd dance, seemingly to crack his spine back into place. But as he did so, gasps rang out from the three turtles standing just across from them.

“DAD?!” They all cried out, surprise evident on their faces.

“‘Dad’?” Purple echoed, confused. How could this be their father? 

“What?” Draxum said in disbelief before his vines quickly found the ‘teenager’ in its grasp, pulling him forward to the yōkai. Father snatched the mask off, revealing a hideous rat face. “You call this… gutter trash ‘Father’?” Draxum laughed. “As if this could be the great Lou Jitsu.”

“I have been living large long enough. I shall no longer deny my destiny,” the rat mutant said, his eyes narrowing with fury. “HOT… SOUP!!” With a glorious cry, the rat mutant broke himself free of Father’s vines. 

“Hot… soup?” Father whispered in disbelief. “That same fire… I see it now! You are Lou Jitsu!”

That… Purple felt his grip on the naginata loosen, finally regaining his composure. That’s Lou Jitsu? That’s the man that abandoned me? 

As the turtles expressed their own shock over the reveal, Purple couldn’t help but feel… lost. 

He knew that Lou Jitsu had abandoned him. For many, many reasons. Ever since he was young, he hated Lou Jitsu. He hated him with such a fiery passion that he had recurring dreams of killing him. Smothering him, choking him, drowning him, burning him alive… All of the methods had crossed through his head, and none of them passed up for consideration. He could never forgive the man who had left a child to burn. 

But as that same man stood there, thirteen years later, now shorter than him and a rat of all things… It made him question everything. It made him question if it had been an accident or if he simply hadn’t known. The tired, old face of the man before him didn’t scream child murderer. His face couldn’t belong to someone with the hatred and vitriol he’d assumed Lou Jitsu must have harbored in his heart. 

The wildfire that had once raged and roared with bitter resentment toward Lou Jitsu was now just a small flame, with only bits of twigs and scorched logs left to keep it burning. 

Where had his hatred gone? 

A hand landed on his shoulder, ripping him from the thoughts that plagued him. He looked up to meet his father’s warm grin. Father was always there for him, always making sure he was safe, always doing what was best for him. 

“It’s time,” Father said softly as Foot ninjas fought against the turtles. He gestured toward the lonely rat, who was just standing there, staring at Purple with widened eyes. “You can finally do what you’ve wanted since your childhood. Even as a child, your anger and hatred for Lou Jitsu burned so bright that you attacked anyone just in hopes of satiating that desire for vengeance. Now, it is time to realize your purpose- your reason for surviving the flames of his betrayal. Take your revenge, my son. This is my greatest gift to you.”

Purple, still lightly shaking, rushed forward, knocking Lou Jitsu back with a powerful kick to his stomach, The rat was flung across the train station, landing against a large piece of debris. Purple slowly walked up to him, expecting the rat to move out of the way, try to fight back, or do anything . Instead, Lou Jitsu continued to stare at him. His wide, yellow eyes held no fear. Instead, they were glistening with something Purple couldn’t quite recognize. But it wasn’t anger, nor hatred, nor any emotion he would’ve expected the rat to hold towards him.

Purple directed the blade of his naginata at Lou Jitsu, vines of his own creation coming up from the ground and surrounding them. They were the centerpiece of this stage Purple had created for them. The blade of his weapon brushed against the rat’s fur, the tip digging lightly into his neck. It would be so easy to kill him. All he had to do was press forward, and this hideous man would be gone forever. And it would be at his hands. This was all he’d ever wanted.

But despite everything, despite the years of anguish and the kindling of a fire of hatred directed at the man who’d left him to burn, all Purple could do was stand there, trembling ever so slightly.

He couldn’t do it. He couldn’t kill him. All the fury and resentment he’d held for Lou Jitsu was snuffed out by those widened eyes that held no malice. 

This wasn’t the man he’d imagined. This wasn’t the man who’d abandoned him because he was too weak, or because he was annoying, or for any other reason. This was an old man whose life purpose had transformed into being a father to three mutant turtles. In another life, maybe he’d be one of those turtles. Maybe this would be the man he called Father instead of his actual dad. 

Lou Jitsu used a finger to softly guide the naginata away from him, the blade now resting on the ground. The vines that once threatened the rat now lay limp and unmoving, as if calmed by the rat’s delicate and serene nature. 

Lou Jitsu leaned forward and cupped Purple’s face gently, his wrinkled, pink fingers tracing one of the scars that branded his face. He smiled softly, a spark of tender love and fondness in his yellow eyes. “Oh, how big you’ve grown….”

Purple grabbed the rat’s wrist but didn’t urge him to pull away. Staring into this man’s face… it gave him a sort of comfort and sense of home he’d never felt before. It was frightening, but he liked it, too. For a moment, the world around them melted into the background, unable to be seen or heard. It was just them, a broken father and his lost son. 

“Come home, my boy,” Lou Jitsu urged softly, still not letting go. “You don’t have to hurt anymore.” 

Purple wanted to take the offer, to know what a life with this man would be like. The life with his brothers- would they love him? Could they love someone like him? Father had put up with him and loved him despite the inherent flaws that charred his being. Could they do the same? Could anyone else but Father overlook what made him so weak and annoying? 

No , Purple realized, his heart stuttering in his chest. He pushed himself away from the rat, ripping himself from the comfort that he immediately missed. This was a lie, a facade to trick him into betraying the world he’d always known and always loved. He wouldn’t fall for it. He wasn’t gullible. 

Picking up his naginata, he pointed it back at Lou Jitsu once more, this time the embers of his rage daring to spark once more. They could never truly love him. They were liars. They had to be liars . It is what the world shaped them into. This is what his father warned him of, steeled him from. It was the look in those yellow eyes. The man before him could not be his father, just as he could not be his son. They were liars, all of them, and maybe that was the only thing that they had in common besides blood and ooze

But blood meant nothing, and neither could ooze. Not in any way that mattered. Not to him. It was a fact, one that could never be challenged, no matter how much Purple wanted to. But that fact meant nothing to him. It was just another thing to store in his mind, just beside the fact that near a black hole, time slows. Something he would never forget, but it would never mean anything to him. It would never affect his life.

Lou Jitsu seemed to see the fire that sparked in the turtle’s eyes, but he wasn’t afraid. Instead, his smile only softened. There was no fear in his eyes. Why isn’t he afraid?  

“It is okay,” Lou Jitsu promised. “I understand. I once held the same anger you do toward someone I loved dearly. I know your pain.”

Purple laughed at that. “ You know my pain?” He challenged with narrowed eyes. The flames only grew, the rat’s words seeming to fuel the dying embers. “You left me to die! You left me to die in the flames of your mistakes! Do you ever dream of the fire that would’ve swallowed me? Do you ever think of my burning body?!”

“Now that I know you exist,” Lou Jitsu’s eyes pricked with tears, guilt clouding his gaze. “Not a moment goes by that I do not regret my negligence. If I could turn back time… I’d give my life to save you from the flames of Draxum’s wrath.”

“You can’t go back,” Purple growled, grip tightening on his naginata. He pressed into the rat’s neck, a trickle of blood telling him he’d broken through his skin. “You can never right the wrong you committed that day.”

“I know,” Lou Jitsu nodded, fat tears rolling down his cheeks. “I am so, so sorry, Purple. I am so sorry.” 

Purple staggered back, his hands burning from the grip he’d held. Never in a million years had he imagined that Lou Jitsu would be apologizing to him for a fire that had long since burned out. He had never imagined he would cry for him or grovel at his feet. 

In his mind, Lou Jitsu had always been this man with the strength of a thousand tigers, never giving a second thought to his actions and harboring hatred for every yōkai in existence. But here he was, a rat mutant, shorter than he was at age eight. This was a husk of the man he’d seen photos and videos of fighting in the Battle Nexus. This was no champion. This was just a man. 

When Raph snatched the mutant rat in his holographic arms, Purple didn’t cry out in protest. He didn’t move. He just stood there, his mind shattering. Everything he’d been so sure was true was now destroyed, shown to be just the imagination of a hateful child. A stupid, ignorant, hateful child. Was that all he was?

He fell to the ground, sitting there in pathetic self-deprecation. The translucent vines he controlled wrapped around him, creating a shield for him against the rest of the world. And when Raph tried to reach out to him, tried to tear at the vines to grab him, a vine smacked him back, defending Purple from the intruder.

He just wanted to be alone. He just wanted to slip away into the void and not have to deal with the world around him. He wanted to be released from existence. He wanted to go home, wherever that was and whoever that was with. 

He let go of his naginata, letting it fall onto the ground with an audible clatter. He didn’t deserve it. He couldn’t kill the man who abandoned him. 

Had he really abandoned him? The once-indisputable fact that had seared itself into his frontal lobe was now questionable. And that left everything he thought he knew up to question, too. Would his brothers have truly hated him? Would they have thought him weak for his soft shell? Would Lou Jitsu have found him annoying? 

Before that moment, all of those questions were easily answered without as much as a second thought. Because they were facts. They were things that he didn’t question because they didn’t need to be questioned. But now, he wasn’t sure. He couldn’t tell himself the answers because he didn’t know the answers. He didn’t know the answers to anything at all anymore. The comfort of knowing had left him cold and alone, vulnerable to the world and the unknown. It made him feel stupid and dumb. 

“Son,” Draxum’s voice seemed to reach him, despite the rest of the world becoming just white noise in his ears. He looked up at the large yōkai, expecting to see disappointment on his face. Instead, his expression was blank and unreadable. Purple didn’t know which he would have preferred. 

He didn’t know how much time had passed as his foundations metaphorically shattered beneath him, but eventually Father parted the vines that protected him and picked him up, cradling the small turtle in his arms as if he were a helpless child. In his other hand, he held the naginata, but didn’t say anything about it. Instead, as he held the naginata, he tore a claw through the air. A magenta portal appeared, and they both moved through it. 

In an instant, they were back in the familiarity of the lab, and the rift closed silently behind them. Purple didn’t know what state they’d left in- whether the Foot Clan was still fighting his brothers, or what had happened to the human girl- but he could barely find the energy to wonder about such things right now. Father walked up the staircase to Purple’s bedroom and rested him on his bed before propping the naginata up next to his techbō on the wall. The whole while, Father said nothing. 

Purple couldn’t tell if it was out of disappointment, anger, or exhaustion. He knew the answer would be clear tomorrow, but he didn’t want to know then. He wanted to know now, so he could know how to act and treat his father for a while after to appease him and avoid getting in more trouble. 

He knew it was manipulative to change who he was and how he acted to appeal to his father’s emotions, but he couldn’t stop it. It wasn’t conscious. It was just a decision his brain made, and it wasn’t something he could deny.

But as his father set him down, and turned on his heel shortly thereafter to exit the room without looking back, Purple said nothing either. He simply couldn’t conjure the right words in time. Instead, he curled in on himself pitifully curling up against himself pitifully. He wanted to be hugged. He wanted to be comforted, no matter how silly it would seem. He knew he was too old for that, but it didn’t make him want it any less. 

After what felt like an an eternity of laying in the darkened silence, only listening to that dull electric hum that never ceased, he pushed himself to sit up. His eyes caught something glinting in the light of his cracked doorway, resting on his nightstand. He reached up for it, the awkward angle straining his muscles. But he didn’t mind. He couldn’t muster the strength to.

He took the item from the nightstand in his hands and pulled it down towards him, resting it in his lap and gazing down at it with a hollow guilt It was the muzzle his father had gotten him, still beautiful and new. Purple loved it. After all, it was something his father had gotten for him, so of course it would become something he cherished. He loved all the gifts his father got for him. What kind of son would he be if he didn’t? 

But this gift had a purpose; to help him improve, to become a stronger turtle. A better turtle. A better fighter. A better son . And what kind of warrior would he be if he wasn’t self-disciplined?

Carefully, Purple guided the metallic muzzle to his face, clamping it around his snout and using the straps on the back in an attempt to tighten it around securely. But without the magic to lock it in place, the muzzle refused to stay or tighten around his mouth. He could still move his jaw, allowing him to speak. The latch on the back wouldn’t click into place. He tried again, but it wouldn’t do as he wanted. But he wouldn’t give up. So he tried again, and again, and again. Over and over again, desperately trying to get it to stop falling off and wishing it to just tighten around him. Bright, hot, searing anger gripped hold him, and he hurled the muzzle across the room. It hit the wall with a loud clang , before dropping to the floor. It was like he was a child having a temper tantrum because his parent didn’t get the right ice cream flavor for him. 

His face burned with hot embarrassment and rage, and irritation caused by his consistent failures and mistakes clouded his mind. He’d failed so many times. He’d failed so many things. It seemed like ‘Purple’ and ‘inexcusable failure’ were synonyms, because that’s all Purple really was. A failure.

He couldn’t kill the human that had stolen the armor piece. He couldn’t kill the man that abandoned him. He couldn’t even complete the task of putting a simple muzzle on for his betterment.

He curled into his bed, a tidal wave of tears exploding from his red and puffy eyes. Hollow, silent sobs choked him, chest heaving with each shaky breath he took. He remained that way for a long while until he grew too tired to keep his eyes open, and sleep claimed him. He had fallen asleep grieving his own pathetic failure, and in those last few moments of consciousness, he knew only one thing to be true: he could never be forgiven.

Chapter Text

Purple sat on the hood of an old, rusted trunk in Repo Mantis’ lot, letting his mind wander. Shelldon was investigating a pile of drones that had been destroyed and scrapped for spare parts. Purple silently wondered if, to Shelldon, this was the equivalent of looking upon a pile of dismembered yōkai corpses. Similar in concept but still fundamentally different due to their anatomical differences. And because those droves most likely never had consciousness as Shelldon did, Purple wasn’t sure if something like that could be as much of a burden on him as the equivalent would be on Purple.

Or maybe he sees them as siblings, he pondered. What would it be like to stare at the corpse of your brother? What… what would it be like to have brothers to see the corpses of?

But Purple had to push those thoughts aside for now. After all, the two of them weren’t here to hang out. No, they had come here for a reason. They’d paid Repo to get a piece of mystic metal from one of his clients. And now, they waited for him to return. 

Realistically, Purple could have done it himself. But because Repo had a history with the holder of the mystic metal and he wanted to rough them up himself, Purple was okay with handing over the job to the mutant. 

“Some of these might have parts you can use,” Shelldon called out, motioning with a rotor toward the pile of discarded drones. “You could make your own naginata like you did with your bō.”

Purple grunted in response, not dignifying the robot with a verbal response. Shelldon didn’t deserve his words. Or maybe Purple didn’t deserve to speak. After everything that had happened- every failure he made that cut deeper and deer into his skin- he couldn’t be sure. 

But Shelldon didn’t seem deterred by his silence and pressed further. “Maybe you can even change your techbō into a naginata… naginatech? I know you like puns.” 

Purple shook his head, glaring at the robot. His techbō was special to him- he would never alter it. Besides, his naginata had mystic properties that he wouldn’t be able to transfer to his techbō. It was a stupid idea. 

“Why won’t you talk to me?” Shelldon asked, his rotors falling to his side in a show of sadness. “What did I do?”

You accused my father of being a horrible being, Purple thought bitterly. The man who raised me, who loved me and saved me. 

Shelldon’s fake eyelids narrowed to display his anger and frustration. “This is a manipulation tactic. You’re manipulating me. You !” 

“Me?” Purple broke his silence at the accusation. “I’m not manipulating you! Why are you being like this? What’s gotten into you?”

“You’re giving me the silent treatment!” Shelldon said, the lights on his rotors flashing red in anger. “You’re trying to make me feel guilty! It’s a control tactic!”

“I’m not trying to control you,” Purple snorted, rolling his eyes. “You’re being delusional.” 

“Are you listening to yourself?! Even that was manipulative! That’s a form of gaslighting!” Shelldon cried out. The small robot seemed to be hurt and disgusted by Purple’s alleged actions, but Purple couldn’t understand what he was talking about.

“Why are you mad?” Purple asked genuinely, confusion clouding his mind. What had he done wrong? What had he done to upset him? Why was he mad? What did he do? How can he fix it?

Shelldon was stiff in anger (although he always looked somewhat stiff, being a robot and all) and rolled his eyes. “I don’t understand you sometimes. How can you mirror the same behavior that’s clearly hurting you? How can you stay with your abuser? How is it not obvious to you?!”

The softshell felt small in that moment as Shelldon continued to berate him, his voice sharp and grating. He began to feel floaty and distant, as if his ears were covered by cotton and he was disappearing into his thoughts. It wasn’t pleasant, he knew that, but it wasn’t unwelcome, either. It was like some invisible force was pulling him away from the words that dug into his skin like daggers. He knew he should’ve felt something in response to his friend’s words, but he couldn’t. It was as if a wall was blocking him from the emotions he knew he could feel but were suddenly gone. He couldn’t be sure if he’d ever felt at all, really. 

Shelldon was saying things, and Purple was hearing him, but not in any meaningful way. It was just noise to him, sounds that could easily be ignored and drowned out by the numbness that overtook him but didn’t overwhelm him.

“Are you even listening?” Shelldon asked harshly. “Or are you just thinking about how great the man who hits you is?” 

“I’m listening,” Purple said, his voice missing its normal inflections. It was so calming to not speak with emotion ruling over his tone, and yet it was also somewhat frightening, too. Both the serenity and the searing fear were unable to phase through his walls, though. He held them too high.

“No, you’re not,” Shelldon accused, eyes narrowing. 

And like some broken, twisted echo, Purple responded. “I’m not listening.”

Shelldon blinked and hovered back a bit, stunned by Purple’s dull concession. Purple didn’t want to argue. He didn’t want Shelldon to keep talking, especially when he was unable to properly process any of it. He just wanted it to be over, and the easiest way he’d found to do that was to just concede to any point that was made, no matter if he knew it was false. To appease was to keep himself safe and to stop the fighting. 

There was a long pause that followed Purple’s words, as Shelldon just hovered with a surprised look, but gradually his features metaphorically softened before he spoke again. “Purple,” Shelldon said, his voice now quieter. “I’m sorry.”

The apology caught Purple off-guard. It wasn’t something he was used to. Father rarely apologized, which was something he hadn’t truly considered until that moment. But in his defense, Father was rarely in the wrong. It was always Purple who messed up, who did something wrong. Not Father. Never Father. 

So to hear an apology from Shelldon- especially when he wasn’t the one that had really caused the problem- surprised him and made him go still. It made no logical sense to him. There was no equation that Purple knew that could’ve calculated for this situation or this response. It was completely foreign to him. Maybe if he could’ve felt anything besides the dull numbness that enveloped his being, he would’ve been afraid… but there was no escaping the emotionless void he now found himself in. He just had to let it run its course.

“Are you okay?” Shelldon asked, looking as if he wanted to come closer but was hesitant to do so. 

“I don’t know,” Purple admitted quietly, fumbling with the fabric of his gloves as he twiddled his thumbs. Is that the right answer?

Shelldon sighed, averting his eyes from the turtle. “I’m sorry for yelling. I just… I don’t understand.” 

“Don’t mean to cut ya off yers conversation,” Repo Mantis’ voice sliced through the heavy air, both Shelldon and Purple turning to see the mantis hopping out of his pickup truck. “I got that, uh, that metal thing.”

The mantis tossed it to Purple, who fumbled to catch it in his uncoordinated hands. If he had been more focused on the present, he might have done better, but he lacked said focus as he lacked the emotions that would come with it.

Shelldon perked up at the sight of the mantis, his pupils changing to exclamation points. “Repo!” 

Repo looked a little disgruntled by the sudden addressing by him. “Still not used to talkin’ computers. No offense er anythin’. What is it, Shell?”

“ As much as I feel that it isn’t my place to bring it up, it has to be said. Purple’s father is exhibiting abusive behaviors towards Purple and has been for some time ,” Shelldon accused, pointing toward Purple with a shaking rotor. “He won’t listen to me, and he just keeps on denying it. It’s like he wants to stay.”

Purple blinked a few times. He knew he should feel angry. He knew it was a reasonable response, and to some extent, he did feel the flames in his heart spark up at the wrongful accusation and its abrasive phrasing. But it was as if it’d been buried beneath hundreds of pounds of timber, and he could no longer be touched by the heat of them or swayed by their scorch marks. “Father isn’t hurting me. Shelldon doesn’t know what he’s talking about.”

Repo gave a sympathetic look toward Shelldon before approaching Purple slowly, his body relaxed. Purple didn’t move, not even when the older mutant placed a raptorial leg on his shoulder. 

“I’ve told you before how the man who raised me used to hurt me and my sis,” Repo explained, a look of embarrassment crossing his face before disappearing. “It can be hard to… admit you’re bein’ hurt. I don’t know much about how the brain works, but I know it wants to protect us, even if that includes makin’ us think what’s happenin’ ain’t traumatic.”

Purple stiffened. “I’m not stupid,” he argued, knowing he was frustrated with the two of them but unable to feel the wave of emotions that being frustrated brought with it. “I’m smart enough to recognize abuse.” 

“It ain’t about bein’ smart,” Repo explained. “My sis is… was the smartest person I knew. Got a law degree and everythin’. She and pops were close, and it took her longer to realize that he was hurtin’ us than it did me. And even after all that, she kept runnin’ back to him.”

“Then she wasn’t as smart as you thought she was,” Purple said, his tone matter-of-fact. “Father loves me. He has my best interests in mind.”

“Pops claimed he loved us, too,” Repo said, removing his hand and looking a bit tense. “He always picked me up at soccer and got me ice cream even when Ma said I didn’t need the pounds. He took me to grandpa’s and taught me to shoot a rifle. But that didn’t make him yelling at me any less harsh or him spankin’ me any less real. It didn’t take away the hurt.”

Purple’s eyes widened, a little stunned by the blatant confession. He’d known Repo’s dad had been abusive, as he’d been outright told such, but he’d never heard the real abuse he’d experienced. “Why didn’t you call the police?” He asked.

“At first, we didn’t think it was a big deal,” Repo explained, hanging his head low with shame. “But when a friend of mine called CPS for us, the cops didn’t do shit.”

“Why?” Purple asked, genuinely stunned. How could anyone ignore a parent hitting a child? When it’s so obviously wrong? How could you not know you’re hurting?

Repo huffed as if he’d found something funny, but the frown on his face relayed to Purple that there was no joke in his mind. “Do you know what ‘corporal punishment’ is?”

Purple nodded. That’s what Father calls it. It’s a physical reminder, so the child has a stronger mental connection between the unacceptable behavior and the due punishment. 

“It’s protected under the law,” Repo said. “Spankin’, paddlin’, la chanclas … there’s no crime in hurtin’ your kid in the name of fixin’ bad behavior.”

“But…” Purple bit his lip under the mask. “But it works, right?” If it works, why is it so bad? It worked for me. 

Repo looked at him with pity and understanding before shaking his head sadly. “No. It doesn’t.” 

Purple froze before the barrier between him and his emotions shattered, and anger overwhelmed him with its fiery blaze. “Liar!” He cried out, gripping the mystic metal piece tightly as if he was protecting the connection he had between himself and his father, something so sacred that no one should come in between. He ignored how the metal began to cut into his palm.

“He’s not lying, Purple,” Shelldon interjected. “Corporal punishment has been linked to mental illness and has only shown to worsen behavior. Draxum is… he’s only hurting you with his ‘discipline’.” 

“That’s not true,” Purple denied, ignoring the way his voice and body trembled. “You’re lying. You’re lying! You’re liars !” 

“I’m a supercomputer, Purple,” Shelldon pointed out. “I could know every statistic ever recorded if I wanted to. And I know that what Draxum is doing to you isn’t right.” 

Purple shook his head. “No, no. That isn’t true. That’s a lie.” As he spat the words out at them, his tone dripping venom, he could feel the world crumbling beneath him once again. And once again, he felt powerless to stop it. All he wanted to do was raise his vines up– the gifted vines that were a testament to his father’s love of him- and wait until the whole world just- just stopped. Just went on without him and this stupid conversation.

“Oh, right. We’re the liars. Certainly not the man that told you that Lou Jitsu abandoned you or that you're real family- your blood - couldn’t love you like he does,” Shelldon retorted angrily. Repo shot Shelldon a look and gently bumped his back rotors with one of his raptorial legs, which caused Shelldon to whir in quiet frustration. It was a series of actions that Purple barely caught.

“Lou Jitsu did abandon me!” Purple exclaimed, his throat tightening for some unexplainable reason. “He did! And he’s right! Because who would ever….” He took a gulp of air. “Who would ever want me?”

Repo paused momentarily before letting out a slow sigh, and he attempted to set his hand back on Purple’s shoulder, but the turtle shuffled backward. “You can stay with me,” he offered. “I’m not… the easiest mantis to get along with, but I assure you I’d give you a better life.”

“ Here ?” Purple chuckled wetly, motioning to the repo yard filled with old, rusted junk. “Yeah, what a great life.”

“It’s better than whatever that fucker is givin’ ya,” Repo retorted. 

“You don’t know my dad,” Purple protested, narrowing his gaze as a flickering flame rose in his gut. “Not like I do. He’s sweet and caring– and smart . He takes me to this one restaurant every year for my birthday, even though it's expensive, because he knows I love that place. He gets me food and clothes and works his ass off to provide so we can still live where we do. Sometimes, he risks his life just to get me materials for my projects. He loves me.”

“People who love you and care for you can still hurt you,” Repo said, his voice laced with some far-off grief that Purple had no hope of understanding, even with the stories Repo had told him. “It doesn’t take away the trauma they caused.” 

Purple stared at the mantis mutant for a long moment, taking in his words. It was clear to him that Shelldon and Repo only said what they did out of care, but was that care misplaced? And could their concerns truly be justified? 

Purple considered the accusations of his father’s ‘bad’ actions. In some sense, it was true that he hit him. It was true that Draxum yelled at him. It was true that Father sometimes scared him because he was afraid of any simple misstep that could set off an unseen landmine. 

But it wasn’t that bad. Purple wasn’t stupid or blind. He had heard stories of abuse, and it didn’t match his. Father never… he never did those things to him. He wasn’t left disfigured or scarred by him, and it was never out of hatred. It was always for Purple’s betterment. It was always deserved. He wasn’t some weak, helpless kid like the children in those stories. He was fourteen. He’d been raised better than so many others in so many ways. He was held to a higher standard than most, sure, but that was because of what he was destined to do- to help save the entire yōkai and to bring them to the light of the sun above; shouldn’t someone prophesied to save their world and its inhabitants be trained as best as they could be? Training required blood, sweat, and tears, so everything he’d gone through wasn’t unreasonable. It had to happen to make him stronger and smarter. It had to happen to keep him safe from the people that told him that his destiny was a lie or that his father was wrong for showing it to him . After all, an enemy wouldn’t hold back, so he should be prepared for any future opponent’s ruthlessness. 

It’s not abuse, Purple decided firmly, cementing the fact in his mind. He didn’t do it that much- and sometimes, kids don’t understand complex conversations about right or wrong. Sometimes you just need pain for the message to get through.

“Thank… Thank you.” Purple took in a large gulp of air, trying to steady his shaking voice and return his emotional state to a more balanced, neutral one. “Thank you for the metal piece. My Father and I have been working to eradicate the human threat, and this is one of the last pieces we needed to accomplish that. Your contribution has been more valuable than you realize.”

“Wait, wait, wait,” Repo shook his head, waving his claw-like arm in the air as his eyes widened. “You’re doin’ what ?”

“The Yōkai race has lived underground for more than a hundred years,” Purple explained, repeating what he’d heard from his father more than a million times. “Over time, humans destroyed the homes of those who lived underground. The Hidden City below New York City is one of the last remaining Yōkai cities in the world. But with new mutants,” Purple gestured vaguely to Repo, who looked shocked, “and the Dark Armor,” Purple held the piece up to the sky, and its scratched surface gleamed in the sun, “the Yōkai will retake their rightful place on the surface.”

“ You ,” Repo snarled, his eyes narrowing, taking a step away from Purple. So many emotions played out in his eyes all at once- so many that Purple couldn’t discern fast enough- but he could catch a few. Disgust. Fury. Pain. Distraught. Maybe even a tiny ounce of regret. “ You made me like this?! You were the one that helped turn me into a freak?!” 

Purple tilted his head, and feelings of confusion and concern coldly snaked their way down his spine. He felt himself closing up again, and he took his own step away from the Mantis mutant . He had never known Repo was upset about his new mutant condition. It had never occurred to him that anyone mutated would be upset over it. “I didn’t choose you. My mosquitech did. My father and I did you a favor- now, you won’t be targeted during the human eradication. You’ll be considered one of the New Yōkai.”

The mantis chuckled darkly. “ You think this is better for me? This? ” Slowly, his expression turned darker, and he gestured to his surroundings with anger. “My whole life has been ruined! My cat tries to eat me if I’m not careful, I barely have any customers, and I can’t even walk down a street anymore without being stared at in the worst way! Life was hard before, but now ?!” Repo’s voice caught in his throat, and suddenly tears began to spill from his eyes. “You ruined my life. You and that fuckin’ dad of yours!”

Purple just stared at him, stunned beyond words. How… how could he be upset? Being a yōkai, even one that came from mutation, was an honor . It was a blessing, not a curse. How how could he not see that? Then it clicked. Maybe it was because Repo was stuck here with the very humans that had driven normal Yōkai-kind underground.

Reaching into his shell, he pulled out his portal carver and slowly ran a thumb over its edges. If he gave this to Repo, he might have a chance at a better life. One that was safer than the one he had now. Slowly, he outstretched his hand to offer it to the mantis. “Take this. It’ll offer you safe passage to the Hidden City- a place where no one will fear you. You’ll have customers too, I’m sure! Just draw the symbol that’s on it, and it’ll take you where you need to go.”

“Keep it, kid ,” Mantis snapped angrily, shoving Purple’s hand back toward him. “I don’t need to go anywhere, especially not anywhere you’ll be. I ain’t a natural freak, so I ain’t gonna start pretending that I am now that I look like one. I’ll be damned if I live another minute around the likes of you and the kin you keep. Now get out of here before I decide to repo your life.”

Purple paused, hesitating for only a second, before nodding and motioning for Shelldon to follow, re-pocketing the portal carver as he walked away. 

If Repo wanted to live like a human, then he’d end up dying like one, too. That was all there was to it. Any ties he had with the mutant behind him were now absolved, and both of them knew it. To Purple, one bond with a mutant that didn’t even value or understand the depth of the gift he had been given wasn’t even close to being worth the salvation of true Yōkai kind.

Shelldon stalled, clearly torn on what to do, but after a few moments of deliberation, he trailed after him. Purple refused to notice his companion’s momentary hesitation as he was too focused on tightly gripping the metal armor piece in his hand. It was a valuable piece he needed to show his Father that every effort was worth it. It was the last thing he needed to fulfill his destiny and bring about a new age of light and strength, just like his Father always said.

Shelldon and Repo were both wrong. Dead wrong . They didn’t know what they were talking about, and they never would. They had to be wrong. It was the only thing that made sense anymore.

They… they had to be wrong… didn’t they..?

-

Deep beneath the soiled streets of New York, within the converted collection of sewer tunnels inhabited by five mutants, an old rat sat quietly beside his sewing machine. Cloth was strewn around his room haphazardly with no regard for the state of the space. 

Splinter's hands brushed against his latest creation: a purple ninja mask for a son he did not have. 

A full set of clothes- including leggings, gloves, and a belt- were laid across his bed. This was the last piece of the set- a set that Splinter knew would never be worn by the intended recipient.

He tossed the mask onto his bed, ignoring the guilt that clawed at his heart and dared to drag him down to the cursed Hidden City that had stolen his life away. 

Nearly twenty-five years ago, he’d had it all. Fame, fortune, and his youth. But that had all been stolen away by someone he’d thought was the love of his life. 

Instead of sharing her heart with him, she’d stolen him away from the spotlight he’d rightfully earned and threw him into a life he’d for so long tried to escape. He never wanted to fight, not really, but she had cruelly plucked the chords of his fate like harp strings and blinded him with a siren song until the divide between what was his life and what was her game was lost in his eyes. For ten years, he’d clawed his way through the ranks, being promised a way home should he satisfy her crowds, and soon enough, found himself to be the Champion of the Battle Nexus. But as he’d begun to realize how deep her lies had grown, he grew tired of the violence and longed for peace at last.

And for every bloodied fist, every empty promise, and every glimpse of his past life fleeting from his fingertips, he had felt nothing but pain. For all that he’d worked for, his reward was being bound to a body that wasn’t his, and a past he couldn’t shake.

He sighed, sitting down on his bed next to the clothing. Despite everything, though, he couldn’t find it in himself to entirely regret all that he’d been forced to go through. After all, such a twist of fate had eventually led him to his sons, and that had been worth every ounce of pain he’d been forced to endure throughout those long, hard years.

Now, if he had been offered a way back to the life he’d lost in exchange for losing his boys, he wouldn’t take it. If he was offered sanity in exchange for the life he’d created with them, he’d push the offer away without hesitation.

Around him, Splinter’s room was decorated with a variety of accenting colors; orange, red, blue, and green- his children’s favorite colors. He’d assumed Purple’s favorite color was, well, purple , but he wanted to ask the young turtle himself. 

He wasn’t sure he’d ever get the chance.

Draxum and the Foot Clan were reconstructing the Dark Armor at this very moment, and would surely soon resurrect The Shredder- his family’s oldest enemy, and a catastrophic threat to the whole world. The mere idea of it sent shivers down the rat’s spine, and- as if he were still young and blind to the true dangers lurking in the world- he yearned for the safety of his mother’s arms. Long ago, he felt as though it was the safest place to be, as if nothing bad could reach him as long as she was there with him. But she had left long ago, and with her the safety she had brought to his life. And now, as his eyes drifted over the shelves full of tokens of his new beginnings, he wondered what she might think of her wayward son. Perhaps disappointment. Perhaps worry.

Nevertheless, he didn’t have time to focus on that, or on what he could have changed. The past was the past, and he had to focus on the present. If Purple truly was Draxum’s son, then he would be part of the mission to reassemble the Dark Armor. And if Purple had truly been corrupted by that cruel man’s ideas, then there was the likelihood that both sides would be forced to fight each other. The idea that something might happen to any of his sons, no matter who had raised them, weighted heavily on Splinter’s heart.

He knew that, if it came down to it, they might be forced to kill members of the Foot Clan to stop their goals from coming to fruition and wreaking havoc upon the world, and that harm may come to Baron Draxum as well. More depressingly was the thought that fate may force his hand once again, and that the training he had given his sons might be used against one of their own. And he knew, deep down, that as vehemently as he may deny its possibility… We may be forced to kill Purple.

Splinter shook the thought away, angry that he had let himself imagine such an awful thing. Purple wasn’t cruel, nor was he mindless, no matter what his ‘Father’ had inflicted upon him or made him believe. Purple was not just another weapon in Baron Draxum’s arsenal, just as Splinter was not just another fighter in Big Mama’s Battle Nexus. Purple had been given the chance to be heartless, and to take out whatever fury that raged in his heart towards Splinter, but he had not. He’d lowered his weapon, unable to plunge it into his abandoner’s heart and spill his blood against the tile, effectively ending it all. He had established his own view on the situation separate from Draxum’s, and that meant everything . It meant that there was still a light in his son’s heart that wasn’t from a wildfire of anguish and anger. Despite everything he’d been taught, despite everything he’d been forced to endure, his heart hadn’t turned black with bitterness. Not yet, at least. There was still time. Still hope - a ninja’s greatest weapon.

Splinter turned his eyes back upon the clothing set that lay beside him. Pulling the purple mask back into his hands, he pressed it against his snout, lightly kissing where the fabric would rest against the young turtle’s forehead. 

