Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Raphael Splinterson had seen a lot in just twenty years of life.

After battling the Shredder multiple times, going into space to fight dinosaur aliens, and even being transported to another realm for a mystical tournament, you’d think nothing could faze the hot-headed red-masked warrior.

But life had a funny way of proving him wrong.

Things had taken a drastic turn—whether for better or worse, he couldn’t say yet.

Donnie, his slightly younger, know-it-all brother, had picked up a lot of Foot Clan activity down at the harbor. And anything involving the Foot was never a good thing.

When they arrived, it looked like Baxter Stockman was up to something. A giant ring of high-tech equipment dominated the area—some sort of portal, from the look of it—but Raph didn’t care to figure it out.

He had other priorities.

"After all the crap the Foot’s put you through, you’d think you’d learn your lesson, ya robo freak," Raph growled, stepping forward to draw the room's attention to himself. His voice echoed through the warehouse, loud and sharp—bait to give Donnie a chance to sneak closer and sabotage the machine.

Stockman turned, mechanical limbs twitching. A gun extended from his cybernetic arm, aiming directly at Raph.

"Oh, you poor, ignorant turtle," he sneered. "The purple one might appreciate my genius, but your puny brain can’t comprehend the complexity of my portal. With the Shredder gone and Karai unable to lead, the Foot Clan now bows to my superior intellect!"

That was when all hell broke loose.

A fight erupted. Raph held his own against a wave of Foot ninjas, his fists and sai cutting through the chaos while Donnie got to work. The genius turtle yanked out wires and ripped free what looked like power modules, working fast to disable the machine.

Stockman turned at the sound of clanging metal. His arm-cannon opened fire—not at Donnie, but at the machine. Sparks flew. It began to shudder and spark violently.

The Foot Clan quickly retreated.

Raphael saw it before Donnie could react—Stockman’s gun aimed right at his brother's head.

No one hurt his family.

Without thinking, Raph lunged, slamming into the cyborg. The collision knocked Stockman back—right into the active portal. The force flung Raph into it as well.

There was a blinding flash as the portal exploded on impact.

The last thing Raph thought as his vision went white was, I hope Donnie’s okay.

Pain.

That was the first thing Raphael felt as he came to.

Being a battle-hardened ninja meant he was no stranger to injury, but landing full-on his shell never stopped hurting. Groaning, he opened his eyes.

He was in an alleyway. The sound of traffic echoed from the street beyond. Familiar scents filled his nostrils—trash, pizza, pollution. New York City.

Dragging a hand to his aching head, he sat up and scanned the area. Spotting a sewer grate nearby, he limped toward it. The only place that had answers was home.

The lair was the same as always—dark, a little smelly, and lit with a string of scavenged Christmas lights. But something felt… off.

The entrance was different, but his head throbbed too much to care. All he wanted was to find his brothers and lie down.

He opened the door.

What greeted him was not the home he knew.

The space inside was completely different. And huddled together in the middle of the room were four small, familiar-looking turtle tots.

Chapter Text

Being alone was never fun for the little turtles, especially when their dad left for long periods—either scavenging for food or locked away in his room. That left the tots all by themselves in the big, quiet lair.

Red wasn't worried, though. He was sure his brothers would be okay. After all, he was the oldest—and the biggest. Taking care of them was his job. He was almost six now. Practically a grown-up.

Orange, the baby of the group at just two years old, woke up crying. His tiny stomach rumbled with hunger, and when Red couldn't find any food to give him, the soft crying turned into wailing.

The twins, Purple and Blue—only four years old—woke up too, rushing to stand beside their baby brother, unsure how to help.

Just as Red opened his mouth to try calming Orange down, loud footsteps echoed from the entrance of the lair. A large shadow stretched across the floor.

But their dad was supposed to be in his room. Locked in again.

That could only mean one thing—an intruder.

Red growled low in his throat and pushed his brothers behind him, standing tall and wide to shield them. He wouldn’t let anything happen to them. Not on his watch.

Raphael blinked at the sight in front of him.

Four baby turtles huddled together, one of them standing guard and growling at him. He instinctively looked around, expecting to see Master Splinter. Their father never left them alone—not back in his day.

But no rat. No adult. Just the kids.

He crouched down slowly, trying not to look threatening. "Hey, little guys. I'm not gonna hurt ya. It's okay. I didn’t mean to scare you—I was just looking for my brothers, that’s all," he said, offering what he hoped was a reassuring smile.

Blue, the most fearless of the bunch, peeked out from behind Red’s leg and tilted his head. "Not here. Just my bubies and our dad," he said simply. Then he pointed to Raph’s side. "You got ouchies?"

Raph chuckled, despite the pain. “Oh, I’ll be fine, squirt. If you could just show me where the first aid kit is, I’ll patch myself up and head out before your dad sees me. Don’t wanna freak him out.” Red stopped growling at the stranger's soft tone and calm presence.

“Papa’s not here right now. He went out,” Purple mumbled, pulling Orange close as the little one started to doze now that the tension had passed.

Blue sprinted over to a cabinet and came back with a small bag full of bandages and supplies. He handed it to Raph with a proud grin.

"Well, who's watchin' you kids then?" Raphael asked, raising a brow as he wrapped his ribs. "You’re way too little to be left all on your own."

He barely finished the sentence before Orange let out another scream—loud and piercing. The sudden outburst startled the other tots into crying again.

“Whoa, hey! It’s okay, little guy,” Raph said, scooping the crying baby into his arms and pressing him gently to his plastron. “Don’t cry. Whatever you need, ol’ Raph’s got you.”

“Hungry… pwease… hungry,” Orange whimpered, nuzzling into the older turtle’s shoulder.

Raph looked toward the kitchen area and made his way over. He opened the cabinets and the fridge—and what he saw made his stomach twist with fury.

They were nearly empty. They hadn’t had much growing up, but their dad always made sure there was something to eat.

Raph clenched his jaw, pushing down his anger. Getting mad wouldn’t help the kids.After a moment of searching, he found just enough ingredients to put together some sticky rice with veggies. It wasn’t much, but it would fill their bellies for now—at least until he figured out where he was, what had happened… and how to fix it.

Chapter Text

After feeding the hungry tots—and watching the purple one inhale everything like a vacuum—Raphael started noticing some major differences between these four and the brothers he grew up with.

For starters, they weren’t the same species. Each of the young turtles looked like a different kind of turtle entirely, which probably meant they had different needs. Needs that clearly weren’t being met by their version of Splinter.

