While Tang-Shen sniffles and swallows her sobs, keeping a headstrong face with just a purse and a bag, a passport in hand, I busy myself with cooing at Miwa. It has been two days since she became a widow.
I feel pity for her, but I know it's for the best—Miwa and hers best.
Miwa is happy to swipe at my invisible body, I haven't materialized completely, just a little wind and noises in the baby's ears and face once in a while. Miwa seems pleased by it, though. Babies are easy too please, he knows.
Soul, who abandoned his name so long ago it seemed, is happy to take care of Miwas' fussy nights and mornings while Tang-Shen prepares. Soul has made sure the windows stay shut and safe, the doors as well.
Oroko Sami had fled, but Soul knew far better. He would return, angrier and frustrated.
Soul holds Miwa, gently rocking her throughout the night when Tang-Shen is busy, whispering little hums of reassurance to the baby as she slowly closes her eyes. Soul leaned down to 'nuzzle' her forehead.
He lays her too rest in her crib, putting a small and light blanket on her. He sits on the baby stool and watches, holding his hands together with a blank face. He almost doesn't notice the wind around him becoming closer.
Almost.
He turns his head, and blinks very slowly. There's two other figures in the room with him and neither are Tang-Shen. Protectively, he places his arm in front of Miwa. He's not sure if he has his katanas, but he knows being a soul is useful for protection.
"Who's here?" Soul whispers, anger evident in his voice. Something in his mind tells and shouts at him that he knows exactly who it is, but he only stares at the spot harder.
He stares at the spot, keeping a composed demeanor, his mask tails falling cleanly onto his shoulders. His mask tails tips are slightly burnt, his shoulders are scarred with scars of wasted youth.
He knows who it is, who they both are.
He grits his teeth, trying not to flare like a blue flame. Miwa and Tang-Shen are sleeping..well..Miwa is sleeping—he can hear his widowed mother of the past sob and scribble different things.
"Leonardo."
Soul looks at the figures, watching the weary rat and Hamato Yoshi step out, he cannot read his fathers face, but he knows what Yoshi is thinking, uneasy, fear, panic.
Confusion.
It's all so clear on his face, so clear on the face of the man his father was supposed to be if curiosity hadn't taken him ahold. Soul looks at them and shakes his head "That's not my name, Splinter." He says through a cold stare and voice, too drained of giving this man emotion.
"Leonardo."
This time, it is cautionary—angry? Soul stares at the rat harder, keeping his hands opened and not closed. Keep your hands open, because if Miwa awakens, she will see someone being harmed instead of hear and smell and feel the fire on her skin.
"My name—is Soul, Splinter." He replies coldly, his own eyes (He knows they look dead and even duller than usual.) look into Splinters own hazy brown and amber ones. He has pure white eyes, he knows.
Splinter looks at him with clear defiance, stepping closer to Soul. Soul bares his teeth like a dog, closing his hands into fists cautiously. "Leonardo, what are you doing?" The rat says, looking at him with genuine concern.
Soul, looks him in the eyes, and then at Hamato Yoshi. He looks down, then at Miwa, he opens his ears to Tang-Shens strangled sobs as she has finally put the pen down and has laid on her bed. He finally looks
back at his father.
YOU ARE READING
Find me unholy, for my body dies.
Fanfiction" As the portal allows him inside, he feels like he is burning-cracking his bones. But he lets the pain happen, if it is worth changing everything- So be it. He lets his bones crunch and feel like they scatter, like his body is simply mush and blood...
