“It’s time Don.”
“But...!”
“No ‘buts’. I agreed to an early finish last night, in return for an early start tonight; that was our deal.”
“If I can just finish this section of the repair...” Don lifted his visor, the outline of grime on his face highlighted his wide hazel eyes; adding effectively to his imploring look. He gave it up after a few moments however. It was obvious Leo wasn’t about to give. With a heavy sigh Don turned off his welding torch.
Certain his brother wouldn’t need any more prodding to set his current project aside for a few hours, Leo left his post at the laboratory doorway to make his way over to the couch. Taking up his ‘no-nonsense’ stance -feet square, arms crossed-, he was greeted with a long, loud belch from Raph.
“Game’s on.” grunted the hot-head, waving his can of drink towards the screens and not bothering to look up at his brother at all.
“Tape it.” suggested Leo flatly.
“It’ll still be light out.” Raph countered with half a shrug.
“Only just.” Leo argued stoically. “Even Sensei has already gone out.”
“Yeah.” agreed Raph with sarcasm, “Only to see that open-air art... thingy before all the daylight’s gone.”
“It takes a consummate ninja to master the shifting shadows at dusk.” quoted Leo.
Raph continued to watch the game a minute longer, a furrow deepening on his brow.
“Is that Sun Tzu, or somethin’?” he finally caved to his curiosity, and the hint of challenge in Leo’s tone.
“Nope. Splinter.” grinned Leo.
“Tch, shoulda guessed. Splinter-Junior.” muttered Raph with a roll of his eyes. “Just let me watch to the next commercial. ‘k?” he petitioned.
Leo considered a moment.
“Alright.” he conceded, figuring it would take him at least that long to find and motivate his youngest brother. The rest of the Lair was noticeably silent, no sign of Michelangelo anywhere. That put Leo a little on edge. What was his brother up to? Quiet such as this was often merely the lull before some prank or caper erupted.
Heading to the kitchen first to grab a quick drink, Leo very cautiously opened the door to poke his head through. To his great relief he was not doused with cold custard this time. However, he was surprised to see Mike sitting hunched at the kitchen table. The table top was covered with randomly scattered pens and coloured pencils; Mikes’ tongue poking out the side of his mouth in concentration as he drew on a large piece of white card.
“Hey Mike, time for our training run.” urged Leo, stepping over to the fridge to fetch out the orange juice. Even with his back to his brother as he filled his glass, Leo knew Mike had ignored him entirely. “Mikey.” Leo drawled in warning, turning to lean his shell against the counter.
“Can’t just now bro.” said Mike, sparing Leo a brief glance as he worked.
“Whatever you’re doing, it can wai...”
“Father’s Day tomorrow.” Mike interceded, his statement simple.
Don, his face and hands freshly cleansed, walked into the kitchen at that moment, quirking an eye-ridge at Leos’ perturbed expression.
“What date is it today Don?” asked Leo, baffling the genius further.
“Sixteenth of June.” answered Don with a shrug. “Why?” Leo was too engrossed in counting under his breath, ticking off his fingers, to reply straight away.
“Mike’s right! It’d slipped my mind. Almost! It had almost slipped my mind.” he asserted.
“What had?” pressed Don.
“Uh-huh, betcha haven’t gotten him anythin’ yet though, huh?” teased Mike lightly.
“That’s why we need to get out and get him something now.” explained Leo, as if it had been his plan all along.
“Who? Wha...? What are you two talking about?” Don flustered.
“It’s Father’s Day tomorrow.” Leo pointed out levelly.
“Oh!” Dons’ eyes lit in comprehension, only to darken again as he realised the ramifications of the situation. “Oh no, I don’t have any money! I needed to renew my subscription to ‘New Scientist’ a couple of days ago.”
“Me neither.” shrugged Mike. “Comic sale last weekend. Why d’ya think I’m making Splinter a card?”
“Good idea Mike!” Don enthused, taking a seat at the table. “Do you mind?” he asked, picking up a pen and reaching for some paper.
“Not at all bro!” smiled Mike, pulling out an extra sheet to hand to Leo as he took his place beside his brothers.
A few minutes later Raph stalked into the kitchen.
“What the shell is keepin’ you guys...?” he petered out at the sight that greeted him. “Huh? Wha’cha all doin’?” he scowled in confusion.
“Makin’ cards for Father’s Day.” explained Mike.
“‘Making’? We haven’t made cards for years!” Raph paused a moment to tap his chin in thought. “When is it?”
“Tomorrow.” chorused the trio.
“What the...? Really? Damn!” Raph paced a moment in agitation before plonking himself down at the table. Accepting a piece of paper from Mike and grabbing up a handful of pencils he set to work behind the protective wall of his arm, defending from prying eyes. “Can’t believe you guys didn’t tell me about this.” he muttered as he worked.
“Thought you were too busy watching T.V.” countered Leo, in slight sarcasm.
“Not for this, I wasn’t!”
“Drawing is more important to you than training?” Leo asked, a little incredulous.
“No, you nimrod. But Sensei is.” asserted Raph.
An amicable quiet fell, disturbed only by the scratching of pencils on paper and the occasional murmur;
“I need the sharpener, please?”
“Pass me the green? No, that one. Thanks!”
“How much pink are you using bro?! Ow!”
---------- ----------
Splinter brushed a few crumbs of toast from the tuft of fur on his chin, and off his futon. Reaching for his half-finished cup of tea he couldn’t help but smile at the banter his sensitive ears picked up from the kitchen. His boys were squabbling over who should clean up what after they had all pitched in to make him breakfast in bed.
Despite the time for morning training fast approaching, the Sensei felt a little too sated to rise just yet. His grin grew wider as he looked over the cards he had propped on his bed-side table. Splinter had kept every present, card and scrap of drawing all his sons had given him over the years. Yet he hadn’t had the heart to tell them how disappointed he had been the year they stopped creating their own gifts to give him on occasions such as this. All four had been so thrilled when they could finally afford such little luxuries. And he had taken it as sign his children were maturing. Not that he needed any such indicators these days; his boys were almost in their 20’s now.
Splinter picked up one of the cards to peruse it again, amazed at just how beautiful the artwork adorning both sides of the paper was. Placing it back with care he selected another, re-reading the haiku written within.
Honour, Skill, Strength, Joy
You gave me all these, and more
I love you, Father
The Master chuckled warmly as he set the card back alongside the other three.
“I did name my sons well.” he murmured, smiling to himself in pride.