As he moved through the lair, Raph’s heart ached. There were hardly any toys, no comfort items, no real signs of care—just a single worn blanket formed into a nest-like pile.

With a heavy sigh, he turned back toward the little turtles, trying to figure out what to do next.

While the larger turtle explored, Purple didn’t take his eyes off him—not for a second. Even with a full belly and the stranger acting kind, Purple wasn’t about to be fooled by a friendly face and a warm meal. He was too smart for that.

When Raph turned around a little too quickly and reached for Orange, Purple reacted instantly.

He lunged.

Sharp baby teeth sank into Raphael’s arm, and the older turtle hissed in pain as he felt blood.

Gritting his teeth and using every ounce of self-control not to toss the snapping baby across the room, Raph instead slowly sat down, trying to look as unthreatening as possible.

“Hey, squirt... it’s okay,” he said gently, locking eyes with the little one gnawing on him. “I promise, I ain’t gonna hurt any of you. Just let go, alright?”

Blue, calm and observant, stepped forward and studied Raph’s face. He saw no trickery there—just pain, patience, and a lot of kindness.

He gently touched his brother’s face, stroking it with practiced care. Purple blinked once, then unlatched his jaws with a soft pop.

Red walked over, looking bashful, and handed Raph the first aid kit again.

“Thanks, bud,” Raph said, offering a small smile as he patched himself up. “Now, I know I haven’t told ya my name yet—but I think it's time you guys gave me yours. I can’t just keep calling you ‘kid.’ That’d get confusing real fast.”

The little orange turtle pointed excitedly to each of his brothers. “Oran! Bu! Purple! Ed!”

Raph blinked. “So... you guys don’t have actual names? Just colors?”

He muttered under his breath, “What the hell, Splinter... when I get my hands on you...”

But his tone, despite the words, didn’t scare the little turtles. They could feel it now—he meant no harm.

Looking around at the rundown lair, Raphael Splinterson made a decision.

Didn’t matter what it took—these kids were coming with him. They needed someone. And nobody took care of his brothers like he did.

After that disaster with Rado scattering the team across time and space, Usagi had taught them how to reach the Battle Nexus. It was the perfect place to start while he figured out what universe this was... and how to survive in it until his brothers found him.

“How would you guys like to come with me?” Raph asked, crouching slightly—half to appear smaller, half to protect himself in case someone tried to bite him again.

Red frowned. “Pops says... not safe to go on our own.”

Raph placed a hand on his chest. “Don’t worry, kid. You’re not alone—you’ve got me. I’m big enough to look after all of you.”

He stood up and approached a bare wall, drawing the summoning symbol for the Battle Nexus—the one they had all memorized after the incident with Rado. The moment he finished, the wall glowed and shimmered as a swirling portal opened before them.

The turtle tots gasped in awe, wide-eyed and slack-jawed at the glowing vortex.

“So... who wants to go for a ride with Raph?” he asked, crouching to meet them eye-to-eye.

Orange was the first to move, scrambling up onto Raph’s shoulders and hugging his head tightly.

Blue reached for Purple’s hand and gave it a comforting squeeze. Then, with a confident smile, he grabbed Raph’s larger hand, ready for adventure.

Red hesitated, watching the others. But when he looked up at Raph, all he saw was care—a protective look in his eyes that mirrored Red’s own feelings toward his brothers.

He reached out.

And together, they stepped into the swirling portal.

Chapter Text

Stepping out of the glowing portal, Raphael immediately realized something was wrong.

This wasn’t the Battle Nexus.

Instead of the familiar stone arena and ancient architecture, he stood in front of a massive jumbotron flashing advertisements for fighters and daily matches. A futuristic stadium bustled around him, filled with noise and life. This wasn’t the Nexus he knew—it wasn’t even close.

That could only mean one thing: the portal hadn’t worked. He was in the wrong universe, with no plan, four toddlers in tow, and a few injuries of his own.

Raph sighed heavily, rubbing his face. “Well... guess we head to the Nexus anyway. Maybe someone there can help me figure out what the shell I’m supposed to do now.”

Back in the 2003 universe...

Donatello groaned as he regained consciousness, every part of him aching.

The first thing he noticed was that Baxter and Raph were gone. The second was that the portal device had exploded—there was almost no trace of it left. The area was eerily quiet, no sign of the Foot.

Struggling to stay awake, he reached behind and hit the panic button on his shell-cell before everything went dark again.

When he woke up again, he was in the med bay of the lair.

Relief washed over him like a wave.

April sat nearby, reading a book. She looked up with a gasp the moment he stirred.

“Hey... where’s Raph?” Donnie asked, looking around and noticing he was the only one there.

April shot up, calling out for the others. Moments later, Master Splinter entered, worry etched on his face. After checking Donnie over and confirming he wasn’t badly hurt, the questions began.

“My son... where is your brother? What were you two doing at the docks?”

Donatello took a deep breath. “Stockman and his Foot Ninja were up to something. We went to investigate. I was trying to shut down a portal device when Stockman fired at me—Raph took the hit instead. The thing exploded. I only had time to hit the panic button before blacking out.”

Mikey walked in, handing his brother a glass of water. “We searched the whole area twice. No sign of Raph. But we did find Stockman’s creepy robo-body—with no head.”

Leo paced the room, his worry clear. “Did you get anything from the machine before it blew? Any clue where Raph might be?”

Before Donnie could answer, the lair’s intercom blared to life with a familiar voice:

“Donatello, are you there? Can you read me?”

It was Mortu, leader of the Utroms.

Donnie scrambled to the lab and activated the comm screen. “I’m here, Mortu. What’s going on?”

Mortu’s face appeared, concerned. “We detected a surge. Someone opened a gateway to another universe—one we sealed away long ago. Do you know anything about it?”

Donatello explained everything—the portal, Stockman, Raph’s disappearance. When he finished, everyone in the lair was silent, holding their breath.

“Wait,” Mikey said suddenly, “if Raph’s in another universe, we just go to the Battle Nexus and find him, right? That was the plan!”

Mortu’s expression turned grim. “Unfortunately... it’s not that simple. Stockman appears to have punched through into a universe we Utroms sealed off eons ago. One that’s extremely dangerous.”

He continued, “Long ago, three Utrom siblings turned against our kind. They called themselves the Krang —and they destroyed their homeworld, slaughtering every Utrom on it. They swore to conquer all known universes. To stop them, we sealed their universe and erected a mystical barrier that should have been impossible to breach.”

