This is a quick little plot bunny that has been hopping around in my head ever since I saw "Enemy of my Enemy". I finally had to open the hutch in my brain and let it out.

After Life

It was only after he had gone to bed that night that Splinter realized he thought of Hamato Yoshi as dead. The revelation left him feeling light, hollow, and aching, as if the earthly vessel of skin and fur and teeth he occupied were about to crack and shatter and blow away in a breeze. He removed his robe and settled under his blankets before turning off the light, hoping the forgetfulness of sleep would come soon.

Remnants of Yoshi remained. The memories of his childhood and growing up, memories of Tang Shen and Miwa, the mastery of ninjutsu, and the heart of a father all belonged to Yoshi. But Yoshi had lost everything that mattered and fled his homeland, sinking into obscurity.

Splinter had reached for Yoshi not long ago, during his captivity by the Rat King. The Rat King had seen him only as an animal and had reached for the animal within, pulling Splinter away from the last of his humanity. Splinter had been terrified as he felt his sense of self melting away like morning fog: "I am Hamato Yoshi!" he had cried.

But Yoshi had not been there.

And when he had broken free, when he had torn his mind away from the Rat King, it was not Yoshi who opened his eyes. It was Splinter, called back to himself by his sons. "Father! We need you!"

But he hadn't truly thought of himself as two distinct persons. He hadn't thought of the man – the human – he had been before as dead.

Until today.

His sons had been gone when he awoke. Although it was not particularly worrisome, it was unusual. They almost always stayed in the lair until after sunset. Splinter suspected it had something to do with the recent developments with Karai. Although she most likely could never be completely trusted, the possibility of having an ally within the Foot clan did present a tactical advantage, and according to Leonardo, she had promised to help them obtain a weapon to destroy the Kraang ship that had been hunting them.

Splinter entered the dojo and picked up a pair of nunchaku. It had been several weeks since he had used them and he wanted to perfect a new combination of kata before demonstrating them for Michelangelo. His back was to the door but he knew the moment his sons returned. He finished the kata and turned around, catching his breath as he looked them over.

Something wasn't right.

They smelled of gunpowder and soot. He could see that they weren't hurt – that was the first thing he looked for – but they were unusually subdued and Leonardo looked distressed.

Splinter set the weapons down and approached. "What has happened?"

"I made a mistake, Sensei," Leonardo said. He knelt on the rug, hands clamped tightly on his knees. Donatello and Raphael exchanged a look that Splinter wasn't sure how to read, but they and Michelangelo knelt as well, flanking their brother.

"Karai told us where the Shredder's weapons shipment was coming in," Leonardo told him. "I decided that we should take advantage of the information to try and take him out."

Raphael looked troubled. "It wasn't your idea, Leo," he started to say, but fell silent as Leonardo glanced at him and shook his head. Splinter felt his body grow cold at the knowledge that his sons had tried to take on the Shredder, but he remained mute, waiting for the end of the story.

"We had him," Leonardo went on, "but Karai saw the attack coming and knocked him out of the way. She saved him. But...she feels like we betrayed her. She's against us now." He looked up, eyes pleading for understanding. "I knew she worked for him, but I thought she was just another of his clan, like Xever or Bradford. I didn't think she'd risk her own life to save his, but...I didn't know that he was her father."

Her father.

Every muscle in Splinter's body went rigid. His lips parted as a gasp hissed through his clenched teeth. His chest locked, painfully tight, as he stared down at Leonardo, and he saw the change that came over his eldest son the instant he realized the significance of what he had said. Raphael and Donatello realized it, too, and looked up at Splinter with an expression of sorrow bordering on alarm. Michelangelo noticed the sudden tension in the room's atmosphere. Splinter could tell he wasn't sure yet what had happened, but he didn't ask questions.

"Karai is...the Shredder's daughter." Splinter hardly recognized his own voice as he forced the words out.

Leonardo hesitated before answering, voice so low that even Splinter's sensitive ears could hardly hear it. "Hai, Sensei."

Splinter turned quickly away, clasping his hands tightly behind his back as he bowed his head and squeezed his eyes shut. A turbulent storm of rage, loss, and grief boiled up within his heart. He focused solely on taking slow, deep breaths until he had reined in the chaos of emotion enough so he could speak.