“I will bring you home, my son,” he promised. “I’m sorry it’s taken this long, but I swear upon my very life that there will come a day in which you will never have to feel alone again. I will bring you home to your family, no matter what. ”

-

The piece Purple had retrieved from the scrapyard had been set into place earlier that evening amidst a gathering of Foot Clan members, who had all cheered and patted his back as he left to head home. It was a monumental achievement, all things considered, as it left only one piece to find: the helmet. With it, they would be ready to finalize their plans and release their savior. They were so close, and Purple could practically taste the victory of their hard work. But… even now, he felt a heaviness in his heart. What would become of him once his destiny was fulfilled? What would he have left to bring his father to show him that he was worth keeping? He shook the thoughts away. Surely there would be much more to do and many more Yōkai cities to re-establish. He would not be left behind. He knew it. Father wouldn’t let him be discarded.

“Purple~!” Huginn called sweetly, gliding into his room before crashing against the wall gracefully. Purple tried not to laugh, which he, thankfully, succeeded at. He didn’t need to be scolded tonight with so much already on his mind. Huginn took a moment to regain his composure before shaking himself off and rising back into the air to speak his announcement. “Draxum’s made dinner!”

Purple’s eyes widened and dread began to pool in his gut, which he resented. He couldn’t stop the fear that sometimes overtook him, however irrational it might be. No matter how foolish it was, though, it never made it any less annoying to deal with.

“Thanks,” Purple murmured, closing his book about the CERN super-collider and setting it down gently on his bed. As he picked himself up from his bed, he noticed the image of a young Leo still lying underneath his pillow. He’d nearly forgotten he’d set it there. Taking it from its resting place, he tucked it back into his book about turtles, resigning himself to find the exact page later. 

“PURPLE,” Father shouted from the kitchen, making Purple shiver from unwarranted anxiety. 

“Coming! Coming, Father! I’ll be there in just a second!” Purple called back, dusting himself off and walking quickly to the kitchen, escorted by his farther’s gargoyle guard. 

As Purple entered the dining hall, he realized that Father had set up the table without him, which was unusual. He felt a twinge of guilt at the sight, even if he hadn’t been asked or even told they’d be eating at the table together today. He shouldn’t have to be asked. 

But what was even more unusual than the set table was the recognition that his father’s armor was entirely taken off. It was very rare that Purple ever saw him in such a state. Purple knew how out-of-sorts his father felt without it adorning his figure, although he could never really understand why. Father was a strong and powerful yōkai with claws that could tear down empires and hooves that could chase down even the fastest of runners with ease. His intelligence was higher than anyone else Purple knew, including the great mathematicians of old. But despite all of this, Draxum still hid behind armor he didn’t need and adorned himself with fake horns that he’d never had. Purple didn’t think his father needed horns. Wasn’t he still great and powerful just the way he was? But despite this, he’d never spoken such comments outwardly. He just resigned himself to the idea that the armor might be used as an eternal symbol of intimidation and power.

“Look who finally emerged from his cave,” Draxum teased lightly as he set down Purple’s plate. The table was long, with each of them sitting on opposite ends. Huginn and Muninn chose seats next to each other, with Muninn sitting closest to Purple. 

“Thank you,” Purple murmured, looking down at the food that was served. It was a large, fatty tenderloin oozing with blood. While the outside of it was burnt and charred, a bit of it had already been cut for him, revealing the less-than-cooked bleeding within the serving. He recoiled from the sight, his stomach already churning in disgust. Even worse, diced vegetables sat next to the meat, already being infected by the bloody juices, mixing and tainting its flavor. 

The expression on Purple’s face must’ve displayed his displeasure of the meal because Draxum cleared his voice to catch his attention. “Something wrong, Purple?”

Purple opened his mouth to speak but found that his voice was caught in his throat. He wasn’t even sure how to articulate the issue he had with the food. And either way, any issue he did have with the food should be easily overcome. If he couldn’t overcome the issues he had with simply eating a meal he didn’t care for, then what did that say about his strengths as a fighter , or his appreciation for something his father took his time on to provide for him? Besides, it all looked expensive . He wouldn’t dare waste it

Purple began to cut into the tenderloin, cringing at how fleshy it was. More blood oozed onto the plate as he stabbed it with his fork, and the blood dripped onto the white napkin covering his lap, staining it red as he held it just centimeters from his mouth. And once he took a bite, he immediately regretted it. The conflicting tastes and textures of the meat and char burned his tongue. He pushed it to the other side of his mouth, trying to get away from the awful feeling of the chunk of meat, before being hit with the fatty, fleshy, slimy middle section of the tenderloin. Each time he attempted to chew the piece, he was reminded of the awful fat and how spongy and unnatural it felt. He swallowed it whole, hoping that soon he would forget the taste and texture altogether. 

He set his fork down, the metal clinking against the ceramic plate that had been painted long ago by his own hands. When he was a child, Draxum had taken him to a pottery workshop not far from the library as a way to introduce him to the arts. The image was of himself and his father holding hands in a sunny field. He used his fork to push away the diced vegetables and tenderloin, staring at the image before him. He hadn’t seen it in a long time, and had thought it to have been disposed of long ago during one of their yearly cleanings- but now, the painted depiction of Draxum was covered in steak juice, and some bled over the painting of his own, younger self. It revolted him, and a new kind of nausea washed over him. Nausea caused by recollection. He and his father used to do so many things together when the prospect of recreating the mutagen still seemed so futile. When had that changed? When had his father pushed back against the kind of image Purple had painted on his porcelain plate, and chose to cover it with blood instead? When had Purple’s gifts and prospects become inferior to his father? When had he become… not enough?

“You remind me of myself when I was younger,” Draxum said, tearing Purple from his thoughts and cutting a rift through the thick silence. “You have that same passion. That same hunger .” 

Purple didn’t know how to respond to the odd comparison, so he didn’t. Instead, he stabbed a few of the diced vegetables and prepared himself for the awful assortment of textures and tastes that would most definitely bombard and overwhelm his senses. Sorting them and eating each sorted pile one at a time wasn’t an option. It was weird , and you wouldn’t get far in the world for being different. It’s what his father had always explained to him, the patience in his voice thinning each time he had been forced to instill the lesson into Purple over again.

“But you have areas to improve in,” Draxum continued on. “Like your speed. That shell of yours weighs you down. Speed can be overlooked, though, if you have enough strength to compensate,” Father broke into a chuckle, smiling fondly, “but we both know you lack in that area severely as well.”

“I can make stronger weapons,” Purple said after a long moment spent painfully swallowing the vegetables. “I can be stronger. I can make you proud, I promise.”

Huginn and Muninn stopped their quiet chatter amidst each other and turned to Draxum, who had paused mid-slice to set his fork down against his plate strongly- the sound of metal clattering against porcelain ringing sharply in Purple’s ears. In that moment, the young softshell turtle knew he’d made an irreversibly critical error by speaking out in such a way, and he slowly retreated into his useless shell. 

Father was staring daggers at him with a deep frown, and the air grew heavy with the smoke of his irritation. 

“If you had any capability of growing stronger, you would have done so in the past fourteen years that I have been preparing you!” he snarled, leaning forward and digging his claws into the wooden table. “I have trained you to the very limitations of my capabilities, day in and day out . I have provided you with an education and resources that yōkai children of even the highest status would have begged to obtain. I’ve given you so much freedom, I’ve asked for so little in return, and I’ve even allowed you to have your own space and go on with your… creative endeavors, knowing that it is of no true benefit to myself or to our cause.” Draxum paused before sighing heavily, leaning forward in his chair as he closed his eyes and shook his head in defeat. “But I see now that I have been far, far too lenient. It has finally become clear to me that you are ungrateful for the wondrous life I have provided for you. I… have failed you as a father.” 

“No,” Purple shook his head, chest tight with anxiety. “No, you haven’t. I promise, you haven’t. I’m sorry, Father. I’m sorry. I can do better. I can be better. Please, let me show you.”

“Oh, my son,” Father sighed disappointedly, looking at Purple as if he were looking upon the withered husk of a forgotten houseplant instead of his own son. “There have been many chances given to you to prove that your contributions are of more value than others, or that they are of an equal or greater impression when compared to my own. I have yet to find myself even mildly impressed.”

Draxum fell silent for a few minutes afterward, continuing , continuing to eat as if nothing had happened- as if his words didn’t burn a hole into Purple’s heart- and the gargoyles followed Draxum’s lead, as was their nature. 

Whatever had been left of Purple’s appetite had disappeared, his hunger now replaced with smoldering guilt. He knew Father was right about every point he had brought up. He’d been given such a great life- one free of the cruelty of man and the corrupt “justice system” of the Hidden City. Every opportunity he’d been so fortunate to have in this life- every accomplishment, every passion project, every breath he took- it was all thanks to the kindness and generosity of Baron Draxum. And yet, the simplest of tasks Father asked of him seemed to be so hard. 

They’re hard because you often have to fight your kin to complete your tasks, a traitorous part of him whispered. It’s not as simple as you’re putting it.

“To safely transport the Dark Armor to the desired location of the Foot Clan,” Father announced, breaking the blistering silence, “I will be partnering with the ruler of the Battle Nexus so that we may use her resources- specifically her train .”

Purple eyes widened in surprise. “You mean Big Mama? But- she tried to steal the mosquitech! Why are you working with her again after she betrayed us?”

“Oh, my little softshell,” Draxum chuckled and rolled his eyes, smiling fondly at Purple as if he were a young child who’d just said something stupid but impossibly cute. “ Because it benefits us . ‘The enemy of my enemy is my friend,’ as they say.”

The softshell nodded, taking another hesitant bite of his tenderloin and forcing himself to swallow it as quickly as possible before washing out the memory of the horrific piece of meat with a few gulps of water. He’d eaten so little, but he wasn’t sure he’d be able to stomach any more of the disgusting dinner his father had so generously prepared for him. 

“But before we are able to complete such a transaction, we must first locate the helmet,” Father declared, his plate now cleared. “You will dedicate more of your allotted “free time” on personal training and following leads on the final armor piece. I do not want to see you working on anything else unless it is beneficial to our cause. Do you understand?”

Purple nodded sheepishly, forcing himself to look his father in the eyes. Father smiled sweetly at him before standing up and dusting the crumbs off of his lap.

“I know you won’t let me down again, my son,” Draxum said as he passed where the softshell sat, brushing a hand along his battle shell. “Not when our kind depends on us. You will do better from now on.”

Purple knew it wasn’t a question, but he nodded in agreement anyway. He knew he couldn’t be as sloppy as he had been. For someone who’d often be called ‘emotionless’ and ‘robot-like’ by two gargoyles, he felt embarrassed to admit that he’d let emotions cloud his judgment recently.

The time he’d let his ‘brothers’ and Lou Jitsu go was a fluke- a mistake that could not- no, would not be replicated. He knew his destiny- it had been written in the scorch marks of his creation twelve years prior. The universe had told him that he was to seek revenge on the ones who’d forgotten him. And who was he to deny the universe?

He pushed away from the table, allowing Huginn to grab his plate and take it to the sink to be cleaned. 

He had work to do. Purple had an obligation to his father and to his kind and would need to work twice as hard as he had been. So far, his skills had been only adequate, but that wouldn’t cut it. Adequate didn’t save the world. Adequate didn’t make Father proud. It wasn’t enough to stay at the level he was at now. He needed to get better . He needed to get stronger . He needed to make Father proud to call him ‘son.’ 

No matter the cost.

Chapter Text

Michaelangelo bounded quietly over the concrete of the roofs high above the city streets, cutting through the air without much resistance. He had a satchel slung over his shoulder to carry whatever he might need while he was out, even though most of it wasn’t anything he would deem necessary, especially since he wasn’t doing anything particularly important. 

With the Foot Clan getting closer to completing the armor set, his father’s stress and endless worrying had overwhelmed the atmosphere of the lair. He barely watched his favorite shows anymore- always pacing through the halls or trying to distract himself by trying to bond with Mikey and his brothers. Needless to say, that didn’t always work out the best… 

After four days of it, Mikey knew he needed a break from both his father and his brothers. One more day stuck inside with them would drive him batty. So, after thinking it over and carefully choosing his words, he asked as politely as he could if he could go on a patrol. Alone.

“What?!?” was the collective response he’d gotten from his family members. 

Raph spoke first, which was pretty standard when Mikey tried to do something on his own. “Mikey, I know ya wanna help, but it’s way too dangerous out there, ‘specially for–“ 

“For me?” Mikey cut in coldly, startling everyone in the room. The young turtle immediately apologized before going on to explain himself. “I know I’m young, but I know I can do this. Besides, it’s not like I’m really risking going toe to toe with a Foot Clan member. I’ll stay out of sight- keeping to the shadows- and I won’t talk to any strangers.”

It was clear Raph wanted to protest it more, but he didn't seem to be able to find the words.

Leo was next. “What if you get hurt? We know you’re strong, but we don’t want to lose you if someone catches you off-guard.” 

“I’ll take my phone,” Mikey reasoned, earning a dubious look from his brothers before adding, “ And I’ll turn my ringer on and keep it close to me at all times.” This seemed to satisfy both of them. 

But the last test was yet to come. 

Mikey turned his attention to his father, whose yellow eyes were pooling with worry. But when he took a moment to close them and sigh, it began to dissipate, sparking hope within Mikey’s heart. 

“As long as you are extra careful, bring what you may need, and do not put yourself in any danger, I believe I may allow you to leave for a few hours .” 

Mikey was about to cheer, but his father cut in before he could. “ But. You must keep your wits about you. There are many that may believe you to be incapable of holding your own and will try to take advantage of this. If any danger presents itself– any at all– I expect you to return home post-haste. This includes Purple making an appearance.” 

The last addition put a damper on his mood, but he didn’t let it linger. He would still get to go outside! All by himself! No brothers to hover over him, checking his every need and correcting anything he got wrong. Raph looked ready to protest their dad’s decision, but Splinter just smiled softly at him, shook his head, and walked away. On the other hand, Leo had already left to go pack the bag that Mikey wore now. 

The night was cool, a nice breeze tickling Mikey’s scales and blowing through his bandana tassels. It felt nice to be out and about, especially when it meant being free from the heavy atmosphere that had been building recently– not just in their home but over the whole city. It definitely wasn’t Splinter’s intent to cause such a drastic change, but even if it wasn’t, that didn’t mean the dynamics of their family hadn’t been changed by it. Everything was far more serious, with the threat of Draxum and the Foot looming over their heads. There was less time for games and shows, and even when they were given time to relax, Mikey found it difficult to let go of his pent-up stress. Drawing was nearly impossible, and he could barely get a few rough sketches done before he gave up entirely. Art block had taken hold of him, and he was letting himself succumb to its dark grasp.

He hoped that this outing would provide much-needed relief and maybe even break him from his art block funk. He wanted to create again— it was his main outlet, after all.

He found himself hopping rooftop after rooftop, using his kusari-fundo to swing from buildings like Spider-Man. 

Finally, he found his desired spot: one of the tallest buildings in this part of New York. However, it wasn’t tall compared to the actual tallest buildings in the city. It rose above the streets enough so that you could see nearly the entirety of the city but not tall enough to touch the wispy clouds that drifted overhead and mingled with the smog of the city that was invisible in the night’s darkness.

He’d found this spot ages ago with his brothers, though he wasn’t sure if they knew that these days, he purposefully passed it on their patrols.

Standing atop the building now, he knew he’d found somewhere special. He took in a deep breath of air before letting it out slowly. He felt… calm. His usually speeding heart slowed, but it wasn’t frightening. It was serene. Peaceful. 

And the view? Gosh, the view… How magnificent it was. Skyscrapers, commercial buildings, and offices all had beautiful, blinding lights that shimmered in all hues known to man. They glittered in the night, illuminating the town that Mikey was proud to call home. He might not be able to see the stars, but he could argue that this was just as wondrous and awe-inspiring. From where he stood, he could see the Hudson River, with tiny-looking boats slowly floating toward the harbor. For all the trouble they might cause, humans had a unique way of creating beauty in bleakness and pushing the bounds of artistic creation and even artistic destruction. He had to give them at least a little credit, though– when the world is your canvas, what wouldn’t you want to create? What mediums wouldn’t you want to explore? Tonight, the scenes dancing and changing slowly before his eyes were exceptionally glorious sights, ones that Mikey wanted to commit to memory. 

But amidst the distant sounds of pedestrians, street performers, and angry car horns, Mikey could faintly hear something– no, some one – approaching him. He went rigid, his grip on his weapon tightening as he quickly pulled out his phone, ready to call Raph or Dad. Fear gripped his heart as a wave of regret washed over him. He should’ve stayed home! Now, he might be attacked by the Foot— or worse — Draxum! 

But when the figure landed on the rooftop, he found that it was neither of those options. Instead, a face Mikey had come to know over these past few months appeared in the darkness, illuminated by the fire that had ignited from Mikey’s kusari-fundo.

Purple went still, freezing as his eyes lay upon Mikey. He was shell-shocked, for sure. It took the other turtle a long moment before he pulled out his own weapon, taking a battle stance as his gaze narrowed.

Mikey’s jaw tightened, the fire of his weapon blazing with his emotions. Fear, regret, and sadness all influenced the flame. 

But as remorse ebbed at his soul, he realized something was certain. “I don’t want to fight you.” 

Purple blinked at him in surprise before shaking his head and lowering his stance more. “Liar. Why wouldn’t you?”

Even with Purple’s voice laced with venomous hatred, Mikey found himself relaxing. “Because you’re my brother.”

Purple glared at him, clearly distrustful. His eyes kept darting back to the flame, to which Mikey responded by letting the fire extinguish before putting it away. “We don’t have to fight. We can just… talk?” Mikey offered with a small smile.

Mikey’s brother looked at him in surprise and began to relax a bit. While he was still clearly on edge, his grip on his bō staff had visibly softened. 

Mikey turned his back to Purple before finding himself somewhere comfortable to sit. There, he hung his legs over the ledge, hearing the light breeze sing and tease him. “New York is beautiful at night,” Mikey proclaimed. 

Mikey could hear Purple approach him, though he was slow in his movements. It occurred to Mikey how easy it would be to be pushed off and how difficult it would be for him to regain his composure before falling to his death. He could picture it now; his body splayed on the hard concrete below, his blood painting the sidewalk like a bad graffiti job. He stilled at the image in his mind.

But, just as he did with Leo and Raph, Mikey trusted Purple. He trusted he wouldn’t send him to his death. He had, after all, saved his life before. Respect was something Mikey would always give to people– there was no need to earn it from him. Everyone started out with the same respect in Mikey’s eyes. Their actions would gain their respect or lose it, and Purple hadn’t lost his respect. 

“It is,” Purple agreed after a moment, standing by Mikey’s side. “But it is loud, and the air is thick with smog.”

“Yeah,” the orange turtle chirped in agreement. “But I’m used to bad air. Living in the sewers and all.”

“You live in the sewers?” Purple asked, disgust edging his voice. “Can’t you find somewhere to live in the Hidden City?”

“We didn’t know how to get there until we met you,” Mikey explained, not offended by the question. “And… I haven’t asked Dad why he didn’t raise us there. I’m not sure he knew how to get to the Hidden City, either.”

“I’m sorry you had to grow up like that,” Purple murmured, sitting down next to Mikey. He folded his legs criss-cross style, hands fiddling in his lap nervously. He looked like an out-of-place child on his first day of Kindergarten. “I’m sorry Lou Jitsu kidnapped you.”

“He didn’t kidnap us,” Mikey denied calmly before re-evaluating the situation they’d been in all those years ago– before Mikey even had a name. “Or maybe he did. But it’s not like he was a horrible dad. He loves us— he wants the best for us.”

“He may think that,” Purple pointed out, tilting his head slightly as if analyzing some far-off thing. “But how is keeping the humans here in your best interest? If you had grown up in a world of Yōkai-“

“Can we not talk about serious stuff?” Mikey interrupted with a soft huff as he kicked his legs against the side of the building. “I get it. You think Lou Jitsu’s bad; I think Draxum’s bad. Blah, blah, blah. When did the universe forget I’m still thirteen?” He emphasized all of his words with his hands, which Purple seemed fascinated by but didn’t comment on. And once they had settled again, the other’s gaze turned away, and his tone grew more serious- the exact opposite of what Mikey had hoped for.

“Life doesn’t care about how old you are,” Purple muttered almost bitterly. But it felt a little more introspective to Mikey than Purple might’ve wanted it to sound. “War is war. We were born into this battle, chosen as eggs to be fighters for Ares’ playground.” 

Mikey pouted, hunching over as he kept his eyes focused on the cars down below. The wind whistled past him, making his bandana tails dance and sway just as they had when he leaped across the gaps between the buildings. “That’s not fair.” 

“Life isn’t fair,” Purple snorted harshly as if amused by Mikey’s childishness. “Adapt.”

“I shouldn’t have to,” Mikey pulled his legs up against his chest, using his arms to keep them still. “I shouldn’t have to live in the sewers. I shouldn’t have to give up art for some stupid battle starting more than a hundred years ago. I shouldn’t-”

“Oh, stop your whining,” Purple snapped harshly. “You could have it worse. You could be without a home entirely- you could be homeless in the Hidden City. You could have a father who hits you or a mother who was too ashamed to stay. You have nothing to complain about.”

“Why is that the bar?” Mikey asked, turning to look at his brother as he rested his chin on his arms. “If we didn’t talk about our problems, only worrying about those who had it worse, then no one would get help. We’d all be stuck thinking we have it good because at least we weren’t stillborn.” 

“At least…” Purple hesitated, searching for words that seemed so far away. But when he couldn’t find them after a few seconds, he sighed, looking lost. “Sorry… I’m sorry we couldn’t have been brothers.”

Mikey reached for Purple slowly but pulled away when the other turtle flinched away from the gesture. “I think of you as my brother. I don’t know how much that’s worth, but I know I love you. And I want you in my life.” 

Purple snorted, dismissing him with a wave of his hand and turning his gaze to the lights glittering over the water in the distance. “You wouldn’t be able to stand me for long. I’m not… I’m not that good of a yōkai.” Despite the heavy contents of his words, his tone was light and neutral, as if he had long since come to terms with what he spoke of.

“Well, duh, ” Mikey laughed, unable to keep his smile from forming. “You’re a mutant!”

“You know what I mean,” Purple huffed in slight amusement, side-eyeing the younger turtle. “You all would get fed up with me. I’m sure Lou Jitsu would’ve abandoned me regardless of if he’d saved me from the flames or not.”

“I mean, he kept Leo,” Mikey pointed out with a shrug, turning his sights back to the city again as well. The joke made the other turtle laugh, and when Mikey instinctively turned his eyes back to his brother, he realized that even with the mask on, he could still see how Purple’s eyes crinkled when he smiled or laughed. The joy in those heterochromatic eyes made Mikey’s heart lift with happiness. The whole world felt light again, and even for these few seconds, he knew that this was enough. Two boys, both from completely different worlds but bound together by blood. Maybe– Mikey reasoned within himself– they could change. Maybe they already were in these moments without conflict, without fighting or fear. Maybe they could be brothers despite the divide.

“True,” Purple said through fits of laughter, drawing Mikey away from his brief thoughts. “Maybe in a different universe, Leo takes my place.” 

“Maybe in a different universe,” Mikey echoed, perking up with hope, “Splinter took you with him, and we grew up together.”

Purple fell silent, seemingly struck dumb by his words. He looked down at his hands, the dark purple fabric rippling with his movements. Mikey wondered silently if those claws were part of the costume before remembering he’d seen his bare claws before. 

From his memory, he knew they were large and sharp– certainly larger than his own short and stubby claws. He kept them filed down, finding that they were hard to draw with if they were too long. Leo’s claws were shorter than Purple’s but sharp like a cat’s. Mikey knew that accidents happened with them, and the claw mark on the skate ramp and kitchen was evidence of Leo’s carelessness. Raph’s claws were the most like Purple’s, but even then, Raph kept them filed down. This was by choice, as he was afraid that one had he’d accidentally hurt one of his younger brothers with them.

“Why do you cover them?” Mikey asked, gesturing to Purple’s gloved claws. “Doesn’t the cloth make it harder to use them?”

Purple shifted his hands in a way so his fingers weren’t visible, and Mikey was about to apologize, but the other turtle answered his question. “It’s so I don’t claw my father,” he explained. “As a child, I would lash out– biting and clawing at him. Once I was able to understand my errors, I remedied them. This is the protective measure I decided to take.”

Mikey’s eyes widened slightly, and he bit down the urge to fidget nervously with his hands. “Don’t turtles only attack when they feel threatened?” 

“Well, yes, but I often overreact,” Purple quickly elaborated, turning away in shame. “He would pick me up to help me, and I would bite him in return.”

“But you’re older now,” the box turtle pointed out. “Surely you’ve outgrown it?”

Purple shrugged. “Not entirely. I still get… angry urges. I’m not exactly the most peaceful turtle. My father tried to fix it when I was young, but clearly, some things cannot be changed. Even these days, I sometimes go into fits of rage- and always for the stupidest of reasons. I’ve destroyed countless valuable projects of my own creation from only minor frustrations. I’m destructive. That’s who I am. I bite .”

“That’s not all you are,” Mikey assured him. “We all get angry sometimes.”

“Not like me,” Purple murmured guiltily. “You aren’t… you don’t…” he struggled to find the right words but soon sighed in exasperation and simply spoke the ones that came to mind. “Sometimes, I get so angry that I have the urge to strangle someone. Sometimes, I find my vision blurred and the consequences of any action irrelevant. I find myself wanting to hurt others, Mikey. That’s not normal. I’m not normal .”

“But do you hurt people?” Mikey asked, reaching out toward him again, this time resting his hand on Purple’s wrist without the other shirking away. 

Purple looked at him, confusion painting his face. “...Yes?”

“But was that your choice?” Mikey pushed, trying to reveal the light within his brother’s heart. He knew it was there; he just needed Purple to see it too. Maybe that spark was tucked away deep beneath the surface, pushed down as if to deceive the world and its inhabitants and convince them that it had dissipated long ago. Or, alternatively, that it had never even existed. But Mikey knew better. Even if he hadn’t been a part of his life for very long, he could feel the warmth within Purple’s heart. He could see the waning light within his eyes. And he knew that- with enough love and nurturing- he could kindle that spark into a mighty flame, one that would let him shine far beyond what the world had previously known.

But Purple’s next answer caught Mikey off-guard, so much so that his thoughts sputtered out.

“Yes,” the turtle deadpanned, blunt and without remorse. “I don’t know what you’re trying to get at, but I’ve killed multiple people. Some were on accident, some not. And even if I regret it sometimes... it’s a part of life. It happens.”

Mikey shut his mouth quickly and averted his gaze, taking his hand off Purple’s wrist.

He must not really understand death, the box turtle reasoned with himself, unable to believe that his brother could hurt people and live without guilt. And even more than that, he couldn’t fathom the idea that this turtle beside him could ever hurt anyone seriously- let alone kill anyone. He must be trying to push me away. There’s no evidence he’s actually killed anyone– or, at least, not without orders from Draxum.

After a few moments of tense silence, Mikey spoke up and changed the topic, not sure if he could handle sitting with the knowledge that he just learned for much longer without distraction. “What was your childhood like?” he asked softly, tapping his fingers absentmindedly against his leg. “Did you go to school in the Hidden City?”

Purple hummed in contemplation, his eyes flickering around quickly as if looking through a visual catalog of memories. After a moment, he turned his eyes to the street below. “I don’t remember a lot of it,” Purple admitted quietly. “I mean, no one really remembers things before a certain age, right? But I can barely picture it. There are moments, spaced out, that I can see… But they’re like snapshots in time: just photos, with no context behind them.” 

“What’s your earliest memory?” Mikey prompted, trying to get him to search deep. He knew a child’s memories weren’t great under normal circumstances, but… with the way Purple described his own… well, to Mikey, it stood out as a blaring red flag. “Mine is of my dad giving me and Leo a bath.”

For about a minute, Purple went completely silent, just sitting and thinking his answer over as he scanned the street below. Mikey wondered what was happening in that brain of his. The ornate box turtle wished he knew how to Mind Meld, to understand his brother on a deeper level. 

“My first memory is….” Purple let out a deep breath. “In the lab. Father had set me down on the ground so he could work on something, I think. Huginn and Muninn were probably meant to look after me, but they never do what they’re told. Maybe I learned that from them.” 

Mikey tilted his head in curiosity. “What happened next?” 

Purple shrugged in defeat. “I dunno. It’s a stupid memory. Sorry.” 

“No, no, no, no!” Mikey protested with a small smile, waving his hands in front of him to brush away the other mutant’s thoughts. “It’s a great memory– cause it’s your memory.”

“My memory is shit,” Purple grunted in curving frustration. “I can’t remember anything. I always forget meals, and forget chores, and–”

“So you’re forgetful,” Mikey dismissed, blowing raspberries. “So what? We all forget things from time to time. I forget where I’m going half of the time.”

“But that’s an issue,” Purple argued, glaring daggers at him. His tone held a dangerous note to it- a dangerous and volatile poison that Mikey might get under his skin with if he said the wrong thing or moved an inch in the wrong direction. “If you forget to do certain things, if you make a lousy mistake, it could cost you everything .” 

“You’re a kid–”

“I’m not a kid,” his brother interrupted fiercely, his tongue sharp with determination. The thought that Purple might hold such an idea so strongly because he was afraid of what it might mean if he was wrong popped into Mikey’s head, but he couldn’t focus on it much at the moment. “I’m not a kid. I’m fourteen.”

Mikey held back a pitiful laugh, upset that Purple had declared his childhood was over long before it had ever truly begun. “That still makes you a kid. Raph’s fifteen, and he’s still a kid. April’s sixteen, and she’s still a kid.” 

Purple snorted, shaking his head. “That makes no sense. I’m old enough not to need Father to feed me or tell me to wash my hands or brush my teeth. Therefore, I’m not a kid.”

“You’re a kid because you’re fourteen,” Mikey argued intently, his body going tense. If Purple wasn’t a kid anymore, then what did that make him? What did that mean for him and for Leo, and for Raph? “We’re both kids. We’re all kids . We’re not meant to be fighting wars. We’re meant to be going to High School and making friends, and—“

“We are above everyone else,” Purple sneered with disgrace. His eyes flashed with some distorted sense of self-respect that Mikey found himself shivering from. “We were made for one purpose, and one purpose only: to save the Yōkai from the Human Question.” 

Mikey found himself holding his breath for half a minute, only realizing he hadn’t exhaled when he had to let out an audible sigh. So much for avoiding the serious stuff, he thought to himself bitterly, knowing that his pout was visible on his face.

The orange turtle chose not to respond to Purple’s declaration of superiority, instead reaching into the bag Leo had packed for him. Purple scooted away, moving to get up, but seemed to realize there was no threat when Mikey pulled out a small drawing pad and mechanical pencil. 

“I don’t want to hurt you,” Mikey reminded him without taking his eyes off the sketchbook, his tone admittedly giving away that he was mildly upset. He began to sketch a quick circle.

“Sorry,” Purple murmured as he returned to his spot beside him. Trying to be discrete, the softshell leaned over a bit as if watching something in the distance. But Mikey knew better; he was watching him draw but was too shy to admit it. Leo would sometimes do this, too. It made Mikey smile slightly at the idea of how similar the two were. Like twins , he thought.

“I forgive you,” Mikey responded quietly, moving on to sketch the face of the character he was drawing. 

Purple continued to watch him in silence, the only sound coming from the city streets below. It was calming, really. To Mikey, hearing the sounds of New York reminded him of how alive everything was, no matter how much concrete and metal the city held. He didn’t like the smell of the fumes from smokestacks or the smell of the grime that he often came across on his patrols, but it was a minor hiccup in an otherwise beautiful city. Eventually, Mikey couldn’t help but recognize the ever-growing presence of curiosity within his brother’s eyes and broke the peaceful silence. 

“It’s a cat,” Mikey told his brother, making the purple turtle jolt back in surprise at being caught. But Mikey didn’t chastise him for watching. He enjoyed having people like his work. “His name is Tigersong.”

“Tigersong…” Purple repeated curiously, as if it was a specimen in an interesting jar. “Did you make him?”

Mikey nodded but didn’t tear his eyes away from the basic outline of the cat’s head. “Mhm! He’s a warrior cat. He’s pretty strong, and he has a brother, too.” Mikey began to flip through the pages of the booklet before stopping on a drawing of a similar-looking cat. “His name is Dukeflake. They were separated at birth.”

“Did they ever reunite?” Purple asked, and Mikey could hear his frown. “What happened?”

Mikey hesitated, not blind to the parallels. But he didn’t want to tell Purple the true story he’d created. He couldn’t tell him the truth. Lying couldn’t be that bad if it saved him from the upsetting end of the story, right?

“They do,” Mikey answered, trying to keep his voice calm and even so as not to give away the inaccuracy of his next statement. “And they’re happy together as true brothers.”

Purple seemed to believe the lie, nodding in satisfaction. “I like that story,” he said before sheepishly adding, “can you tell me more?”

The box turtle smiled at his older brother and nodded with excitement. “Do you wanna hear about Stormflight?”

The two turtles sat on that rooftop, just going on about anything that came to mind for hours. Mikey would talk about his original characters or the shows that he liked, and Purple would, in turn, talk about technology or stories from history that had intrigued him. It was an exchange of information, according to Purple, but none of said ‘exchanged information’ was entirely useful. Purple didn’t gain any important knowledge from their exchanges. He didn’t learn more about their weaknesses or where they lived, or anything that might benefit his father and their cause. 

But as Purple said his goodbyes and watched the orange turtle depart, swinging from rooftop to rooftop further and further away until he dove out of sight, he realized how little he cared for the usefulness of the information. He wasn’t burdened by the idea that he’d just wasted all of his time allotted for a patrol of his own. Instead, he focused on the light feeling that filled his chest and how the whole world seemed… calmer. Maybe I could benefit from this , he thought to himself as he turned to take his own path home. He shook away the rest of his thoughts, biting back a smile that only seemed to grow.

Purple spent the rest of his journey considering what he might say about the evening to his father. In truth, he had left home less for the sake of the cause and more for the sake of his own sanity. The venture was a good excuse to put some distance between him and his Father, at least for a few hours. As much as he loved him, and how much he valued all that was done for him, the older yōkai’s overbearing nature could weigh heavily on his spirit. Sometimes, he just needed to get out and be alone for a while.

Often were the days in which he would hide in the bathroom or his laboratory to avoid tense conversations, but the alchemist had begun to catch onto this. To lie and say he was searching for the last piece of the Dark Armor was a better excuse to leave the house on his own without scrutiny.

But this time, instead of passing the night in relative silence without interruption, he’d run into Mikey. And instead of a battle or an argument, they had simply… hung out? Was that the right term for it? He wasn’t sure, since he’d never really ‘hung out’ with anyone other than Shelldon. There was always a purpose to each interaction, each conversation, each meeting. But not this one. Mikey didn’t try to take him back to their evil lair or convince him that Draxum or his ideologies were bad. He didn’t talk about anything Purple didn’t want to and allowed him to steer away from topics that made him uncomfortable, like shows or stories involving humans.

And, in return, Purple tried his best to respect Mikey’s boundaries. Talk about inventions or tactics against humans wasn’t allowed, which was fine by Purple. It convinced him further that Mikey didn’t have any malicious or ulterior motive for talking to him.

They were just… enjoying each other’s company without trial or tribulation.

Purple never did that. He enjoyed the company of Shelldon, sure, but even long stretches of time in which that was possible were rare and was rare and an exception to the norm. When he spoke to Father, it was never about his key interests beyond technology that would advance their work. And even when he did try to talk about, say, the Great Molasses Flood, it would be shut down or met with an eye roll. Which was fair– it wasn’t the most interesting thing, and he did tend to ramble and go on and on about a story that could be summed up with “there was a molasses flood in the Hidden City but there was also one in the human world too.” 