Leo’s voice rose with alarm. “You’re saying Raph is trapped in that place—with no way in, and no way for us to get him out?”

Mortu nodded. “I’m sorry.”

Donatello stepped forward. “Then we’ll find the Lord of Time. His staff helped reunite us before—he fixed what Rado broke. He’ll have a way.”

“Agreed,” Mortu said. “We will assist however we can. Let us know if you discover how the barrier was breached. May you find your brother, my friends.”

The transmission ended.

Splinter had remained silent through the entire exchange, his calm presence like an anchor in the room.

When all eyes turned to him, he closed his eyes and placed a hand over his chest.

“I do not know how,” he said softly, “but I feel it deep within me—Raphael is alive. He is strong. And we will do whatever it takes... to bring him home.”

Chapter Text

Raphael wasn’t the smartest of his brothers, but even he knew walking through a bustling city with four toddlers wasn’t exactly a great idea. All around him, yokai and other strange creatures pushed and jostled through the crowded streets. The last thing he needed was for one of the kids to get lost.

Spotting a relatively quiet shop nearby, Raph steered the group toward it, keeping a firm grip on the little ones and a half-eye on his surroundings. It looked like some kind of grocery store—familiar enough, though a few items on the shelves definitely weren’t from any store back home.

Inside, he found a shopping cart and placed the two smallest—Orange and Blue—inside. Purple and Red clung to the sides, eyes wide and cautious.

If I can't figure out what to do yet, I’ll just wait it out. My brothers will find me eventually, Raph thought, tossing a few staple foods into the cart. Till then, these kids need someone, and that’s gonna be me. Hopefully, their Splinter won’t be gone for long.

“Excuse me, sir—can I help you find anything?”

Raph turned and found himself facing a smiling gecko-like Mutant in an apron. Friendly guy.

“Uh, yeah,” Raph said, fishing out the emergency wallet Donnie had made him carry. “You guys take cards? Cash? Or ya got your own currency system?”

The gecko looked at the money and nodded. “Surface currency? We accept that. But if you’re new to the city, you should head to the Home Placement Center. They help surface yokai get settled.”

Raph thanked him and got directions, curious now. Yokai? That wasn’t a term he’d heard used for mutants before. This world really was different.

After paying for groceries—and picking up a baby wrap like the one Splinter used to carry him and his brothers—Raph began to feel a bit more capable. He slung Orange and Blue onto his back in the wrap. Purple still hissed warily whenever Raph got too close, so he let him hold Red’s hand instead as they made their way to the Placement Center.

The building looked exactly like every government office Raph had ever seen—bland, beige, and full of outdated pamphlets. A too-happy rabbit yokai greeted them from behind the front desk.

“Hello, Kappa! How can I help you today?” the receptionist asked with a grin that felt slightly forced.

Raph approached the desk, glancing back at the kids, who had started playing quietly with the toys in the corner.

“Yeah, me and the kids are new around here,” Raph said, keeping his voice low but firm. “Someone said I could get info on the city and... stuff.”

“Oh! Are you from the surface?” the rabbit asked, ears perking up. “Welcome to the Hidden City! We’re glad to have you. Do you already have safe housing for you and your young, or will you be needing assistance with accommodations and community registration?”

The receptionist’s voice was friendly, but there was a faint note of pity in it that made Raph bristle. He kept his tone cool.

“Where we’re stayin’ is fine for now. I just want some info so I can figure things out later if that changes.”

The receptionist nodded and handed over a large folder filled with pamphlets, forms, and community programs. “Here you go. This will tell you everything you need to know about living in the Hidden City.”

She then handed Raph a small necklace with a glowing rune on it. “This is a transportation charm. Since you’re a surface yokai, it’ll allow you to form a portal back to the entrance hall of this office anytime you need to return. Just activate it like this—”

She demonstrated, showing how to press the charm to open and close a swirling portal.

“Keep it with you at all times. It’ll make life much easier.”

Armed with groceries, a baby wrap, a pile of information, and a magical necklace, Raph started to feel slightly more grounded—even if the world still didn’t make sense.

With the kids in tow, he made his way back to the surface, hoping their Splinter had finally come home.

If not... well, he’d just have to step up and be what these kids needed.

Chapter Text

New York—no matter the universe—would always be home to Raphael.

The smells, the sounds, the pulse of the city—it was in his blood. It was part of who he was, part of who all his brothers were. Even in this unfamiliar world, the city felt like a piece of himself. Something solid. Something real.

Coming up from the Hidden City, the key portal had opened at a quiet construction site. A broken sign dangled from a rusted beam, reading: Future Nexus Hotel Location . Looked like no one had touched the place in years.

Purple seemed captivated by the swirling portal as they stepped through, while Orange and Blue were fast asleep in the carrier strapped securely to Raph’s back. The walk to the nearest sewer entrance didn’t take long, though Red and Purple were starting to lag behind, their little legs struggling to keep up.

Once they reached the entrance and descended the ladder into the sewers, Raphael knelt down, trying to meet the kids at eye level.

“We’ve still got a ways to go before we’re home,” he said gently. “I’m not gonna hurt ya. Will you let me carry you? That way we can get there faster, and maybe grab something to eat, yeah?”

He locked eyes with the tiny turtle in purple, trying to show he meant no harm. Purple blinked up at him, then silently climbed into the wrap with his sleeping brothers. He nestled in close to Blue and gave a soft churr before falling asleep himself. The day had clearly worn him out.

Raph turned next to Red. “Okay, big guy. Come here—let’s get you home too.”

But Red took a step back, shaking his head. “No. Too big. Heavy,” he said, wrapping his arms around his middle with a sad little frown.

Raph didn’t hesitate. He gently scooped the spiky toddler up into his arms. “Little brothers are never too heavy,” he said with quiet warmth.

Red blinked in surprise, then broke into a wide grin, curling into Raph’s front with a pleased churr of his own. The way he clung to Raph’s chest told him everything—this kid hadn’t been held in a long, long time.

The rest of the trip home passed quickly. With all the kids secure, Raph could move at a faster pace, no longer worrying about tiny feet falling behind. Once back in the lair, he gently placed the sleeping toddlers in the makeshift blanket nest they had built together earlier. It wasn’t much, but it was soft and warm—and safe.

With the kids napping, Raph took a moment to explore.

The place was…bare. The kind of bare that said, we just moved in , or worse, we didn’t plan on staying long . There were no toys, no real comfort items—aside from the blanket the kids were now curled up in.

He moved through the arches one by one.