"You could not have known," he said, voice deceptively calm, covering the jagged edges of his pain in a smooth veneer. "You made decisions based on the knowledge you had. Perhaps you should not have attempted to take advantage of Karai's information, and she may be right to see this as a betrayal, even though she serves an underworld crime lord. But what's done is done, and we will have to deal with the consequences." He sighed heavily and turned to face his sons once again. "There will be no formal training today. I expect you all will practice adequately." He waited until Leonardo met his gaze and his eyes gentled. Leonardo still looked guilty and a little sad, but a faint hopefulness dawned in his eyes when he saw Splinter was not angry with him.

As Splinter entered his room and slid the door closed, he saw Raphael bending to speak softly in Michelangelo's ear, and he saw the flash of sorrow in the blue eyes as his youngest son turned his head to look at the old black and white photograph on the other side of the room.

Splinter shifted onto his back, staring up into the oppressive darkness. One thought had burned in his mind all day: Oroku Saki had a daughter. Splinter didn't know who the mother might be, but that didn't matter. The man was a father. For some time after hearing the news, his soul had howled at the unfairness of it all. The knowledge that Saki – the man responsible for Miwa's death – had a daughter sent waves of outrage (and, yes, he would admit: envy) crashing against his heart. But in the end, he had mastered himself and the furious anguish had passed, leaving only a deep sadness behind.

Miwa had been lost sixteen years ago. The sorrow would never go away, but Splinter had learned to move on. He had learned to cherish the few memories he had of her. They were bright, warm places in his mind that brought him joy now instead of pain. But in spite of the futility of dwelling on it, the bittersweet could-have-beens still made his heart ache.

Miwa was dead. Tang Shen was dead. And all recognizable traces of Hamato Yoshi had disappeared the moment the mutagen had changed him. Yoshi was even disappearing from his own memory. He realized that when he thought of himself, "Splinter" was the name that came to mind. It was another life. Another time. His chest rose and fell with a deep sigh. Well, he had acknowledged his pain and allowed himself time to grieve. He now needed to release this new sorrow the way he had released his pain before. He was not sure if it was time to mourn the passing of Hamato Yoshi, but he knew the time would come.

Guilt plucked as his conscience as he thought of his sons. He had remained sequestered in his room all day and they had not come looking for him. Whether they had simply allowed him space to process this new development or whether they were at a loss of how to approach him, he wasn't sure, but he suspected the latter and it made him feel ashamed. He had never done anything to drive them away before. He remembered the look on Leonardo's face when the truth about Karai had been revealed. He would speak with him tomorrow to discuss how to deal with similar tactical decisions in the future, and to assure his eldest son that he did not blame him. And he would tell him how proud of him he was for accepting responsibility as the leader, even when things went wrong. His eldest had grown so much over the past few months.

The door to his room slid softly open. "Sensei?" The whispered voice reached his ears from across the room.

"Come in, Michelangelo." Splinter sat up in bed and turned on his dim bedside lamp. He waited patiently while his youngest slipped through the door and closed it behind him. Michelangelo crossed the room until he stopped next to his father's bed, eyes fixed on his interlaced fingers. Splinter bent his head a little, trying to see Michelangelo's face. "Is something the matter?"

Michelangelo lifted his head, blue eyes wide and sad. "I'm sorry, Sensei," he whispered. "About Miwa."

Splinter caught his breath, looking down at Michelangelo in surprise. His sons knew the history of his past life, but they never spoke about it unless Splinter brought it up. Even then, they never asked questions. They listened attentively and sincerely, but they listened silently. Splinter couldn't remember any of them ever speaking Tang Shen or Miwa's names aloud.

"Raph said you might be sad to hear that Shredder has a kid," Michelangelo continued hesitantly. "Because of what he did to your family."

Splinter patted the mattress in front of him in silent invitation and Michelangelo climbed up, sitting cross-legged on top of the blanket, facing his father. "Raphael is correct," the rat admitted quietly. "Learning that my enemy has a daughter when he was responsible for the loss of my own was...difficult to hear. I have found peace now, after many years, but for a long time after she was gone, any sight or sound that brought her to mind was very painful. When I heard – " He broke off, breathing carefully around the burning brand in his chest. "When Leonardo told me...I felt the loss as keenly as if it had just happened."

Michelangelo held a fold of the blanket in his hands, keeping his eyes fixed on the soft fabric as he kneaded it between his fingers. "I guess you were pretty relieved when you found out we were all boys, huh?" he asked with a small, sad smile.