But Mikey didn’t try and divert the conversation or bring up Purple’s shortcomings. Instead, he would ask more questions, listening to every word Purple had to say and reacting to his storytelling. 

It felt good. Unusual and foreign but good . 

Purple stopped and stretched his arms above his head, reinvigorating his muscles before leaping into an alleyway. Even if his back was sore, he didn’t mind how stiff he was. He didn’t regret talking to Mikey, and he didn’t regret how much time it had taken out of his night. He was simply at peace. And for now, that was enough.

After a short trip through the Hidden City using his Portal Carver, he arrived home and carefully closed the front door behind him, ensuring that he didn’t accidentally slam it. He glanced around the darkness of the front foyer, expecting to see Huginn or Muninn coming to greet him, but found only silence. Not even Shelldon made an appearance, which he found disappointing but not odd. He was probably playing a game or something and hadn’t noticed Purple return home

He sighed and made his way down the hall. He felt so exhausted, despite not having done anything strenuous. He’d just sat and talked with Mikey. But then it clicked. No no no no no!! I wasted all my time! What was I thinking? I just- I just sat there! With the enemy! Guilt twisted and turned in his gut, threatening to make him sick. He was so queasy and off balance due to this feeling that he nearly collapsed onto the floor, but he pushed himself forward. It couldn’t have been that long after all.. right?

As he approached, the doors to the laboratory automatically slid open, letting Purple through without needing to fumble with a door. He could see his room now, just up the stairs, and he felt relief wash over him like a cool blanket in the middle of a blazing summer afternoon.

But suddenly, his father’s voice echoed into the laboratory from down the hall, somewhere within the center of the house, calling, calling his name. Purple hated to admit it, but sometimes he dreaded his father’s voice. He loved him, of course, but he knew he had something for him to do, and he was just so tired .

You didn’t even do anything today, he scolded himself silently as he turned around and exited the lab. You’ve got nothing to be tired of. Stop being such a baby.

Purple tentatively entered the living room, feeling as heavy as if if he was trying to run though two feet of water. But he didn’t let it show in his posture, standing up as straight as he could in the presence of his father, who sat calmly in his chair next to the fireplace. The chair across from him remained empty, not meant to be occupied by anyone but those who were equal to Draxum.

Which, of course, did not include Purple. So he stood before the alchemist, forcing himself to meet his father’s amber eyes and wait for a command or comment.

“Where did you go today?” Father questioned calmly, but there was a note of accusation that was apparent in his tone. Purple had to keep himself from flinching. In his hand was a bottle, and Purple could now smell the awful tang of alcohol in the air. “I could have used your assistance in the lab.”

Purple stilled, jaw tightening. At that moment, the young turtle realized a few things. 

The first thing was that his father had been drinking. He didn’t know how many drinks he’d had, but he could tell by the discarded can on the ground that it had been at least one. His father wasn’t someone who often got inebriated. In fact, Purple couldn’t recall an instance where he’d ever seen his father truly affected by alchogol consumption. The idea of his father or anyone being drunk instilled a fear in him that he couldn’t quite understand. Even if he didn’t understand it though, it frightened him.

The second thing was that if he told Father about meeting Mikey, he’d be scolded for not killing him, using him, or following him home. In retrospect, he should’ve done those things. He should’ve used the opportunity to get an upper hand on them through the most vulnerable of the group.. It would’ve been one less threat to the yōkai renaissance, after all. It would have been easy pickings. 

The third thing he realized was that he didn’t want to tell Draxum about his meeting with Mikey. It felt like a sacred secret, one that Purple felt he needed to keep close to his chest. Sure, the things he could say might be immoral to tell, especially to his father, but.. clearly these weren’t the best circumstances in which to tell the truth. 

So he chose at that moment that he wouldn’t tell his father about the events of that night. Nothing eventful had happened in the meeting, after all, so there was nothing to tell. And could the omission of a fact really be considered a lie?

“I was patrolling,” Purple reported truthfully, keeping his voice as steady as he could. “I was looking for the last artifact. I was unsuccessful, unfortunately.”

Father squinted suspiciously at him, clearly unsure if he was telling the truth. But after a long, silent minute of the Baron waiting for his creation to break and confess, he took a drink from his bottle and waved a hand. “That’s good, that’s good… Thank you, son.”

Purple nodded and turned his back, his frown deepening. He hated false reports, especially when given to his father. Sure, the circumstances validated it, but it still ate away at him. Lying was an easy solution to complex problems. It was a skill he learned early on in life, knowing that even minor white lies about his inventions or progress would earn his father’s respect, so long as he never found out the truth.

Of course, not every lie got past his father’s keen eyes. On occasion, his father would meet his false words with gentle reassurances and motivating words. More often than that, though, Purple would live to regret his words. Each time he was caught, the experience reminded him that he would much rather be dragged through the rigorous judgements of the Crying Titan themself rather than experience the extent of his Father’s wrath. Lying was a dangerous gamble, and yet Purple chose to play over and over again. This time, as guiltily as the thought made him feel, he was glad that his father couldn’t properly analyze his son’s words through the haze of his own mind.

When he entered the lab again, the sliding doors closed behind him, leaving him in a darkened silence. He had to feel along the wall in order to flick on one of the lights, and sighed softly when he finally managed to find the switch. He knew now that he couldn’t just go to sleep, lest he be called out again by his father, but exhaustion still rolled over him in waves.

Slowly, he walked over to his workbench, eyes skimming over a few of the smaller, unfinished projects. But nothing caught his eye. However, they soon fell upon one of the empty cages in a corner of the lab. He tried to stop the memories from coming back yo him, but this night seemed insistent on betraying him. The bars of the cage that once held magnificent experiments hung open from lack of use, and creaked when he slowly stepped over and moved the door on its hinges.

Before the ooze had been perfected, experiments had been conducted on all sorts of subjects. From wild frogs and lab rats to humans plucked from the poorest parts of New York. They’d be brought here, samples would be taken, statistics noted, and diagnostics run before they were subjected to the latest experimental mutagen they’d conjured. Sometimes they died during the mutation. Some survived longer than others, either through luck or resilience. 

But in the end, none ever lasted for long. They had to be killed mercifully and swiftly, or they’d slowly, painfully whither away. It was the empyrean that had sustained Purple and his brothers, but without it, they, too, would have been subjected to the same fate as the others that came before them.

Father did his best to keep the others alive, though. Purple could remember the attempts to prolong their life, pushing back their expiration further and further. He just wanted something that would live , that could survive on its own without immediate intervention. But it would take years for that to come true again. 

As a child, Purple knew of these creatures’ suffering. He couldn’t relate to what they were going through, and it was hard at first to understand the severity of their plight. But Father had eventually taken the time to explain it to his young, unconditioned mind. “It’s like getting the flu, but no matter what medicine we give them, they don’t seem to get better. Only worse.” “Why are we giving them the flu?” Purple had asked curiously, unable to properly connect the dots to see the importance of his father’s work. Thankfully, the alchemist didn’t scold him for such, and simply patted his head. “I know it doesn’t seem to make sense, but this is a good flu. If they survive, they’ll get to live much happier lives than they ever would have gotten to before. This flu can save them- if we can get it right. And someday, I know we will. I just know it.” Purple could remember, even now, how many questions he still had, but his had father stepped away to give his attention to other things that needed him, and that was that. After that day, Purple was determined to come up with a reasonable solution to their sickness, which he eventually did.

Why prolong someone’s suffering when you have the power to end it? 

For those that could speak, Purple would ask them for permission to administer his solution. Most would say yes. To those who said no, he obliged their wish and did not interfere. 

And for those that couldn’t speak their choice… Well, what was the use of the mentally deficient, anyway? 

His poison of choice was ricin; easy to obtain and process, but potent enough to do what it was supposed to do with minimal detection. He would slip it into the meals or hand it off as a snack, and they would be found dead only hours after. If Father ever suspected him, he never indicated it.

Purple quickly brushed away the tears that had managed to pool within the corners of his eyes without him noticing and turned away. He had no reason to cry. What he had done was smart, it was kind. What his father had done was brilliant, needed, and beneficial. Together, the two of them had saved them from misery, each in their own way. So why, as he looked down at the slowly-corroding bars of the empty cell, did he feel… guilt?

Purple was many, many things. He knew the list was long and probably tainted by the moral views of others. But at the end of the day, from his eyes, he knew what he was the most; a liar and a killer.

Throughout his life, those were always the solutions that came to him in his times of need. Either speak death or enact it. They were the two things that came the easiest to him out of every other option, so it was only fitting that they be his truest titles. He’d always known them, even before they had names, and they kept him safe and secure. They were almost… comforting…

What would Mikey think of him?

He didn’t know why that mattered. He had memorized the look the box turtle had given him on that rooftop when he admitted his crimes. It was a look of unmistakable fear. Purple was a monster of his own making, and that couldn’t be fixed. Not even by the kindest of souls.

As he crept up the stairs and into his bed, he took faint notice of the fact that Shelldon had already powered down for the night. I thought he would stay up for me, he thought to himself but pushed the idea back. Shelldon had no real reason to wait for him, even if he’d been gone longer than he said he would be. Purple didn’t know why he thought he would. After rolling over to take Shelldon out of his line of sight, his mind wandered back to his younger brother. Or, at least, the one that called him brother.

Purple was a liar. He was a murderer. If Mikey truly understood that, well… he knew what they would think. Just the idea that those things might be true had already deeply rattled the orange turtle. Any true confirmation would only lead him to push Purple out of his life completely. It’s what any sane person would do, or anyone with a heart like Mikey’s. And his brothers? Well, they certainly wouldn’t show nearly as much restraint or kindness if they even thought he could hurt them. That was already shown before. Only when he was weak did they love him. Only when he put his claws away and became less of a threat did they care. Only his father loved him for who he was– for who he had always been. For who he would become. Anyone else would light a pyre and watch him burn for his sins. A punishment fit for the blood on his hands he could never wash off.

Maybe, he wondered as the silence grew around him and his eyelids drooped, maybe that’s why he really left me in that fire to burn. Maybe he was the only one that knew the monster I’d grow up to be. Or maybe some higher being knew his awful fate and cursed him to the ashes before he might’ve had a chance to burn the world. Now, it was too late, and his blaze was too powerful to control. Serves me right. All I cause is destruction.

He curled up within his bed, making himself smaller and smaller- like a dying flame waiting for the singing winds to extinguish its pathetic light.

The moments ticked by in painful, slow succession, and he closed his eyes tightly to let sleep overtake him.

That night, he dreamt of starlit skies. He dreamt of wildfires, and shadows that howled and shifted like beasts. But mostly, he dreamt of brothers that he wished had left him in the dark.

Chapter Text

Purple wished that the first meeting with Mikey had been the last. He really, truly did.

But by now, he’d stopped counting the number of meetings they’d had, unable to stomach the measurement of betrayal he had committed against his father and the entire yōkai race. It tore at him from the inside and ate away at the peaceful moments like a malicious pest.

Ignoring the conflicting feelings hadn’t helped. He’d tried that at least a dozen times, but all it’d done was leave him tossing and turning in the late hours of the night. And, with Shelldon’s silent treatment towards him, he didn’t have anyone to talk about these feelings with that wouldn’t be inherently biased. So all he could do was try to reason with himself that maybe it wasn’t as bad as he was making it out to be. Could what they were doing when they met up really be considered a betrayal ? His view of the world was at a new angle because of his interactions with the youngest turtle, sure, but it didn’t seem to be harming him. Not in a way he could see, anyway. It wasn’t influencing his work, his father, or their plans. On top of that, he was learning more about his enemy, even if that information could be seen as a bit pointless…

Nevertheless, he could reasonably conclude that the meetings weren’t at a detriment to himself or the cause, and he would be keeping it that way. He wasn’t stupid, after all. He knew not to trust the orange turtle. At least not to a high degree. Sure, sometimes he’d find himself relaxing in the presence of his enemy more than he’d find himself relaxing at home, and sure, sometimes it felt easier to talk to Michelangelo than it did his own Father , but… well, that didn’t mean anything. Purple was in control of himself and the way he felt. If at any point he saw their meetings were truly negatively affecting him or his alliances, he’d step away from them.

He’d had to rationalize this issue in his mind many, many times over, finding logical loopholes to dance through to justify these meetings every single time. But despite it all, he was still here, sitting at the edge of the rooftop upon which they’d first met and waiting patiently. He knew his patience’s purpose, but… maybe being here was for some other reason too. One he couldn’t quite place yet.

Purple watched the sun dip below the horizon- the golden light streaking through a stained-glass sky and painting the clouds with a beautiful array of colors. As a child, he’d always been fascinated by a sky he was never allowed to see. It was something mystical and foreign, too far to reach even if he tried. An infinite canvas. He’d been jealous of the humans above him, who didn’t just get to see the sky every moment they desired but were lucky enough to touch it too- traveling through the air and even past it to reach the moon and stars far beyond a breathable atmosphere.

What had he and others like him done so wrong to deserve losing something like that?

Trust, he reasoned, sighing and breathing in the growing chill of the dusk. They trusted people they shouldn’t have. They trusted humans, who’ve only ever wanted to take things away from us.

He would never make the mistake of trusting the wrong person. He was smarter than that. He knew it.

He wondered absentmindedly about how many times Mikey had been allowed to go to the surface as a child and how many times he might’ve gotten to see this magnificent display of Earth’s wonders. It must have been dozens. He was luckier than he might ever know in that regard.

Not lucky, he corrected, exhaling heavily and brushing away a bit of dust that clung to his outfit. He was sheltered. He never had to know about the fighting that happened or the fighting that still happens amongst what’s left of us.

He never had to know about how our father had to go to the worst of lengths just to survive or how some yōkai still gladly tear their companions apart limb from limb just for a meal. He never had to know hardship- true hardship- and I’m sure he never will. It’s why he’ll never be as strong as I am.

He shook his head and stood up to try to physically distance himself from the thoughts. He didn’t want to think about any of it. He just wanted to relish in the fact that he was here now and that he wouldn’t let anyone take these sights away from him ever again.

This rooftop had become an occasional- and informal- meeting place. It was only ever occasional. On some nights, Purple would watch Mikey wait for him, too scared to slink out of the shadows and approach the box turtle. And on those nights, the orange turtle would wait for an hour or two before sighing in disappointment and taking his leave. Other nights, Purple couldn’t slip away to the rooftop, being too occupied by missions or being pinned under his father’s watchful eye. But on good nights, when everything lined up just right, he would come to wait and watch the stars.

One of the great things about these meetings was the lack of pressure he felt from them. Even after telling himself it was foolish, he still felt the strange and unquenchable need to impress Mikey. And even if he messed up or did something embarrassing, Mikey never held it against him. He would laugh at his jokes, take an interest in his rambles, and even share his own interests. It was a type of interaction that Purple had never experienced before, and he liked it— a lot.

He could join Father and me. He may be weak, but he would surely have some use, he thought hopefully as he mapped the visible stars in the sky. He faintly wondered why, in all the photographs he could find, those balls of burning gases were more visible than they were in the real night sky. He tried to shrug it off as those photos having better, more advanced cameras to take them, and maybe that the true magnitude and details of a star were unable to be seen by the naked eye. Even so, it continued to disappoint him every night when he looked up, hoping to be able to see the constellations he’d studied so fervently as a child, and always coming out of the ordeal empty-handed.

He sighed softly and closed his eyes, once again inhaling the scent of the city. If he could push the whole world away for just a moment, maybe he’d find the answers he’d been looking for without having to worry about right or wrong. The void of space sounded like a good place for such contemplation. I wonder… I wonder how peaceful it would be to just slip away from every worry like that. Is that how stars feel? That is if they did have the capacity for sentience?

“I AM SOOOOO SORRY!”

The shrill voice of the box turtle tore Purple from his thoughts and startled him into falling backward as the box turtle landed with a muted thump upon the rooftop. “Dad was taking foreeeever talking about his Lou Jitsu glory days, and then Raph wanted to do even more training, and–”

Purple took a deep breath to still his rapid heartbeat and quickly pushed himself back up, rolling his eyes and smiling fondly beneath his mask. “Yeah, yeah. I understand. No need to wear yourself out.”

Mikey nodded, and despite still looking fairly anxious, he took a seat on the edge of the rooftop and patted the spot next to him as a way to signal for Purple to join him. He was still clearly out of breath, and it seemed that he’d been rushing before this. But why he was rushing was still unclear…

“Did you race to get here?” Purple asked inquisitively. “Did you know I’d come?”

“No,” Mikey admitted with a raspy laugh. “But I didn’t wanna blow the chance. I keep having to make sure Leo and Raph don’t follow me, though.”

Purple blinked in surprise. “Wouldn’t you want them to follow you? So they could capture me?”

Mikey hesitated, brows furrowed in confliction. After a moment, he finally voiced his opinion. “I don’t want to kidnap you. I want you with us, duh, but… that should be your choice. Does that make sense?”

Purple nodded genuinely. “It does. I admittedly want you to be with Father and I, but if you don’t want to, then that’s alright. Your ideologies and morals tend to conflict with mine, which would probably mean that they’d conflict with Father’s too, so I’m not sure if you two would get along at first. But I’m sure that, with time, he’d adjust to having you around again.”

What he didn’t voice was the darker side of his suggestion. If you stay on the side that you’re on, then you’ll just perish with your brothers and father- with little but ash and memories to signify that you ever existed at all. Your death would be a waste.

Mikey chuckled, but Purple could hear the discomfort in his tone, which was even more evident by his expression. “I don’t think I could leave Raph, Leo, or even April behind like that. And even though he talks a lot, I especially don’t think I’d be able to leave my dad. It’s just… I’m not sure I’d be able to forget the past.”

“Then you understand how I feel about my family,” Purple responded bluntly.

“Your family…” Mikey trailed off, fidgeting with a bracelet around his wrist. It seemed to be hand-crafted from an array of colored strings. Grey, green, red, blue, and orange. After a moment, he continued. “Are the gargoyles part of your family?” Despite the absurdity of his question, he seemed genuinely curious. “Are they like your brothers?”

“My brothers?!” Purple cringed, shaking his head. The thought of them growing up with him like siblings made him shiver. “Titan, no! They’re my father’s employees. The closest thing I have to a brother is Shelldon- and even then, he’s more like a close friend or… maybe a son. The Icarus to my Daedalus.”

“Who’s Shelldon?” Mikey inquired, his hands fidgeting even more. “Is he your pet?”

“He’s a sentient robot I made,” Purple explained with a proud glint in his eyes. “He was mutated by the same type of ooze that created us, but it was on accident, and now he’s capable of independent, unprogrammed thought and choice. He’s..… really great….” Purple sighed and looked out at the distant boats sailing across the horizon, and his face fell as he remembered that he and Shelldon barely talked nowadays.

Things around the house just kept getting harder and more complicated as time went on. He wasn’t sure if they’d ever get better…

“Something wrong?” Mikey asked softly. “You can tell me anything, you know. I won’t judge you for it.”

That’s a lie, Purple thought with an audible snort. Judgment is inherit in all living beings. But, despite the natural hostility he had toward the orange turtle from years of villainization, Purple felt compelled to tell him without discomfort.

They were both from such different worlds, but maybe there didn’t have to be large barriers between them anymore like there had been for so many years. Of course, some would always remain- it was how it had to be. But armed with chisels of kindness, Mikey had slowly begun to thin the walls he put up to protect himself from the evils lurking around every corner- entering his inner circle to offer one simple thing: peace.

It was still hard to let it happen. After all, those barriers had protected him for years, and they still did, but… Purple still valued the intervention. At least a bit. He felt better from it all, not worse.

“Shelldon… well, he doesn’t talk to me a lot these days. We live in the same place, and he even charges in my room, but I guess I’ve been so busy helping Father… and he never does… We just don’t see each other a lot….” Purple gaze flickered to the streets below, and then he pushed a hand over his face to apply a comforting pressure and to block out a bit of light. His body felt exhausted already, and his eyes felt so heavy- daring to close on him at any moment.

It was partially from talking about such a difficult topic, but it also probably had something to do with the fact that he hadn’t been getting a lot of rest. With all of the stress from the armor search that had only gotten tenser to the increase in Father’s demands, he was left feeling both worn out and restless. Purple wanted to do more for the cause, but it was taking a toll on him- and a steep one at that. Still, he forced himself to stay awake and present instead of retreating back home to slink into his warm bed. He wanted to stay here and talk to Mikey, after all. It was important to him and probably valuable to the cause in some way. He still had to figure that last part out.

“Did you two get into some sort of a fight, or was it just a lack of communication altogether?” Mikey asked, tilting his head in curiosity. “Maybe you hurt his feelings and just didn’t know.”

“Well, he’s always been blunt about his emotions,” Purple retorted with a small smile. For as long as Purple had known him– which was, well, Shelldon’s entire life – he’d always been straight to the point, never side-stepping an issue. Sometimes, his bluntness was appreciated- like when Purple was trying to find the answer to a problem, but other times… well, Purple knew how those times could be. After all, he’d directly called Purple’s father an abuser . That wasn’t something he’d particularly appreciated, and even now, the memory left a sour taste in his mouth. “It’s how I programmed him. If he was upset with me, he would’ve told me without hesitation. It’s how he’s always been.”

“Well, you did say he went beyond his programming, but if you really don’t think that could be it….” Mikey hummed– screwing his eyes shut as he contemplated deeply– before seemingly having an epiphany by how he shot up. Then, loudly and with grandiose, he pointed directly at Purple in quite an accusatory way. “Have you been avoiding him?”

“I– Why would— no , that’s absurd , I–” Purple sputtered, stumbling over his words. He drew his lips into a tight frown, twirling the idea in his mind. Have I? It could’ve been unconscious, he thought to himself, biting his lip from overwhelming anxiety. I just don’t want him to bring up Father like that again… every time he gets near me, all I can think about are those horrible things he said about him, and- … and…..

“...Maybe.. maybe I have been.”

“Ahah! Dr. Feelings strikes again!” Mikey declared with a determined glint in his eyes. The turtle pushed himself up and away from the ledge, tearing off his sash and suddenly pulling a brown turtleneck over his head and pushing glasses up his snout in a blurry matter of seconds.

Purple watched in bewilderment as this change of outfit occurred, unable to completely comprehend what was happening. And once he was finished with his confusing transformation, Mikey just turned around with a calm expression on his face. “Now, tell me, why are you avoiding Shelldon?”

“ How the fuck did you change so quickly?” Purple asked in amused alarm and turned to face him completely. “And where the hell were you keeping those!?”

“Shh, shh,” Dr. … Mikey… Feelings, was it? Whoever it was now shushed him, putting a pointer finger gently over Purple’s mask. He then stepped back and- out of nowhere- he summoned a whiteboard into existence and plopped Purple into a school desk that, again, had materialized from thin air.

“ Where in Titan’s name are you getting these things?! ” Purple exclaimed, beginning to slowly panic. How powerful was Mikey? How much had he underestimated the young turtle?! How scared should he be?!

But Mikey seemed completely tame, and instead of explaining how on earth any of this was occurring or using his magic against the softshell, he began to write, ‘Feelings 101: How to talk to your emotional support robot/best friend/brother???? ’ in large bubble letters on the board in dark purple ink, trailing off into a smaller font at the end of the run-off sentence. He closed the cap on his expo marker and stepped aside for Purple to get a better view of the board. “Class is now in session!”

Purple’s bewildered exclamation of, “ WHAT CLASS?! ” went ignored as the orange turtle folded his arms behind his back. Calmly and with an air of maturity he’d never suspected the turtle was capable of, Mikey said, “Now, if you could please answer my question more clearly: Have you been avoiding Shelldon?”

“ No !” Purple shouted in response- causing the younger turtle to raise a brow, clearly unconvinced. He groaned, throwing his head back in defeat at the expert’s stinkeye. “Fine! I’m not really sure, okay? Shelldon may or may not have implicated someone of something , and I didn’t quite appreciate that he did that.”

“Very specific,” Mikey said, sarcasm dripping from his tone.

“Shut up,” Purple bit back, baring his teeth, knowing they weren’t visible behind the purple mask. You don’t know anything, he thought with silent vexation. Stop trying to read me.

Despite his emotions being quite masterfully hidden, Mikey seemed to tense, somehow knowing the angry thoughts that lay beneath the older turtle’s ruse. It made Purple tense too, and he looked away, trying to brush off the younger mutant’s look.

“You’re clenching your jaw,” Mikey observed, tilting his head slightly. Even now, even when it was clear that Purple had done something wrong, Mikey didn’t sound upset. He didn’t even sound disappointed. He just seemed worried. “Why?”

Purple immediately relaxed his jaw as much as he could. No one had ever told him the action was visible, even with the mask on. “I dunno.”

“Does this conversation make you uncomfortable?” Mikey asked sincerely, abandoning his mature composure in exchange for a looser, more concerned approach. “Do you want to stop? We can talk about something else.”

Yes, he thought immediately, but once more, he kept his thoughts to himself. Why would they stop something Mikey wanted to do just because of Purple’s inability to be comfortable with the topic? Frankly, he felt that it was unfair to Mikey. His father’s wise words echoed back to him; ’The real world won’t cater to your sensitivities.’

“It’s fine,” Purple said as calmly as he could, ensuring his voice didn’t give way to any uneasiness he really felt. “You may continue.”

Mikey nodded, though much more apprehensive than before. Despite his best efforts to remain stoic and unchanging, Mikey seemed to be really good at reading Purple. It made him nervous. If he can read me that well, what else does he know about me or my life that he isn’t telling me? What does he really think?

The box turtle turned back to his whiteboard and used his sleeve to clear the board. “Communication,” he said as he wrote down the word, taking another step back once he was finished, “is key to any relationship. You need to tell people how you feel in order for them to respond accordingly.”

“I feel hungry,” Purple responded with a grumble, earning a snort from the other turtle.

“Okay, not body feel,” Mikey clarified with an affectionate eye-roll. “Your… emotional feels! Like, happy, sad, angry– that kinda stuff.”

Purple gave him a skeptical look, unable to truly believe what he was saying. It didn’t click for him. “How is telling people what I feel going to solve anything? Wouldn’t that just make everything more complicated?”

“Well, let’s use your issue with Shelldon as an example!” Mikey exclaimed, once again erasing the whiteboard before drawing a very crude recreation of Shelldon. It was clear he couldn’t remember the small robot too well, as some of his features were flat-out wrong and uncanny. Why are there bulging rotors on the end of his legs? “Maybe, if you tell him that you don’t like it when he talks about this certain someone in some sort of way, you two can come to a better understanding of why and how to overcome it together.”

“But he knows how I feel about it,” Purple pointed out with a scowl. How is he not understanding this? “We’ve argued about it plenty of times. He knows that I don’t like it, but he keeps bringing it up. He even got the mantis dude in on it!”

“You argued about it,” Mikey repeated, putting particular emphasis on the word and shaking his head. “Arguing isn’t the same as calm and neutral communication. It takes the right time and the right words to really effectively communicate with someone. You need to have a conversation- and you can’t just yell at him about how it makes you feel. That’ll only escalate an already rocky situation.”

“Yelling is an effective way of communication,” Purple argued. Father yelled at him, and he always got the picture, especially since he wasn’t a dense robot who didn’t understand really basic stuff and got involved in things he never should have. “It makes your point loud and clear. Literally.”

Mikey shook his head, a sympathetic look washing over his face. “Yelling only damages relationships. It doesn’t work in the long term.”

Purple couldn’t help but laugh loudly at that. “Mikey, clearly, you don’t know what you’re talking about. Father yells, and our relationship is fine! We love each other.”

The way Mikey flinched at his brother’s confession made Purple rethink what he had just said. From Mikey’s perspective, what he’d just said had probably made Father sound like an asshole who just yelled a lot, which wasn’t the kind of person that was ‘alright’ in the orange turtle’s books. And that interpretation wasn’t correct at all. “He yells sometimes,” Purple amended quickly. “And he only does it because I’m a bad listener.”

Mikey hesitated for a moment as if debating what his next words should be. His fingers drummed against his leg as he pondered, and Purple watched intently and waited. Finally, he spoke up, his voice shaking slightly. “What do you feel like? When he yells?”

Purple’s throat went dry. The question had startled him, and.. maybe even scared him a little bit… He shut his mouth and began to think hard about his answer. If he was being honest with himself, it was a little hard to remember what happened or how he felt when Draxum yelled at him. The memories were always shrouded in some kind of thick mental fog that always frustrated him. They were his memories. He should have access to them when he wanted. He should be able to control his own brain . And on another note, did any of it even count as yelling? Sure, the alchemist’s voice raised, but he wasn’t being hateful. He was just being stern so he could guide Purple down the right path and shape him into a better warrior and son.

The things Purple said to Shelldon were sometimes out of anger and hatred, but that was normal. It was a normal reaction. Shelldon didn’t feel things like Purple felt them. How could he? He wasn’t alive like Purple was. It’s why Purple could speak to him however he needed or wanted to because Shelldon was his creation.

On the other hand, if Purple had done something to make his father become cross with him, then was that really Father’s fault? Purple was the one to drive him to such an atypical reaction. It was only fair, really. Every action has an equal and opposite reaction. It was simply science. All of it was simply science . Why was this so complicated for anyone to understand?

“It’s not his fault,” Purple said numbly, lacking the strength to really move his mouth to answer completely. His head felt so full of cotton that it was hard to really concentrate on anything but the odd sensation cursing his brain, and his vision began to grow hazy in a strange way that he was unable to control.

“I didn’t ask that,” Mikey replied gently as he slowly approached the desk. He moved to place a tentative hand on Purple’s shoulder, hesitating for a second as if to wait for Purple to jerk away or reject the touch. But when he did nothing, Mikey took that as a sign of consent and let the two connect for that sacred and fleeting moment. “I asked how it made you feel.”

Purple thought harder about it, closing his eyes to focus on trudging through the thick honey consistency of his mind in an effort to find the right answer, one that would hopefully satisfy Mikey’s curiosity. Would he like the truth, or would a lie make the night go smoother? What is the truth, exactly? Is it my truth or Father’s? Are they supposed to be different?

He tried to recall the last time his father had yelled at him. Properly, truly yelled at him. Was there ever such a time? He felt like there were at least a few, ones where the Baron didn’t just get stern and demanding because of his son’s shortcomings and blatant failures. But every example that he managed to dredge up through the suffocating sludge of his psyche seemed fuzzy– every memory so distant that he couldn’t quite grasp them fully.

Purple knew that the memories existed. He knew that they were right there , and he just failed to bring them to clarity. But despite this, he found himself speaking of a truth he hadn’t known. Or, perhaps, a truth he couldn’t handle. All of it was contained in a single, simple word:

“Scared.”

The admission came crashing down onto both of them like a tidal wave.

Purple couldn’t fully grasp the weight of that truth, but he could feel it. It felt as if his chest was full of salt water that cut at the tender flesh of his lungs and quelled a fierce flame in his heart until it was nothing but a smoldering ember. It felt as if he was a specimen pinned to a display board, painfully exposed and weighed down by an invisible glass panel. It brought about discomfort and anxiety in such a visceral way that he couldn’t bring himself to even look at Mikey. Instead, he stared at his hands as they clasped each other, his claws digging into the fabric of his gloves with a fury he couldn’t quite comprehend. It was different than any he had ever known. It was simply… blinding.

Why had he said that? Why in Titan’s name had he said that?

He wanted to admit that it was a lie or that he had misspoken again– he had a tendency to do that, after all. But he couldn’t. For once in his life, he didn’t keep talking to find a way to keep his Father’s reputation golden.

Why?

In desperation, he tried to dig deeper into his heart and soul to search for something else– anything else– that could justify why he might’ve been scared in those moments. Or– yes, maybe that was it– maybe it wasn’t fear he felt. Perhaps it was misremembered embarrassment, or exhaustion, or– something else. Something else he couldn’t name. Some detail he just hadn’t realized yet.

Of course he would be embarrassed in those instances in which he was truly verbally reprimanded for his mistakes. Why wouldn’t he be embarrassed? All those times, he had messed up so fundamentally that it required his father to get involved. That was something to be ashamed of. Why did he make so many errors? Why wasn’t he fixed by now? Why wasn’t he better?

Despite the roaring from the cars down below and the whistling of the cold wind over his skin, it felt so oddly… silent . He couldn’t tell if Mikey felt the same way, and he couldn’t ask. He still felt suffocated, extinguished, and out of place. Every inhale felt lackluster- as if his lungs weren’t properly filled by the tiny gasps of air he took. Or maybe he wasn’t taking in air at all, and he just couldn’t tell. Speaking was something he wouldn’t even try to attempt now, as it felt too far to even conceptualize using his meager voice.

“Do you wanna talk about it?” Mikey’s voice cut through the suffocating quiet, his tone soft and kind, like a warm blanket on a cold night. His presence was so comforting, and Purple realized how safe he felt with the other turtle. He wasn’t just a friend– he was someone Purple loved, and that caused him great, unbridled fear.

Love was a curse upon his heart. It made him weak.

Why did being weak feel so good?

He had denounced Mikey and the others as his brothers so long ago. They had attacked him numerous times, trying to stop his missions to save the yōkai. They clearly didn’t care about the blood they shared, so why should he?

But Mikey was different. In these past days that he’d gotten to know him, he’d proven himself to be more than a trustworthy mutant– he’d shown himself to be… family .

“No,” Purple said dryly, unable to meet Mikey’s eyes. The answer was– in some part– honest. He didn’t know if he could continue such a terrifying conversation at the moment. Some other time, maybe, but for now, it felt too hard to discuss the depth of the emotions he could barely even feel now.

But he knew that the likelihood that he would have to talk about it anyways was high. Mikey would most likely press further despite his request, which he didn’t think badly of. Sometimes, a little push was necessary. He knew from experience.

But instead of denying his request or telling him that it didn’t matter what he wanted, Mikey listened and obliged. “Okay,” he agreed, with no hint of disappointment or resentment in his voice. “Thank you for telling me. That’s a huge step in getting better at communication. I’m really, really proud of you.”

Purple felt a cooling sense of relief trickle throughout his blood and begin to dissipate the anxiety that had caused him to become so tense, allowing him to look up and see Mikey’s soft smile– his eyes shining with a love so bright he swore it rivaled the glow of the stars. It was such a genuine look of care and affection, and that… confused Purple.

He knew this look, of course. It was familial love, similar to the fondness that the Baron held for him. But it was… different, somehow. Father looks at me and is proud of who I will become, he thought, the beat of his heart ringing in his ears as his eyes began to sting with the telltale sign of tears. Mikey looks at me and loves who I am right now.

They were two kinds of love– love from differing perspectives. One incorporated the idea of his future, the idea of who he’dl be in time. It thought of the possibilities of his potential and acknowledged his capabilities. The other love was content with who Mikey perceived Purple to be at that moment. But Mikey didn’t truly know all about Purple and who he was– he wasn’t there to see his screw-ups or witness his selfish and cruel nature. It’s not really who I am right now, Purple amended in his mind, but who I am when I’m not a threat. When I’m not fucking up and when I’m not being annoying. Father loves me through it all– he’s had to deal with me all this time. If Mikey knew the full extent of who I am, he wouldn’t hesitate to leave.

Purple watched silently as reality mended itself. The whiteboard and desk disappeared before his very eyes, and with a simple turn-around, Mikey’s “Dr. Feelings” costume was gone. Purple still couldn’t make sense of it all, but then again, what part of his life could he make sense of anymore?

Mikey didn’t say a word as Purple stepped over to the edge of the rooftop and stood upon the ledge before closing his eyes and taking a deep breath. When the wind kicked up, it blew up from the street and across the vertical plane of the side of the building to find its way to him. He could smell the city; every dark alleyway and park leaf, every exhaust fume cloud and muddied puddle, and– far from here– the briny salt water of the coast. He’d never been to the human ocean before. Maybe… someday, he’d get the chance. When all of this was over, and the world went back to normal. When there weren’t humans at the beaches or the docks, and when there weren’t so many moral dilemmas clouding his mind. He wondered if Mikey would be there to see it with him too, or if that part was too good to be true. He also wondered why fate had to be so cruel.