The first led to a bathroom space with a shallow tub and a small sink. A few towels were stacked messily on a makeshift shelf. The second arch led to what passed as a living room: a beat-up TV, a long recliner clearly salvaged from someone’s trash, stitched together in thick, uneven lines by someone clearly not used to sewing.

The final arch led to storage. Shelves of mismatched children's clothes, a shell brush, and a few old knickknacks. Nothing stood out—except for the distinct, worn presence of Splinter . It wasn’t much, but it was something. A reminder that someone had lived here once.

Someone the kids were still waiting for.

Raph sighed and checked on them again. Still fast asleep, all curled around one another like a little turtle pile. It tugged something deep in him.

If I’m going to take care of them… I have to keep it together. I can’t let my anger be what they see. Not now.

He settled on the floor and crossed his legs, hands resting on his knees.

For the first time in a long time, Raphael meditated.

He needed to clear his mind. To find focus. Because if he was going to take on this role—this father-figure , this protector —then his pain, his fear, his fury… all of it would have to wait.

Chapter Text

After meditating long enough to shove his anger deep into the back of his mind and organize his thoughts, Raph stood and took a long look around the lair. It needed work. If he was going to care for these kids, they needed a safe, comfortable space—something better than what they had now.

Making sure the tots were still asleep, the big turtle got to work. He started with inventory: food supplies were limited to what he’d bought earlier, and the rest of the lair was… bare. It wasn’t dangerous, but it wasn’t kid-friendly either.

He began by pulling a few items—some toys and a handful of blankets—from what he assumed was a storage room. That room, surprisingly spacious, seemed like the best spot for a proper sleeping area. With some cleaning and rearranging, Raph began building a new, cozier nest.

The list of things they’d need kept growing. The kitchenette had a small stove and an old fridge, but the real potential was in the counter space: enough for them all to sit around the island for meals. Off to the side sat a dusty table, untouched for who knows how long. He cleaned it off and made a mental note to make it feel like part of their home.

In the living area, he found a surprisingly decent TV, connected to an antenna and an old tape player. Not exactly cutting-edge tech, but it would do. After giving everything a good wipe-down and scrubbing what he could, Raph realized supplies were running low.

He needed to make a run for more.

But returning to the Hidden City made his gut twist. The kids had already been through so much, and another trip through portals and weird Yokai streets might be too much for them right now.

Luckily, Master Splinter had taught them early: the sewers of New York held everything, if you knew where to look—and how to scavenge.

Before heading out, though, something tugged at Raph’s mind. These kids weren’t like him and his brothers. They were different turtles, clearly different species. That might mean different needs—especially dietary ones. He needed to know what each of them was to make sure he was feeding them right.

Orange was easy—clearly a common box turtle, like himself. No issues there.

The others, though? Not so much.

Thank the stars for his T-phone—and Donnie’s genius modifications. It could connect to any network, even here.

Based on shell texture and size, Purple seemed to be a softshell—possibly a spiny softshell turtle. His research showed they had powerful jaws and tended to swallow food whole. They were omnivores but needed plenty of protein to stay healthy. Raph made a mental note to keep Purple’s meals balanced and not too spicy—sensitive taste buds, apparently.

Blue, he discovered, was a red-eared slider—the most common turtle in the region. Like Purple, Blue needed protein now but would lean more vegetarian as he grew. Simple enough.

Red was the tricky one.

His spiky shell and broad build didn’t match the others. After more research than he ever wanted to do in his life, Raph finally settled on one possibility: an alligator snapping turtle. That meant the kid needed a lot of food. Apparently, they could eat up to half their body weight per meal. No wonder the little guy was always hungry.

Feeding two heavy carnivores wouldn’t be too hard. The sewers led to rivers around the city—he could fish or “borrow” enough fresh food when needed.

Worn out from researching, Raph turned to cooking. He seared the meat he’d bought earlier, lightly seasoning it for Purple and Red. The rest he filled out with a big batch of diced vegetables, rice, and some calming tea. It wasn’t fancy, but it was warm and hearty.

As he turned to wake the tots, he found four pairs of eyes already staring at him.

“You little squirts hungry?” he asked, grinning as he picked up the sleepy box turtle and led the others to the now-clean table. “We walked a lot. Figured you might want somethin’ to eat.”

The kids’ eyes widened at the spread. Red’s portion was significantly bigger than the rest. The snapping turtle frowned, reaching to redistribute the food.

“No,” he said, determined. “Share. They hungry.”

Raph stopped him with a gentle but firm tone. “Nah, kid. That’s your plate. There’s plenty for your brothers. You’re bigger, so you need more. That’s just how it is.”

Orange immediately dug in, inhaling veggies with the enthusiasm of a vacuum. Purple hesitated, then smiled faintly when the food didn’t burn his tongue like his papa’s meals always had. No spicy afterburn, no belly ache. Just warm, tasty food. Blue quietly sipped the tea, eyes wide—it was the first time he’d had something besides plain water.

Raph watched them all eat with satisfaction. Then he spoke up.

“Now that you’re fed, I can’t keep calling you by your shell colors. That ain’t real names. I was thinking… you’re like me and my brothers. So how about names like ours?”

The kids slowed their chewing, listening.

“So how about Leon, Don, Micha, and… Rappa?” he asked, pointing to each in turn.

The four blinked. At first, they didn’t understand. Then slowly, little smiles bloomed. Names—real names. Something just for them.

“I like it. Thank you,” said Purple—now Don—his voice soft but sure.

Raph grinned. “Good. Now, next thing—this place ain’t got much for kids. What do you all like? I wanna get you stuff to play with, help you feel at home.”

The kids exchanged uncertain glances. They didn’t know how to answer—having never had much to play with before.

“ OLOR!! LIKE OLOR!! ” yelled the newly named Micha, bouncing in place, grinning wide.

“Color, huh? A little artist. I like it,” Raph said with a chuckle. “Plenty of places to set that up. What about the rest of ya?”

Shrugs. They weren’t used to having choices.

“That’s fine. I’ll get you a bunch of stuff. Some new blankets too—gonna make you a proper nest in that nook I cleaned out. Good for your shells.”

After lunch, Raph cleaned up while the kids played with what few toys he’d managed to find—blocks and a couple action figures. He moved their nest to the storage room, now scrubbed clean. It was darker than the main space, and that reminded him of how Mikey used to hate the dark when they were little. Definitely needed to add some string lights.

He turned to find four little shadows watching him.

“Alright, it's been a whole day, and your pops still ain’t back. I need to go get some stuff from the surface—make this place better for you guys. You wanna come with me or stay here and play?”

