The room had been full moments ago. He knew it had been.
Looking around Splinter was vaguely aware this was not the room he thought it was, it felt off. Everything was slightly… to the left somehow. He stepped down into the living room, inspecting. The feeling slipping away the further into the lair he moved.
The couch was where it belonged, the recliner. The old inflatable chair patched with duct tape that the kids insisted on keeping because it was purple.
The tv was on, the cassette paused on the poorly colorized eastern film. The kind where the voice over didn't match the moving mouths of the actors.
It didn't matter, the boys ate it up. And the subtitles helped Splinter learn the English language. He migrated back to the kitchen.
"Ah." One child was found. "Blue."
The young turtle mutant looked up, frowned. "Master Splinter." His face held a look of childish reprimand that looked far too old for his features.
"Leonardo." Splinter corrected, shaking himself, finding it odd that he couldn't remember his child's name for a moment. Chalking that up to the earlier sensation of-
Splinter frowned as he rounded the concrete table, stroking his whiskers. What was the feeling earlier?
He shook it off, best to not dwell. "Where are your brothers?"
Leonardo watched with his deep blue eyes as Splinter sat, arms moving to display the drawing he had been working on, a magazine off to the side with paper scraps and glue and scissors forgotten.
"They're drawing." Leo explained, "or playing tag."
Splinter hummed, "what a nice picture." He tapped the crudely drawn people beside the turtle that was so clearly meant to be Leo, "who are these?" A tall figure and three smaller ones.
"This," Leo pulled it back, crayon in hand as he scribbled hair on the adult. "Is my wife."
Splinter felt his brows rise. "Indeed."
"And-and these three-" Leo's tongue poked out as he grabbed a green crayon, broken in half and water logged, adding grass beneath their feet. "They're our kids."
"Oh are they?" Splinter grinned, feeling his heart twist. "I will find your brothers. It is family day today."
"Oh yeah." Leo frowned, coloring paused. "I forgot." He looked up, his eyes large and too old. "It's been a long time."
The idea, the feeling, the statement making Splinter's fur rise. He quickly tapped down the notion.
"I guess last week does feel far away when you are so young." Splinter smiled, hand falling to pat his son's head as he left the table to wander the lair. To find his remaining children.
It was peaceful, the quiet. Trailing through to the shared room the boys still slept in. The spring riders filled with blankets and pillows.
"Dad!"
The little voice of Raph, overlayed by one much more familiar, took the mutant back for a moment.
But the little arm poked out from the mass of blankets, comic in hand, head and shoulders soon followed as a gap toothed grin found him.
"Dad, Dad." Raph waved the comic. "Look."
Feeling warmth steal over him Splinter crossed the distance to his excited child. Peering over the small form to the comic. A sci-fi.
"They're making it a series!" Raph beamed, craving back to look up at his father. "And look!" He pointed at a character.
Splinter frowned, twitching. He wasn't much for comics. Not familiar by a mile. But the boys shoved the media down his throat. He didn't remember this character.
"They're gunna be in it!"
"Oh?" Splinter chuckled as his son stood, shoving the page in Splinter's face so he couldn't see the image. Kindly Splinter pushed the book away.
"I'm gunna be their boyfriend one day."
The startled Splinter. Not the comment, no. Raph had a loyalty to his favorite characters that often resulted in spouting off pledges of some kind of undying bond.
It was the conviction. It was the superimposed voice echoing those words, lending a weight to them no eight year old should have.
"How lucky we will be." Splinter offered, a little lost. "Where's Mikey? It's family day."
Raph perked, leaping out of his bed. "He's drawing." The child pointed vaguely as he trotted off towards the living room to join Leo.
Splinter tsked, heaving a sigh. Rounding up kids was time consuming, and he had to start dinner soon if it was to be done on time.
The thought of ordering pizza again flit through his head as he moved into the open sewer tunnels, but it would be the third time this week and the idea soured his stomach.
The sounds of hip hop filling the air drew Splinters attention. Turning a corner he found a surprising combination.
"Donatello." The taller sibling looked up from his hand held x-men console.
Splinter was unsure if it had been salvaged or stolen. He wasn't going to ask either. "Michelangelo."
Mikey craned his neck back as far as he could with Donnie leaning against him, hand holding the paintbrush freezing.
"It is family d-" Splinter stopped.
It was. Too much. The stickers on the console, the image Mikey had been painting.
"Who?" Splinter stepped forward, pointing accusingly. "Who are they?"
Donnie removed his glasses, exchanging a look with Mikey.
"You know Dad." Donnie responded as Mikey grinned, a small bright thing. Paint dripped.
"My-" a gasped word. "My favorite?" Head tilted as it hit him. As his sons watched him, eyes too old.
Like Raph's had been.
Like Leo's had been.
And Oh, it hit him.
He was dead.
Splinter froze, his whole body tangled and felt blurry around the edges.
"Go join your brothers." Far away, distant. But it came from his mouth. "It's-"
"Family night?" Mikey dropped his paintbrush as Donnie stood, wiping off his pants. "We know."
A moment of hesitation before Mikey bolted, wrapping his arms around Splinter's knees.
"I love you, Daddy."
"I love you too, my son." Eyes glued to the poor portrait of Mikey's childhood crush turned to love. From another life, another time. "Now go."
Splinter didn't hear his sons' asking one another if he was okay. Didn't hear them ponder his well-being. Instead he ripped off his outer robe, dunked it in the storm water. Ignoring the debris and dirt. And scrubbed the wet paint. Again and again.
Splinter stepped back, panting, shoulders aching.
There was nothing but a sloppy grey brown smear where the face had been.
Mikey would recover.
Splinter wandered blindly back to the lair. Ripped down the picture Leo had hung on the fridge. Shredded it. Threw it into the running sewer water. The comic and the stickers were next. Gone. It all was gone.
While the kids bickered and talked and laughed with their sitcoms and action movies playing. The squeak of that horrible inflatable chair reminding Splinter he was here, now.
Cooking dinner had proven difficult. More questions than attention to recipes filled his head.
It wasn't till Mikey approached as asked why the stove wasn't on that Splinter gave up.
"I suppose it's pizza for dinner again, children."
All eyes turned to him for a beat before their joyous cries filled the lair. Followed shortly by a barrage of toppings. Splinter leaned back on the table, ankles crossing as he watched his children.
Young again. Hopeful, full of potential.
He supposed, if this was his afterlife, perhaps death wasn't so bad after all.