Eventually, he opened his eyes again and turned to find Mikey sitting down beside him, content and swaying to an imaginary beat. Purple sat back down next to his friend. Fate might be cruel, but at least time was kind. At least he had some left before he set the world on fire.

From his satchel, Mikey grabbed a drawing pad and began to sketch another cat, similar in stature to the two cats from the first night they’d met. But the cat he now sketched looked… different. Purple couldn’t tell if it was because it was a different cat or if Mikey wasn’t good at artistic consistency. After a few minutes of trying to figure out who the cat was on his own, Purple finally gave in and found himself asking the artist. “Who is that? It doesn’t look like Tigersong or Dukeflake. You draw them with different fur textures.”

“You noticed?!” Mikey asked with an overjoyed look. His face was lit-up, with his smile stretching from non-existent ear to non-existent ear. He began to kick his legs against the building’s side in some sort of expression of joy, which warmed Purple’s heart with love and care for the smaller turtle. He couldn’t help but find it so innocently cute.

Then, Purple recognized what he was doing and forced his smile away, knowing that something so childish wasn’t a behavior he should be encouraging. He put a firm hand on Mikey’s leg to stop the movement and looked sternly toward the turtle. Mikey looked embarrassed and stiffened his legs as if forcing them to keep still. Only then did Purple take away his hand and nod to Mikey to continue their previous conversation. “Yes. I noticed. Your characters have distinct shapes. It’s… quite interesting, in my opinion.”

Mikey tapped his pencil against the paper, but not in an attempt to draw Purple’s attention to it. Instead, it seemed like another action purely out of joy and excitement. But the rhythmic tap, tap, tapping of his pencil sparked anxiety in his chest, so the softshell grabbed the other’s hand and forced it to stay still.

“You need to stop that,” Purple scowled, squeezing the box turtle’s wrist before letting go.

Mikey frowned, clearly upset. “That hurt,” he mumbled. “Why did you hurt me?”

Purple shut his mouth, blinking at the younger turtle in confusion. Had no one ever told him before? “It’s annoying,” he stated bluntly. Mikey’s eyes flashed with a look of pure hurt before he glanced away as if looking at the scarred turtle would burn him. “Raph says it’s not somethin’ to be ashamed about.”

“Raph doesn’t know what he’s talking about,” Purple shook his head, finding it amusing that the boy would take advice from someone as stupid as the alligator snapping turtle. “No self-respecting yōkai would do that. It’s…” He searched for the word, the one Father always used in reference to him– for good reason, of course. “It’s undignified.”

“Oh,” Mikey said with a click of his tongue. “Okay. I’ll… I’ll try ‘n stop doing it.”

Purple smiled. Being listened to was rare, especially since he was scarcely right about things. But in this instance, he knew he was right. And he was glad to be able to pass the wisdom he’d learned from his father down onto Mikey.

Maybe, he thought wistfully as he put a hesitant arm around Mikey, pulling him closer so that now their shoulders were touching. Maybe he can be my brother. I just have to teach him the right things. Father will be so happy! He’ll have two sons!

Mikey smiled at the contact and began to kick his legs against the building's side once more. But before Purple could say anything about it, he stopped on his own, stiffening his muscles and forcing himself to be still.

It should’ve made Purple happy to see Mikey learn and improve. Sure, a part of him did enjoy knowing that he was a fast and conscientious learner, but… deep down, it felt like he’d chipped away at the boy’s innocence and had lost that piece of naïvity forever.

Good, he forced himself to think. He needs to learn to grow up. If he’s ever to become a soldier and a son of the great Barron Draxum– a famous and world-renowned scientist– he’ll need to learn to grow thicker skin. Better to start now before he’s presented to Father so he doesn’t disappoint him, especially before he gets a real chance to prove his worth and value.

“Tell me about your cats,” Purple said, deciding to change the topic now that Mikey had made the necessary corrections to his behavior. He pointed to the crude sketch that Mikey had stopped working on with a gloved claw. “What’s his name?”

“I haven’t named him yet.” The older turtle had hoped that the shift in the discussion would have made him return to the same enthusiasm he had before, but instead, Mikey didn’t do much more than mumble his response, clearly disenchanted by the conversation.

Purple frowned, upset by this deflation. Why was he so cold all of a sudden? Was Mikey mad at him? “What kind of cat is he?”

“Dunno,” Mikey shrugged, shutting his sketchbook and hiding it from Purple’s view. “I think… I should be getting home.”

The scarred turtle tilted his head in confusion. “But you just got here!” he exclaimed, trying to hide the sudden sadness that wracked his form. “Can’t you stay just a bit longer? We haven’t even seen each other for very long!“

Mikey hesitated, biting his lip and looking very conflicted. But after a long moment, he sighed and nodded, giving a half-assed smile in some attempt to make Purple feel better. It didn’t work, but he appreciated him trying. “Well… yeah, I guess that’s true… but listen, I can’t stay much longer. I’m gonna watch Big Hero 6 with my brothers tonight!”

Purple did his best not to react to the mention of the other two mutated turtles, but he was a bit confused by the former portion of the orange turtle’s sentence. “Is that a movie?” he asked, feigning slight disinterest. “Never heard of it.”

“YOU’VE NEVER–” Mikey began to shout before clearing his throat and composing himself to be a bit harsh and more dignified. “You’ve never heard of Big Hero 6? The Disney movie?”

“Nope,” Purple said truthfully. “I know that Disney is a multi-billion dollar animation company, but I don’t think I’ve ever seen a movie from them. Father didn’t let me watch a lot of human productions unless he approved of them.”

“Wow,” the orange turtle said with wide eyes. “That’s… kinda sad… oh, wait! Can we watch one together?! I mean, I know your dad might not be able to approve of them, but there are some really good ones that I’m sure you’ll like!” Purple shrugged noncommittally as if he wasn’t internally screaming, ‘YES, ABSOLUTELY!!!’

“Why not?” he hummed, smiling slightly before adding, “just, uh, no humans, please. I’d rather not watch emotional propaganda.”

“That might be a little hard,” Mikey chuckled nervously, “but we can try to find some. I know Zootopia’s got no humans! Oh! Or maybe a Mickey Mouse movie? They’re a little old-school, but you might enjoy them.”

“I don’t really care,” Purple said nonchalantly, trying to present a facade of indifference. “It’s up to you. Choose one you like, and I’m sure I’ll like it too.”

“Okay!” Mikey giggled happily, pulling out an old beat-up tablet, and after a moment of deliberation, he began to Google something. When the results finally popped up, a poster for an old, 2-D animated feature film appeared. He could see two humans in the poster's background, but one looked to be an antagonist, and they didn’t seem to be the focus, so he figured it wouldn’t be an issue. Instead, the focus seemed to be on the young fox kit and hound pup playing together in the foreground. Purple nodded in approval as silent excitement bubbled up in his chest.

“It looks nice,” Purple said as he analyzed it. “I can get a projector up here next time. And a popcorn machine, a slushie machine, and maybe even a-!” 

“How are you going to get all that up here?” Mikey asked with a laugh, cutting him off.

“Oh, that’s simple,” Purple responded with a wicked smile before pushing himself up from the rooftop and standing straight. He grabbed his naginata, causing Mikey to flinch back. He rolled his eyes at the show of fear and pulled his mask off, letting it rest around his neck. “Watch this!”

After making sure he had fully captured Mikey’s attention, he slammed the naginata’s blunt end down on the rooftop, creating a mystical electric shockwave that emanated from the mystic weapon. He could feel the energy slither around his hands and up his arms like invisible vines before disappearing, and it electrified his soul, filling him with the unquenchable desire to get this next part right.

He shut his eyes tightly in order to fully concentrate on the raw power that had seeped under his skin and coiled around his bones, threatening to make him drop the naginata. But despite the slight struggle, he held onto it as if it were his salvation. Even when it continued to grow in intensity– consuming him in a purple aura and beginning to burn his skin– he didn’t let go. He ignored it as much as possible. It was just a necessary evil, after all.

“Purple-”

He could hear Mikey’s troubled voice call out to him, causing him to lose concentration for a split second, but he shook away the distraction and continued on with the demonstration. It was then that he began to feel tiny yet powerful magic roots spring up from the concrete roof. They cracked the material with ease, but he didn’t want them. He wanted something else. As the power within him recognized the change, so did the output, and the sprouts began to wither and die. He had to do this; he had to get it right. He knew he could. He gripped the naginata even tighter and willed forth the portal he knew he had the power to create.

He just needed a destination.

Home, he thought desperately before regretting the decision entirely. As he could feel the portal breaking through the air, forcing itself into existence, he realized how much of a bad idea it would be if Father caught him up here, slacking off. His lies would be found out with ease. And even worse, their sworn enemy stood behind him without flinching.

If the Baron saw them together, only one mutant would make it off of this rooftop alive.

Why don’t I want that? he asked himself and bit his lip hard enough to make it bleed as the mystic energy further burned his skin. Hamato Michaelangelo is the enemy. We should be trying to capture him to use him as leverage for something in the future. Or perhaps Father could alter his mind and make him fight on our side without his morals getting in the way. Why don’t I want that, though? Why am I stopping him from seeing the truth? Why do I want to protect the people that left me behind?

The possibilities that swirled through his mind and diverted his concentration sickened him. Already he could feel the heat from his weapon boiling his blood, which meant he had to push forward just a little more to complete the mystic transaction, but the image of Mikey hurt revolted him so much that he let go of the naginata instead, causing him to be thrown backward as the power suddenly stopped and rejected him without the conduit. He was lucky they were standing at the center of the roof, or he would’ve been thrown off into the busy street activity far below. Mikey was knocked back, too, as the wave of energy exploded into the air and then slowly dissipated into a myriad of drifting purple sparks.

Purple has always been too weak for mystic powers of his own. His father reminded him of it constantly. But even with an instrument designed to specifically concentrate his abilities, he still failed.

Maybe that was just the way of things.

Mikey groaned from the other side of the roof, slowly sitting up and rubbing the spot on his shell that absorbed most of the impact before his eyes widened– and he rushed over to Purple’s side, immediately checking him over for injuries. “Are you okay?” the box turtle asked quickly, his voice wavering with concern. “Are you hurt anywhere? What happened?”

“Stupid magic powers,” Purple cursed with gritted teeth. He felt so dizzy, but his vision wasn’t spinning. His mind felt inverted and upside down, making him confused and weak. He wanted to swat Mikey’s hands away, but he couldn’t find the strength to, and instead leaned on Mikey for support as he sat up and tried to regain his composure. “Can’t even open a fucking portal.”

“I mean, Leo didn’t get it on his first try, either. It took him a lot of trial and error to get it right. And I mean a lot ,” Mikey said with a nervous giggle. He was clearly trying to make him feel better, but it wasn’t exactly working. Especially since Purple could tell, he was still looking for any injuries on the other turtle besides the burns. Looking for an opportunity to see me at my weakest, Purple reasoned bitterly, but he still didn’t stop him.

After a few more seconds passed, Mikey seemed to understand that if there were any other injuries that he couldn’t see, he wouldn’t have the resources to take care of them. He leaned as far to the right as he could without jostling the softshell in order to reach the strap of his bag, and once he managed to hook a finger around it, he dragged it closer and began to dig through its contents. Eventually, he found what he was looking for, and retrieved a med kit. Purple rolled his eyes when he saw it. He didn’t need to be babied. He tried to take the retrieved materials from Mikey’s hands but winced when he tried to move his arms that much. The burns weren’t severe, but they sure were painful. “Leo insisted I pack this. I thought he was just overreacting, but I guess Raphie was right. You can never be too prepared.”

“You’re all lucky that you can actually use your conduits,” Purple spat out, changing the topic quickly. He didn’t want to hear praise for people that had tried to kill him on multiple occasions. Mikey could be forgiven because he had at least tried to avoid going to such extreme measures, but the others didn’t have that luxury. They didn’t earn it. He hissed as a cotton ball coated in a sterilizing medication was dabbed upon the wounds, but he forced himself not to flinch. “Even with my conduit, I can’t manage to accomplish what I want without… adverse effects. Like this. It’s ‘cause I don’t have any natural potential for mystic shit like you or your brothers do.”

“I’m not sure that we’ve got that, either,” Mikey said with a shaky chuckle. “I can’t always use my magic thingy. Neither can everybody else. Maybe it hurts you because you’re too tough on yourself.”

“First of all, that doesn’t make any sense. Second of all, I need to be tough on myself,” the scarred turtle said, a strange desperation lining his voice. “I need to be better.”

“You don’t need to be anything but alive and yourself,” the orange turtle replied with a small smile. He took out some sterile bandages and wrapped a few spots on Purple’s arms where the burns had opened the skin after applying a bit of pain-relieving ointment. Purple once again had to stop himself from pushing Mikey away or tearing his hand out of the other’s gentle grip. He’s only trying to help, he reasoned. Even if it’s pointless.

Purple snorted at the other’s words, but his expression darkened. “Being myself gets me in trouble,” he muttered with dejection, turning his gaze downwards. “I’m not… a good person. I’m annoying.”

“You keep saying that,” Mikey said with a challenging glint in his eyes as he continued dressing the wounds, “but if that’s true, then why do I keep coming back here to spend time with you?”

“‘Cause you’re a dum-dum,” Purple explained, teasingly flicking him on the forehead with his free hand. “You don’t know what’s good for you.”

“Maybe not,” Mikey agreed, giggling uncontrollably at the childish gesture of his older brother, “but I do know that bad people don’t worry about if they’re bad or not.”

Purple was about to retort his comment but closed his mouth as he contemplated his companion’s response. What if I’m tricking myself into thinking I’m a good person by wondering if I’m a terrible person? he wondered silently. He didn’t want to say those thoughts aloud to Mikey, lest the other realize they were true and leave him without hesitation.

“Can you tell me something?” Mikey asked, shifting nervously, letting go of the other’s arm. Purple flexed his fingers to ensure their mobility wasn’t damaged before nodding. “It’s… been on my mind for a bit. I don’t blame you or think bad of you at all; I’m just… curious, I guess?”

“Well, what is it?” Purple pressed, stretching a bit to try and fix the pain growing in his soft shell without straining himself too much. Either he was bruised up beneath the battle shell, or he had been wearing it for too long. Both theories were equally likely.

“Did you know about us?” he asked quickly, stumbling a bit over his words. “We didn’t know about you– Dad didn’t know he’d forgotten anyone. He never meant to leave you behind, and he tells us that all the time now that he knows you’re alive. I'm just… I guess I just started wondering and didn’t stop…. Did Barron Draxum ever tell you about us?”

Purple made a clicking sound, playing the potential responses over in his head. Father hadn’t been the one to tell him that they existed; he’d found out on his own. But he was sure he would’ve been told eventually, right? And it was from his Father’s research. The Baron couldn’t have kept them a secret forever, right…?

“Yes,” he decided, seeing Mikey’s face falter at the answer. “He showed me our files. That’s how I knew you couldn’t swim.”

“Why didn’t you come to look for us?” Mikey questioned, his voice just above a low mumble. “Did you… not want to find us?”

He clenched his jaw, swallowing back the whirlwind of emotions scattered through the years of a younger, weaker him mourning brothers that Draxum had told him most likely burned to a crisp in the fire that had physically branded him as a failure. The other possibility that they were alive but kidnapped and brainwashed didn’t leave much room for hope.

He could remember a much smaller Purple hugging a turtle stuffed animal that Father had helped him win at an annual carnival. It was much bigger than him, but that didn’t stop him from carrying it around everywhere and clinging to it like a lifeline as he slept. But after he’d used markers to sloppily scribble on red crescents over its eyes and yellow stripes on its arms, Father took it away, unable to say a word of explanation or consolation as his child screamed so desperately to have it. He remembered having to be forcibly restrained by Father’s henchmen as it was cast into the fireplace and burnt to an unsalvageable crisp. Huginn and Muninn later explained that Draxum was still distraught over the loss of his other sons, and seeing it had caused him great pain. Those words didn’t stop him from clinging to a bunched-up mess of blankets on his bed for the next week, though, even when it did nothing but make him cold and restless.

“I wasn’t allowed up to the surface,” Purple decided to say, unable to come clean about the pathetic stories of a grieving child. “Father said it was too dangerous.”

Mikey nodded in understanding. “Dad didn’t let us go out here, either,” he told him. “And definitely not alone….”

As his younger brother trailed off, Purple felt a bit surprised by the admittedly decent parenting of Lou Jitsu. But, when he looked closer, he also realized that the smaller turtle had an anxious shine in his eyes.

“You want to go back to… your brothers.” Purple realized, suddenly remembering that he’d been meaning to leave before. “To watch that movie, right?”

“Yeah,” Mikey nodded. “But I also don’t want to leave you. I always feel like these meetings are so short– I want to know more about you and be able to have you be a bigger part of my life.”

“I do, too,” Purple said, surprising even himself by the admission. “It feels like… we were meant to have a past together. Like we’re puzzle pieces that were supposed to fit, but we got sorted into the wrong box.”

“Well, we’ve got the right boxes now,” Mikey hummed before biting his lip. “Or puzzle pieces? I don’t fully know how to respond to your analogy. My point is; we’re here now. We can’t rewrite the past, but we can chart out the future… If you… would want to chart out the future with me. As my brother. Well, if you want to be– My brother, that is! I don’t want it to pressure you!”

“I want to be your brother,” Purple assured him, giving him a hesitant grin. Mikey gasped loudly, causing Purple to force a frown and shrink away. “Sorry!” Mikey apologized quickly, but the wide smile on his face showed no remorse. “I just noticed that when you smile, you’ve got little fangs that poke out!”

Purple’s eyes widened as he realized that he’d never put his mask back up. This whole time, Mikey had probably been able to read him like a book. He pulled his mask up over his snout, embarrassed that he’d let that happen. “Sorry.”

Mikey immediately frowned and shook his head earnestly, using his hands to exemplify his point. “No, no! It’s nothing to apologize for, I promise! It kinda reminds me of Raph’s snaggletooth.”

“It… does?” Purple echoed with delighted curiosity. I have so much more alike with them than I ever imagined… “Do you think, one day… they could be my brothers too?” he asked softly with kindling hope.

“Why not?” Mikey said optimistically with a lighthearted shrug. “They’d love you, I know it!” Some glint in the young turtle’s eyes made Purple wonder what was playing in that beautiful imagination of his. Perhaps he was conjuring fantasies of family dinners where the brothers and fathers all gathered together in peace. Maybe he imagined childish games or competitions between them, all racing for some unimportant prize.

Purple felt a little saddened by the fanciful ideas. The universe had robbed him of those experiences with his kin. It had burned the connection between them before it had a chance to bloom, rendering the blood they shared meaningless.

But as he sat there beside his brother, he realized with startling clarity that while the universe had at first torn them apart, it had now also brought them together again. This was his chance to take back the brothers that the ancient inferno had ripped from his life. And maybe, just maybe, he could get them to see Lou Jitsu’s wrongs in time and show them that they didn’t need to die in a war that wasn’t ever supposed to be against them. Or perhaps he could smooth the waters between Lou Jitsu and his father, allowing them to become some sort of family before the city was set ablaze.

He understood how unrealistic his ideas were, but it didn’t stop the seeds of hope from being sown into his heart.

As the two of them said their goodbyes and retreated to their respective families, Purple once again found himself within the void of emotion that Mikey so often filled. The younger turtle healed him in ways he never knew was possible, and he gently touched the bandages upon his arms as he watched his brother slip away into the night.

And as he walked through the front door of his father’s home about half an hour later, a strange and overwhelming dread filled his heart to the brim. Anxiety always seemed to find its way back to him like creeping ivy, choking out any natural peace that had grown in the spaces between. He couldn’t stop thinking about everything he should’ve done before Father got home for the night. The dishes, the sweeping, the dusting, and the organizing. He had projects to finish, plans to draw up, and training to do. But instead, he’d wasted all of his time with Mikey, and now he would have to rush to make up for his shortcomings before he could get scolded.

He just hoped that there was enough time left to keep the Baron off of his shell.

-

“Faster! Dodge!”

The stern command from his dad made Mikey freeze for a moment, distracted by how angry he sounded when he shouted. But just a moment later, he duck-and-rolled away from Raph’s impending blow, his fist colliding with the ground instead of Mikey’s small form.

It was the morning after Mikey’s meeting with Purple, and he and his family were training to enhance their speed, knowing that it was a skill so useful that it could turn the outcome of a battle with ease. Leo was the fastest of the three, but Mikey had much more stamina than him. Raph was slowed down by his heavy form, but Splinter reassured him that his raw strength would be more important than dodging an enemy. He just needed to be fast enough to catch the blows and redirect them or fast enough to land a hit.

But even with his stamina, Mikey was still the weakest amongst them– and he knew that. It wasn't something he’d ever been too insecure about, but now that they were training for real, it made him feel so small and helpless.

He pushed himself up from the floor, wiping off the sweat that had built up on his brow. They’d been at this for only half an hour, but Mikey already wanted to retreat back to his room to draw.

Training sessions usually lasted about two hours, and with frequent breaks throughout. Sometimes, Raph insisted he could continue while the others rested, but Splinter would chide him for pushing himself too much and force him to take a break with the others. And if one of them got injured or bruised, the rat mutant would dote on the injured son and insist they take the remainder of the day off to rest and recover.

“Orange,” Splinter said softly, coming to his son’s side. “That was good, but you must not hesitate. You must be focused. No distractions.”

“Yes, Master Splinter,” Mikey replied, slightly bowing in respect and acknowledgment. Splinter’s ear twitched– a clear sign of discomfort– but the rat said nothing and walked off the training mat's side.

“Red,” Splinter called, causing the large turtle to stand straight. “I understand you want to go easy on your brother, but you must understand that if it is a real opponent, you cannot afford to hold back.”

“I understand, Master Splinter,” Raph responded. “I jus’ don’t wanna seriously injure anyone, yeah?”

“Sometimes, it must be done,” Splinter said quietly. “An enemy will not hesitate to hurt you, and you must be ready to fight fire with fire.”

Mikey could see Raph frown at that, his large tail lowering to lay limp on the ground. “I don’ know if that’s the answer, Dad.”

“I understand your hesitance from personal experience. I, too, tried to be a pacifist once,” Dad recalled, his eyes clouding over with distant memories that neither of them could see. Mikey wished he knew how to mind meld, wanting so strongly to see what his dad was seeing. But alas, he couldn’t do it and was left only with his dad's wistful words. “It is not possible. You must be ready… You must be ready to kill Raphael. I am truly sorry.”

“Even Purple?” Mikey blurted without another thought. He closed his mouth immediately, regretting having spoken.

“Purple…” Splinter shook his head with a sigh, tail falling to the ground as his ears pressed flat against his head. “That boy has been touched by impenetrable darkness. I am afraid that he cannot be changed. He has learned to yearn for blood as if it sustains his very essence– and because of that, nothing can save him now. Not even us.”

Mikey’s mouth hung open, shocked by the blasphemy that his dad had just spouted. Purple was so much more complex than a byproduct of the terrible environment that he was brought up in. He was kind, loving, and intelligent. His dedication and drive were so impressive, and he might be a bit narrow-minded at times, but that didn’t stop him from being funny and expressive when he let his guard down. He was so many things– but some sort of metaphorical vampire wasn’t one of them. How could no one else see that? Maybe Draxum had molded him into a soldier, but should he really be defined by his father’s actions? They were dooming him to a life of bloodshed by not giving him a chance at kindness.

Mikey looked to Raph expectedly, waiting for his older brother to break the silence with a rebuttal to their dad’s claim.

But that’s not what he got.

“He’s hurt us, Michael,” Raph pointed out, his voice soft yet determined. “Is it worth givin’ him another chance if he has a history of causing us pain? I don’t want to hurt him, of course… But I’m not sure if he can change.”

“Of course he deserves another chance!” Mikey argued back with a sinister snarl. “He’s just a kid! He’s Leo’s age, and he’s our brother! Why are you giving up on him?!”

“Because we have to,” Raph stated firmly, his form rigid with a specific authority he held when he was set in his belief. “If we let him into our hearts, he’s only gonna use that against us. He doesn’t care about us, Mikey. We have to accept that.”

The orange turtle recoiled from his older brother’s coldness. How could he say something like that? How could he give up on him so easily? Hadn’t they been through this same conversation before? “He’s being abused,” Mikey reminded him scornfully. “He was muzzled ! Didn’t you see that?!”

“Maybe he was muzzled for a reason,” Raph said abruptly, seemingly even shocking himself with the bold statement. Despite this shock, though, he held firm. “Maybe it was for others’ safety– or even his own. We don’t know, Mikey. We just don’t know.”

“You’re acting like there’s justification for abusing someone!” Mikey shouted in disbelief, taking a step back from the snapping turtle. “ How can you say that?! ”

“From everythin’ we’ve learned about him, he’s violent and merciless. And I ain’t tryin’ to point fingers, but isn’t it proven that abused kids are more likely to become abusers?” Raph sighed heavily and shook his head, looking somewhat remorseful. “I can’t risk lettin’ someone like that come near you or Leo.”

Mikey felt ensnared, and all he wanted to do was scream and thrash about. Why were they all turning on him? Why were they being so cruel? They knew how horrible Barron Draxum was firsthand, too, so why was no one understanding that none of it was Purple’s fault? Before he could respond, Splinter rested a hand on his shoulder and lightly brushed his tail against the lower part of his shell. He’d often used his tail to gather the three of them when they were younger and smaller, but now, it was an action each of them found comforting.

“Michelangelo,” Splinter said calmly, his voice so kind it made Mikey soften his stance. “I respect your heart and your kindness. It is an admirable trait of yours I wish I was naïve enough to still possess.”

The rat sighed, ears still turned back as he looked away in shame and sadness. “I saw the darkness in his eyes myself. They are the gateway to the soul. The light he did have in his heart is so quickly fading, and I fear that no matter what we do, a suffocating evil will consume him in not much time.”

Mikey swallowed back hot rage, but the burning tears that trickled down his cheeks could not be hidden. “I hate you,” Mikey declared with a hiss, pushing away from his dad and glaring hot daggers at his eldest brother as he screamed, “I hate you!”

Before the mutant rat or turtle could react, Mikey stormed away, running toward his room and shoving the curtain closed. Once he was safely curled in his hammock, he retreated into his shell, not wanting to see the rest of the world.

It wasn’t fair. None of it was. Purple shouldn’t be treated like a villain just because his father was one– and who was to say that Purple and Draxum were wrong in their beliefs instead of just their approach? Splinter had always warned them about the terrible things that would happen if humans discovered them. Hell, their dad had nearly attacked April the first time they’d met because of that. They’d even met humans that were intent on exposing their secrets, which was something they couldn’t afford to let happen. The world was dark, and humans were a part of that darkness.

Mikey knew that not all humans were terrible. There were flaws in the alchemist’s ideologies. But… he was right about mutants and yōkai living underground and how they should be allowed to live amongst the humans. They should be allowed to live in the light and breathe fresh air without worrying about being dissected for their differences. There’s a better way, Mikey thought. But is it so wrong to want freedom?

A small, new thought flickered into Mikey’s mind. What if…I went to live with Purple and Draxum? Purple already said I would be welcome, and Draxum knows a lot about me already. I could help keep Purple safe and show him that the world doesn’t have to be black and white. I might even be able to show Draxum the same thing!

Mikey pondered the idea for a bit before shaking away the thought entirely. He may not think Purple was evil or that he was completely wrong in his stance about humans, but that didn’t make what he was fighting for right. There had to be some middle ground they could come to. There had to be a way for them to both get what they want. A compromise must be possible, right?

He sighed, letting out a breath he didn’t know he’d been holding. He couldn’t understand how his dad and brother could change their minds so quickly. Purple hadn’t done anything wrong— he was a victim. Maybe he didn’t entirely understand why Purple stayed with Draxum, especially now that he knew there was a family out there that would love him and keep him safe from his Father’s cruel practices and behaviors, but that didn’t make him complicit in his own abuse. It just meant there was more to him that they didn’t understand yet. And they would never get the chance to understand him if they shut him out.

He closed his eyes tightly and tried to remember Purple’s smile again. The one where his fangs poked out. He isn’t different from us, he thought, clutching the memory protectively against his heart. He isn’t bad. He’s just… a little broken. And someday, I’m gonna save him, even if it’s the last thing I do.

Chapter Text

Patience was something Purple greatly lacked. It was one of his greatest flaws, one that Father often reminded him of. That he couldn’t sit still for five seconds, he needed to be doing something at every possible moment, or he would go insane. It was like he was always in a rush and always needed to be doing something. Waiting was a skill he’d never mastered, much to his father’s chagrin. 

But patience was something Purple needed now more than ever, and he thought he’d done well, all things considered. He’d waited for days, trying to find the best time to enact his secret plan: Operation Movie Night. 

He needed to wait for the perfect opportunity to see Mikey and bring all of his equipment– the popcorn machine, the projector, etc. It was imperative that he did this without the watchful eye of his father, no matter how much he wanted him and Mikey to meet. It wasn’t the right time. Purple still had things to teach Mikey about stillness and how to be less annoying. Even if Purple found his actions endearing, he knew his dad would never stand for such foolishness. They were preparing for war, after all. Baron Draxum’s soldiers had to be disciplined.

Days after the first discussions of the movie night, after an intense training session that left Purple sore and exhausted, the opportunity presented itself; And what an opportunity it was. 

“Tonight,” the Baron told him, “I will be joining Big Mama in viewing one of her… Battle Nexus shows. Would you care to join me?”

Purple, wiping the sweat from his brow and resisting the urge to collapse onto the sweet, cold ground, perked up at this. “No, I have some… work I’d like to complete. When will you be getting home?”

Father raised a brow at this. “Are you sure you don’t wish to come? I’m certain you will enjoy it. I used to take you to the Battle Nexus all the time as a child.”

Purple shook his head. It was true that he’d been brought there in his younger years, though he always hated going. It was one of those things he resented; the loud noises, the crowded atmosphere, the bloody splash zone that Father always paid extra to sit in. But he’d learned to stay quiet about his complaints, knowing it would upset his father. 

“I have work to do,” Purple insisted, begging that the older and stronger yōkai wouldn’t press the issue. “It could help change the course of the battle. It’s a superweapon: one that could help the cause greatly.”

“You’ll have time to complete it later,” Draxum dismissed. “Besides, with the Dark Armor I’ll have all the power I need to conquer the humans. Whatever it is you seek to do is… unimportant, to put it simply. You can relax, my son.”

Purple deflated at the rejection of his projects. Even if it was fake and just an excuse to get out of being with his dad, it didn’t mean that the bite of his words didn’t wound him. He sighed in defeat, resigning himself to find another night to watch the movie. “Alright. When do we leave?”

Draxum gave him an ugly look, taking offense to whatever he had done wrong. “Nevermind. I don’t want you coming,” Father decided with stiff, jerky movements. “Go play with your gadgets. They’re clearly more important than me, the one that raised you.”

Purple’s father began to walk away, his hooved steps echoing through the laboratory as he did so. Guilt quickly washed over Purple, his throat collapsing in on itself, preventing him from breathing properly. He was suffocating from his remorse. “I’m sorry,” he said, gasping a gallon of air just to speak. “I want to go with you. I love you.”

Draxum stopped and turned to look at him, stone-faced. He held an air of superiority to him, his glorious light casting sublime shadows onto Purple. “Do you?” He asked with so much sarcasm that not even Purple could misread his tone. “Because it doesn’t feel like it sometimes.”

Purple didn’t know how to respond. He felt so small in his father’s presence, so weak and fragile, just like the softshell he was. The silence between the two of them stretched on for only a few seconds, but Purple swore it could’ve been hours. He was shaking, his vision blurring to a point where he wondered if he might pass out. But he didn’t. He stood there, swaying a bit, maintaining eye contact with the larger yōkai, begging himself to say anything to prove his love and gratefulness for his father.

But the words he wished he could speak died in his throat, turned to ashes by the remorse burning in his lungs and heart. He didn’t mean anything by the sigh or the ungrateful words he’d said. He was annoyed, yes, but that didn’t mean he didn’t want to spend time with his father. He wished he could take it back. He wished his legs weren’t so numb that he’d forgotten he’d had legs. He wished he could go back in time, just by a few seconds, and change this conversation. 

Draxum shook his head in disappointment and turned away, stalking out of the laboratory. And all the while, Purple couldn’t muster the strength to do anything. Not to speak up, not to run after him. Hell, he couldn’t even move. He felt like a statue, cursed to stone by his own ungrateful attitude. Even after his father had left the lab, he couldn’t find it in him to move from where he stood. He almost hoped that if he stood as still as possible, his father might turn back and laugh, telling him he was joking and that they could still go to the Battle Nexus together.

But that didn’t happen. He just stood there, listening to the whirring of machinery and the thumping of his heartbeat, unable to move. Because if he moved, then it made this real. It made the fight with his father real. 

He hated fighting with his father. He was always wrong, no matter what. Maybe that was selfish of him to want to fight with Draxum and, just once, be right about something. But that’s not how it went, and Purple had to concede that he was always at fault. Draxum had lived much longer than him, after all. He knew how the world worked. And that was something Purple was still learning. It was only natural that his father would be right about most things, and then Purple would just have to face the consequences of his childish actions.

Regardless, he stood there, frozen. As if that might save him from the lecture that would follow or the more intense training sessions that Father didn’t mean to do but still happened. He stayed silent as if the whirring machines might wake him up from this dream and tell him it was alright.

But that didn’t happen. 

“Are you okay?” 

Shelldon’s voice cut through his thoughts, forcing himself back into reality. Purple blinked a few times to ground himself, knowing he was venturing too deep into his mind. He turned to the robot, who floated just a few feet away from him. “Yeah,” Purple responded quietly, his throat still tight. “I’ll be okay.”

“That’s not what I asked,” Shelldon said, inching forward to nudge Purple’s shoulder affectionately. “Do you wanna do anything to get your mind off of… whatever just happened?”

“I thought you’d jump at this opportunity to bash him,” Purple snorted bitterly, pushing Shelldon back slightly. “He’s not a bad dad.”

“He–” Shelldon began, his tone holding fury in it, but he cut himself off, took a deep breath in, then exhaled. “Forget about Drassum for a bit. Let’s do something together. I can get Minecraft set up, or I can pick a movie–”

“I dunno,” Purple mumbled, the weight of the world seeming to crash down on him. His body felt so heavy, as if dumbbells were chained to his shoulders, cursing him to this eternal pit of sadness. 

He just stood there, swaying in his somber. He just stared at the ground, unable to do much else. He just felt numb all over. He didn’t want to do anything more than stand in his stillness or perhaps go back to his bed and curl up to cry. 

It was as if he’d just been told that the world was ending. That the sun exploding was inevitably coming soon, or that the cave roof above all their heads would begin to crumble and bury them all alive. He felt so devastated, so unhappy, so sad that he could do nothing but stand in stupid stillness. 

“Purple?” Shelldon called for him from beyond the static fuzz that engulfed his hearing. The robot nudged him once more, pulling him from the terrifying sea of his own thoughts and anxieties. Purple reached a hand out to Shelldon, resting it on top of his head. The cold metal against his palm wasn’t the most comfortable thing in the world, but it was soothing. It reminded him of where he was, and who he was with and allowed him to remember how to breathe. 

“How ‘bout a movie?” Shelldon suggested quietly. 

Purple used his free hand to wipe away the tears that had formed in his eyes. He ignored the thoughts telling him that his crying was stupid and childish and instead listened to the quiet whirring of Shelldon’s rotors. He tried to say something, his jaw opening just a bit to utter a small sound. But words felt so far away, too hard to grasp or communicate with. So, instead, he swallowed back the frustrated tears and nodded.