“Stay,” Don said immediately, holding a robot in his hands. “Don’t like the noise.”

Leon and Micha nodded and stayed close, playing but giving Don some quiet space to think.

Raph looked down at Red. “How about it, big guy? Wanna come with?”

“Rappa come,” the kid said proudly, grabbing Raph’s big hand. “Rappa help.”

With that, and a bag slung over his shoulder, Raphael and his new little partner headed out—ready to find everything they’d need to turn this old lair into a real home.

Chapter Text

He hadn’t meant to be gone long.

It was supposed to be a simple supply run—just a few hours above ground. The lair had been running low on food again, and the little ones were growing. He had left them curled together in their nest, warm and safe, four tiny bodies breathing in unison. He kissed each forehead—soft shell, box shell, slider shell, and snap—and slipped out with nothing but his cloak and his resolve.

He would return before they woke.

But he never came home.

The streets above had been quiet, for once.Still, Splinter’s fur bristled with unease. Something in the air didn’t feel right. The shadows felt too deep, the wind too still. He moved carefully through the alleys, his bag filled with items purchased from a late night clerk who didn't even glance at the figure under the hoodie with a mask covering his features. With the supplies they needed he was headed home when something seemed to change in the way the very air felt. 

That’s when he saw it. “The glow was something from a childhood horror story—one told long before he became Lu Jitsu, back when he was just Hamato Yoshi.” He crept closer, heart hammering in his chest.

And that’s when he heard the chanting.

Dozens of Foot Clan surrounded a circle of glowing glyphs, carved deep into the foundation of what had once been a hotel site and now served as their hidden stronghold. At the center of the circle was a device—half-metal, half-pulsing organic matter—alive with alien energy. Splinter’s breath caught.

He had heard whispers—stories of old magic, of other worlds beyond reason, of monsters sealed away for good reason. He had never believed them. Not fully. Not until now.

“They were opening a door to the Krang. And once opened, they would not stop until the world was consumed.”

He should have turned back. He should have run home to his sons, locked the doors, buried the lair in rubble if he had to. He swore long ago that there would be no more sacrifice from his family for demons of the past. But he didn’t.

He stepped forward instead, claws unsheathing, every part of him filled with righteous fury. Not for himself. For his children. He wouldn’t let the world fall into the hands of creatures like the Krang.

He wouldn’t let the Foot destroy what little safety his sons had left.

Splinter moved like a whisper through the crowd, striking from the shadows—swift, precise, relentless. One by one, cultists fell, their chants broken into screams. He reached the core of the circle, claws outstretched, aiming for the generator.

If he could destroy it now—before the portal fully opened—it might still be sealed forever; the key he was told stories of nowhere in sight to be seen.

He made it within inches.

But he wasn’t fast enough.

A blade pierced his side.

He staggered.

Then a second blow to his back.

He fell to his knees, blood spreading across the concrete beneath him.

The lead cultist stepped forward, masked and cruel, voice thick with venom.

“Too late, Hamato,” they hissed. “You delay the inevitable. You are nothing.”

Splinter coughed, trembling, his eyes locked on the humming portal as it began to flicker and die— almost , but not quite destabilized.

“I am a sorry my sons,” he rasped, a vision of a young him when his mother left to be sacrificed to keep Shredder sealed made him remember her last words ‘ Anatawa Hitorijanai Im sorry’

Then darkness took him.

The Foot left his body where it fell, burned and broken near the circle’s edge, discarded like a failed offering. They abandoned the site that night, retreating to build again elsewhere.

The Krang portal hadn’t opened.

But the door had cracked—and it was only a matter of time.

Back in the lair, four tiny turtles waited.

They didn’t cry—at first. They waited in the dark, hungry and cold, curled up in their nest for hours. Then a day.Then two.Then five.

When the older red turtle appeared in their lives, the small one with the kind eyes and strong arms, they didn’t know he had come too late to save the only father they had ever known.

But he had come. And for now, that would be enough.

Chapter Text

When he woke in the Yokai hospital—broken, stitched together with wire and in pain—no one knew who he was. No one cared all they knew was he needed saving. 

He was in a coma for five days, they told him lucky to be alive and that a Yokai had found him when they did. Watched over by a doctor and nurses they barely let him out of their sight. No visitors. No one came for him. He remained anonymous but the thought of Draxum or Big Mom finding him made him feel panicked.

When he could stand again after almost two weeks of being away from his tiny sons, he left. He didn’t let them stop him. He opened a portal and went as fast as he could, thoughts of his kids waiting for him alone scared filled him with panic.

But when he reached the lair…

They weren’t alone scared , waiting for Papa to return. There was food on the table. A clean nest tucked into the storage room, layered with fresh blankets. Toys scattered in little piles. Soft lights strung across the ceiling like stars.

And in the center of it all: a stranger .

A red-banded turtle. Bigger. Older. Stirring soup in a battered pot. One tot clung to his hip. Another hung from his shell. The others slept, curled up and breathing easy. Safe. Fed. Clean.

Happy. None of them saw him. None of them cried out for him. None even noticed he had returned.

Splinter stood in the doorway, silent and unseen, as something inside him twisted sharp. They had moved on. They had replaced him.

He didn’t go far. Just wandered the tunnels. No plan. No destination. Just… motion .

The thoughts came, one after another, like poison dripping slow. “They forgot me. I gave up everything—and they forgot me.”

He remembered the life he left behind.

Lu Jitsu. The films. The fans. Freedom.

He had it all—until the Battle Nexus came. Until Draxum. Until the mutagen. Until those boys, barely the size of his palm, started crying in the rain filled alley.

He gave it all up. For them. And now they had someone else. Someone of their own kind. A turtle. A better fit, wasn’t he?

Splinter slumped to the cold tunnel floor. His back scraped the wall. His claws trembled. “I didn’t die,” he whispered. “I fought my way back to them. And they didn’t even care.”

He didn’t know they hadn’t forgotten. He didn’t know Leon still stared at the lair’s entrance every night before bed hoping he would come back. Rappa still asked “If Papa was coming home.”

That Don had quietly started mapping the tunnels on trips out, just in case. That Micha still curled up with his old hoodie, even though it didn’t smell like him anymore. They were hurting but they were healing and sometimes, that hurts even more.

So Splinter decided this was for the best. Quietly. Without a word. Without a backward glance he left the tots behind. If they wanted a new father so badly…They could keep him.

