TMNT are the property of Mirage. OH, and hi to Buslady and Reinbeauchaser! I hope we can do that again sometime soon!

Four

I thought that the Turtles would soon grow tired of "training." After all, they were young, and I knew how they did not stay focused on many things for long.

Well, apart from Donatello's fascination with the workings of the toilet. I thought I would be mopping the bathroom floor and unclogging that thing of toys and other items for the rest of my life. I simply could not break him of...

Anyway, the next morning I was up early because it was going to be a scavenging day, and I needed to get in as much training of myself as possible. I barely had bowed to honor the dojo when "Morning, Sensei!" sounded cheerfully behind me. Turning, I saw all four of my sons, "bandanas" in place, bowing and ready for their "training."

Amused, I smiled and nodded my head to them as they "bowed" to me.

"Good morning my sons."

Then they began their "stretching" routines, which I cannot adequately describe. I began my own, noticing out of the corner of my eye that when I did a certain movement, Leonardo and Michelangelo immediately began to copy it.

Raphael and Donatello seemed content to simply do what they had been shown, but I began to detect a certain competition between the youngest and the oldest. What one decided to do, the other was quick to follow. This, I gathered from some overheard whispered conversation between the two, was going to be ongoing.

"I's gonna be father's team!" Michelangelo, in the middle of a stretch, whispered fiercely to Leonardo. "I's thought of it first! Is MY idea!"

"I'm going to team with father," Leonardo whispered back, speaking carefully, as if practicing his pronunciation. "I am older than you, and I talk better than you, so I will be the team!"

"My sons," I spoke, interrupting any further chance of this turning into a typical shouting match of "NO! YES! NO! YES!"- generally how all such "conversations" tended to end up lately- "Let us begin."

We started with the first five punches that I showed Michelangelo the day before, and it was not long before I felt confident that we could move on to the next five.

Right foot back, left hand side block, straight right punch

-chudan uke seiken seiken tsuki!

Right foot back, left side open hand block, straight right spear hand

-tegata barai tegata nuki!

Right foot back, left open hand head block, right uppercut

-jodan tegata barai jodan tsuki!

Right foot back, left hand head block (closed), straight right punch

-jodan uke seiken tsuki!

Right foot back, left hand head block, bridge of nose punch, straight right punch-urauken seiken tsuki!

Each time, all four managed to learn the punch and the Japanese (after a fashion- I still to this day can hear Raphael saying "Chewda ucky say 'KEN' say 'KEN' Tishukey- how come we gotta say KEN? Who is Ken?"), but as I suspected, it became a case of sibling rivalry between Leonardo and Michelangelo.

"Mikey, do it this way," Leonardo, stopping his own attempt, made to correct Michelangelo's stance on the last one. "And make your arm straighter when you punch."

Michelangelo's face was a study in indignant shock and insulted pride.

"I knows how to do it, LE'NARDO!" he said with as much haughty ice in his voice as he could manage (in a three-year old sort of way). "I's had more lessons 'n YOU, anyways!"

"Well, you're doin' it wrong, dummy," Leonardo smugly told him, once again demonstrating his own ability to do the block and the punches, with the air of someone who had been doing them for his entire life.

"Leonardo!" I snapped at the offending word, but quick as I was, Michelangelo was quicker.

Michelangelo did not take this affront to his fighting skills or the insulting word lightly. With a sudden movement, he practiced one of the strikes on his brother, sending him quickly to the floor, crying.

"Michelangelo!" I now reprimanded him, more shocked than angry. I had seen them hit each other before- it seemed almost second nature to them to strike out in anger sometimes- but this was different! He had managed to hit his brother hard! Only his lack of training kept him from seriously hurting Leonardo.

"Oooo!" Donatello was impressed. "So that's what it looks like!"

"Yeah! Can I hit Leo next?" Raphael chimed in eagerly.

Donatello cheerfully asked Michelangelo to do it again "sos I can see it better", but I had quickly taken the offending Turtle by the hand and had marched him to the corner (once I had made sure that Leonardo was all right).

"You were wrong to strike your brother!" I said sharply. "I am ashamed of you! You will stand in the corner for the rest of the lesson!"

"But... but... you said that we could only hit each other in the dojo!" he protested, looking confused now instead of angry.

Now I was confused. I had to think where he had gotten that idea- and remembered something I had said in the kitchen the day before.

"Well, yes, but only in training! Never in anger," I pointed out, looking down at him. "You hit your brother in anger, and that is not allowed!"

He thought about that. Then he looked sad.

"Oh. 'kay. I's sorry, Sensei."

Then he turned and faced the corner without further word.

I was now surprised more by this action than his previous one of attacking his brother.

I turned to Leonardo.

"You, my son, were wrong to say what you did to your brother," I told him, looking at the red mark that his sibling had left on his face. "I have told you before about that word! You must stand in the other corner for the rest of the lesson."

And I placed him at the other end of the room. He looked as if he would like to protest, but having witnessed his youngest brother's response to punishment, he looked up at me, swallowed down whatever he had been about to say, and nodded.