“Okay,” Shelldon responded, pausing for a moment to think. He tapped his arms together in deep thought before his eyes literally lit up. “Let’s walk together– you can hold onto me.” The robot began to slowly make his way back to Purple’s room, but the mutant turtle held him back. 

The things aren’t in my room, he thought, turning his head to one of the spare cells that hadn’t been used for its intended purpose for a while. In there, Purple kept spare parts and old creations he didn’t care for much anymore. Draxum never looked in there because it was just a storage room for his son’s old things. 

It was the perfect place to store the things he’d made for Mikey. 

Shelldon seemed to pick up on his direction and helped walk with him toward the room. When they arrived, Shelldon followed wherever his hand went, providing a stable presence for him. Neither of them spoke as a crate was picked up by Purple, who awkwardly shoved it under his arm, unwilling to let go of his companion even to readjust his position. 

“What’s in that?” Shelldon asked, peering at the box suspiciously. “Please don’t be explosives.” 

Purple huffed in amusement, a small smile finding its way on his face. But he didn’t respond, instead leading Shelldon out of the lab and into the hallway, which was decorated with framed pictures of Draxum, Purple, and the gargoyles. Some of them were family pictures, while others had them pictured alone. He forced himself to keep his eye on the ground, only looking up when Shelldon began to drift toward the door that led to the main foyer. 

When they finally exited the home, they went down the steps and stopped in front of the Portal Stone just outside Drauxm’s manor. Purple looked at it momentarily, hesitance keeping him from bringing out the Portal Carver and transporting them to the spot he and Mikey always met. 

“Are you running away?” Shelldon asked suddenly, still clearly confused by the venture outside. “Or are we going to a weird movie theater? I’m okay with either, by the way. Just asking ‘cause I’m a little concerned.” 

Purple shook his head before patting Shelldon. With great caution, the turtle removed his hand from the robot, taking a deep breath as he did so. He readjusted the box under his arm and grabbed the Portal Carver from his pocket. Shelldon didn’t know about the secret meetings with Mikey, and Purple hadn’t planned to tell him anytime soon. He’d intended to reconcile with the robot first, mending their relationship before moving forward. But that plan was thrown to the wayside. Now, he would know. He just hoped Mikey had the voice to explain, unlike him.

He carved the familiar rune, and the bright blue light of the portal illuminated both of them. Purple squinted to keep from being blinded, while Shelldon seemed to adjust immediately. Purple put away the Portal Carver and put his hand on Shelldon’s head once more.

Before he could move toward the portal, Shelldon asked hurriedly, “Where are we going?”

“You’ll see,” Purple murmured, his mouth barely moving. While he was regaining his strength and spirit, it still felt too hard to speak. It was hard to think, too. To remember. So he didn’t try and instead stepped into the portal, knowing where it would take them. It would take them to somewhere safe and warm. Somewhere he loved.

On the other side of the portal was the familiar rooftop, the air chilling him down to the bone. He was shaking slightly, feeling underdressed for the weather, but that only lasted for a moment as he was soon wrapped by something warm and soft. 

“I brought blankets!” Mikey said happily, pulling Purple into a big hug, both of them engulfed by bright, colorful blankets. Once he let go, Purple could see that while Mikey wore a blanket decorated with different colored puzzle pieces, his blanket was white with multi-colored hearts all over. 

Purple shrugged off the blanket to place the box down and let Shelldon free, a small part of him fearing that the blanket might catch fire due to Shelldon’s electric rotors. But as soon as he could, he wrapped himself in the warm blanket again. 

He began to unbox the popcorn and slushie machines, thankful that he had gloves on, or his hands might have gotten frostbite by how cold the air was. Because of the staircase leading to the roof, they didn’t need a projector screen, and he’d planned to instead use the staircase wall to project the movie onto. 

“Uhhh,” Purple heard Shelldon say behind him. “Are you two… friends?”

“Yeppers!” Mikey replied cheerfully. “We’re having a movie night. Did you and Purple make up? I know you two were… in the outs with each other. Or something. That’s what Purple said.”

“Not really, no,” Shelldon’s robot voice held a tinge of disappointment, and Purple didn’t need to turn around to know that two pairs of eyes were on his battle shell. Did they think he couldn’t hear them talking about him? “What did he tell you?”

“Nothing much, really. Just that you said some things about Draxum that he didn’t like,” the younger turtle explained. “I wasn’t trying to meddle or anything! I just wanted to help him. He just… Purple seems… He’s a little….” Mikey kept trailing off, unable to find the right words.

“Emotionally stunted?” Purple offered, taking the long cord from the popcorn machine and plugging it into the single outlet on the wall. Then, he grabbed the cotton candy machine’s cord and plugged it in. “Shelldon shouldn’t have said those things, and he knows it.”

“Draxum shouldn’t yell at you or raise a hand whenever you tick him off slightly,” Shelldon countered coldly. It seems that whatever had stopped his aggressive comments from coming out before was no longer keeping him from insulting the turtle’s poor father. “I know it’s hard to see when you idolize the guy, but he muzzled you .”

An image of the muzzle flashed through his mind, making him shudder. He could almost feel the teeth inside the muzzle magically protruding out, digging into his skin and poking him. They weren’t usually very sharp, only digging into his skin seriously if he attempted to disobey the order to remain silent. But still, the idea of the muzzle now, bounding his mouth and silencing his thoughts, made his stomach churn, and his anxiety worsen. 

“He had to muzzle me because I was being disrespectful,” Purple reasoned, though he didn’t really know if he believed his own words. He wanted to, but recently the seed of doubt in his father’s actions had been sewn. He always shut these thoughts down when they arose, though. He couldn’t betray Father. “It was a punishment.”

“Purple,” Mikey spoke up, his voice shaking slightly in uncertainty. The turtle looked directly at the soft shell, his form hunched over as if he were trying to hide without retreating into his shell entirely. “That’s… Does he hurt you?”

Purple blinked dumbly. “Only when he needs to.”

Mikey looked very ill like he was going to throw up off the side of the building. But he didn’t. “That’s abuse. That is abuse, Purple.”

The scientist rolled his eyes, tired of hearing this over and over again. Abusers didn’t love their kids. Abusers didn’t buy them gifts or treat them to ice cream or encourage their inventions. Abusers were rude and mean, hateful and unloving. There was no doubt in his mind that Draxum wasn’t an abuser. Sure, he made mistakes, but so did everyone. He couldn’t be a perfect father, and Purple couldn’t ever expect him to be. After all, he wasn’t the ideal son. He made mistakes. They all did. 

“I would know if it was abuse,” Purple remarked. “I’m smart. I know when something’s wrong. I know when someone’s being weird.”

“The longer you know someone,” Mikey murmured, twiddling with his thumbs, “the harder it is to call out and recognize their behavior. That’s what April told us. That you may not even realize that you’re in a bad situation.”

Purple snorted, waving his hand as if to dismiss a fly. “She’s a human. Humans are naturally dumb— she doesn't know what she’s talking about.”

“April’s the smartest person I’ve ever met,” Mikey said defensively, crossing his arms over his chest and pouting. “After you, of course, but still! She knows what she’s talking about.”

“I’ve concluded that she doesn’t,” Purple stated dryly. “Can we just watch the movie? Not having a good day.”

“Yeah,” the box turtle agreed with a nod, looking somewhat apologetic. “I brought a few more blankets up here— and some sticks! So we can make a blanket fort or something if you want.”

Purple readjusted the blanket tightly wrapped around his figure, protecting him from the chilling air. Fond, distant memories of blanket forts and pillow fights flashed across his mind, making him smile slightly. He’d never had friends growing up; he was too weird for any of the neighborhood children to try and connect with him. But Huginn and Muninn were always there for him and played all sorts of fun games with him when he wanted. They were like weird uncles, in a way. “Do we even have the stuff for a blanket fort?”

Mikey looked around, squinting at every object he could see. After a moment of analyzing his surroundings, including the few items he’d brought, he nodded with delightful enthusiasm. “We can make it work!” The smaller turtle scurried to a pile of blankets on the rooftop and began to set up sticks in a triangle formation so they would be less likely to fall. 

Purple grabbed his trusty tech-bō and expanded it to be around the same height as the stick triad, turning it into a stand to help keep the blankets up. Then, the two boys draped one of the larger thin blankets on top, and Purple helped Mikey lift it to the top of the stairwell, placing the very ends of the blanket on the roof of it. 

Mikey handed Purple his satchel, the weight of it and the items within helping to keep the blanket from caving in. But then they had the issue of the second end of the blanket, which Purple had to stretch awkwardly to keep from falling. 

“I don’t have anything else to put on top,” Mikey said anxiously, looking around to try and find anything they could use. “Can Shelldon sit on it?”

“Shelldon would set it on fire with his rotors,” Purple explained. “And he’s the projector. So, no can do there.”

“We can create another portal thingy to grab something from the house,” Shelldon suggested. “I could go alone, even.”

Mikey perked up. “Maybe I could ask to borrow something from April’s? She doesn’t live too far from here.”

Purple squinted at the younger turtle. “Why would she give you free shit? What would you give in exchange?” There’s always a cost when you want something. 

“Dude, she’s like a sister. She’d do anything for us! And we’d do anything for her, including giving her objects in the middle of the night without explanation.” 

“That’s a little unnerving, honestly,” Purple murmured. He didn’t want Shelldon to return to the house; there was too much risk of being caught by Father or one of the goyles. Yet he didn’t want Mikey going to the human, no matter how much he trusted her. The idea of contact with humans left him unsettled. What else could we use, though? He wondered for a moment before an idea popped into his mind. It would be a bit risky, considering it would leave him exposed, but…

He really did trust Mikey. 

He shrugged off the blanket and again exposed himself to the chilling New York winds. 

“Come here,” he instructed his younger brother and said turtle did so without hesitation. “Behind me, on my… on my ‘shell,’ there’s a button just by the first spike on the back there. Press that.” 

“...Is it going to explode?”

“Mikey. Why the fuck would I ask you to press a button on something that is on my back if that would make it explode?” 

“‘Cause that would be really cool! Except for the whole being on your back part. Less cool,” Mikey giggled softly before obliging Purple’s request and pressing the button. In just a second, his shell omitted a soft hissing sound before the belt around his waist clicked open, and the artificial shell dropped to the ground with a clang .

Purple rolled his shoulders back slightly, enjoying the cool wind on the back of his shell for just a moment before beginning to shiver once again. “Shelldon?” Purple called out, kicking the shell toward his companion. The robot seemed to get the idea and carried the shell into the air, placing it on the blanket to keep it in place. 

Mikey attempted to help Purple wrap back up into his blankets, but the older turtle snatched the cloth away from him as soon as he came close to his softshell. Mikey nodded apologetically, getting the hint that it was either sensitive or something he was sensitive about. 

Purple could tell the younger turtle was curious about it. Everyone was once they saw the other shell come off. They always bombarded him with questions as if they had a right to know everything about him. About what was wrong with his shell. 

As Purple sat down on the rooftop, he looked up at Mikey with narrowed eyes. “You get one question.” 

“Would you ever consider letting me paint on your shell?” Mikey blurted out almost immediately, looking all too excited. He was stiff, as if he wanted to move about freely but was too conscious of himself to let loose. “I’d use non-toxic paint, of course! I’ve painted on Leo and Raph’s shells before, and it turned out fine. I can show you some pictures!” 

Mikey was a wildcard, Purple decided. He was unpredictable in fights, always changing it up midway to confuse opponents. It was impossible to calculate or prepare for, which made him somewhat sloppy but also a challenging foe to fight. 

But it also led to the most bizarre conversations. No matter how much he learned about Mikey, Purple didn’t know if he’d ever be able to predict what he would say. Everything from that turtle’s brain was unique and interesting, something he’d never heard before. This was just an example of that intricate and unpredictable beauty Mikey had about him. 

“...Sure?” Purple said with a shrug. “As long as you wash it before I get home. Or– maybe it could be covered by my battle shell, then I could wash it at home. I just can’t have my father see it.” 

“Okidoki! I’ll make sure it’s easy to remove. Your shell doesn’t look like Leo’s, though,” Mikey said as he sat beside him. “Or mine. Or Raph’s. Huh.”

Here comes the question. He thought, bracing himself for the onslaught of pity or assumptions about his past. 

“I would just need to test the paint somehow, so I know it’s gonna be safe and actually works, y’know? Don’t wanna hurt you.” 

Wildcard. “Yeah, that’s fine. Do you…” Purple hesitated. He trusted Mikey; he really did. They’d become brothers, after all. It was scary to think, but now that he thought about it, he actually loved Mikey, just as he loved his Father or Huginn and Muninn. And while he was afraid of this, he couldn’t find the paralyzing fear that he’d once held toward the orange turtle. He trusted him. “You wanna feel it?”

Mikey blinked in surprise but didn’t look upset or unnerved. Instead, he almost looked delighted, a spark of curiosity in his blue eyes. “Up to you!”

The taller turtle hesitated for a moment before shifting the blanket, so part of his softshell was exposed. He hated the chill of the wind, but he felt like he needed to do this. For some reason, he felt like he owed Mikey this much. But he also wanted to allow him to touch it. He had already broken down so many of Purple’s walls. Or maybe broken was the wrong word– he was let into Purple’s heart. This was just another step. 

The touch to the top of his shell was delicate, so soft he wondered if maybe it had just been the blanket. But Mikey’s hand was warm and comforting, so distinctive against the cold wind. 

“It’s almost… leathery,” Mikey observed as he pulled away, helping readjust the blanket so it was fully covering his shell, shielding it from the cold night air. “Seems like it would be easier to paint on.”

“Really?” Purple asked, a little surprised. He didn’t know much about paints or anything art related, but he’d just assumed the hard scute shells of his tube buddies would be more accessible when it came to painting. “How so?”

“Leo’s shell is uneven and rounder,” Mikey explained, scooting back to Purple’s side. “Like mine! It’s bumpy in some places and can be hard to paint. Raph’s is the same way and is even more uneven with his spikes. Your shell is more like skin or something– it’s flat and mostly even. More like face painting!”

Purple couldn’t help the pride that swelled in his chest and caused him to smile slightly. Even if it wasn’t some grand achievement, it made him feel better about his soft shell. He’d always thought of it as a weakness, as something that had no advantages whatsoever, but the way Mikey spoke about it lifted his spirits. It was his shell, and for once in his life, he was okay with it. No, he wasn’t just okay with it. He was proud to be a softshell. 

He looked to Shelldon, who was watching the exchange with… odd pupils. They changed shape every few seconds, different colored blocks in different formations taking the place of his usual black pupils. But after a moment of watching this, he realized that he knew these shapes and colors. 

“Shelldon, are you playing fucking Tetris?” 

Almost immediately, his eyes switched back before the robot narrowed his gaze. “Thanks a lot, dude . I was gonna beat my high score!”

“You can play your stupid game later,” Purple grunted. Why was Shelldon always like this? He was always so selfish, never doing what he was told to do. He’d left behind the projector because he knew Shelldon could do it instead. Why bring two things when you already have it in one? “Set up the movie.”

“ Purple ,” Mikey scolded lightly before looking back at Shelldon with a wide grin. “Tetris is pretty fun. You can get back to it! I’ll ask April if she has one I can borrow– or I can grab one from the lair. Dad might be upset about it, though.”

Shelldon seemed more receptive to Mikey, nodding to him with a happier expression. “Thanks, Michelangelo. Because you were so kind about it,” he shot Purple a look, “I’d be happy to be your guys’ projector for this evening. Now, what movie are we watching?”

Purple wanted to throw a rock at him. He had created Shelldon and given him life . It was only because of him that he even had sentience. It only seemed fair to Purple that the robot complied with his requests. What reason was there for him not to obey orders? 

But here they were, with Shelldon disregarding Purple’s wishes in favor of Mikey’s. Even though it was the same want, somehow Shelldon prioritized Mikey over him. The realization of this hit him hard, and his heart sank into his chest. Why was he never a priority? Why was he never first? Why did everyone put him last? Why was he always left behind?

As the movie began, the title and credits displayed on the screen, the three of them were silent. Mikey was quiet because he was intently watching, hyperfocused on the projection. Shelldon was occupied because he was running the movie. Purple found himself silent because of the thoughts that clouded his mind, keeping him from focusing on anything but his feelings of despair and inadequacy. 

You fuck everything up, he thought, continuing to stare blankly at the movie. Not even your own creation wants you anymore. He’d rather be with a stranger. He’d rather do things for a stranger than for me. His vision was blurring, and the faint noise from the movie was becoming so distant. Father will abandon me, too. If he knew how much better and well-behaved the other three were, he’d take them instead of me. It’s always them over me. Why is it always them? Why can’t it ever be me? Why will it never be me? Why am I never first? Why does no one love me? Why does everyone leave? Why does everyone want me to burn? He swallowed back his tears, trying to keep himself from shaking. But as he looked at the blobs of purple that were his hands, he noticed how he couldn’t keep them still, despite how hard he tried. Maybe I should burn. Maybe I should die in a fire. Would they care about me then? Would they search for my burnt body in the ashes of my sorrow? Or would they be happy that I’m gone? Maybe they’d finally regret everything they’ve done or said to me. Maybe Father will mourn me, wish he had more time with me. Maybe Lou Jitsu will cry for the son he abandoned. Maybe-

The sounds of dogs barking startled him out of his trance, making him look up at the screen at last. A fox with her cub, racing through the forest to escape whatever attacker there was, unable to be seen by the viewer. The scenery, however, was beautiful. It lacked the urban flare that had infected most of Purple’s world and instead showed a breathtaking outdoors that Purple had never truly experienced. He almost wanted to enter the screen to experience the raw nature for himself, but he knew that wasn’t possible. Resentment for humans grew in his gut, knowing that they had taken away such marvelous views and had replaced them with stinking factories and monstrous machines that polluted the skies and earth. 

“Are you okay?” Mikey murmured quietly, leaning over to him. “You’re shaking.” 

Purple took a deep breath and let it out before nodding to the orange turtle in reassurance of his well-being. “I’m alright,” he said softly. Maybe he wasn’t completely fine then, but he knew he would be. He always felt secure with Mikey. 

Mikey looked at him with suspicion but didn’t press further. Instead, he asked, “Can you show me how to use the popcorn machine?”

Purple grinned, happy to share his inventions with his younger brother. “Yeah. Of course.”

The day after their movie night started with Purple feeling dreadful.

He enjoyed the movie night with Mikey. It was fun, and he really liked the younger turtle’s company. The movie was now among his favorites, but not because of the movie itself. He just knew that he associated it with Mikey, and that made it good.

But he knew that his father wouldn’t be happy with him for how he’d been treated the night before. He was likely still upset by Purple’s coldness and rude words, making the teenage turtle a little anxious. He hated when his father was upset. It meant his actions would be scrutinized more, that he had to do things exactly right, or Draxum might just blow up at him. 

It wasn’t really his father’s fault, though. He’d been the brat and was practically asking to be punished right then and there. It was by Draxum’s own mercy that he didn’t get any sort of punishment. He should be grateful, but he couldn’t help himself from feeling like utter shit. He wanted to bury himself in a hole and never get up. But he knew doing that would only make his father angrier, so he instead worked on chores around the house. Hopefully, that would appease him.

But all throughout the day, whenever Draxum and Purple would be in the same space together, his father would make a swift exit, not saying a word to his son. They didn’t speak. The silence made Purple’s heart tremble with pain.

Dishes, what he was currently doing, was one of Purple’s least favorite chores. He hated the way food felt on his fingers and the water flushing against his skin. He hated the sound of clanging utensils and plates, and the smell that emanated from the garbage disposal was awful. But he knew his father also hated the dishes and often complained about the pile-up, so he found himself doing them, hoping that this would show how sorry he was for the night before.

But as he loaded another bowl into the dishwasher, the clip-clop of his father’s hooves made him spin around. He nearly knocked some other dirty dishes off the counter but was quickly able to keep them from shattering on the ground. He looked up to his father, who stood just a few paces away. The yōkai’s caprine-like ears twitched, clearly unhappy with something, but Purple didn’t understand what exactly.

“We have a lead on the last armor piece,” Draxum declared, his voice holding no sense of warmth. It chilled Purple down to the bone, making his heart drop a bit. He just wanted his father to look at him with anything but disdain. “I’m sending you with a Foot Clan member to retrieve it.”

Purple bowed his head in understanding. “Yes, Father. I will do my best to acquire the item.”

Draxum audibly huffed at that. “You will be back up. You will listen to the Foot Clan member, as they will be acting as your superior for this mission. Do I make myself clear?”

Purple swallowed back his grief at the demotion in his father’s eyes. He kept his face still, knowing stillness was important. He couldn’t let him know that he was upset. To be emotional… was cowardice. That was a weakness, one easily exploitable. So he buried whatever sorrow he might have had far below. 

“I understand,” Purple said, hoping his voice didn’t quiver. This seemed to be enough for Draxum, though, as he nodded to his son in approval.

“They will be here in 30 minutes. Go get your toys and meet them out front.” 

As soon as Draxum left the kitchen, Purple discarded the gloves he’d been using to clean the dishes and shut the faucet off. He could finish them later. Now, he had a purpose again. Now he had direction. He had the ability to make up for what he’d done, and he silently vowed that he would do his best to impress his father.

He went to grab his naginata and waited out front for the Foot Clan member that would lead their mission.

Yōkai television was interesting, to say the least. Far different from what Leo was used to watching. He was more accustomed to the shows Dad had saved on VHS way back in the 90s. They only were able to watch recent stuff with their phones, and even then, most stuff was blocked by a paywall. Good thing for pirate sites… 

But a whole new avenue for entertainment had been opened when Leo had noticed that in Run of the Mill, the TVs often played stuff produced by yōkai, not humans. This led to Leo begging Tío Hueso to show them how to set up yōkai TV in their home. And, thankfully, he did.

And now that Soapy Treadmill , Dad’s favorite show, had gone on hiatus and pulled from the network, Leo was free to have the living room to himself to watch whatever shows he wanted while Splinter watched episodes he could find on pirated sites Leo had found for him. He didn’t really understand the show at all, but it seemed to have a cult following online, leading to most episodes being archived fairly well. 

So now, with the living room all to himself, Leo was able to watch Space Heroes, an animated show produced by some studio in the Hidden City. He’d been able to catch up with all the episodes, so now he’d just be watching reruns or specials that occasionally aired. It probably wasn’t the best use of his time, but he was fourteen, so he gave himself a pass.

“Leo, it’s gettin’ late,” Raph called, leaning on top of the couch that Leo was relaxing on. “You gotta get to bed.”

“After this episode,” Leo assured him, waving his hand in the air dismissively. “It’s not that much longer. I promise I’ll get to sleep at a regular time tonight, big bro.”

“Alright,” the larger turtle sighed. He took a seat on the couch next to him, watching the screen with intent before a loud boom from the show startled him. “Turn the volume down a bit, yeah? Mikey’s asleep, and I don’t wanna wake him. He needs rest.” 

“Yeah, I got you,” the blue-masked turtle agreed, lowering the volume by a ton. He was thankful for the subtitles. “What do you think he does when he goes out at night?”

“Not sure,” Raph admitted with a hung head. “I try to follow him sometimes, but he’s real fast. I’m proud of him! But I worry. Don’t want him gettin' into any trouble.”

Leo pushed Raph’s knee with his foot, trying to make the older turtle loosen up a bit. “I’m sure he’s fine. Probably just graffiti.”

“Graffiti is a crime, Leo.” 

“It’s like, a D-tier crime. As long as he isn’t hurting anyone, I don’t see the issue. Oh my god, what if he’s seeing someone?” Leo giggled, the idea of his brother having a romantic partner dancing through his head before he felt horror course through his bones. “WHAT IF HE GETS A GIRLFRIEND BEFORE ME?”

“Quiet!” Raph hissed, grabbing Leo to cover his mouth and knocking the remote out of his hand in the process. “I don’t think he’s seein' anyone… or I hope not. I think he’s safe out there, at least. None of my big brother senses are tinglin’.” Raph said, his wide smile fading into a frown as he mentioned his brother senses. He furrowed his brows, looking as if he was in deep concentration, which really worried Leo. He might not be able to survive that amount of thinking.

Leo frowned as the end-credit song began to play, breaking them from their conversation. Raph looked to Leo expectantly, raising a brow. But Leo smiled sheepishly, reaching for the remote he’d just dropped. “One more…?” He pleaded.

Raph began to try and wrestle the remote from Leo’s hands. “You promised you’d go to bed!” He argued with a growl. “It’s late! We need to get on a consistent sleep schedule. You’re not even supposed to watch more than two hours of TV a day!”

Leo rolled his eyes, holding firm onto the remote. Splinter had been restricting their free time, demanding that they abandon all distractions. While Raph had been better about following this, Leo and Mikey struggled to let go of their passions. Mikey was still allowed to draw, but he did it much less than before. And Leo had guarded his comic book collection well, having to hide it from Raph and Splinter just to keep them safe. But now he was limited to two hours of TV time, which he was more than relaxed about. 

Leo was able to pull away from Raph and began to run, using the couch as a shield from the turtle who was chasing him and parkouring off of the tables in the room. He clutched the remote closely, not wanting to let go. As he did so, he pressed different buttons, changing the channels rapidly. 

Raph chased Leo for a long while before finally getting the upper hand on him as he launched himself from the sofa and landed directly on top of his younger brother. He began to fight for the remote once more, the both of them growling and hissing at one another to give up. 

“BOYS!” The harsh voice of their dad cut through the air, and the two of them swiftly stood up. Leo still had the remote, but he felt a little sore from the tussle. “What is going on?!”

“I’m tryna get Leo to bed, but he just wants to watch his show,” Raph explained, his tone holding a bite to it, but he was otherwise pretty reasonable. 

“It was a cliffhanger!” Leo cried out in defense. “We agreed to one more episode, and it was a two-parter, which is like one really long episode! So, I still get to watch the rest of the episode.” 

“You tricked me!” Raph accused pointedly. “That ain’t nice, Leo.” 

“I’m not even tired,” Leo argued, folding his arms defensively. “I’ll go to sleep eventually.”

“ Eventually ,” Raph repeated with an indignant snort. “We both know you’d just keep watchin’ until the sun comes up.”

Leo opened his mouth to retort Raph’s rude assumption, but their dad cut them off.

“Blue, turn up the volume,” Splinter requested softly. He didn’t seem mad, just… shocked.

Leo did as his dad asked, and the two turtles turned to the screen, their eyes widening in horror at the scene before them. 

“We are still receiving details from those at the scene,” an odd-looking fish yōkai on the TV said. “But it appears that Westside General Orphanage has literally exploded from the inside. Fires are still raging, and the story continues to unfold live.”

The yōkai continued to report on the story, but Leo stopped paying attention to her voice as he watched the footage on the screen. A building that looked as old as Splinter was in ruins, flames taking more real estate of the place than brick. It was a horrible sight, and from the drone footage, you could see small yōkai children either running from the flames or being carried out by burning caretakers. 

“Who would target an orphanage…?” Leo wondered aloud, so distraught by what he was seeing. A few of the tiny figures had collapsed to the ground, and somehow, he knew they would never move again. Civilians and professionals alike were all gathered, helping in whatever way they could. But the carnage would be too great, and Leo was aware that many would perish. Anger spiked in his chest, ignited by the brutal killing of these children. Those that would die would do so slowly and painfully, and as much as he hated the idea of death, he hated the idea of suffering even more. He wanted to know who was responsible for such terror.

The camera panned to two figures just far enough from view that it would be difficult for someone unfamiliar with them to identify the culprits. But even through the smoke that masked their features, Leo would recognize those golden goggles anywhere. 

Any sympathy he might’ve held for Purple before was thrown out the window. His true colors were revealed here, in unfiltered and objective light. Purple was a killer. A merciless child killer. 

Splinter grabbed the remote from Leo, who was too angry at the purple-clad turtle to protest. The screen went dark. Dad must’ve turned it off, leaving Leo thankful. He didn’t know if he could take much more of that. It was too much. So many dead…

“Purple did all that?” Raph murmured in disbelief. “I knew he was bad, but….”

“His heart is a shade of black we can never hope to lighten,” Splinter said sadly. “I want to think of the positives, of the idea that we may take him in. But over the past few weeks, I have come to the conclusion that there is little hope for Purple. We must accept that the boy you were mutated with, my son and your brother, died when I dropped him in Draxum’s lab all those years ago.”

“It’s not your fault, Pops,” Raph assured him, placing a hand on their dad’s shoulder. “We survived this long with only the four of us. We don’t need Purple to be happy.”

Leo nodded in agreement, pulling his dad into a tight hug. “Who’s to say he wouldn't have made things worse? We’re better off without him.”

The three of them found themself in a tight-knit embrace, the warmth of their love undeniable in Leo’s eyes. Purple could never give this to them, this kind of love. He was cold and unloving, Leo was sure. Tonight only proved that fact.

“I’m gonna go to bed,” Leo murmured, pulling away and making his way back to his room. They had a lot to do tomorrow. After all, he would need to up his training game if he was going to take down the depraved goat-man and his evil twin.

Chapter Text

Outside of the large manor that belonged to Baron Draxum, Purple waited for the Foot Clan member that would lead the mission for the last Dark Armor piece. He paced on the porch, feeling useless and hollow.

They had gotten a lead from an anonymous source who had spotted the last piece in the attic of an old abandoned house in one of the poorer districts of the Hidden City. He wasn’t allowed to get a head start. No, he had to sit there and wait for the one who’d be leading the mission.

Nearly an hour had passed, with Purple still waiting on the steps of his father’s estate. He looked at his gauntech, noting the time of 21:00. Why did they have to do this so late? He yawned sleepily, rubbing his eyes with the back of his gloves. He yearned for his bed and blanket, missing the warmth of slumber. He sighed with the knowledge that this mission was critical, and he could sacrifice his meaningless sleep for the bigger goal of freeing yōkai kind. 

A sudden flash of magenta appeared before him on the steps, and out of the glorious glow stepped a young human woman.

He recognized this girl, unfortunately. It was the Foot Recruit, Cassandra. The one he only remembered by the ringing in his ears every time she spoke. Great , Purple thought, dejected. Now I’ll go deaf for the next few days. 

“GOOD EVENING, PURPLE!” Cassandra shouted, saluting him as if he were a superior. “Are you ready to FINISH THE DARK ARMOR and RELEASE THE SHREDDER?”

Purple rolled his eyes, wincing slightly at the volume of the human’s loud voice. “Yeah, sure.”

“OH!” Cassandra seemed pleasantly surprised, her eyes widening with interest. “You can speak!”

The softshell straightened slightly, amused by her surprise. Had she thought him mute? But it occurred to him that the last time they’d met, he’d been muzzled for disrespect toward his father, so it was no wonder she’d be surprised by his vocalization. “Yes, I can speak.”

“THAT IS GOOD!” She declared with vigor, her amber eyes burning with determination and passion. “Let us get going! WE MUST NOT WASTE ANY TIME!”

Purple sighed deeply, looking back to his home with a forlorn glance. He wanted to bring Shelldon along. That would at least make this more bearable. But Shelldon would only talk with Cassandra and find some way to betray him, probably in a way that would cut too deep for Purple to admit. He instead moved to Cassandra’s side and nodded to her, waiting for her command. 

The human gave a curt nod in response; her narrowed brown eyes held a look of sheer tenacity Purple only wished he could have. Maybe if he had been more focused and more passionate, he could’ve done better at his job. Instead, he was being shown up by a human girl. This was the third time she’d shown more promise than him. He should’ve had more to offer, seeing as he’d been genetically mutated with the sole intention of eradicating the human race. That was his intended purpose. Why is she so much better than me? This is humiliating…  

Vines of shame grew tangled around his heart as he followed the recruit. Every second spent with her only caused the vines to tighten their hold. It felt like no matter what he did; it would never be enough. He would never be enough. The vines sharp thorns dug into his soul, whispering to him about how he could never live up to the reasonable expectations of his father. Yet here she was, shattering any shred of dignity he might’ve still held onto. There was a bar that seemed so impossible to reach, yet he continued to launch himself forward in fruitless attempts to become the best. It was a destination he was fated never to reach. 

He checked out as they walked, his mind unable to focus on the journey. His body was on auto-pilot, going through the motions of following Cassandra rather than consciously doing so. But he didn’t care— it gave him time to think, something he greatly needed. 

I wish Shelldon were here, he thought, longing for his friend. He envied the days when they didn’t fight and got along quite well. But for whatever reason, his creation had taken up the notion that Purple’s father was abusive. 

He huffed at the thought. If Draxum was abusive, then so was every other parent. There was no difference in how he was raised compared to others his age; he was sure of it. To call Draxum abusive was to offend actual abuse victims and diminish their experiences. 

His father never withheld food from him, never made him sleep outside, and never made him do anything horribly inappropriate for his age. He was rarely hit and never beaten. He didn’t proclaim hatred for Purple, and he didn’t curse him even when he made a mistake. Abuse was horrible and unforgivable. It was something that could never be used to describe Draxum because Draxum loved Purple. Why would he raise him if he didn’t? Why would he put up with Purple if he hated him? 

There was no way to logically claim Draxum was abusive. It was an absurd accusation with no basis, and he resented Shelldon and others for speculating about it. It wasn’t true, simple as that. He couldn’t remember a clear incident that would point to Draxum being a bad parent, yet he could describe thousands of memories of him and his father’s loving relationship.

“What’s your family like?” Purple asked Cassandra, startling even himself by the question. But it was a fair question, wasn’t it? He only wanted to know to validate his own thoughts about how normal his father was. Surely Cassandra would support this idea?

“The Foot Clan is my family,” Cassandra said, not bothering to stop and answer him face to face. Her tone was stone cold, a great contrast to the loud enthusiasm she usually carried in her voice. “I’ve been part of the Clan since I was seven.”

“Your parents left you?” Purple asked, a little shocked. Why would a parent give their kid to a bunch of altered humans? 

Purple could see Cassandra shake her head in response. “No. I was put into the foster system early on.” She turned her head to him, her eyes squinting. “No more chit-chat. We have a job to do! For the SHREDDER!”

Purple snorted at her sudden change in attitude but decided to heed her advice. Whatever was in her past would clearly stay in the past, as the girl didn’t want to talk about it anymore after that. 

“Why don’t we use portals?” Purple asked, noting how his feet were feeling a bit sore. While he did continue to train, he was admittedly not accustomed to long-distance walking. This would go faster with portals.

“Portals are bright and will attract attention to us,” Cassandra explained, her cheeks puffing up for some reason. She paused, regaining her composure, before saying, “The walk is only three hours.”

“THREE HOURS?” Purple whisper-shouted. The idea of the length of that trek made him sick and anxious. “Just portal us close enough, and we can talk the rest of the way.”

Cassandra leaned down with her hands on her knees, breaking out into outrageous fits of laughter. “I’M JOKING!” She proclaimed, looking up at him with a red smiling face. “I was wondering how long you would just follow me without saying anything. Come on.” Cassandra tossed a crystal into the air, and in a flash of brilliant magenta, a sharp portal appeared. Cassandra dove into it first, with Purple following close behind.

The portal led to a cliff overlooking a small desolate town he’d never seen before. They were still in the Hidden City, of course. The cave walls and stalactites were a clear indication that this was a yōkai settlement and not a human one. 

The town seemed abandoned for the most part. Some houses were lit up with lanterns in the front porches, and he could spot a few yōkai gossiping on a rusty bench, but other than that, it was a ghost town. 

“That, there,” Cassandra pointed to a large dilapidated building. It was made of bricks and wood as if an attempt at renovation had been abandoned halfway through. It was an ugly building if he was honest. “That’s where our source told us the last armor piece is hidden, on the second floor.”