He never wanted children anyway. Not really. This? This was better. A clean slate. No responsibility. No Big Mama. No Draxum. He could be anything he wanted and he chose to be free from this burden he never really wanted .

Chapter Text

A few months had passed, and the tots had adjusted—remarkably well, all things considered. They still missed their Papa. Sometimes they’d look toward the lair’s entrance a little too long, or call out in their sleep. But Raph… Raph had done everything he could to fill the hole their father left behind. And though it was a heavy job, he never let them see him falter.

Thanks to the things his own Pops taught him growing up—how to survive, how to lead, how to love even when it hurt—Raph always made sure the kids had what they needed. Food. Shelter. Safety. A steady hand to guide them. But still, late at night, when the lair was quiet, Raph missed his own brothers and his Pops. He wondered how they were doing, if they were even alive. If they’d be proud of the way he was stepping up.

Don was just as sharp as his Donnie had been at that age. The kid could take apart anything with screws and wires and put it back together again like he was born doing it. Raph made it a point to bring home every busted microwave, clock, or circuit board he could find. He cleared out a section of the lair just for Don’s little “lab,” and the tot would spend hours there, smiling the whole time, covered in grease and humming to himself.

Leon was just fine too. The kid soaked up everything like a sponge. After seeing a telenovela once on TV, he picked up a few Spanish phrases and decided he wanted to learn more. Raph went to the Welcome Center and got language tapes, even tracked down a library in the Hidden City with free resources. Seeing Leon light up as he rolled his r’s and counted aloud made it all worth it. But not everything was going smoothly.

Rappa had started teething again, and it wasn’t pretty. He’d snapped two spoons, chewed through part of the kitchen table, and left bite marks on anything he could reach. Raph, though hesitant to head back into mystic territory, made the trip into the Hidden City to see a recommended doctor. The doc was kind and patient, gave Raph a chewable mystic orb—a self-healing, durable thing used by Yokai children with powerful jaws. Safe to gnaw. Safe to swallow. It worked wonders. Rappa finally stopped chewing through furniture, and even slept more soundly now that he wasn't in pain.

The doctor also handed Raph some specialized soap and lotion for Don’s skin and shell. The kid had texture sensitivities—most fabrics or soaps made him flinch or itch. The new formula helped. Raph made a note to stock up next time. And then there was Micha. Winter was creeping in, and the sewers were starting to get cold. Micha, smallest of them all, had begun to slow down. He was sleeping more, curling up tight and shivering even under layers of blankets. The doctor explained it was the early signs of hibernation. Micha’s system was reacting to the drop in temperature. He needed warmth, quiet, and care.

Raph bundled them all up. Kept them inside. Lit candles when the generator failed. Piled up blankets from the donation center. Did everything he could. Still, reality was catching up with him. These kids were growing. Fast. The doctor had shown him a projected growth chart—and Rappa was already well on his way to becoming huge. Other Kappa could grow past seven feet tall. The lair, already cramped, wouldn’t be able to contain them for much longer. That night, after they returned home, Raph sat at the table long after the kids were asleep. The soup pot was empty. The lights were low. He stared at the notes from the doctor and rubbed at his tired eyes.

The debit card Donnie had linked to his account still worked, the funds seemingly bottomless. His scavenging trips helped too. But as the days turned into weeks, and then months, with no sign of his brothers or any way home… Raph knew he had to think long-term. They needed space. They needed stability. They needed more than the sewer could offer.For the first time, Raph considered something that had never once crossed his mind before: ‘ Maybe we should move. Maybe the Hidden City… could be a real home. ’ he thought to himself but i t wasn’t ideal. He didn’t trust the mystics. Didn’t like being around the magic, or the politics, or the way the streets always pulsed like they were alive. But… the kids would be safe. Warm. Supported. He leaned back with a tired groan, rubbing the back of his neck, staring up at the pipes above like they held the answer.

“Man… I wish my family was here. This shit is hard to decide on my own.” With no answer coming, and his head too full, he finally stood and shuffled off to bed, hoping that maybe—just maybe—morning would bring some kind of clarity.

Chapter Text

Donatello’s fingers hovered above the control panel, trembling—not just from exhaustion, but from the quiet panic building. It had been months—months—of calculations, simulations, mystic consultations, and interdimensional research. Still, there was no safe way to breach the barrier between their world and the one his brother had vanished into.

The multiverse wall, constructed long ago by the Utroms, wasn’t just advanced. It was deliberately designed to keep things apart—especially the Krang. It was a firewall for reality itself—airtight, unbreakable. And no matter how hard he tried, Donatello couldn’t crack it. Not yet.

His brothers tried to help, of course. Michelangelo brought snacks and kept the mood light. Leonardo had even gone to the Lord of Time himself, begging for answers. But all they got in return was a shake of the head and a solemn response: “This is beyond my power. The balance of reality itself would be at risk.”

That didn’t stop Donnie. It just made him work harder. They even tracked down Baxter Stockman—what was left of him—and tore apart the remnants of his interdimensional tech. They recovered the original schematics for Stockman’s transdimensional gate—the same model that had glitched and hurled Raphael across time and space.

But every attempt to use it failed. Every simulation ended in a catastrophic error. It’s like the universe itself is rejecting the idea, Don thought bitterly. Or like Raph was never meant to return. Then Mortu, one of the highest-ranking Utroms, stepped forward with a new scan—a waveform unlike anything they’d seen before.

He adjusted the holographic projector, and a ripple of mystic energy appeared in the air. It shimmered like heat, pulsing with a rhythmic, almost alive beat. “This isn’t just a machine malfunction,” Mortu explained, his voice calm but serious. “This… is a summoning.” Donatello stared at him, confused. “A what?”

“A mystic signature,” Mortu explained. “It’s what drew your brother across dimensions. Not a malfunction. Not random chance. He was summoned .” Leonardo narrowed his eyes. “Summoned? By who?”

Mortu tapped a few commands and zoomed in on the waveform. The energy pattern grew clearer—wild, untrained, but full of raw intensity. “It wasn’t a mystic warrior or an ancient force,” Mortu said. “This signature is young . Inexperienced. But powerful. And deeply afraid.”

Michelangelo’s face softened. “So… someone out there was scared. In danger. And Raph answered the call?” 

The air went heavy.The room went quiet. Splinter’s eyes narrowed. “You’re saying my son was taken by mystic forces?”  “Not taken,” Mortu corrected. “Chosen.” Leonardo stepped forward, his expression tense. “So what does that mean? That we can’t go after him? Not unless we replicate that exact same signature?”