"Sorry, Sensei," he managed, and he, too, turned to face the corner.

True to my word, I made them stand there while their brothers and I trained with the pillows and the foam noodles. Then it was time to fix breakfast.

I noticed, as they left the dojo and all through breakfast, that Leonardo and Michelangelo were careful to avoid each other. I was more than surprised that Michelangelo was not clinging to me for attention as he normally did once his brothers had "hurt" him.

The same could be said (to a lesser extent) about Leonardo. Yet the two of them acted as if nothing was wrong. True, they would not even look at each other it seemed, but at least it was quiet.

I was hesitant to go scavenging later, but around the time I was to leave, the two were playing together again, so I pushed my vague uneasiness from my mind and left to find food for all of us.

To my amazement this daily activity continued on for several weeks with rarely a break in the routine. At this point I still did not insist on it. That could wait until they were five or six, I had decided. Until then, if they did not feel like participating I was not going to push it. Only once in a while, however, did any of them stay in bed or stayed in the living room to play while the others joined me in the dojo. Mainly they attended their daily lessons, and I must admit I was very proud of their progress! Who would have believed that such small children could be so skillful?

The sibling rivalry between Leonardo and Michelangelo continued with rarely a break as well. It seemed that Donatello and Raphael did not share this particular trait with their brothers, though they were eager and willing to learn none the less. But Michelangelo and Leonardo went at each new task as if there was some sort of fantastic reward awaiting the winner.

Though they did not repeat the actions of that first time, it seemed that at least once a week one of them (or both of them) would finish out the lesson in the corner. I am sure it was not that often, but to a harried father it appeared so. More than once I would overhear the old "ME and Father!" "No, it's Father and ME, Mikey!" "ME, Leo!" "Me!" "ME!" "ME!"

I was beginning to feel like a prize of sorts.

Despite this constant disagreement over who was going to form the Ninja team with father, their enthusiasm for the lessons did not lessen as the weeks went by.

It turned out that this dedication paid off in a way that I had not foreseen.

One late afternoon I had to go out for supplies. I had put it off because the weather had been too good- rainy weather is better for scavenging topside, as there is less chance of being noticed by others. I had had to avoid the man I had had previous trouble with. He had been gone for some time, and from what I could overhear from fellow scavengers, he had been arrested for fighting and being under the influence of drugs. But he had recently been released, and was even more surly and dangerous than before. Many scavengers ran the risk of losing choice discoveries to this evil human.

I had seen him a few times, and his actions convinced me that when he was not "high" on some sort of drug, he was endeavoring to steal what he could from others in order to "score" some more. I had had several close calls as it were, but each time I had managed to avoid any contact with him.

This evening it was my unfortunate luck to encounter him face to face as it were.

"Hey! Hand over everything ya got in the bag, scum!" he slurred in a surly voice, a sort of rough club in one hand. I was next to a dumpster at the end of a dark and dingy alley, and had found of all things a radio that appeared to be in good condition- the antannea was bent, and it was rather out of fashion, but if it still worked then we would have something rare to entertain us.

He did not seem to care that I had been scavenging from dumpsters. He was determined to have my sack of food and supplies. We were alone in the alley- it was dark and rainy, so I had ventured out earlier than usual.

"Hurry up, old man!" he snapped, moving forwards in a threatening manner. "Give it all to me and I won't beat you up too much!"

He had evidently forgotten our previous meeting, for which I was grateful. He stood between me and the safety of the sewers, however. It appeared that I would have to fight him in order to escape.

I was feeling more confident in my abilities, but I had tried to avoid any confrontations- all I would need is for my disguise to be penetrated, and then what would happen to my children? I might escape, but I had no doubt that the sewers would be searched for such a find as a "large cloths-wearing rat".

However, it was unavoidable. He lunged at me quickly, but I was quicker. All of my training paid off as I easily avoided his clumsy attacks, and dealt with him soundly. It was a very short though noisy fight, but I was pleased. He would not be a problem for me again- or so I thought.

The police immediately showed up- evidently people in the apartments looking into the alley must have alerted them. I was able to make my way quickly into the sewers with all of my items intact. I waited, as usual, to see if I was being followed, but I soon felt safe enough to move on my way.

I had already taken longer than I had anticipated, and was anxious to return home to my sons, so I gave no further thought to the ruffian who had tried once again to steal the nourishment and items needed for my sons.

Unfortunately (and I am piecing this part of my story together from subsequent accounts of fellow scavengers as well as what my sons later told me), the fellow, needing a quick escape, had made his way into the manhole that I had used, and was hiding. When it sounded as if the police were going to search there as well, he (unfortunately) went the same direction as me.

I believe that he must have spied me in the distance, and for whatever reason, decided to follow me as quietly as his condition allowed. I will never know for sure if this is what happened, but this is the only thing that makes sense. At any rate, I hurried home as quickly and as quietly as I could. I do not believe that he found our home that first time, for no one bothered us the rest of that evening or through the night, but the next day was going to be one of the most frightening things that has happened to me, next to the brutal murder of my master Yoshi.

The next day, he invaded my home while I was gone.