Purple was hesitant, looking at the other houses in town. “Are you sure this place is abandoned?” He asked, uneasiness wracking his body. The building looked like no one had lived in it in eons, but some of the other houses were worse for wear and clearly occupied. 

“Our source said it was,” Cassandra reassured him, going to pat him on the shoulder, but he jerked away before she could. “We’ll be quick. In and out. No fuss!” 

Still unsure but not willing to stall any longer, Purple nodded to the human and let her lead him toward the building. They were quiet, sticking to the shadows without making a single sound. 

Purple peered into one of the windows of the first floor, and when he saw nothing in the room, he let out a sigh of relief. It really did seem like this house was abandoned despite seeming like a mansion compared to the other houses in town. He wondered why that might be, but he didn’t let it linger in his mind for long. Cassandra was already making her way up to the second floor, using old windowsills as platforms for parkour. Purple used the jetpack he’d built into his battleshell. 

They were able to enter through a broken window, unheard and unseen. There was no need to alarm the small town. After all, in the end, they would be doing them a favor. They would be liberating them, freeing them from the human threat. When this was all over, they would be heroes.

Purple pulled down his goggles and began to examine the room he was in. It seemed like it was meant to be some sort of study room, with books still on the shelves. Oddly, they weren’t too dusty. Some spots were even cleared of dust entirely, and it made him wonder if there had been looters there anytime in the recent past. 

He kept moving, searching broken crates and worn shelves for any sign of the last armor piece. But nothing was appearing on his scanners. He clicked his tongue in annoyance. The source was wrong about this place.

A cry from another room made Purple whip around, removing his goggles immediately to race to investigate the noise. He peered into every room down the hall, inspecting it momentarily before moving on. That was until he felt something curl around his leg and pull it back, making him trip and fall on the ground. 

He hit the wooden flooring with a thud, groaning from the impact. Before he could get back up to his feet, a large body was thrown at him in a blur. He was knocked over once more, even more sore and bruised than in the first attack. 

The human body used to attack him was Cassandra, who quickly shuffled off of him with a murmured apology. Naginata in hand, Purple swiftly got up and made an attempt to swing at his opponent. 

But the rat across from him was too quick, dodging his blow immediately. The rat yōkai leaped off one of the walls and whacked Purple with her tail, knocking him a few paces backward. She then took a fearsome bite of his dominant hand, making him drop the naginata and yelp in pain.

“WHO ARE YOU?” Cassandra cried out, leaping toward the rat with a dangerous glint in her brown eyes. 

The rat took her place on one of the beams overhead, peering down at the two of them with an amused smirk. “They sent two teenagers for this?” She asked with a giggle. “Funny. I was hoping for the goat man himself, but his son will do.”

“You know my father?” Purple asked with a sharp glare. “What do you want?”

“Interesting,” The rat hummed, ignoring Purple’s questions. “I’m surprised you don’t remember me. I was almost your Godmother, you know? Practically your babysitter, though unpaid.”

Purple shook his head. “Huginn and Muninn were my babysitters. Not some insane lab rat. I would remember someone as crazy as you.”

“Oh!” The yōkai cried out in feigned pain, clutching her chest. “How you wound me, Purple! But seriously. Do you think Draxum worked alone? That dollophead may understand alchemy, but his understanding of the basic sciences is lacking, to say the least. He needed someone with chemical expertise,” she snickered sinisterly. “That’s where I came in.” 

Cassandra leaped into the air, attempting to reach the beam and the rat but failing and instead faceplanted into a wall. 

The rat laughed hysterically, her tail whipping in clear amusement at the blunder from the human. “Anywho, you two came at the perfect time! I was wondering if you’d ever show up! It would’ve been disappointing if you’d not come today, but I knew how desperate you and your daddy are. I’ve been watching you, y’know?” With a fond sparkle in her eyes, she smiled softly, as caring as his father would smile at him. “You’ve grown strong, my little turtle.” 

Purple grabbed the naginata that had fallen, gripping it so tightly it was burning his palms. “What do you want? Where’s the armor piece?”

“Oh, I have no idea where the armor piece is,” she admitted with a lighthearted shrug. “I want to take revenge on your father. I was bargaining for his life, but yours seems better to take. This works out for me, really!”

Purple used the wall as a stepping stone , reaching for the overhead beam. He grasped it and pulled himself up, standing face-to-face with the rat now. She was much taller than Splinter was but noticeably shorter than him. She took a few steps back, seemingly unphased by his position. Instead, she looked rather pleased. 

“What’s with the smug look?” Purple growled cautiously. He raised his weapon toward her, the tip brushing against the fur of her chest. “I can kill you right now. You wanna test me?”

“I’m not afraid of death, honey,” the rat proclaimed as she revealed a gas mask she’d hidden on the beam. She pulled it over her face, only her eyes visible now through the transparent glass of the goggles. 

Purple’s confusion was short-lived as the rat pressed a large red button she’d carried, and the sound of a canister of gas releasing triggered something horrifying deep within Purple. Panic wracked his body, rendering him frozen in the shock of what was happening. This was all staged . He forced himself to move when he caught sight of the greenish-yellow gas cloud emerging from some of the unused bedrooms, leaking into the rest of the top floor. 

Purple didn’t know what this gas was. He was too panicked to make a guess. His mind wouldn’t function correctly, failing to give him the information he’d studied so much. He slid off the beam, his legs sore from the impact of the fall. But he didn’t have much time to assess his injuries. He just knew that they both needed to get out of there as soon as possible. If not…

He rushed to grab Cassandra by the arm, who’d torn off her mask, likely in an attempt to breathe better. Purple forced the mask back on over her mouth and nose, knowing that whatever gas this was, their cloth masks would at least serve as some sort of meager protection. But there was no time to explain this. Who knew the lethality of this gas? They needed to get out and fast.

Purple embraced the human, pulling her close to his chest. She was struggling against his hold, but he held strong against her weakened attempts. Reaching across the girl he held, he tapped a few buttons on his gauntlet, so used to this combination that he barely needed to see through the fog to understand what he was doing. 

In an instant, the familiar roar of his jetpack’s engine gave Purple some security. They could get out of here. He put his chin on Cassandra’s head, trying to tuck her into his chest so she wouldn’t get injured when he took a running leap toward the wall, the force of his strength and the speed at which he and his jetpack hit it causing the wooden wall to crumble before them. 

Finally, they were out. 

But the slight relief he felt was shortlived as an explosion ripped through the air, the heat of it burning against his legs and neck as it bolstered the both of them forward. It luckily pushed them away from the building but caused Purple to crash land a few meters away, tumbling painfully against the rock and concrete. 

He let Cassandra go, but instead of making a run for it like he was sure she would, she stuck by his side, pulling him up and leaning him against a thick stalagmite. 

“Are you alright?” She asked, fingers digging into his shoulders. It hurt, but he knew that she was tense because she cared, and that was a little bit embarrassing if he was honest. 

He weakly pushed her away, suddenly aware of how his lung burned agonizingly and his eyes leaked– a result of the gas, no doubt. He ripped his mask off, breathing heavily, trying to do whatever he could to intake more and more air. But no matter what he did, it didn’t feel like enough. His chest felt as if it were collapsing, and he coughed painfully in an effort to excrete whatever was making it impossible to breathe. 

He wiped the liquid from his eyes and forced himself to stand up, glancing behind Cassandra to assess the damage of the rat’s attack. The whole building was in flames, with another explosion causing more of the building to collapse in on itself. The light was horrible and only made his eyes hurt more. It looked as if there were halos around the lights or that they were smeared across his vision. 

Cassandra began to hack and wheeze, also tearing off her mask. She glanced toward the building before wincing away as if the lights caused her pain. She closed her eyes as she rubbed them, cursing lightly under her breath. 

Why did she bother with the gas if she was just going to blow the place up? He wondered as he watched the fire blaze through the building. He guessed it was a little lucky that part of the building was bricks, but it would certainly fall either way. 

But as he sat there, his body aching and burning painfully, it occurred to him the nature of some gases. Tear gas and other such gases could be flammable under certain situations. A single spark could cause an entire building to burn down if not tended to immediately. And some gas, like ethylene oxide, could be explosive near a small open flame. 

And his jetpack was a bonfire that had fueled the gas’ explosive nature. 

The realization made him sick. He’d nearly killed them both by his carelessness. As he thanked the Great Titan that there was no one else in the building, he caught a glimpse of two blurry figures escaping the raging flames. He couldn’t see too well, his vision blurred by his watering eyes, but it looked as if they were both carrying something. 

Before he could dismiss it as just some loiterers, three more blobs emerged from the building in a hurry, but they were smaller. It was almost as if they were children following their parents, but that couldn’t be right. 

He watched as one of the larger figures raced back inside despite the protests of the other yōkai. He watched as another child was rescued from the flames, his heart stuttering in his chest as he realized that there were more people in the building despite the rat’s claims that it was abandoned. 

He stood up too quickly, causing him to double over in a coughing fit. His body was sore, and his throat too inflamed to do anything but watch as yōkai from the nearby houses rushed to help in the rescue effort. One of the children, a small bobcat yōkai, had their fur on fire, with adults desperately trying to put it out with medley water bottles and smothering the flames with blankets. 

The kid was screaming in pain, begging for help, crying for their suffering to end. Purple touched one of the burn scars on his shoulder, wincing from overwhelming empathy for the burning child. He hoped he died soon so he wouldn’t have to endure the flames for too much longer.

He could see a few more yōkai gathering, this time with cameras, huge microphones, and drones. They weren’t here to help– they were here for documentation. And one of the cameras was pointed directly at him.

All he could do was stare back, wide-eyed and terrified. Why was the air so hard to breathe? The liquid from his eyes was no longer a side-effect of the gas, but instead, they were tears staining his cheeks with his fright. 

He wanted to go home. He wanted his heart to stop racing. He wanted his chest to stop hurting.

As if his prayers were answered, Cassandra gripped his arm, lightly tugging him away from the sight of the disaster. “Purple,” she said, her voice surprisingly soft, “come on.”

Purple shook his head slightly, grief for those in the building caught in his throat. He was staring at the raging fire he’d created, unable to look away. This was his fault. This was all his fault. 

He had been here before. He had been one of those kids. Scared, anxious, burning. He tore off his gloves, forcing himself to look at the scars a fire just like the one he’d ignited caused. He wondered what life these children would live now if they would live at all. They would be branded with the same shame he had to carry his whole life. 

They were just like him. 

He wanted to rush to the burning building, to dive into the flames and tear those children out of harm’s way, but his body just wouldn’t move. He felt stuck, trapped by his own grief and shock. But he wasn’t still– no, he couldn’t be described that way. His body was shaking like a flickering flame, unable to keep his balance even as he sat on the hard stone. He was a pendulum that refused to stop moving.

“Purple,” Cassandra called again, harsher this time. “We need to go.”  

The softshell understood the human. How urgent it was that he move and that they leave. But his eyes couldn’t be torn away from the bonfire, and his limbs refused to cooperate with Purple’s demand to get up. A wet, pathetic sob tore through his throat, and he cried out in mourning. His cursed song was an elegy for the burning yōkai.

Cassandra yanked Purple up, and even when he protested loudly, she did not stop pulling him toward the portal she’d created. He dug his feet into the ground, however, and lunged forward. He couldn’t leave. Even if he couldn’t help them, shouldn’t watching his crime unfold be the punishment? Why shouldn’t he suffer with those he’d sentenced?

“Stop fighting me!” The human yelled, using all her strength to pick him up and sling him over her shoulder. He continued to wriggle against her hold, kicking and punching her to let go. But she wouldn’t budge. She wouldn’t let him pay. 

He was tossed through the portal first, but before he could pick himself up and shoot back toward the building, Cassandra stepped through and closed it. 

“Why’d you close it?” Purple asked, his throat raw and his voice obstructed by grief. He was on his knees, his body feeling weightless and lame. “I need to go back.”

“They’re dead,” Cassandra said bluntly as she walked past him. “Sitting there won’t do anything. It won’t bring them back to life.” She stopped and looked at him. He could see the cogs turning in her mind before she made some realization, and her frown deepened. “You’re not responsible for their deaths.”

Purple wanted to argue back, but he found that speaking was so much harder than he ever remembered it being. It was as if his mouth were sewn shut, and to speak was to open infected stitches. He was muted by his own shock. 

The Foot Clan recruit helped him up, and when he staggered to stand on his own, she let him lean against her for stability. He muttered his gratitude weakly, but she didn’t respond and only pushed forward to the giant mansion that stood before them. It took a moment for Purple to recognize this place as his home because, for some reason, everything around him looked foreign and out of place. It was as if he was just in some void with objects placed around without a care for structure or reason. But there was a reason, one that seemed so distant from Purple’s conscious perception.

The memory of entering the house, trudging through the hallways, and entering the lab was lost in an instant. It was almost like it never happened at all, and instead, they’d been teleported there by some force he didn’t know. But he knew he must’ve walked there with her. He just knew, somehow. But he couldn’t remember how he knew. He just knew.

His father towered over them both. He was huge as if he’d grown three sizes. Or maybe Purple had shrunk? He just knew his father looked angry. Very angry. He could see his ears pinned back against his head, and his tail lashed angrily behind him. As he spoke, his fangs protruded, sharp and glistening. 

The sound of his voice felt distant, but he could tell he was angry. Very angry. Why was he angry? Because you blew up that house , he reminded himself, causing his stomach to churn uncomfortably. He wanted to throw up.

“Why won’t he answer me?”

It took a moment for Purple to decipher these words, but he was sure they’d come from his father. He was yelling. He was angry. Very angry. Purple had done something wrong. Purple had made a mistake. He began to shake more, the tears uncontrollable now. He wanted to go home. He wanted the comfort of his father’s embrace. 

Without warning, Purple’s wrist was grabbed by a large, clawed hand, and he was yanked away from the human that had stood by his side. He was cradled by the sharp being, held close to his chest in some protective act of love. But oddly, it didn’t comfort him. He felt more panicked by the touch, and he only cried more from the unwarranted and unwanted contact.

He could barely see the world, his vision too blurred by the cascade of tears that made their home in his eyes. He felt so small and worthless, and thoughts of self-perpetuated harm flashed across his mind. His bō would have a lot of options– so would the naginata. He thought about electrical wires and how he might electrocute himself with them, or maybe he could burn his skin with acid. He just needed some justification for his pain. Physical excuses of why he was crying and why he felt so terrible. Then, if his father would see it, then maybe the tears could be justified.

He didn’t know when the human had left, but at some point, Draxum gently nudged Purple in front of him and kneeled down to his level as if talking to a young child. He said something, and Purple vaguely heard the words, but he didn’t comprehend what he’d said. So he tried again.

“Are you hurt, my son?”

Purple shook his head, unwilling and unable to talk. His body felt so weightless but in a burdensome way. It was as if he was floating through space but at the same time suffocating because he had no helmet. Everything was distant, and his efforts to reach them was futile, so after a while, he gave up. Another round of tears made their way down his cheeks. It was if he had an endless supply of waterworks tonight.

“I’m going to fix this,” Draxum promised as he used a gentle claw to wipe away some of his tears. “Don’t cry. You shouldn’t cry. I’m going to make this all alright, okay?” 

Purple nodded in understanding, but the tears wouldn’t stop. They just kept coming, even when he told himself it was stupid to cry. He knew he shouldn’t cry– he’d been raised well enough to know that tears were to be confined to the comfort of his room, far from the prying eyes of others.

“We will find the missing piece,” Draxum declared sweetly, putting his hands on the boy’s shoulders. “You’ve done great, Purple. I’m so proud of you.”

The softshell nodded again, finding himself unable to smile at his kind words. He didn’t feel like he’d done great. He didn’t feel that he deserved his father’s pride. He felt like a failure and a reject, someone not worthy of the life he had. 

But there were no words to express this. No words to explain how he felt. No words he could muster to say. The young turtle remained silent. 

He said nothing and watched as his father walked away, leaving him to stand there, his heart still racing in his chest. He could feel it thud against his ribcage, begging for him to move , telling him that there was still danger. His body was still shaking, too, imbued by the fear that had wracked him before. He wanted to go home.

He wanted his father. 

But he couldn’t call out to him. He couldn’t open his mouth to voice his fear. He couldn’t even whimper, too afraid to make a noise. Too unwilling to make a noise.

I need you , he thought desperately, wishing he could communicate telepathically. Help me. I need you. I can’t do this. I need you. I need help. Help. I’m scared.

He began to stagger toward his room, counting his steps as he did so in some odd attempt to distract himself. But it didn’t work. All he could think about were the flames, the crying children, the burning bodies– it was all so much. And the world around him wasn’t much better. He felt like a video game character, but the graphics were turned up to eleven, with sounds too loud and lights too bright. He just needed to escape it all. 

He collapsed onto his bed and shoved his body against the wall, trying everything he could to make himself smaller. Maybe if he became small enough, he would disappear. Maybe he could stop existing. He didn’t want to exist, not right now. But he didn’t want to die, either. He wanted the pain to stop. He wanted his heart to stop beating so fast, for his breathing to even out, for his body to stop shaking, for his anxiety to calm.

Please, I need help, he thought once more as he pulled a pillow against his chest. He buried his face in it, mask still off from before, and tightly closed his eyes. I need help. 

Suddenly, as if the Titan itself had answered his pleas, a blanket of calm washed over him. It was as if he was being hugged, but it wasn’t invasive, not like his father’s. This hug was light but warm, and it held him like he was a meaningful stuffed animal. He liked the embrace, and he liked how safe he felt with the aura around him. He began to breathe easier, the color red becoming less about fire and more about love. 

He let himself relax and lay down, feeling more at ease with the world. Yes, his chest still ached, and his body still shook, but the sense of impending doom had faded as soon as the sense of red comforted his mind and told him without words that he would be okay. 

Sleep wasn’t easy that night, but the aid of the comforting presence made him feel much safer and much more loved than he had ever felt in his life.

The day after, in the sewers of New York, a young turtle brooded in the corner of the training room, sipping on his apple juice. 

Mikey wasn’t having a good day. 

First, he didn’t wake up early enough to make breakfast, so Dad had taken it upon himself to nearly burn the kitchen trying to make toast. He somehow thought you needed to fry bread in a pan rather than use the aptly named toaster to get toast. 

Then Raph decided they would start training an hour earlier. Leo wouldn’t even back Mikey up when the box turtle complained about how much training they were doing. All three of them were on edge for some reason, and they weren’t telling him why . 

He hated when they did this. Talked about stuff without Mikey present and assumed Mikey would just know. He couldn’t read their minds!!! And then, when he did overhear them talking about something, and he wanted in, they often told him it was a grown-up thing– that he was too young to know. He was only a year younger than Leo! 

Mikey was sure the sun was going down by now, and they were still training. AGAIN. UGH. Mikey felt so sore and beat, his entire body begging for a break. And even though he was allowed more breaks than Leo or Raph because he was the youngest, it felt like no amount of rest would fully recover him from the strain he’d put in that day.

They were just kids. They shouldn’t have the fate of the world on their shoulders. They should be playing video games, making friends, and y’know, doing teen stuff. Not training to defeat some weird goat man with crazy superpowers. 

He wanted to go see Purple again. Even though he was technically the son of the guy they were supposed to defeat, Mikey didn’t see him that way. He saw him as a brother– which, in a biological sense, they were. And when they hung out together on that rooftop, the conflict of the world melted away. They could just be kids together, something Mikey hadn’t gotten to feel like for a while now. He just wanted things to go back to normal before they came across Mayhem and traveled to the Hidden City.

But then you wouldn’t have met Purple; he reminded himself as he sat on the sidelines, watching Raph and Leo attack dummies while Splinter instructed them on their technique. He sipped his apple juice. I don’t regret meeting Mayhem or the Hidden City… I think I just wish the world were simpler. 

“Mikey, you ready to come back in?” Raph called to him, pausing his attacks to look toward his younger brother with an encouraging smile. “I think you can give that thing you were workin’ on another shot!” 

Mikey deflated, letting out a small whine. He was so tired. “Can’t we stop for the night? I think we’re fine on ninja squills.” 

“Orange,” Splinter murmured as he approached his son, “we must be as prepared as we can be. These foes will be ruthless… I shudder to think what Purple may do if he catches any one of you.”

The orange-masked turtle couldn’t help but snort in amusement. “ Purple ? He’s harmless! He saved me from drowning, remember ?” Are they still convinced he’s evil?

“Dude,” Leo halted his movements, training sword still raised in the air as he looked at his younger brother. His yellow eyes held sadness and fear. “He blew up an orphanage.”

“Uh, yeah , okay ,” Mikey took another sip of his apple juice, a little disgruntled by the cruel prank. Why are they making shit up? Purple wouldn’t do that. 

“Leo’s not kiddin’, Mikes,” Raph said very seriously, his body going rigid as if he was remembering something horrible. “It was on the TV ‘n everythin’. At least four kids died.”

Mikey stared at him in shock. He wanted to believe that they were both lying to him, but Raph was a horrible liar, especially when it came to the youngest of the brothers. This was either a horrible truth or a grievous misunderstanding. “Why do you think he did that?”

“Because we saw him do it,” Leo nearly shouted. His sword clanged on the ground as he dropped it to put his head in his hands. “We already knew he was dangerous. What is so hard to get?” 

I know him better than you, he thought bitterly. Purple’s a sweetheart. He wouldn’t do anything like that. “Maybe it was an accident. Or maybe the TV didn’t get the whole story.”

“How do you accidentally blow up an orphanage,” Leo deadpanned with narrowed eyes. He took a deep breath in and let it out, shaking his head as he approached Mikey with a sorrowful expression. “Look, I know you wanna believe there’s good in everyone. But the real world isn’t like your cartoons. Some people can’t be forgiven or redeemed. You gotta understand that– for your own sake.”

The orange turtle pushed Leo away, causing the other terrapin to stagger back in shock. “You don’t know him,” Mikey cried out defensively. “He would never .” 

“None of us know him, Mike,” Raph pointed out, standing over the two of them. The large turtle slammed his tail on the ground, something he often did when he wanted to get his younger brothers’ attention. It worked, startling the both of them into silence. 

Raph put a hand on their shoulders, sighing deeply. “Purple’s our flesh ‘n blood,” he began, causing Mikey to perk up in hope. But the regretful look in his brother’s eyes made him deflate, understanding that this wouldn’t be a Raph speech that would end in his favor. “But he’s also the villain. And as much as I want him in our lives… Family is more than blood. It’s a bond, like how April’s our sister despite this whole situation ,” he motioned to their turtle-y bodies. “I don’t think Purple will ever have that bond with us– not when he’s fightin’ against us.”

Mikey crossed his arms and pouted. I have created a bond with him. “You just don’t wanna give him a chance.”

“We have!” Leo threw up his arms in disbelief. “We’ve given him so many chances! He choked you; he scratched me; he threatened April! Mikey, I love you, but holy shit, you have to see this pattern of behavior by now! HE’S EVIL!”

“HE ISN’T!” Mikey shouted back, raising his voice so high that his throat began to hurt. He continued, screeching as he did so. “WHY ARE YOU BEING MEAN? WHY ARE YOU DOING THIS? HE’S JUST A KID! HE’S OUR BROTHER! HE’S MY BROTHER! AND I LOVE HIM!” 

“Oh yeah,” Leo said sarcastically. “Our brother, the serial killer. What a fucking angel. Let’s get him a trophy for MURDERING CHILDREN. How about we help him next time? Sound good to you?” 

“Leo,” Raph warned dangerously, his tone low. He was serious now, but Mikey was too upset with his brothers to care. “Knock it off. You too, Mikey.”

Mikey stared at Raph; his face flushed red with anger. He wanted to hit him, to bite him, to screech and cry because why on Earth weren’t they listening to him? He wasn’t some dumb kid– he was 13 now, nearly 14, and had seen just as much as them. So why did he feel so small? Why did they always think that they were right and he was wrong? 

“I hate you,” Mikey said flatly, the tears rolling down his cheeks and staining his orange mask. He wiped a few tears away, but they just kept coming. “I hate you,” he reiterated with a cracked voice. 

Raph went quiet, his composure stiffening at the sudden declaration. Mikey had said this to Leo and Splinter before, had screamed it at them just a few weeks prior, but they’d almost forgotten the event entirely. But as Mikey stood before the three of them, professing his hatred for them and his love for Purple… It was like Mikey’s feelings were actually real, not just a tantrum thrown by an upset child.

The silence held in the air for a solid minute, with all four of them taking in the gravity of Mikey’s outburst. Even Mikey seemed to be a little stunned by his own grand show of anger. But he was the first to move, and when he began to swiftly head for the exit, no one made an effort to stop him. They let him go.

And as much as he hated to say it, he wished desperately that they had gone after him. He wished that they’d show they cared, even though he knew that they loved him more than anything in the universe. 

But he needed to go somewhere else. Somewhere he knew he was loved and could forget about the troubles of the world. 

The rooftop. 

Far, far below the streets of New York, Purple’s world would be shaken. 

It had happened really fast. 

Purple wasn’t entirely sure what prompted it. He didn’t see what had happened, really. He just heard the painful cry that had erupted from the main part of the lab, and so he pushed himself out of his chair and rushed to the scene.  

A million scenarios flooded his mind– maybe the turtles had finally chosen to attack their home again, or perhaps Purple had screwed something too loose, and now his father was paying the consequences of his lousiness. 

But neither of those things had happened. At least, not that the softshell could see. Instead, before him stood Draxum, clutching his bare arm while Shelldon began to back away from him, his rotors noticeably angled downward. 

Before he could say a word, Draxum raised a hand and began to beat the robot. With his gauntlets removed, his blows didn’t do the same amount of damage as they normally would’ve, but he could see indents on his beloved robot caused by the hits. 

“DON’T HIT HIM,” Purple cried out, pathetically unable to move despite the fury blazing in his heart. He’d forgotten who he was speaking to for a second, only able to focus on the harm that had befallen his little friend.

Draxum, his father , snapped his head to him, once more clutching his arm, which Purple could now see had skin torn from it. But there was no blood. “He scratched me!”

Purple shut his mouth, reaching out dumbly when Shelldon moved closer to him. Draxum snarled angrily, giving the both of them a fierce glare before storming out of the lab. The softshell remained there for a moment, but his body was shaking too much for him to remain standing, so he moved back to his room and sat back in his chair, unable to do much else other than think and stare straight ahead. 

Purple wondered if maybe Shelldon had really attacked Draxum, driven by his false ideas of abuse. But he knew Shelldon wasn’t stupid, nor was he randomly malicious. No, Shelldon was programmed only to attack if ordered to or provoked. And even if he’d gained sentience and grown past his AI, those core, fundamental beliefs still held true in the robot’s artificial heart. 

So it was an accident. It had to be an accident– that’s all it could’ve been. Shelldon must’ve been zooming around the lab again (despite Purple repeatedly telling him not to) and crashed into his father. That would explain it. 

“I got too close,” Shelldon confirmed. “I zoomed past him– one of my spikes must’ve gotten caught on him. I didn’t realize it. I’m sorry.” 

Purple stared at him, surprised by the apology. Why was he sorry? “He hit you,” he murmured weakly as if that would explain everything. But even to Purple, it didn’t. It didn’t make sense. He knew his father was capable of that kind of stuff– he was a warrior alchemist, after all– but he never expected to see it inflicted on someone who hadn’t even done anything wrong. He’d scratched him on accident. “You didn’t deserve to be hit. That’s not right.”

Shelldon looked at him sadly, and even though they were just LEDs, he could see a newfound understanding blossoming in his red eyes. Purple didn’t know what was going on in his head, and Shelldon didn’t care to tell him. 

“I’ll get you a new head,” Purple said, his tone flat and dull. He was still just staring straight ahead, barely moving at all. The fear that engulfed him had turned his bones to stone– he felt heavy, unable to move.

“Already started the 3D printer,” Shelldon informed him. “It’ll take a while, though.”

“Is your charging port damaged?” 

A moment passed before Shelldon confirmed that it was in working order. 

Purple clicked his tongue in contemplation, trying to think of what needed to be done so he could help tend to his friend. “Could you plug in and make a backup of your data? So it’s not just stored on your chip.” 

 Shelldon went quiet before responding. “I’ll be inactive for a few hours if I do that,” he reminded him. “Are you sure you don’t need me?”

“Of course I need you,” Purple choked, suddenly aware of how nauseous he felt. Why was his head spinning? Why did his brain feel so fuzzy? “That’s why you need to make a backup. In case he does that again, only he doesn’t hold back.”

“I’m made of titanium,” Shelldon practically laughed. “And you built me with weapons! I’m sure I can hold my own.”

Purple grabbed onto one of Shelldon’s spikes, the very same that had scratched his father and caused this whole fiasco. He’d put those spikes on the back of Shelldon’s and his shell because of Draxum– he was inspired by the spikes the yōkai had adorned his own gauntlets with. It was a faulty imitation of something so great.

“I can’t take that chance,” Purple murmured softly, bringing his knees up to his chest. “I can’t lose you. I really can’t.”

Shelldon nodded in understanding. He bumped his creator’s knee softly with his metallic muzzle before retreating to his charger in the corner of Purple’s room. He nestled himself in comfortably and looked up at the softshell with caring, luminous red eyes. “I love you.”

Purple gave him a weak smile, still finding himself cheered up by the robot even when he’d been hurt. “I love you too.”

Shelldon took a last look at him before his eyes dimmed out, and the constant humming he’d found comfort in stopped. He knew it would stop, as it did every night when Purple slept and Shelldon recharged, but it was different this time. It was sad. 

He didn’t know what to do. He felt vulnerable and fuzzy and ill and… distanced. Breathing was harder, just as it had always seemed to be lately. Worst of all, he was afraid. . Afraid  because of his father.  

He didn’t know what to think. He just kept replaying the event in his mind, analyzing the seconds he could remember before the memory was inevitably lost. In a day or two, he’d forget this happening. He’d forget that it was a Thursday or that he’d had… he’d had a beef sandwich this morning, right? Or maybe that was yesterday? Why was remembering so hard?

He continued to stare at the inactive body of his friend as if, at any moment, he’d reanimate and tell him it was all okay. That didn’t happen. He just needed comfort, and Shelldon wasn’t available to give that to him right now. 

But I’m glad he’s saving a backup, he thought, unable to regret his decision. If it meant that a future issue would be circumnavigable, then it was worth it. 

But as he sat there, alone with his thoughts, he realized how much he needed to leave the house. He didn’t want to be there, not at that moment. Being there filled him with anxiety, afraid that his father might return and take his frustration out on him. In any other circumstance, he would’ve thought that was a silly fear, but now it felt like a real possibility. 

He knew he couldn’t go to the library, one of his main safe places. He was a wanted criminal now, and they would be forced to turn him in if he showed up. He’d already pulled the small photographs of his mutation-mates out of the book he borrowed, knowing it wouldn’t be long before it would be magically returned to the library when he didn’t come to return it himself. 

Purple glanced toward the paperclipped stack of photographs on his desk, where Mikey’s image sat on top. He could go to the rooftop. A small flicker of longing flickered in his chest, and after a moment of being glued to the chair, he peeled himself up and staggered out of his room. He felt so weak, his body too heavy for him to carry. He was so tired. But he pushed forward, rubbing his eyes to keep himself awake.

He felt so ready to fall apart, to crumble from the cracks in his heart. He could already feel the tell-tale sign of incoming tears, but he refused to cry. He couldn’t cry in front of Mikey. He needed to be strong. 

As he passed through the hallway to get to the front door, Draxum stepped out of his room and stopped him, blocking his path with his body. 

“Where are you going?” He asked, his voice snappy and his body stiff. He was still mad. He would be mad for a while. Hopefully, he’ll calm down by tomorrow… 

Purple looked down at the floor, flexing his fingers nervously. “Just… out. For a walk.” 

Draxum snorted, finding the sentiment that his son would voluntarily take a walk humorous. “You never get exercise. What are you really doing? Don’t lie to me.”

“I’m going to the scrapyard,” Purple murmured. Would it be a lie if he did go there for just a moment? “I wanna get some more materials for my project.”

Draxum raised a brow, suddenly curious about his son’s activities. It wasn’t like he never showed interest in Purple’s projects; it’s just that Purple didn’t always show them to him out of fear of rejection. “What is your project?”

Ah, shit. Purple stilled. He hadn’t actually been working on much as of late, too preoccupied with intrusive thoughts and video games to truly work on anything productively. But he had to think fast. What would be impressive? What would surprise him?

“A massive drill.” 

Draxum certainly did look surprised, but not in the way Purple had hoped. He looked more baffled than joyful. The intense stare his father gave him lasted a few seconds before he rubbed the bridge of his nose and nodded. “Alright. You do that.” 

The large yōkai passed the young mutant, heading in the direction of the kitchen. Purple relaxed and continued out of the house, desperate to leave and seek the comfort of his younger brother’s embrace. 

He just wanted to be okay.

Mikey was already on the rooftop when Purple got there. He was noticeably upset, tears running down his cheeks as he curled up in on himself. It was an odd sight to see. He wasn’t sure he’d ever witnessed Mikey cry. 

He didn’t know what to do, his own chest squeezed and compressed by anxiety and sadness. So he stood across from him, his body quivering like a flag in harsh winds. He felt bad for Mikey, and some protective sense deep within told him to go over and hug him, but he didn’t want to. He didn’t even know if that would help or if it might make things worse.

Mikey looked up to him, having heard him arrive on the roof just moments before. He wiped away snot and tears; his mouth pressed into a fine line in an attempt to hold back any sobs. 

He really didn’t know what to do in this situation. 

“You okay?” He asked awkwardly, highly aware of how his voice cracked. He stepped closer to Mikey, but the other turtle scooted away. What was happening?

“Did you do it?” Mikey asked, his voice broken by sobs and great attempts to breathe steadily. “Did you really do that?”

“Do what?” Purple asked, numbness suddenly washing over him like a cold, smothering blanket. Where was his mind going? Why was it leaving the moment? Because you know what he’s asking about. You know he knows what you did.

Mikey took a deep breath in before letting out a staggering exhale. “Did you… Did you burn… burn or um…” He sniffled, clearly struggling to keep strong. “Did you explode an orphanage?”

Purple could’ve sworn his heart stopped. He blinked a couple of times, trying to “restart” the world so he could actually understand what was happening. He felt like an old computer trying desperately to keep running despite needing some applications to be turned off. 

 But he couldn’t exit out of this. There was no such thing as switching tabs or deleting files in life. He wasn’t a computer. 

What was odd was that yesterday, he’d been so distraught over it. He still regretted it, he still hated that he’d done it, but the memory was becoming blurry. It was as if he had watched it happen like someone would watch a movie rather than him actually being present for the atrocity. 

But, in technical terms… “Yeah,” he confirmed, feeling so disconnected from both the event and his emotions. “I blew up an orphanage.”

The cry of despair that came from Mikey was heart-wrenching. He realized he’d said something wrong. He’d given the wrong answer. But hadn’t Mikey said he’d never get in trouble for telling the truth? Even if the truth was bad? His mind whirled, struggling to comprehend the situation. Had Mikey lied ?

“Don’t you care about anyone but yourself?!” Mikey shouted, pushing himself up from the ground. He stood as strong as he could, his eyes burning with anger and outrage. 

  No, of course, I care about others, he thought, but he didn’t let his expression change. But would it make this situation better if I said I didn’t? “No.” 

Mikey looked horrified, blue eyes widening before he clenched his fists so tightly that they began to shake with anger. “Did our time together mean nothing to you?” He asked. “Do I mean nothing to you? Were you just using me?”

Maybe this is for the best. His vision began to decorate with darkening splotches. How long would this have lasted? He wouldn’t abandon his brothers. Why would he choose me over them? I’m always second place. I would have to kill him eventually. This is for the best… 

“I hate you,” Mikey spat, reaching into his pouch to grab his kusari-fundo, already blazing. 