Mortu’s response was slow, measured. “Yes. Unless you want to rip open the multiverse—and potentially unleash the Krang again—we must wait. We must find that precise mystic frequency… or hope that it calls again.” The implication hit hard. Raph wasn’t just lost. He had been called. Needed.

“But by who?” Michelangelo whispered, eyes wide. Splinter stood in silence, arms folded, a storm behind his eyes. ‘ What kind of trouble had his son been pulled into? And more importantly—could they reach him before it was too late?’

Chapter Text

Morning brought no new answers for the older interdimensional shifting turtle. So, like always, Raphael slipped into the routine he’d grown used to. He started with katas to warm up his muscles, followed by pushups, sit-ups, and lifting the couch for strength training. The motions grounded him, helped him focus.

Then came breakfast—always mindful of the tots’ unique dietary needs. After weeks of never going hungry, Rappa had finally stopped trying to share the food on his plate. Now he ate with gusto, laughing as he licked his bowl clean.

After breakfast, Raph bundled the kids up tight. A cold snap was due by the end of the week, and if they didn’t catch some fish today, they might be stuck eating dried meat until the thaw. The tunnels would be too dangerous once the freeze set in—especially for Micah. But Raph refused to leave them alone, not after how badly they reacted the last time he had to. No, better to take them all and keep them close.

They made their way to the Hudson River—where Splinter had once taught Raph to fish. The bass this time of year were big and plentiful, perfect for stocking up before winter truly hit. The wind off the water was sharp, nearly freezing, but Raph barely noticed. Micah was strapped securely to his back in the soft wrap, tucked under his oversized jacket, Raph had bought what felt like a lifetime ago.

He was baiting a line for Leon when a voice cracked across the air. “DAD! DAD, LOOK! I GOT ONE!”

Don’s excited scream rang out, drawing Raph’s full attention. The little turtle’s fishing pole—cobbled together with scraps and love into a "DonTech" masterpiece—was bending hard under the weight of something big.

The word Dad echoed in Raph’s head. The most reserved of the four. His quiet little genius. Called him Dad. Raph’s throat tightened. His vision blurred for just a second.

Then the others joined in, cheering and hollering so loud they scared off all the fish. Humans in nearby boats stared, startled by the noise—but Raph didn’t care. Nothing else mattered.

“Dada, I’m cold,” Micah whispered, his little beak pressed against Raph’s warm neck. “Wanna go home.” “Sure thing, bud.” Raph adjusted the jacket to keep Micah tucked in. “Come on, boys! Rappa—think you can carry that big ol’ fish all the way back?”

Don had caught the bass, but he refused to touch it, wrinkling his nose and climbing up onto Raph’s back to avoid the mess. “Ya know, you’re pretty awesome with those gizmos, kid,” Raph said, ruffling Don’s head gently. “Can’t wait to see what else you create.”

Rappa was more than happy to show off. He bit into the wriggling fish’s side to keep it from thrashing—blood splattering his shirt—while Leon tackled the tail fin, riding it like a bull until it finally stilled. The two were covered in mud, leaves, and fish guts. Don shrieked and clung tighter to Raph’s shoulders.

The walk home was loud, messy, and full of laughter. Raph filleted the bass in clean cuts. They had some for lunch and saved the rest for the coming days. Later that night, after everyone had their bellies full and fingers warm, he tucked the kids into the nest of blankets and pillows they all shared.

“Night, Dad. Love you,” Rappa mumbled sleepily. A chorus of agreement followed. “Love you, Dad.” “Love you!” “Dada…”

Raph sat there for a long moment, heart aching in the best way possible. These kids—his kids—loved him. Trusted him. Needed him. And that changed everything.

The sewers would always be his home. But it didn’t have to be theirs. He remembered what it had been like—growing up in the dark, always hiding, always afraid. It had kept him and his brothers alive… but it had also cost them something.

The Hidden City wasn’t perfect. But it had people—others like them. It had safety. It had community. It had the chance for his kids to grow up with playmates, education, freedom. Out in the light.

That night, Raphael made a decision. Whatever it took, he’d do it. His kids deserved a life better than the one he’d had. And he’d make damn sure they got it.

Chapter Text

The next morning, Raphael decided it was time to tell his kids what he had been thinking about—and the reactions were mixed.

Don, ever the little genius, was immediately worried. Change wasn’t something he liked; he preferred things structured and predictable. But once Raph explained that the Hidden City had libraries, labs, and endless new tech to explore, Don’s anxiety turned to excitement. A whole new world to study—literally.

Micah, being the youngest, just smiled and clapped at the idea of a “new place to play.”

Rappa, on the other hand, was mostly concerned with whether the new place would have enough room for him to practice his wrestling moves. He had fallen in love with the flashy fighters on TV and now spent hours trying to mimic their techniques on unsuspecting pillows.

Leon, however, was against it completely. The usually calm child’s voice broke with anger and fear.
“NO! NO! NO! I’M NOT GOING! PAPA COULD STILL COME BACK!” he shouted, little fists clenched, red stripes blending into the flush of his face.

Raph crouched down in front of him, his heart aching. It had been months with no sign of Splinter. Deep down, he didn’t believe the rat was coming back—but that wasn’t something Leon needed to hear.

“Look, bud,” Raph said gently, resting a hand on the tot’s shoulder. “This is for all of you. Your brothers, you… I just want you to be safe and happy. How ‘bout this—when we find a place, we’ll leave a message for your papa, yeah? That way if he comes back here, he’ll know where to find ya.”

Leon sniffled, his lip trembling, before giving a small nod. Then he turned and buried himself against Don’s side, seeking comfort.

“Alright then, brats,” Raph said, forcing some cheer into his voice. “Go get ready to for day. I’ll look though the stuff we got from the welcome center see what they can do to help us get moved, sound good?”

Leon was more reserved for the rest of the day the poor kid was only four years old and didnt really know how to cope with the his feelings on his missing papa that may nerve come home.  

Once the chaos of day faded and the tots were tucked in that night, the lair fell silent. Raph sat in the glow of a single lantern, the sound of water echoing softly through the tunnels.

He thought about Leon’s outburst—about those big, tear-filled eyes—and felt something twist in his chest. He couldn’t blame the kid. Change was hard, especially after losing so much already. But staying down here, in the damp and dark, wasn’t living. It was surviving. And his kids deserved more than that.

He leaned back, sighing.
“I’m doin’ the right thing,” he muttered to himself. “Ain’t I?”