Splinter's eyes widened in astonishment. Deep down, he knew he should not be surprised at Michelangelo's insight. Although he was the most naïve of his brothers, a deep well of compassion was within his heart, and he had remarkable intuition regarding those who were hurting. Splinter had seen the way Michelangelo interacted with his brothers over the years, able to draw them out of their darker moods when they were upset or angry. He had watched his son comfort April at the times when the reality of her father's kidnapping overwhelmed her. And he had seen how his youngest son had reached out to Leatherhead to befriend the volatile and lonely Crocodile.

Now, Michelangelo was reading Splinter's hurt. He was, in part, correct: in the early days, Splinter had initially been relieved that his four unexpected children were male. Seeing young children of either gender had been difficult for many years after Miwa's passing, but little girls caused him a special kind of pain. But Michelangelo was also wrong, and he was wrong because he was not a father and could not understand the deep workings of a father's heart.

"Michelangelo. You and your brothers have never caused me pain." He cupped his son's chin in his hand, looking down into the wide blue eyes. "I will admit that over the years, I have wondered what my daughter would have been like had she lived, but never – never – did I wish that she were here instead of you." He rested both his hands on Michelangelo's shoulders. "This may be difficult for you to believe, but you must know that were I given a chance to start over – to take back the past two decades and have a different life – I would not do it if it meant I would have to lose you and your brothers."

"Really?" Michelangelo asked hesitantly.

"My life has been what it has been," Splinter said. "I have lost much, but I have gained more. I never saw the four of you as a replacement or substitute for my daughter. You are my children as much as she was. And if you do not already know this, then I have failed you as a father." Michelangelo launched himself against Splinter's chest, hugging him tightly and burying his face in the sleek fur. Splinter wrapped his arms around his son, holding him close until the tightness in his throat eased, allowing him to speak normally once more. He leaned back a little, trying to see his face. "You know that what I tell you is true, do you not?" he asked.

Michelangelo sniffled a little and nodded against his chest. "I know, Sensei."

It was late, but Splinter wasn't going to hurry his son off to bed. He let Michelangelo stay for a while until he felt the body in his arms start to relax. He looked down fondly the orange-masked Turtle curled against him. It didn't feel like so long ago that he would have been able to lift his sleeping son and carry him to his own room without waking him. But even though all his sons were still significantly smaller than he was, they were muscular and heavy and their shells didn't fit in his arms the way they used to.

The rat placed his hand on his son's shoulder and gave him a gentle shake. "Come, Michelangelo. Time for bed."

"Yeah, 'kay." Michelangelo yawned and withdrew a little, letting his feet hang off the edge of the bed while Splinter pulled his robe on. Splinter put his hand on the back of his son's carapace, steering him to his own room.

Michelangelo's eyes were closing even before he folded onto his mattress. He wrapped his arms around his pillow and snuggled down as Splinter pulled the blanket over his shell. "G'night, Dad," he mumbled.

A low, warm chuckle rumbled deep in Splinter's chest as he brushed a hand over his son's forehead. He shut Michelangelo's door behind him and silently passed through the dojo back to his room. He returned to bed and turned off the light, staring up at the ceiling once more. The darkness didn't seem to loom so heavily over him any longer.

For all intents and purposes, Hamato Yoshi was dead. It had just taken him a decade and a half to realize it. Thinking about it now, Splinter wondered if perhaps Yoshi had died the day his wife and daughter had been taken from him. Certainly every day after that had felt like a day in purgatory; he had hidden, drifting aimlessly through each day until a chance encounter in an alleyway had ended his state of suspended living. It hadn't killed him, but it had thrown him into a strange new life. It wasn't heaven, and it wasn't easy, but it was home.

As he drifted off to sleep, thoughts about the benevolent beings who inhabited his living afterlife filled his mind. More often than not, they brought chaos instead of tranquility, and they had shells instead of wings...but they had saved him just the same.

This was a bit of an experiment with Splinter, but I think it turned out all right. Just a note about preserving canon with regards to Miwa – Splinter did only say he "lost" her. I can't remember if he has ever definitely said that Miwa was killed, and the series has been dropping huge hints that she's alive and kicking (literally). ;) But I don't think Yoshi would have left Japan if he thought his daughter was still alive. He is so fiercely devoted to his sons that I find it hard to believe he would ever give up and stop searching if he thought there was a chance he could find her.