Purple stumbled back from the sight of the fire, his heart beginning to beat faster and faster. He felt sick. He felt so, so sick. He remembered the explosions, the sound ringing in his ears. He grabbed his tech-bō, suddenly regretting how he’d left his naginata back home. 

But Mikey didn’t make a move forward. For whatever reason, he didn’t attempt to attack him. Purple was the same, unwilling to land a blow against his… against the other turtle. Great Titan, what had Mikey done to him? 

“Go,” the box turtle snapped. 

Purple didn’t understand, so he hesitated. Why would he let him free? Why wouldn’t he kill him or maybe capture him? It didn’t make sense. It rattled his brain, which already felt so cloudy. 

“GO!” 

The shout caused Purple to scamper back quickly, and he felt inclined to listen. He raced away, not bothering to open the portal there. He just needed to get away as quickly as he could. He ran on autopilot, mindlessly hopping from rooftop to rooftop. 

His world had been shaken, and he didn’t know what there was to do about it. Mikey was gone, Repo Mantis didn’t want to see him, and Shelldon was temporarily out of commission. And Draxum might not be as great as I had thought.

When his legs eventually began to tire, he stopped. He was on top of the roof of what appeared to be an apartment building, and he let himself collapse onto the floor and lean up against the parapet. 

He wanted everything to go back to how it had been. Before the other turtles had shown up and Shelldon had been hurt by Draxum. Before the muzzle. He wanted to go back to being oblivious. He wanted to be the most important thing in his father’s life again. Now, it seemed like all that mattered to him was the Dark Armor. When had he forgotten about his own son, his creation? 

Had he grown cruel just recently, or had Purple been blind to his callousness all along? He didn’t know which option would’ve been better. 

The softshell knew he couldn’t stay out there all night, but the cold winds of New York proved warmer than his home, so he allowed himself to sit there just a few moments longer. He would go home eventually. No matter what happened, there was always one constant in his life.

He’d always happily return to Draxum’s arms.

Chapter Text

Splinter paced in front of his three sons, tail lashing behind him. His expression was serious, with his hands folded in front of him and fur combed and cleaned meticulously, an indication that this was a momentous occasion.

The thought of what Splinter had done had pierced through his nightmares weeks earlier. When the terrifying visions of spilled blood and shaking hands had overwhelmed him. He could no longer stand the nausea that coiled in his stomach each time he closed his eyes. The overwhelming relief of being able to open them without seeing a burning battlefield was indescribable. He’d decided that for too long that he had run from his role in the cycle that his clan had followed for centuries. He had kept his sons from their destinies, neglecting to train them in the hopes that doing so would stop the inevitable.

But it never did.

And now, what stood before him was a testament to that vicious, relentless cycle. His sons kneeled before him, heads bowed, and eyes closed in respect. They waited quietly for his command.

For these past few weeks, he had guided their hands and closed their hearts so that they might partake in the ways of traditional ninjas. It had been grueling, challenging work, but they didn’t stop. He hadn’t expected that. He thought that surely, surely, they would give up once their bones began to ache and their minds grew tired of routine. But he had failed to realize how much more they were when compared to himself; they were powerful, and learned more quickly than he ever had. They had grown up.

Something within him craved those reckless, silly children that had yelled too loud and scuffed up his walls. He yearned to be better to them. But as he listened to their silence now, he couldn’t be sure those children would ever return.

He never wanted to prepare them for war. But war came anyway. War didn’t listen, so now they had to. To stop a war, they warred within themselves, and this was all that was left.

“You have become an extension of the Clan, ready to sacrifice all,” Splinter declared with a loud voice, his tail continuing to lash. “You have let go of your childish ways, and for it, you have become more than I could have ever imagined.”

Leonardo thought back to the old comic books and Lou Jitsu action toys he’d packed into a box and stored away in the third-floor spare room. They were only given one. Anything that couldn’t fit in it was dropped into the sewers, never to be seen again.

“You have shed your old selves- as one might shed an old skin- and now, you will be remade in the image of your ancestors.”

When Splinter stepped away to retrieve something, they each moved swiftly and carefully to stand at attention. Leo tried to stand as tall as possible- puffing out his chest, but not too much. He didn’t want to seem prideful. That part belonged to his old self. Not anymore, though. That selfish ego belonged to his past self. He was at peace with himself now, as much as anyone could be before going to battle. He dared a glance beside him. His brothers’ faces were focused, steeled, and patient. They didn’t look like themselves anymore. 

Where was Mikey- paint smeared across his plastron and a bit on his face, his sunshine freckles and crinkly smile so bright that they’d rival fire and floods all the same? 

Where was Raph- with his laugh so deep that it shook the walls and his strong presence hovering just close enough that they could feel him protecting them even before a weapon was unsheathed?

Where were his brothers now? Who were these strangers beside him, silent and still? Who was this stranger wearing his shell?

He just didn’t know.

Splinter returned with three sets of clothing and gifted each set one by one. The fabric was coarse in Leo’s hands, but he didn’t say anything. Instead, he silently removed his blue bandana, tossing it aside before putting on the new outfit just as his brothers did.

None of this felt like him, but maybe that was the point. Maybe being himself wasn’t helping. The past few months had passed in the blink of an eye and they hadn’t stopped the plans of the numerous villains they had faced. Maybe it was because they hadn’t been worthy enough before now. Or maybe… maybe all of this had been to prepare them for the very easy reality that they might not even have a brother anymore. Draxum- with his sharpened claws and evil grin- had changed who they could’ve called their blood kin. 

Draxum had shaped Purple into a weapon to use against them, just as they had been shaped as weapons now to push back in the very same way. They were ready to go against the Foot Clan. They were ready to go against Draxum, and by extension, Purple.

But were they ready to kill their brother, even if Purple didn’t consider himself to be one of them?

To Leo, it was worth sacrificing who he was if it meant they would save the people they were supposed to protect. The only issue now was deciding who was more worthy of protection. Would they have to sacrifice Purple’s life to save the city- and possibly the world? Would Leo even be able to stomach that if they did? Leo pushed all of these conflicting, muddled questions back into the darker corners of his mind. He and his brothers would face that when it faced them . That was all that could be done.

Raphael and Michelangelo tossed their masks into the pile after him, putting on the same outfits Splinter had handmade for each of them. All black- as dark as smoke and ash, and red- as bright as fresh-spilled blood. 

They both look so different , Leonardo thought. But this is how it must be. There isn’t any other choice. 

“Are you ready, my sons?”

Splinter’s voice did not indicate a question but rather expectation. All these months, they’d been trained to meet expectations. So they answered their father’s call in unison.

“Yes, Sensei!”

Leo just hoped that their training was enough and that they’d be prepared to face the grim reality of war. 

It was Friday night- the night that Purple and Draxum were scheduled to meet their new… “business partner,” as Father called her- but it was hardly what he had imagined whenever it was brought up. He had envisioned an office- perhaps in her hotel. Something quiet and serene, but this was hardly either.  

The loud, blaring sound of a train whistle echoed through the Nexus Station, located not far beneath the streets of New York. Purple pressed the parts of his goggles that covered his ears against his head in an attempt to mute the piercing screech of metal against metal. 

The infamous, high-speed, luxurious Mama Train came to a grinding halt, its wheels making a horrific sound when it stopped suddenly in front of them. A cloud of steam billowed from beneath the train before dissipating into the air. Purple could tell by the train’s mechanics that this feature was added purely for presentation.

Some regular yōkai patrons were scattered around the train station, and a few of them had already begun boarding. But what certainly stood out to any bystander was the line of Foot Clan ninjas holding cardboard boxes. Normally, this many wouldn’t be congregated together out in the open, especially not in uniform, but tonight it was necessary for them to do so. Within each inconspicuous box, individual pieces of the Dark Armor had been delicately packaged for transport into the train’s cargo hold to be brought to their final location. 

Despite remaining unfinished, the Clan Leaders had insisted on its immediate transportation, which left Purple and Draxum to watch over the recruits in order to keep anything from happening to the key to their salvation. His father had explained that despite their determination, the Clan Leaders’ incompetence left them unworthy of their position. Still, Purple would rather be anywhere else.

They’re just moving it because the Foot Clan leaders insist on having a ‘ ceremony ,’ Purple silently mocked, rolling his eyes at the whole idea. He held his naginata firmly, standing proudly at the side of his Father. Big Mama stood at Draxum’s other side, fidgeting and chuckling giddily. T he two of them couldn’t be more opposed in demeanor and overall presentation. Purple was taking this seriously while Big Mama was, very clearly, not.

“I’m flattered that you asked for my help, Draxy-poo!~” Big Mama cooed, hanging off of the larger yōkai like they were lovers. Ew . “ But even though I do so love your fanciful little business ventures, I’m inclined to ask what exactly it is that you’re moving in my beautiful, brightly-whitely train. ”

“ As per the terms of our agreement, I am not inclined to give you an answer. ” Father peeled her hand off of his sleeve as though it were a piece of litter blown off of the streets and turned to approach the Clan Leaders. Purple was certain it was to discuss the Dark Armor’s transport, but he had no doubt that it was also a reasonable excuse to dismiss Big Mama and her… whatever she was doing. Shelldon would probably know better than he would…

Purple was about to join his Father when Big Mama touched his shoulder, causing him to freeze in panic. He turned around to see her delightful smile, but for some reason, he was unable to shake his feeling of unease. It… didn’t make him feel like a normal smile would. It made him feel more like…. a bug pinned against a corkboard for study.

“Weren’t you that little turtley-boo who fixed me up with that contraption?” She asked, batting her eyelashes at him sweetly. 

“... Yes,” Purple answered hesitantly, his rubbery skin itching uncomfortably. “I created the gun that shoots out the webs you produce. Why?”

“I simply loved it!” Big Mama praised, cupping his cheeks and pinching them slightly. “What a wondrous little brain you have in that noggin of yours.” 

Purple didn’t pull away, afraid that it might be rude to do so, but he couldn’t say he enjoyed the way Big Mama touched him. He didn’t like how feely she was. She was clingy, which was already bad enough, and he barely knew or trusted her. But his discomfort caused by unwarranted physical contact made it worse.

“Thank… you?” He responded after a long moment, unsure of how to react to the compliment. He hadn’t done anything particularly groundbreaking, so why was she acting like he had?

“Maybe, after this whole canoodley-doodley with your father is finished, I can offer you a special splendiferous spot as a partner in my business affairs~ ,” she offered sweetly, moving one of her hands to scratch under his chin as if he were a house cat. 

“M-Maybe,” Purple stuttered as his stomach churned awfully at the touch. Even then, he forced himself to stay still. Such a rude action could jeopardize his father’s agreement with her. His own weird aversion to close contact could be ignored for now.

“Speaking of which,” Big Mama hummed, finally removing her hand and letting Purple relax slightly. “What is it that you all are moving?”

Purple bit his lip, conflicted. If he told her, Father would get mad because he clearly didn’t want to give up that information to her. But on the other hand, wouldn’t it be rude to ignore her? Would that jeopardize their agreement? 

“You can tell me,” Big Mama promised, her tone as sweet as syrup. “This can be our little secret, yes?” 

Purple nodded. That seemed like a good deal- he wouldn’t be jeopardizing the terms of their agreement, and Father wouldn’t have to know. “We’re transporting what’s called-”

“It’s called ,” Father’s booming voice interrupted, making Purple shrink down in fear and embarrassment, “none of your business.” Father shot a fierce glare toward Purple, making the turtle want to hide away in his pathetic soft shell.

Big Mama giggled quietly before a mystic energy wrapped around her body, growing larger and larger before dissipating and showing her true form: a large spider yōkai that somewhat disgusted Purple. 

“We both know my train is the only way to secretly move your cargo to the shrine,” Big Mama said, raising her claws and twitching them dangerously above Draxum’s head. Purple’s grip on his naginata tightened, forcing mystic vines to creep insidiously through the Earth in case of an attack. 

“And I’m paying a hefty price for you not to ask questions,” Father growled, holding out his palm as he conjured a Prison Orb.

Purple had heard of Prison Orbs and, of course, had read about them enough to identify them. It was a mystic means of sending lifeforms to a different dimension of the wielder's imagination. It could only be crafted by the most advanced and powerful of alchemists. The more powerful the mystic orb, the more lifeforms it could store, and the more vivid the mind-pacifying illusion.

Distantly, Purple recalled a time when he was younger. He’d been pestering Draxum about his work in the lab; he’d been so annoying that the warrior alchemist had openly contemplated trapping him in a Prison Orb just so he could get some peace and quiet. 

“Mhm,” Big Mama hummed, flexing her claw-like fingers. “ Scrumptious . I can’t wait to use it.”

Father tossed it to her before pulling Purple aside, his hand firm on his shoulder. He didn’t say anything, but he didn’t need to. Purple could see the look of disappointment in his face. It made him want to shrink away into nothingness.

“I’m sorry.”

“No, you’re not,” Draxum stated, releasing his hold on Purple, making the young turtle feel some semblance of relief. “You are naïve– too naïve. Do I need to get you a babysitter? Is that what you need?”

“No.” Purple shook his head in shame. “It won’t happen again.”

“You say that all the time,” Father pointed out in irritation. “Yet you repeat your lies and mistakes, especially when you can’t afford to. You never learn. You never grow. How am I supposed to trust you when all you do is fail yourself? How will you ever live in the real world?”

“I don’t know,” Purple murmured, shame burning beneath his skin. Father was right. He seemed unable to hold to his promises– and unable to correct himself. Mistakes just came naturally to him.

“You need to grow up,” Draxum sighed with a small shake of his head. “I can’t coddle you forever. You’re so spoiled, Purple…” his father chuckled fondly, remembering some distant time. “Ever since you were a kid, you would throw tantrums if things weren’t just as you liked. And I always obliged… Maybe that was my mistake. I made you soft.” 

Purple couldn’t think of anything to respond, so he opted to stay quiet. This seemed like the right choice, as Draxum didn’t continue on, and instead turned to speak with one of the Foot Clan leaders. 

Purple didn’t care to pay attention. The surrounding sounds didn’t seem real if he was being honest with himself. Nothing felt real, not even his own thoughts. He just kept staring at the floor of the train station, fixating on the pattern. It was made of ceramics, with four tiles coming together to create a small mural encapsulating Big Mama’s yōkai form. It repeated all throughout the train station as if reminding those who looked down who the owner of the establishment was. 

“Purple,” Father called, beckoning him forward with a claw. The softshell came forward, trailing after the large yōkai as he followed the two Foot Clan leaders. “We are being escorted to the front car, where the armor will be.” 

“What about the helmet?” Purple asked, his words soft. He reached out for his father’s hand but stopped and chided himself for the childish act. “We’re still missing the last piece of the Dark Armor.”

Draxum paused in front of a wall full of different colored buttons, grinning down at Purple and patting his head.

“Hamato Yoshi, also known as the rat , Lou Jitsu, has the last armor piece,” Father explained, ignoring Purple’s apology like he always did. “We will use the turtles as leverage against him.”

“How?” Purple inquired further, trying his best to look visibly interested in what Draxum was saying. 

“They will come after the train seeking the armor. We will capture them and ask the rat to exchange the final piece for his sons.”

Purple nodded, a little mesmerized by the brilliant scheme. It was well thought-out, too. Of course it was– it was his Father’s plan, after all. He was the smartest yōkai Purple knew. 

Though, he did have one question.

“Why not use me as the bargaining chip?”

Draxum looked at him with real concern. “I can’t afford to lose you, Purple… and I’m not sure he would risk humanity for you.”

The weak softshell shrunk down, feeling idiotic for even suggesting it. Lou Jitsu showing him kindness had been a ruse. A fleeting moment where Purple had foolishly let his guard down and accepted the conniving rat’s facade of love and affection.

And even if it had been real, Lou Jitsu and his “brothers” would soon learn the truth about who he actually was: just some weird mutant turtle who couldn’t handle the simplest of tasks. He was lazy, rude, and uncaring… He was so many things, and they weren’t entirely good. He knew he was crazy smart, but having intelligence didn’t make you friends or make you likable. In his experience, it made him a douchebag who was inconsiderate of others, according to Father. 

“Come now,” Father took Purple’s hand in his own and squeezed it comfortingly. “It wasn’t a half-bad idea, Softshell.” 

Purple looked up at his father, feeling like a child again. He gave a small squeeze back. Judging by the way Father smiled back at him, the yōkai knew he was grinning behind his mask.

“Let’s head to the front car,” Draxum said, his finger hovering over a black-eyed button in the center of the wall. Before Purple could respond, the button was pressed, and a wrapping of mystic energy engulfed the both of them. 

After a moment, the energy dissipated, and Purple could breathe again. They’d been transported to another train car, one with dim lighting and cobwebs galore. Chains were scattered on the ground, with a few being used to hold up the start of the Dark Armor’s reconstruction. The flooring was clearly an expensive wooden finish, though it was now tarnished with dust and dead insects. He had thought that, since it was the front train car and the one Big Mama personally used for her and her exclusive guests, it would be more… presentable.

Maybe it’s because she’s a spider yōkai, he wondered, taking in the view as he tensed his body. Though, why is it so dark?

“I had expected… more,” Draxum hummed darkly, unimpressed by the state of the room. “No matter. This is the safest part of the train. You will keep guard and alert me when the turtles come.”

“Yes, Father.” Purple bowed slightly, watching as Draxum moved back toward the wall of buttons. Was he really trusting him all alone? “Where are you going?”

“I am going to relax before I relish in the destruction of the human race,” Father answered, his tone dry. 

“He’s also gonna get his suit tailored! Can’t have the future King of the Yōkai looking shabby, right?,” Huginn said from atop the bovine’s shoulder, looking far too happy. “What color do you think fits him best, Purple?”

“Uh.” Purple hesitated, blinking in confusion. He waited for a punchline of sorts, but it seemed like they were genuinely asking for his opinion. “...Prussian blue?”

“I have no idea what that is, but we’ll definitely remember it,” Muninn assured him with a friendly smile. “Oh, what color do you want for yours? I always thought you’d look good in red, but-”

“I do not have time for this,” Draxum growled, swatting away the two goyles from their perch on his shoulders. “You two may hang and chat while I do the important things.” 

With that, the large yōkai turned and pressed a button, disappearing in an instant.

“So…” Muninn hummed. “Where's that little robot friend of yours? Shelldon, right?”

“I wanted him to stay home and recover from the other day,” Purple said, doing his best to distance himself from the memory. He was sure that, in just a few days, the terrible event would be just a distant memory. “Plus, Big Mama is always after my tech. I don’t want her to get any funny ideas. He’ll meet us at the Titan’s Castle when I tell him it’s safe.”

“Ooh.” Muninn nodded in understanding. “Smart!” 

Purple nodded nonchalantly. “Yeah.”

There was an awkward silence between them for a long, drawn-out moment before Huginn perked up.

“Well, Muninn and I are gonna check out the buffet!” The sharper gargoyle declared. He grabbed Muninn by the arm and began to fly him toward the wall of buttons. The two of them disappeared after clicking a shiny pink eye.

Purple sighed, accepting his loneliness. In all honesty, he liked being alone. He preferred the quietness of solitude to the expectation of talking when with company. Even so, he found himself longing for Shelldon. Or maybe even his father, though he could predict every possible conversation they might have, and Purple guiltily admitted to himself that it would likely end in him upsetting his father.

For now, he would wait. Purple slid into the unlit half of the train car, finding peace within the shadows. He could see just a bit, having adjusted to the dim lighting rather quickly. The softshell leaned against a relatively clean wall, sliding down until he was on the floor. He set his naginata down next to him, the blade facing away from him. 

He wondered what life would be like on the surface, with no humans or yōkai after him. He often pondered this in his free time, imagining the society his father would build for them. It would be a utopia, of course. One in which the economy would be fair and stable, and the climate crisis solved in a matter of years. They would fix it all and build a society that humans would never have achieved otherwise. Generations of yōkai would know the Draxum name and praise the bovine yōkai for his bravery and strength in rescuing them from their underground demise.

Books would be written about Baron Draxum, both good and bad. Storybooks for children telling of his great feats and pamphlets telling falsehoods about his legacy. Novels referencing him, maybe even having protagonists based on him. Perhaps he would become a legend, just like King Arthur and his knights. 

What knight would I be? Purple mused to himself, thinking back to the old humans’ tale. Sir Lancelot the Noble? Or maybe Sir Percival the Strong?

Maybe I’m more of a Gawain, he thought with a sad huff. Average in every sense of the word. 

He couldn’t think of himself as a Merlin or as a Sir Galahad; they were too important- too integral to the story. He was too much of a screw-up to fill one of those vital roles.

Purple wanted to be thought of for generations to come, to have some kid point at his name in a history book and tell their parents about him. Purple didn’t care if he only had a paragraph or even a footnote. He just wanted to leave an impact on the world in whatever way he could.

He hated being forgotten.

As Big Mama’s train moved at high speeds through New York, three turtles and their sister around the cars, searching for the location of the Dark Armor. They already knew it was in the front car, but now it was up to them to find the right button to get there.

Leonardo was now a full Tomato Hamato Clan ninja. It was an honor, and he could now understand the full extent of his destiny as a descendant of the Hamato Clan. He and his brothers were meant to protect the world and each other. 

That’s why they were there. To save Earth from the destructive yōkai known as Baron Draxum and the mutant Leonardo shared blood with Purple. The mere idea of calling the young mad scientist “brother” made his blood boil. The similarities between them began and ended with the fact that they were both mutant turtle teens. In the end, they were as different as fire and ice.

After having skillfully and secretly entered the Big Mama’s train, the three turtles and April stood before a wall of buttons shaped like eyes. Leonardo had never been on a train before himself, his only experience with them being from the Polar Express and Lou Jitsue movies, but he was sure that this was not how normal trains operated. 

“How do we get to the front with no doors?” Raphael leaned against the wall, staring intensely at it. He grunted as he concentrated intensely, before turning back to his brothers. “Everyone, get close.”

The turtles and April did as their biggest brother had told them to, huddling close together as the snapping turtle pressed a button. In a flash of light, they were transported to a train car with very calming music, massage chairs all about, and two spa pools. 

“Uh, this is definitely not the front,” Leonardo pointed out. He now wished that he was a passenger of this fancy ass train. It looked like paradise!

“Okay,” Raphael said and broke into Leonardo’s thoughts, “Let’s stay calm, keep our minds clear, and think of a plan.”

“YOU GUYS?” April gawked in mortified surprise. “Okay this whole red black ninja thing is really freaking me out. Since when do you guys do PLANS?” 

Leonardo really wished there was time to fully explain their transformation from childish fools into Hamato Clan ninjas, but they had a goat to stop and a world to save. He looked at the wall of buttons and studied it for a long, long moment. 

“It seems that each button takes us to a different train car,” Leonardo spoke confidently. “We just need to figure out which one will take us to the front.”

“Then let’s try them all!” Michelangelo declared enthusiastically, rushing forward to the wall of buttons all by himself. Before his brothers could stop him, the young turtle was already pressing a random button near the bottom. “SEE YA AT THE FRONT!”

Leonardo rushed to the wall in alarm, trying to deduce which button his brother had pressed. “We can’t let Mikey go on all on his own.”

“Right behind ya!” April said as she pressed a blue-eyed button in the same general area of Mikey’s button. 

Before Leonardo could give any sign of protest, the two of them were spat out in another train car. It was noticeably colder, nearly as cold as Purple’s heart, and raw meat hung from the ceiling, frost decorating the car. 

There was no sign of Mikey.

“Definitely not the front,” April pouted with a disappointed grunt. “And no Mikey. How are we supposed to find the armor?” 

“Shh.” Leo held a finger to his mouth as he quieted her. “ Watch .”

He traversed silently through the train car, using the shadows to conceal his movement. Using his newfound ninjasity, he was able to make his way to the wall of eyes without making a sound. He was sure he’d done it before he was painfully wacked by a fist of a yōkai he’d been too stupid to see.

It was a bounty hunter, one that had been after Mayhem the first time they’d gone to the Hidden City. The yōkai hauled his weapon up and crashed it down upon them, but Leo quickly deflected the blow with his ōdachi. What his opponent had in strength Leo had in speed, and he was able to dodge many of his attacks and counter. 

But this was an instance of an unstoppable force meeting an immovable object. They were evenly matched, their dance coming to a halt as Leo held his ground against the bounty hunter, but just barely. 

“If we’re going to get to the Dark Armor,” Leo gritted out, “we’re gonna need to get past this guy.”

Just as he said that, a flash of light revealed another bounty hunter had been transported to their car. Leo’s confidence took a dip.  

“And apparently this guy.”

The bounty hunter made a charge toward him, but was knocked down by a large snowball, courtesy of April. A second snowball was hurled at the other bounty hunter, both of them on the ground. 

He nodded to April in approval, silently thanking her for the save. “They should really chill out ,” he said with a delighted smile, unable to help himself. 

April sighed in exasperated relief. “Oh thank God, you still make puns.”

Before Leo could respond, he was sent flying back, hitting the ground multiple times he went tumbling into a button. 

He was transported into a room with an old-looking, blue, fuzzy yōkai giving a seminar about taxes; he sighed quietly, frustrated by the confusing battle. He took a seat, tuning out the seminar as he began to concentrate on his thoughts. 

How do we get to the front car without these goons chasing after us? He pondered, frustration threatening to sweep over him and take control of his actions. 

We’re being weakened by division, Leonardo realized. We need to work together to defeat them… But won’t they just get back up and fight us again? 

His eyes drifted around the room, and he found that there were only a few yōkai listening, with one in casts and the other clearly beaten to a pulp. He was about to ask the yōkai closest to him something, but the yōkai shook his head violently, terror in his glossy eyes. 

“Do not make a sound,” the yōkai warned quietly, his entire body shaking in what Leonardo could only describe as primal fear. “ He will kill you .”

The slider nodded in response, sighing quietly. He could slip out of there without a sound- that wasn’t an issue. With Splinter’s training, he’d become the best version of himself, and he now thanked his father and sensei for teaching him such valuable lessons. 

In a flash of light, someone appeared next to him: Raphael. The larger turtle blinked at him, seemingly surprised by his silent stillness.

“Leonardo? What’re you doin’?” Raphael asked, surprised.

“Shh!” the yōkai from before hissed at the snapping turtle. “Trust me, don’t. Talk .” 

The two turtles were still for a moment before slipping away silently, finding their way to the back of the car. They ducked behind the theater chairs, keeping their voices low as they spoke. 

“This train is insane! ” Leonardo complained, rolling his eyes in frustration. “I just keep bouncing around and getting nowhere ! How are we ever gonna get to the Dark Armor?”

“I don’t know,” Raphael responded with resignation. “There’s too many buttons… Every time I try to press-” 

The turtle stopped, his violet eyes shining with realization. “Wait a second! I think I just figured it out.”

Raphael stared off into the distance, a smirk growing on his face. Can you hear me? Raphael’s voice echoed in his mind.

Yeah, Leonardo responded, returning the smirk as he concentrated on the connection they had formed. It felt like he was reaching out and holding his hand, or maybe like they were one and the same. That their souls had intertwined together, dancing and singing in a harmony no one else would ever know. It felt like it's always been this way, and would continue to be. They were a single consciousness.

I can hear you, big brother. 

The Dark Armor is in the front car, Raphael explained, a mental image of the train being shared between the two. The one button they keep me from pressing is the big black one in the middle. That has to be the one. 

Genius! Leonardo praised, looking at him with a large, shining smile. Nice work!

Let’s go get April and Mike- Michelangelo, Raphael said, and they both reached for the buttons, finding the one for the car they’d left April in.

They both were teleported to the freezer car, with frozen meat still hanging from the ceiling. 

“April!” Raphael called out. “I know how to get to the front!”

“Great!” April responded as she peeked over a mound of ice and snow. “What do we do with these guys?”

“What guys?” 

Right as Leonardo said that two large yōkai bounty hunters sprang up from behind April, their weapons threatened to slice their sister in half. Leo and Raph rushed to her aid, the sound of swords clashing ringing in the small room. 

He mentally slapped himself, surprised how he’d so easily forgotten the two bounty hunters he’d left in the train car alone with April. 

“Oh right,” Leonardo muttered, readjusting his grip on his ōdachi. “ These guys.”

“I thought you had a plan?!” April exclaimed, her voice laced with annoyance and fear. 

“I’m workin’ on it!” Raphael assured her before going silent. He didn’t say anything aloud, but Leonardo could hear his big brother’s voice echoing through his mind.

We can send them to that old professor’s car! Raphael told him through their ninja mind-meld. They won’t be able to leave without makin’ a loud ruckus! Then the worm dude’ll beat ‘em up!

“Yes!” Leonardo smirked. “Great idea!”

Pulling back, Raphael and Leonardo were able to combine forces and make a running leap at their opponents, forcing them back as the red-eared slider held onto his sister. 

They crashed into the bounty hunters, forcing them to smack into their button of choice, which led them into the tax lecturer’s car. Raphael used his strength to round them up, stopping their attempts to attack the three of them. Leo, with a convenient rope found near the front of the car, quickly tied the two of them up, and left them to the professor’s will. 

If they don’t die of boredom, Leonardo thought with a mischievous snicker, The tax dude will definitely kill them!

Finding Michelangelo was easy, the youngest brother being tormented by the Foot Clan leader in a gym-like car with a gravity setting. The altered human kept switching the setting, making Michelangelo float up before crashing down on repeat.

Raphael grabbed the Foot Clan leader, switched the setting to normal, and rushed to the buttons. Leonardo opted to help their younger brother, rushing to his side to help him up. The box turtle appeared miserable and shaky and looked at his brother with a pitiful expression. 

Leonardo reassured him with a smile and helped him to sit down and rest for a second. 

“We don’t have time for a break,” Michelangelo protested, his voice strained. He looked sick. “Master Splinter-”

“ Splints would want you safe,” April cut in, waving a hand to dismiss him. She handed him a bottle of water she must have gotten from one of the gym’s coolers. 

The box turtle took it, thanking her quietly as he sipped the water. Leonardo rubbed his brother’s back soothingly, trying to be as much of a comforting presence as he could.

When Raphael returned, he was smiling, clearly triumphant. But when he saw Michelangelo on the ground, looking as sickly as he did, his face fell. “Mikey- are you okay?”

“I’m okay, Raphael,” Mikey responded, smiling up at him. “I’m feelin’ better, thanks.”

Raphael looked down, clearly feeling off about something, but he didn’t say anything. 

“We gotta get to the front car,” Raph said with determination though he hesitated, looking back at his youngest brother. “In a minute. We can take a break.” 

“But-”

“First rule of the Mad Dogs: ya take care of family,” Raph reminded him, carefully taking a seat next to him and Leo, who noticed that Mikey seemed conflicted. 

“What about saving the world?” He asked. The small turtle attempted to stand up, but Raph pulled him back down. “We gotta stop Draxum and Purple!”

“Those two ugly mugs can wait,” Raph insisted. “Tell us when you’re ready- really ready. We’ve got time.”

Mikey nodded and took another gulp of water.

They sat there for a while, just resting. Leonardo felt antsy and restless. The Dark Armor was complete, and this was their last chance to stop Draxum. 

But we can’t do that without Mikey, he reminded himself. I know what Da- Master Splinter said, but… Wouldn’t our ancestors want us to take care of each other, too? 

He didn’t know the answer. He wished he could ask the scrolls himself, but he knew that wasn’t possible. Not now, at least. Right now, his focus was on Mikey. Take care of family. 

After a few minutes of rest, Mikey picked himself up. He turned to his brothers, a determined look on his face. 

“Let’s go. Let’s save the world.”

“And save Purple,” April said pointedly, causing the three turtles to still. 

“He doesn’t need saving,” Leonardo snorted. “And you saw what he did. You watched the video. How could you defend him after that?” 

“Because we don’t know the full story,” April said calmly. She wasn’t harsh and didn’t raise her voice, instead laying a comforting hand on Leo’s shoulder. “Abuse victims… they don’t know they're being abused, y’know? So they'll defend their abuser ‘cause they’ve just been… ‘trained’ to do that. His bond to Draxum is strong… this isn’t something you’ll break easily. It’ll take work.”

Leo blinked at her, confused. “How can you defend him? After all he’s done? Have you not seen how awful he is?”

“Purple probably knows more than all of us,” their sister sighed, her eyes flicking to the ground. “We don’t have enough time to delve into a psychology lesson, but please don’t give up on him, no matter how stubborn he might be. I know you can help him. And I know that we’ll find the truth about what happened back at the orphanage. We just gotta give him a chance.”

Leo swallowed back his sadness and nodded. April was… right. Purple- God, what an awful name- was their brother. But that didn’t mean he was a good person. That didn’t mean they had to love him or accept him. Found family worked the other way around, too. 

Mikey looked slightly uncomfortable, shifting awkwardly as he crushed his water bottle. His narrowed eyes held a sense of anger and outrage he rarely ever saw in his little brother. But right there, he could see it clear as day. He wanted to approach him and ask what had soured his mood, but the eldest spoke before him.

“You ready, fam?” Raph asked, standing before the wall of button eyes. 

Leo took a step forward, nodding as his heart ignited with fierce, determined, blinding love. It burned with the love for his family above all else. But did that include Purple? He didn’t think so, but he wasn’t certain. 

Raph pressed the black-eyed button in the center of the panel, and they were all transported together into a new train car.

When Leo opened his eyes, he was greeted by a large, desolate, foreboding room. The only light in there focused on the Dark Armor in all its horrific, bloody glory. It glinted in the menacing light, reflecting into Leo’s eyes. He had to move to avoid being blinded by the gleaming armor. 

“We did it,” Raph gasped as a smile spread across his face. “We won! We did it!”

“Raph and I even mind-melded!” Leo bragged as he leaned against Mikey. 

“Awesome! We followed Master Splinter’s teachings!” Mikey exclaimed, pumping his fist in the air.

“We are the Hamato Clan!” they exclaimed together, the pride they felt for themselves and each other clear in their tone.

“How nice ,” a voice echoed from the darkness, sarcasm evident in his tone. 

Purple .

The four of them froze, looking around for its source. It was too dark to see where he might be. 

A loud noise, like something suddenly breaking through the floor of the train car floor, made Leo jump in fear. He could see something flicker out of the corner of his eye, but he couldn’t quite tell what it was. 

April cried out as she was dragged away from the boys, a purple vine wrapped tightly around her torso. Raph tried to grab her, but it was too late, and she was pulled into the darkness.

“How does it feel to lose at the hand of the defective brother?” Purple taunted from the shadows, his pure hatred evident. There was no denying the callousness of his words. 

Leo watched their estranged brother step into the light, his narrowed eyes blazing with hungered anger. He gripped a long naginata, the blade scraping against the floor, its hideous screech acting as a warning.

“You stole your weapons,” Purple snarled, tone dripping with resentment. He raised his naginata up, blade glinting dangerously. “But I earned mine.” 

As he spoke, translucent purple vines broke through the floor, teasing the air. They were odd, though. They were like Draxum’s vines, yet different in some way. They flickered in and out of visibility like a glitch from a buggy video game. 

“At least we don’t need to chase the approval of our dad,” Leo shot back, earning a side-eye from Mikey. 

Come on! Leo thought with an internal groan. Mid-battle banter is my thing!

“Is that true?” Purple asked with a tilt of his head, and Leo didn’t need to see behind his mask to know he was smirking. “Then tell me: what in the name of Rosalind Franklin are you wearing?”

Leo went silent, self-doubt eating at his heart. Maybe Purple was right in that sense- they had both given up their individuality for their dads. 