No answer came, just the hum of the tunnels and the soft breaths of his sleeping family.

Raph rubbed his face, staring at the pile of old papers the pushy rabbit from the Hidden City had given him months ago. Maybe it was time to look through them again—see what options they had.

Tomorrow, he decided. Tomorrow, he’d start making this move real.

He owed them that much.

Chapter Text

Going through the pile of information that pushy rabbit had given him months ago during his first visit to the Hidden City, Raphael realized something—there were a lot more options for relocation than he’d thought. Programs for families, programs for single yokai, even ones that offered moving assistance and childcare support.

The city, according to the pamphlets, was divided into distinct districts—each one designed for different kinds of yokai. Some areas were icy cold, others hot and dry. Raph immediately tossed those aside. Between Don and Rappa needing regular swims to keep their skin healthy, and Micah’s sensitivity to temperature changes, they’d need somewhere warm but not stifling—somewhere with plenty of water access.

After scanning through map after map and brochure after brochure, one area stood out: The Forest District. The pamphlet described it as “lush, temperate, and family-friendly,” with rivers, shaded paths, and a thriving community of mixed yokai species. Sounded perfect.

He spent hours hunched over the table, trying to “Donatello” his way through the massive stack of forms—reading fine print, cross-checking guidelines, even using a pen to do the math on relocation fees. But after nearly falling asleep face-first into a brochure about relocation permits, he groaned and gave up.

“Yeah, nah,” he muttered to himself, rubbing his eyes. “Some things are just better done in person.”

After one last check to make sure all four tots were asleep—Don curled up under a blanket of scrap fabric, Leon half-on-half-off the nest as usual, Rappa snoring loud enough to rattle the pipes, and little Micah tucked against his chest—Raph finally allowed himself to relax.

For the first time in a long while, he felt good about the future. This move wasn’t just about leaving the old lair behind. It was about giving them a chance to grow up happy, safe, and maybe even a little normal.

As he drifted off to sleep, surrounded by the steady rhythm of his sons’ breathing, Raphael smiled to himself. This was it. A fresh start. A new beginning.

A few weeks later—after jumping through more hoops and filling out more paperwork than he’d ever thought possible—Raphael and his four sons were finally set to move into their new home.

The Forest District was everything the brochures had promised and more. The air was warm but crisp, carrying the faint scent of moss and wood smoke. Sunlight filtered down through the canopy in soft green light, dappling the winding paths and quiet ponds. It felt alive, peaceful… safe.

Their new house was perfect. Not fancy, but solid—built of dark wood and smooth stone, with plenty of space for a family of five mutant turtles trying to build a life. Each of the kids had their own room now, something Raph hadn’t even dared to hope for before. The open main area connected everything together, the heart of the home, with a wide kitchen that had an island and more counter space than Raph knew what to do with.

The furnishings gleamed like they’d been polished just for them, and the living area had a large bowl-shaped nest built right into the floor—perfect for the whole family to pile into for TV nights or bedtime stories.

“So, brats,” Raph said, crossing his arms with a grin as he watched the tots explore. “What do ya think? Will it do for now?”

Leon’s wide eyes sparkled as he looked around, tail twitching with excitement. “Are we really living here? No jokes, Dad?”

Raph chuckled. “No jokes. It’s all ours.”

Leon nearly vibrated with excitement at the thought of having his own space—finally somewhere he could study his language tapes without driving Don crazy. Speaking of Don, the purple-banded tot was already pacing the edge of the room, eyes darting from one outlet to another as ideas sparked in his mind. “So much space!” he murmured. “I can finally set up a lab area—somewhere safe from my dum-dum brothers messing everything up!”

Raph barked out a laugh, watching the little genius gesture animatedly while Rappa and Leon immediately pretended to be offended. It felt like home already.

And when Raph glanced down at Micah, who was smiling and squirming in his arms—his color brighter, his energy back—something in the big turtle’s chest finally unclenched. The move had been worth it. Every bit of it.

For the first time in a long, long while, Raphael didn’t feel like they were just surviving.
They were living.

Surprisingly, they weren’t the only ones to move from the sewers of the surface to the Hidden City below. There were even moving companies that specialized in helping mutants and Yokai relocate safely. Thanks to them, all of their things made the journey in one piece—especially Don’s many half-finished projects, which were transported with almost comical levels of care before being placed neatly in the purple-banded tot’s new room for him to organize himself.

Each of the boys’ rooms had been customized to suit their personalities perfectly.

Don’s room featured a built-in bunk with an extra-soft mattress designed to cushion his sensitive shell. His favorite fleece blankets were piled neatly on top, and his workbench was lined with tools, spare parts, and tiny gadgets in various stages of completion. It looked more like a miniature lab than a bedroom—and he couldn’t have been happier.

Leon’s space was tidier, a reflection of his calm and curious mind. A tall bookshelf held language books, old tapes, and the growing comic collection he’d started after falling in love with Jupiter Jim. His bed was a simple mattress surrounded by an ocean of pillows, with only a light blanket tossed on top—a total contrast to Don’s cozy nest of softness.

Rappa’s room was the most colorful and chaotic. His new mattress had to be custom-ordered, pierce-proof to withstand claws, teeth, and the occasional wrestling move. It was worth every credit just to know his eldest didn’t have to sleep on the floor anymore. Stuffed animals lined the walls, his favorite bear sitting front and center within easy reach. Posters of brightly costumed wrestlers covered the walls, and a sturdy punching bag hung from the ceiling—already well-used.

Micah’s room was still a work in progress. The tiny tot was just beginning to discover what he liked, so his space was simple but cheerful. A low toddler bed sat in one corner, wrapped in rainbow-bright bedding, while an art table was placed near the window, covered in crayons, finger paints, and scraps of paper.

Raphael’s own room was plain by comparison—just the way he liked it. A solid bed, a weapon rack mounted high where curious little hands couldn’t reach, and a meditation mat rolled up neatly in the corner. For the first time in a long while, it felt like enough.

By the time everything was unpacked and settled, the tots were getting restless—and loud about it. “We’re hungry!” came the chorus from the living room. Raph chuckled, rubbing the back of his neck.

“Alright, alright,” he said with a grin. “How ‘bout we go out for dinner tonight? We’re in the Hidden City now—our kind of people. Might as well try something new, huh?”

Four sets of eyes lit up instantly, and Raph couldn’t help but smile at their excitement. This was what the move had been for—a fresh start, full of firsts.

Tonight, they weren’t hiding. Tonight, they were a family out in the world, together.