But Splinter only did it to make us better ninjas, Leo argued silently before realization hit him like a ton of bricks. Is this how he thinks of Draxum? But Splinter’s not–

Before he could contemplate his thoughts any further, a shriek from Mikey snapped him back to the matter at hand. Mikey was being dragged into the darkness, kicking and shouting all the while. Purple stalked forward slowly, still controlling the vines. 

Taking his moment to pounce, Leo slashed into the air, charging at Purple. Before he could finish the portal, though, Purple matched the slider’s ōdachi with his naginata. 

“You don’t need to do this,” Leo said, his voice soft. He hated this, but who cared if he manipulated Purple just a bit? It’s not like he wasn’t used to it.

The image of burning bodies on the TV crept into his mind, engulfing his chest in an angry inferno. 

But he kept his cool.

“You don’t need to fight.”

“That is quite literally the reason for my existence.” Purple rolled his eyes, using all his might to push forward.

Leonardo fell backward, expecting his fate to be sealed by the vines wrapping around his ankles, but Raph jumped in, freeing Leo before Raph was captured by the vines himself. Raph cried out for Leo as he was stolen away.

I was a trap for Raph , Leo realized with horror. He turned back to look at the scarred turtle, grunting. He was shocked, unable to believe how the purple turtle had used his love against them. How evil can this dude get?!

Purple moved quickly, stabbing his naginata into the floor just next to Leo’s head. He leaned against it, his foot pressing against Leo’s as he stood over him. 

“There was a time I thought we could be brothers again,” Purple said almost wistfully, a sparkle of forlorn hope dancing in his eyes. “But I realized you were too far gone- too infected by the humans.”

“Dunno if I can say the same for you,” Leo snarled, gripping his ōdachi tightly. If he could stab him in the armpit…. “Was your heart always as black as charcoal, or was it made that way by Draxum?” 

“It’s for the greater good!” The evil turtle exclaimed passionately. “It’s for the good of yōkai and mutants. Are you too blind to see that?”

Leo groaned in frustration, aggravated by the idea that killing all humans was the best option. He knew the purple turtle was smart, so why was he thinking so dumb? 

“Oh, sure ! Destroy an entire species that had LITERALLY NO IDEA WE EVEN EXISTED!” He shouted angrily, tempted to just slash at the mutant’s legs and get this over with. “Did you ever stop to think that maybe there was literally any other option than KAMIKAZEE-ING EVERYONE?”

Jesus Christ just let me SAVE MY BROTHERS YOU NINJAPOOP. He thought with exasperation. He really just wanted to kill him and be done with this, but Raph would tear him a new one if he’d done that.

“What other way is there?!” Purple roared back, his foot pressing into his chest more, making it harder for Leo to breathe. “What other option could there possibly be?!”

Leo looked up and saw desperation in those heterochromia eyes. But there was longing, too. Longing for a life Purple had only gotten a glimpse of from the few times he’d seen his family. Leo wanted to gag. This turtle didn’t deserve the kind of love his brothers or Splinter could offer. He’d resigned that right when he continued to work for Draxum, continuously trying to kill them in the process.

But the gross idea of Purple ever being part of the Mad Dogz made Leo pause. There had been another option, at the beginning of this all. The day they first met, in Draxum’s lab. Or maybe when Raph reached out to him at the docks, or when Purple and Mikey talked on the shore. 

“There’s always us,” Leo said, trying to keep his composure as he said things he could never really believe. All of those chances had been ignored by the scarred turtle. Every opportunity the turtle had to choose the winning side, to choose the good side, had been squandered by his own twisted soul. 

“I’m sorry we weren’t there when you needed us most, but we’re here now . And we love you. We always have, and we always will.” GAG. BARF. EW.

Purple paused, holding his breath. He pulled away from Leo, distress clear on his face. Leo attempted to get up, but he was pushed back down by the purple turtle’s vines. As they bound him to the ground, Leo could now see clearly that they were a crude imitation of Draxum’s vines. It was interesting how they looked almost robotic, like a small personal touch of Purple’s had slipped through the cracks of that chiseled persona he’d constructed to please and reflect his creator.

“LIAR!” Purple declared with a quivering lip, his voice ripping through the air like a banshee’s scream. Tears were staining his cheeks, his eyes red with sorrow. The vines squeezed against Leo’s wrists and neck, daring to cut off his circulation. “LIAR! YOU’RE ALL LIARS !” 

“The only liar here is that old fart you call ‘dad,’” Leo rasped, his lungs struggling for air. He began to see dark spots dance around his vision, a sign of his fading consciousness. He continued to lie through his teeth. “We can give you what he never could in a million years: love . True, unconditional love.”

Leo could’ve sworn he saw hope spark in Purple’s eyes. But it was snuffed out almost immediately, as if he’d hoped before but believed it wouldn’t ever kindle. Draxum had killed that flame before it even had a chance to ignite.

He felt a little guilty for playing such a cruel trick, but he knew there was no redeeming such a despicable turtle as Purple. 

“Someone like you,” Purple snarled, his voice strained from all of his tears, “could never love someone like me.”

Leo, noticing Purple’s weakened state, used this to his advantage and pushed him off. The other turtle went stumbling back in shock. 

From within the darkness, the struggling noises from his siblings pierced through Leo’s heart. He knew his brothers and sister had been in trouble before, but now, hearing their distress awakened something inside of him. 

Mikey cried out, causing both turtles to whip around in surprise. Leo knew his little brother could be loud, but Jesus Christ was he LOUD. But Leo couldn’t dwell on that fact for long. The amount of distress inherent in the cry was too much, and the sound gripped his heart and tore it from its place in his chest. 

Now he knew what Raph meant when he talked about his “big brother” senses. Now he knew how painful love could really be, a flame in his heart burning brighter with a fury he’d never known before. 

He was going to brute force his way through this. No matter what it took, he was saving his siblings. 

When Purple tried to jab him with his naginata, Leo blocked with his ōdachi and was able to parry him away, kicking him in the stomach to really hurt him. While the metal-shelled turtle was shocked, Leo moved with a speed he didn’t know he was capable of and did his best to race toward the sound of his crying siblings. 

Just as he thought he might make it, a glitchy, transparent vine tangled his foot and caused him to crash against the floor. His ōdachi was thrown out of his grip as he was dragged back to Purple.

But Leo wasn’t about to give up so easily, especially when it came to the safety of his family. He didn’t know what had compelled him to do so, but he opened his hand and called out for his ōdachi. Leo’s mystic energy curling through the air before a flash of bright blinding blue light revealed his trusty weapon back in his grasp. He slashed furiously at the vine, the weird appendage forced back into whatever hellscape it’d come from. 

When he looked up to see the next attack coming his way, he could see Purple launching himself at him, his naginata raised above his head in a furious, sloppy attempt to strike him, and something told Leo his intentions were lethal. He slashed the air quickly, a portal created above him. A similar portal was created just a few feet away, and as soon as he saw the beginnings of that glinting golden blade pierce through the other side, he forced the portal closed. 

Purple crashed on top of him, but Leo didn’t care. He’d accomplished what he’d meant to do– destroy the turtle’s annoying weapon. Purple didn’t seem to care that he technically had the advantage over Leo. He was staring at the broken blade on the other side of the train car, distraught by how mystic energy seemed to emanate from its broken ends. 

“You can get off me,” Leo grunted as he did his best to push the other turtle away. He still had his family to save, and he couldn’t do that with his evil twin holding him back.

Purple punched Leo in his plastron, surprisingly strong despite being a nerd.

“That was a gift from my father,” the turtle said, his voice monotone, but he was far from emotionless. It was as if Purple’s cold exterior was only there to hide the cascade of feelings that lay in that turtle’s heart, but Leo couldn’t think about that. 

“Yeah, well, your dad threw me off a roof,” Leo grumbled, huffing at the memory. “Now, I’ve got an offer for you. You let me go, I save my brothers, and you go back to whatever evil nerd stuff you like doing in your free time. Capiche?” 

“You’re horrible at bargaining,” the purple-masked turtle growled. He tossed the rest of the broken naginata away and used his free hand to lower the mask that covered the bottom of his face. His fangs were now bare, and he had a better view of the scar that took up a little less than half his face. 

It was uncanny how similar they were. He used to deny the resemblance, but up close, he could see on the eye left unscathed by the fire of their youth, a purple marking just beneath reminded him of his own stripes.

Leo wriggled around, attempting to escape the other’s hold, but no matter what he did, Purple held strong. Vines he hadn’t noticed before, this time clearly of Draxum’s own creation, wrapped around Leo’s wrist. Only then did Purple let go, allowing the blue-shelled turtle to be dragged into the darkness to join his siblings in defeat.

Leo watched Purple’s form get smaller and smaller as he was dragged back, unable to look away. He glared at the turtle, cursing him silently.

They could never be brothers. Leo had learned one major thing about Purple, and that he was his father’s son. And like him, he was a selfish, egotistical, merciless killer who stopped at nothing to get what he wanted.

Was he born evil? Leo wondered as the darkness beckoned him. Was there ever a chance he could’ve been like us? Or was he always gonna be some crazed evil scientist?

He went limp, resigning himself to the idea that they would never know.

Chapter Text

April didn’t think her day was going to go like this; stuck in a cage suspended above the ground by a few feet and vined up. 

She honestly expected for the boys to ninja in, ninja out, and be all cool or whatever and save Earth. She had NOT expected to be KIDNAPPED by some EVIL LOOKING LEO and some GOAT ASS MOTHERFUCKER.

So here she was, propped up against a steel bar in some attempt to make herself somewhat comfortable. She hadn’t even been set down like that by her captors. She had to wriggle around in her captive state and force herself to sit upright. Talk about bad hosts, geez.

Regardless, she was stuck there now. All she had to do was sit and wait for the boys and/or Splinter to bust her out. As capable as she was, she knew her limits, and busting through a cage with her scrawny ass arms was definitely something wayyy above her limit. 

She just wished she could reach her phone from where she was. So then she could at least pass the time with YouTube or random mobile games. 

But she could live without her phone for a little while. After all, she may not be a mutant turtle, but she did have the power of ADHD and zoning the fuck out. That should entertain herself for a few hours. 

“Human,” a voice boomed, echoing throughout the dungeon. The other cages around April seemed to move with the sheer intensity of the person’s voice. 

April craned her neck over to see Draxum and Purple standing at the entrance. She groaned beneath the tape over her mouth, knowing that she would have to pivot her entire being so they could do whatever evil villain monologue they were gonna do. 

April shifted herself in the suspended cage to face the two, unable to help the bored expression that painted her face. 

“I’m sure you’re aware this isn’t a friendly visit,” Draxum spoke boldly, his tone clear, crisp, and deliberate. “I have a job for you, little one.”

If only April could talk back. Instead, she cocked her head to the side in interest, trying hard not to roll her eyes. 

Draxum continued, circling the cage like a vulture, his hoovesteps echoing throughout the dungeon. “You will be tasked with the objective of alerting Lou Jitsu to my very generous trade proposal: the turtles for the last piece of the Dark Armor.”

April stared at him wide-eyed. SPLINTER HAD THE LAST PIECE THE ENTIRE TIME? GODDAMNIT. She let out a muffled groan of frustration and kicked her feet in anger. 

“My son will escort you to the drop off point. There is no point in struggling,” Draxum continued as he reached the front of the cage again. Without bothering to look at her, he used some mystic kinda key to open the door. 

Purple stepped into the cage and grabbed April by one of her pigtails before she let out a cry of pain. Does he not know how hair works?!

The turtle sighed and instead slung her over his shoulder, careful to avoid the spikes on his metallic shell. She could tell he was having some trouble carrying her weight, but he didn’t seem to show any indication of struggle.

“Here, my son,” Draxum said before Purple could pass him. The large yōkai handed him something, but April couldn’t quite crane her neck around to see it. 

“This is the blue one’s sword. He destroyed your naginata, so you may use his weapon for now until we can get you a replacement,” Draxum explained. “I thought it might be helpful in transporting the human.”

“Thank you, Father,” Purple bowed his head. 

April could hear Draxum’s hoof steps trail off in the direction of the doorway, and she relaxed a bit in the idea that he was no longer in the room with them. 

Purple walked over to the wall and dropped April down without care for her safety. She nearly scraped herself against one of the spikes as she fell. 

April slumped against the wall and watched as Purple wielded Leo’s ōdachi. Purple was clearly a novice swordsman, even by April’s standards. He looked unsure of how he was holding it, and when he jabbed the air, it looked off. 

Purple began to slash at the air, grunting in frustration. He was clearly trying to make a portal, but nothing was happening. 

April couldn’t help her chuckle at the display. It was all too similar to Leo when he first got the ōdachi. He’d practice for hours and never get even a flicker of mystic power to appear. 

But Purple didn’t have the same patience Leo had, even if Leo had very little to begin with. He so clearly wanted the portal to appear now and how he liked it . 

She tried to speak, to tell him to calm down, but all that came out was muffled noise.

“What?” Purple snapped and glared at her. 

She used her shoulder to motion to the tape covering her mouth. 

The turtle seemed to understand what she was getting at. He squinted in suspicion before shrugging and approaching her. He crouched down in front of her and tore the tape right off. It hurt like hell, but she kept quiet about the pain. 

“What do you want?” Purple asked with annoyance. 

“You’re not gonna get a portal open by just swinging that thing around.” April explained. 

“I should be able to,” the turtle grumbled. “I should have the power to. If that stupid slider can do it then so can I.”

“Leo never got it on his first try,” April said with a chuckle. “And he still doesn’t. That dumbass once opened a portal to Paris trying to get to my house.”

Purple snorted, raising an amused brow. “Really?” 

April nodded in confirmation. “You just gotta concentrate. Take your time with it. There’s no rush.”

“There is absolutely rush, what the fuck are you talking about?” Purple flicked her forehead. “Why are you helping me, anyway? What’s your endgame?”

“Dude, I was just trying to make sure you didn’t stab me out of frustration,” she shrugged. “And also ‘cause I’m hoping that Splinter’ll have a plan to free the boys.”

“We hold the cards,” Purple reminded her and held the ōdachi up so the blade brushed against her throat. “You don’t.”

April would be a liar if she said she wasn’t afraid. She was acutely aware of the position she was in. But she was never one to go down without a fight.

“Yeah, we but we do have that last piece,” April said with a mischievous smile. “And I’m pretty sure ya need that to finish the armor.” 

Purple went quiet. After a moment, he removed the blade from her neck and stepped away. 

“Tell me again how to open the portal.”

Deep within the Hidden City, far from any place they’d ever known, the three turtles sat locked in a cage suspended by thick, crimson chains in a desolate cave. Each small prison was connected to each other by the chains, meaning that if one of them swayed, so did the rest. The cave was filled with other cages, too, but they were the only ones there.

Well, the only living ones there. Mikey could see that in other cages, bones of long-forgotten yōkai (and some humans, he was sure) sat, serving only to collect dust and give the box turtle the creeps.

Mikey had found himself on one side of the hanging cage, curling up against the cold, black-painted iron bars. A longing for home he’d never felt before crashed into his heart like a ton of bricks, and he resisted the urge to whimper from the homesickness he felt. He wanted his dad. 

“We failed,” Leo murmured, his meek voice echoing through the enormous caverns. “We didn’t follow the Hamato way.”

Raph, who stood near the edge, looking out of the cage, shook his head as he rested it against the bars. “We followed Master Splinter’s teachin’s exactly. We didn’t fail.”

“Yes, you did,” a voice said from far below. The only reason they heard him was the acoustics of the caves, allowing his voice to bounce off the jagged walls and reach their ears. Then, a sound Mikey recognized followed their estranged brother’s statement. It sounded similar to a car engine starting or a motorcycle revving. He’d heard this before when they had been messing around on the rooftop together. A wave of nostalgia and regret washed over Mikey before it was replaced with the memory of why he’d pushed him away in the first place. Murderer. 

Purple made his appearance, coming into view of the teenagers. His artificial shell now had a jetpack protruding out of it, the low hum of the rotors giving Mikey something to listen to other than the slight creak and screech of the chains rubbing against each other whenever they moved ever so slightly. 

“Personally, I would consider getting captured and held for ransom failing,” Purple chuckled, crossing his arms over his plastron with a smug look. “But that’s just me. I do have higher standards than you all.”

“Yeah,” Leo rolled his eyes, clearly bitter. “But at least we don’t kill orphans.” 

Purple’s eyes went a little wide before he relaxed his muscles once more. This did not go unnoticed by Mikey, who wondered why the mutant seemed agitated. Was he remembering their fight? Or was there something deeper to that reaction that he just couldn’t understand at that moment?

“Leo,” Raph warned with a low voice. “Not helpin’.”

“Why are we dodging the obvious?” Leo bit back angrily, throwing his arms up in the air. “Why are we ignoring the fact that he’s hurt us? We tried so hard for him, and all he does is just…” The slider waved his arms around, gesturing to their current predicament. “Lock us up!”

Purple seemed surprised by this, watching Leo argue with Raph. But also a little frightened by the anger that was clear in Leo’s tone. The strange turtle backed away a bit, distancing himself from the two. Mikey wondered what was going on inside his head.

“Leo,” Raph turned around to look at their brother. His gaze narrowed, but his eyes were full of a familiar care and love Mikey had never seen him without. “We don’t understand everythin’ that’s goin’ on, yeah? We need to keep calm.” The snapping turtle turned around to face the flying turtle. “Purple-”

“Calm!” Leo snorted in disbelief as he crossed his arms. “How can we keep calm? We have no idea where April is! They might be after Dad! The Dark Armor is complete, and we don’t have a single idea of how to get out of this cell!”

“April- that’s the human,” Purple said, his voice quieter now. His cocky demeanor had vanished when the argument started, replaced by someone Mikey’s heart ached for. He wanted to hug him, to help him, to do anything to make him stop trembling. But he couldn’t do anything. Not just because of the bars but because of his own mind that kept reminding him that this turtle was a liar and was just as manipulative as the man that had raised him. 

“Yeah,” Raph said, ignoring Leo and instead focusing on their purple-masked brother. “Do you know where she is? We just wanna know that she’s safe.”

“We, um,” Purple averted his gaze, his hesitance evident. He was thinking about something before settling in saying, “She’s safe. She’s not hurt…” He played with his fingers, the claws on the gloves digging into his palms. “...I mean, not physically. I don’t think so. If she did what I told her to do.” 

“Oh yeah. ‘Cause that’s reassuring,” Leo grumbled sarcastically. 

“Father has sent her to Lou Jitsu,” Purple blurted, looking clearly stressed and anxious. “We’re using you as ransom to get the last piece of the Dark Armor.”

The red-eared slider perked up immediately, his scowl gone and replaced with a self-satisfied smirk. “And that’s how you get someone to tell ya what you want. BA- BAM!”

“Leo,” Mikey broke his silence, his eyes dark with anger. “You just manipulated him.”

“Yeah,” Leo shrugged without a semblance of care. “To help us. Good cop, bad cop. Raph gets it, right?”

Raph shook his head with disappointment, making Leo deflate a bit. “That’s not how we do things.”

Purple looked surprised but noticeably angry and upset. His eyes glistened a bit, and Mikey noted that he looked like he was about to cry. “You used me.”

“Oh, please ,” Leo rolled his eyes before dancing over to the side of the cage, poking his head out just to get a closer look at Purple. “You think old Daddy Draxum isn’t doing the exact same thing?”

Purple grabbed Leo’s chin, his claws digging into his skin. From where Mikey sat, he couldn’t see too well, but he was positive that he knew what the red liquid against his brother’s green skin was. 

“My Father loves me,” Purple insisted as if he was trying to convince himself more than he was trying to convince them. “He would never, ever use me.” 

“Purple,” Mikey spoke up, his voice soft. The turtle didn’t let go of Leo, only maneuvered himself slightly so he could look at the orange-masked turtle better. Mikey took this as a sign to continue. “I don’t know what the relationship between your Father and you is like,” he said carefully, trying not to give away the fact that he’d been visiting the purple turtle behind his brothers’ backs. “But I do know that he wouldn’t be trying to shut us out of your life if he was a good person. In a world where he was good, we would all be together, and-”

“QUIET,” Purple raged, pushing Leo backward as he released his hold on him. “You don’t know shit! You don’t know anything about me! And whose fault is that?!”

“Draxum’s,” Raph said, helping Leo up and examining his bleeding chin. “He kept you from us.”

“ERR! Wrong!” The purple-masked turtle sneered. “Lou Jitsu left me behind,” Purple snarled dangerously. “And even if he hadn’t, he wouldn’t have kept me for long.”

“You don’t know that,” Mikey insisted, pulling himself up by the bars. Purple circled around the cage to meet Mikey where he stood. “You’re just copying what Draxum’s said, and he didn’t even know Splinter.” 

“He knew him well enough,” Purple argued, his eyes locked onto Mikey with an icy coldness he’d never expected from the strange turtle. “And he knows me.”

Mikey took a deep breath, unsure if he was ready to hear the answer to his next question. But he knew he had to ask- he had to know. He’d always meant to ask back before everything went south, but he never had the courage or chance. But now, he didn’t fear losing Purple. He’d already lost him. 

“Why do you believe our dad abandoned you– or that wouldn’t keep you for long?”

Purple blinked, a confused expression painting his face. It was as if it was an obvious fact that everyone knew, and Purple seemed dumbfounded by the idea Mikey could have no plausible idea what the answer was. “...Because I’m… me?”

“Well,” Raph hummed in serious contemplation. “We put up with Leo, so I think we can handle whatever ya think might turn us away.” 

“HEY!” Leo pouted but didn’t argue any further. Deep down, he knew Raph was right. That and the fact that it was clear that the big snapping turtle was only joking.

“I’m rude, and I tend to ramble,” Purple began to list, playing with his hands as he did so. He didn’t make eye contact, which Mikey didn’t mind. It was just something he noticed the other turtle often did, even while on the rooftop. He could pay attention and recite every word Mikey had spoken in the past minute with surprising accuracy, proving he was actually listening intently, without the need to look at him. Mikey found it a bit endearing if he was honest. “I’m easily irritable, I’m awful at social cues, my softshell makes me weak, I bite a lot, I would sometimes claw Father as a child on accident or- or on purpose, and—”

“That’s just autism,” Mikey said aloud, shutting his mouth when he realized he’d blurted his thoughts. Purple just looked at him curiously, his head tilted in confusion. Mikey hesitated before he continued, knowing that there wasn’t much he could do to make this conversation any worse. “A lot of those traits are just… autistic traits.”

“But I’m not stupid,” Purple reasoned matter-of-factly. It was as if he’d associated autism with stupidity, and there was no question about it. “I’m not autistic. I’m just annoying, and I hurt people and break things because I can’t control myself. I’m like… like an overgrown toddler.”

Mikey held back a smile. He didn’t like how Purple had equated autism to low intelligence, seeing as Leo also had autism and was incredibly smart and witty. But he didn’t bring it up, knowing that Purple thought Leo was dumb. 

“Autism doesn’t affect how smart you are.” Mikey tried to explain. “Just how your brain works. Plenty of smart people are autistic. People are pretty sure that the real Michelangelo and Leonardo were autistic, and they’re like, super cool!”

“Really? Leonardo da Vinci was autistic?” Purple asked, a little star-struck and clearly in awe. “But he was an incredible inventor! That doesn’t make sense. He was hard-working and skilled in his craft.”

“Yeah, but wasn’t that often at the expense of his social life?” Mikey pointed out, trying to remember the research he’d done on the artists they’d been named after. “I mean, I’m pretty sure that he was obsessive over his work, and he had, like, a writing style more associated with people with ADHD? Which I have.”

Purple went quiet, staring at Mikey with intense concentration. He could almost see the cogs working in his brain, which fascinated Mikey. He knew that autism and ADHD were similar, but there was a difference in how their brains worked. He loved how Leo thought– he was insightful in ways neither Raph nor Mikey were. It seemed that Purple was the same way. 

Thinking about it, Leo and Purple were incredibly similar. The visual similarity was uncanny, with the biggest difference being their head shape and coloration. Purple was a darker, less saturated green than Leo, who also had distinguishing yellow and red stripes. Maybe they’re twins .

“Dad wouldn't have kicked ya out if you were autistic,” Raph assured him as he continued to look at Leo’s chin. “There’s nothin’ wrong with bein’ different. Dad knows that.”

“You don’t know that,” Purple said firmly, scowling. “You don’t know me.”

“Not on a personal level,” Raph agreed. “But I know Dad, and he wouldn’t kick ya out for somethin’ like that…” The snapper looked back to Mikey, tensing a bit. “But it’s a little late for reconciliation. You’ve hurt us. You’re… You’re our enemy.”  

A few days ago, Mikey would have contested that idea vehemently. His heart ached for Purple, and even now he wanted him back. He wanted to return to the rooftop and go back to how it was. Brothers in secret, making jokes in the dark of night, playing games under the stars. 

Mikey knew that wasn’t possible now. Splinter had been right all along– Purple was ruthless. Their time together had been a ruse, an attempt to bring Mikey to his side. Or at least, that’s how Mikey rationalized their interactions. It was easier to believe that he was some manipulative trickster with a heart of black than it was to think he was a misguided child. It made it easier to frame him as the villain they were supposed to view him as.

“Why are you here, Purple?” Leo asked, pushing Raph away lightly, clearly agitated by the older brother’s doting. “What did you plan to get out of this interaction? Do you want an apology? ‘Cause we’re not giving you that.”

“I want to give you a final chance to join us,” Purple said, trying and failing to appear confident. “I can forgive you for any wrong-doings in the past.”

Leo snorted, gripping the bars as he stuck his head out of the cage. “Yeah, no thanks. I’m not interested in joining a gang of dudes with sticks up their asses.” 

Purple used a finger to push Leo back, who promptly tried to bite him. “I’m not offering this to you,” He said, his eyes flicking back to Mikey. “I’m asking him.”

Mikey ignored his brothers’ glances at him. They were confused as to what Purple was talking about. But Mikey knew, and he felt shameful for not having told his brothers about their nightly meetings yet. 

Days ago, Mikey might have seriously considered the offer. But now? He knew Purple’s true nature and had been a victim to his shadow crested heart. “No.”

Mikey knew that Purple was frowning deeply despite the mask that covered part of his face. 

“No?” He repeated sadly. “Mikey, I can handle killing Leo and Raph, but I don’t think I’m capable of hurting you. I’m offering you salvation. Why are you refusing me?”

“Gee, thanks,” Leo muttered, leaning against the bars. After a single second spent brooding, his eyes widened, and he turned to Purple with a confused look painting his face. “Why can’t you hurt him?” 

“Oh, has he not told you?” Purple asked with an amused twinkle in his eyes. “Mikey and I have been meeting up for a few months now. He called me his big bro. If I recall correctly, he even skipped out on plans with you two in favor of hanging out with me.” 

Mikey didn’t miss the sense of pride tainting the turtle’s tone, and while it did make him a bit happy to see Purple happy to talk about him, he also felt… hurt. He was using their bonding as ammo against his brothers. 

“That was before you blew up an orphanage.”

Purple went rigid, his eyes trained on Mikey. Strained, he said, “I see how it is.” 

“Why are you upset that he brought that up?” Raph asked a little defensively. He moved in front of Mikey, shielding him from the softshell’s view. “You’re the one that killed a bunch of kids.”

Purple pulled down his mask, looking like he might collapse. Was the jetpack the only thing stopping him from falling to the ground? His breathing looked so labored…

“Stop. Stop talking about it.” He practically begged, leaving Mikey confused. Hadn’t he willingly done it? Hadn’t he been proud? 

“Did you enjoy watching those kids burn?” Leo asked in a taunting voice, smirking dangerously. “I bet you did. It probably gave you—“

“IT WAS AN ACCIDENT,” Purple shouted, tearing his goggles from his head and throwing them at the cage. It bounced off one of the bars, falling down the ground with a loud CLANG. His chest rose and fell rapidly.

Leo’s jaw dropped in surprise. Raph was silent and refused to make a move. The only sounds were from the creaking of the metal chains and the hum of Purple’s jetpack. 

Mikey swallowed back his anger as it was replaced by confusion and pity. Why did you lie to me? Why couldn’t we just have talked?

Before anyone could say anything more, Purple used his jetpack to zoom off. None of the turtles made any effort to stop him or to make him stay. Mikey buried his face in his knees, finding regret wrapping itself around his heart painfully. He wanted his dad or April. 

Mikey found himself remembering the first night they’d spent on the rooftop together. They’d argued about something he couldn’t entirely remember, but he recalled showing him his sketchbook. He’d told him about Tigersong and Dukeflake, two characters he’d created based on his favorite book series, Warrior Cats. They were brothers, separated at birth, with Tigersong able to live a prosperous life in ThunderClan whilst Dukeflake was cursed to bear his father’s cruelty in SkyClan. 

He hadn’t been blind to the parallels then, and he wasn’t blind to them now. Dukeflake, in his story, had grown mad by his mistreatment and the love everyone afforded Tigersong. So the brothers fought, and in the end, Tigersong was forced to kill Dukeflake to stop his reign of darkness over the five Clans. 

The orange turtle wondered if he would have to do to Purple what Tigersong had done to Dukeflake. 

Mikey turned his attention over to his other brothers. He had expected questions or rage about the reveal of his nights spent with Purple, but Leo and Raph didn’t seem focused on that, or they didn’t care all that much. It made him feel relieved. He just needed time to quiet his raging mind. And he was glad his brothers understood that. Or at least, they let him have that. He rested his forehead against one of the cold, steel bars, and let himself think.

Raph let his forehead rest against the cold bars of their cage, his eyes closed as he listened to Purple jetpack away. He had so many conflicted feelings about the turtle. 

One on hand, Purple was their brother, both in ooze and blood. They’d been mutated by the same Yōkai, chosen to carry out a dark path when they were just regular, tiny turtles. This was very clearly not a case of nature, and instead the ones who raised them were to blame or thank for the way they turned out. In his, Leo’s, and Mikey’s case, they became heroes . 

Purple was crafted into a villain.

He couldn’t bring himself to truly hurt him. He could rough him up a bit, but causing injury was out of the question. Killing him… That wasn’t an option. 

But just because he was their brother didn’t mean anything. Families could be horrible to each other, and there was no obligation to keep someone as family if they were hurting you or others. And Purple definitely fit those criteria. 

It was hard to love someone who only knew hatred. He could show him love and compassion, but would that change anything? Was he too set in his ways? And what made them responsible for his attitude toward life? Why should they be the ones to risk their wellbeing for someone who’s shown no care to them? Surely there was some yōkai rehabilitation center for troubled kids or something. 

He sighed loudly and glanced back at Mikey. The youngest turtle was still faced away from them, so unnaturally quiet. Purple had said they’d hung out together in the past few months, and now those night trips made sense. He should’ve been angry that Mikey would’ve done something so frankly stupid but he just… didn’t have the energy to be mad. He mostly felt pity and regret. I should have protected him. I shouldn’t have let him go out.

He narrowed his gaze and clenched his jaw. He wasn’t going to let them die here. He wouldn’t let them become sitting ducks, nor would he allow Draxum and Purple to use them as bargaining chips. 

Raph began to use every ounce of his strength to try and pry the bars apart, grunting as he did so. 

“Raph, I don’t think that’s gonna work,” Leo said with a huff.

The snapping turtle ignored him and kept pulling. Suddenly, with a loud creak , the bars buckled under his strength and bent, but just a bit. It wouldn’t let any of them through… yet. 

Raph tried again. 

Purple landed on the dungeon floor, his chest collapsing in on him. He’d already taken his mask off in an attempt to breathe better, but it felt like no use. He felt dizzy and disorientated, his brain making the world look so unfamiliar, and his legs functioning incorrectly. He leaned against the wall, using it as a crutch. 

He wasn’t supposed to visit the turtles. He’d been told by his father not to, but he couldn’t listen, could he? He’d wanted to see Mikey so badly that he’d ignored his father’s wise advice, and now he was paying for his unfortunate decision. 

He had even offered the orange turtle another chance to join them even after the other night. Purple just selfishly wanted him by his side. But Mikey only proved himself to be a burden. The softshell had to let go of him. 

He exited the dungeon and entered one of the large hallways of the Titan’s Castle. This place was ancient, rumored to have been the home of a great Oni race thousands of years ago. Now, the only evidence that they had ever existed was stories and this place, which held the world’s only supply of empyrean, A substance said to have been their life force, capable of great power. 

The throne room held the Dark Armor as it awaited its final piece, but he didn’t want to go there. Not now, at least. He had work to do. 

Purple had been instructed to be stationed in a guard tower to watch for Lou Jitsu’s arrival. He would most definitely try to sneak in and rescue his sons, so it was up to Purple to intercept him before that could happen. 

Purple pushed into a long abandoned bedroom, shutting the door behind him. He would get to his post soon, but the headache crashing against his skull demanded that he sit for a moment and rest. Even if that’s not what Father might want, he could easily excuse himself by saying he was in the bathroom. Besides, there were a million Foot Clan ninjas also waiting for Lou Jitsu. They could surely take on that old man without his help. 

He carefully sat on a couch after clearing it of dust. He relaxed after a moment of sitting there, breathing out a sigh of relief. The quiet was nice. 

Is killing all humans the right way to go? He wondered, a little discontent about how traitorous his mind had become. It would make room for the yōkai, yeah, but what if there’s already space for us we just haven’t thought about? 

Quickly, he began to search on his gauntech for places with little to no human inhabitants. A color-coded map appeared to him, and his heart leaped in joy. While many parts of the world were marked as having human occupancy, there was a vast amount of land that appeared unconquered. Australia and Canada had an entire section of their country just left without people, and he doubted anyone would miss Greenland. There’s so much land the yōkai could claim as their own! Why hasn’t Father thought about this? Or maybe he has, and there’s a reason why we can’t live there?

As much as he hated humans, he knew that going through an all-out war with them would be time-consuming and tiring. He’d dedicated most of his life to this cause, so, of course, he’d thought about it. He had just assumed that this was something they needed to do to save the yōkai since they had nowhere else to go but underground. 

But looking at the map and the land they had to choose from, he felt flabbergasted at the amount of time and energy that would be wasted in the endeavor Draxum had trained him for. Not to mention the sea, which, now that he thought about it, could provide a good location, too. Seeing as most people ignored the ocean, they could create an artificial island to live on. Why had Draxum overlooked this idea before?

Why would he insist on a useless war if all they had to do was move to fucking Russia? 

Purple leaped onto his feet and left the room in a hurry. If he was right, there was no need for anyone to get hurt. He could convince Draxum to stop this, to find a place unoccupied by humans. It would save countless lives, yōkais and humans alike.

And then Mikey won’t have to die, he thought anxiously as he sped through the hallways, tracing a path he’d memorized. A worry crept into his mind about how Father might already know this information, and he’d be scolded for suggesting such a stupid idea. The dent in Shelldon’s body was pictured in his mind. He didn’t want that to happen to him. 

But the more he thought about it, the more willing he was to risk it. He could heal from wounds, but the world wouldn’t heal from the absence of Mikey. His world had gotten so much better with Mikey in it, and even if he had told him to leave that other night, he still clung to the idea that they may still be brothers yet.

He made a turn, and before he could avoid a collision with whoever was in his path, metal hit him directly in the head, and he stumbled back, a bit dazed. He shook his head to clear it, cursing how his head still ached, and the impact surely wasn’t making it any better. 

“Purple?” 

The familiar, robotic voice of his friend made him perk up. Any sour emotions he may have had washed away in an instant. “Shelldon!”

The robot smiled with his eyes before the two of them began to walk leisurely side by side. It had been a while since they had seen eye to eye. Before the… incident, the two would find it hard to hold a good conversation. 

“Where are you going?” Shelldon asked as he did a small twirl in the air. “Huginn and Muninn said you’d be at the south tower as a lookout.” 

“Google the percentage of the Earth that’s not being used,” Purple instructed him as they walked. After a few seconds, the robot’s eyes morphed into exclamation points.