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Blood

Six-year-old Leonardo sat in front of the TV watching cartoons, and stopped to carefully observe the actions of his brothers. Splinter had entrusted him to watch over his three younger brothers while he took a nap.

Donatello, his prodigy of a little brother, sat on the couch reading a book about genetics. The same book he'd been reading for the past three days.

Raphael was punching his homemade punching bag that he'd made out of a pillow case and several pounds of dirt.

Michelangelo...wait, where was Mikey? Several minutes before he had been enjoying the cartoon with Leo, and now the spot on the couch where he sat was vacant.

“Guys, where did Mikey go?”

“Beats me,” Raph grunted.

Donnie shrugged.

“Well, Donnie, I heard him talking to you only a little while ago,” Leo responded, “and he was sitting right next to you. How did you not see where he went?”

“I don't know,” Donnie replied nonchalantly. “I mean I saw him get up, but he didn't say where he was going and I didn't ask.”

Leo sighed and stood up. “I guess I gotta go find him then.”

The first place he thought to look was in Mikey and Donnie's bedroom.

“Mikey?” he called before entering the doorway. He looked around. “You in here?”

There was no answer. He thought he saw a lump under the sheets on Mikey's bed, so he lifted the blankets only to find Mikey's teddy bear and their spare pillow.

“So that's where our spare pillow went...”

He then decided he would check under the bed. Mikey had a tendency to hide under the bed when he'd done something bad that no one knew about yet, but were certain to find out.

“What could it be this time?” He peaked under the bed, and although there were many out-of-place things there, not a one of them was his little brother.

He sighed and gave up on the bedroom, deciding next to check the bathroom.

When he reached the room, the door was wide open, which in Mikey's case, wouldn't rule it out since Mikey almost always went without closing the door or even turning on the light at times.

“Mikey?”

No answer. The bathroom was completely dark and still. He flipped on the light. No Mikey.

He left and thought to check his father's room. Maybe he decided to lay down with Splinter. Even at six-years-old, Mikey could be overly dependent on their father at times.

Leo entered the dojo and stood in front of Splinter's door hesitantly. Was finding Mikey in there really worth possibly disturbing his father for nothing? He swallowed hard and slowly reached for the door.

He stopped in mid-reach when he heard something drop to the hard floor on the other side of the dojo, followed by a quiet whimper.

Leo turned and cautiously walked around the giant tree in the center. “S-sensei?” he stammered. “Father, i-is that you?”

Once he got around to the other side of the tree he saw Mikey sitting on the floor in front of Splinter's open weapon closet, his back turned to him.

“Mikey! There you are!” He breathed a sigh of relief. “What are you doing in here?”

Mikey did not answer him. He did not even move or look at him.

“Mikey,” he snapped. “I'm talking to you. What are you doing in daddy's weapons?”

“N-nothing...” Mikey said in a barely audible squeak.

Leo finally walked up next to him. “You're doing something, or else you-”

His voice trailed off when he saw red. A lot of it. In rivers, blood ran all down Mikey's forearm and all over his hands.

Leo gasped. “Mikey, what did you do?!” He knelt down beside him and took his little brother's wrists into his hands.

“I-I...I h-had an accident...” Mikey said, tears flooding his big baby blue eyes.

Leo helped him to his feet. “Come on,” he said, “we gotta get daddy, right now!”

-----------
Splinter was blown awake by the sound of tiny fists banging on his giant bedroom doors.

“Daddy!” he heard Leo's muffled voice holler. “Daddy! You gotta come out! Mikey's hurt! He's bleeding a lot!”

Before his eyes had fully opened, upon hearing his oldest son's cries he was off of his cot and at his door. His eyes were fully awakened at the abundance of blood that covered his youngest son's arm and plastron.

“Michelangelo!” he cried, immediately scooping him up into his arms. “What has happened? Where...where are you bleeding from?”

Mikey only pointed to his right forearm and Splinter instantly took it into his hand and examined it.

“H-how did you do this?”

“He cut himself on the weapons!” Leo piped up.

“My weapons?” he turned to Michelangelo. “You know better than to go into my weapons closet!”

“I-I'm sorry...”

Splinter wasted no more time to grab his first-aid kit and take Mikey into the bathroom. He set him in the tub and and turned on the faucet, and began to clean the blood off of his hands, arms, and plastron, being extra careful to make sure that he cleaned out the large gash itself.

“I am very disappointed in you, Michelangelo...” he kept saying under his breath. “What were you thinking?”

Each time, Mikey would not answer. He would only look at him with a hurt expression.

Finally, he bandaged up his son's forearm and pulled him on of the tub. He sat him down on the toilet, knelt down, and firmly looked him straight in the eyes.

“Michelangelo, you need to talk to me. Why did you get into my weapons?”

A tear finally escaped Mikey's eye as he nervously looked down at his hands. “D-Donnie...he told me...”

“Donatello? What did you he tell you?” he urged.

“H-he told m-me that...that you-you're not our r-real daddy 'c-cuz...we d-don't have the same b-blood...”

Splinter looked confused.

“My son, that does not...” he trailed off when a highly disturbing thought occurred to him. “Michelangelo, look at me.”

Mikey reluctantly met his father's serious gaze.

“Michelangelo, did you do this to yourself on purpose?”

Mikey bit his lip and nodded.

Splinter's heart sunk as he tried to wrap his head around his six-year-old inflicting harm on himself intentionally.

He sighed. “Why did you do that to yourself? Why would you wanna harm yourself?”

“I didn't wanna h-hurt myself. I-I knew it would h-hurt, but I guess I d-didn't care. I-I wanted y-you to have my blood so you could be my daddy for real. D-Donnie says we h-have to have the s-same blood.”

Splinter did his best to swallow the lump in his throat as he scooped up his son and took him to the living room with the rest of his sons.

“My sons, we need to have a family talk,” he said, picking up the remote and turning the TV off.

He sat down on the couch with Mikey on his lap and his older three gathered around him on the floor.

Splinter sighed. “Donatello, Michelangelo has brought it to my attention that you explained to him that I am not your 'real' father because we are not related. Is this true?”

Donnie nodded. “Yes daddy. I learned from my new book that a child is called an offspring and they share genetics with their father. That's what makes them a father. I know we can't possibly be related because we have no mommy and we're turtles and you're a rat...”

“I did not want you all to find out this way, but yes, it is true that we are not related by blood. However, that does not mean that I am not your father and you are not my sons. A father teaches, loves, and cares for his children. I do that for all of you, do I not?”

All four boys nodded in unison.

“I want you all to listen carefully. I love each and every one of you very very much, and I would never want any of you to believe that I would love you less because we do not share blood,” he firmly looked each of them in the eye.

“And Michelangelo, drawing your own blood that way was very dangerous. You could have gotten seriously hurt. On top of that, you know that you are not to touch my weapons or even go in my weapons closet.”

“I know, daddy,” he pouted. “I'm really sorry. I just really thought that...”

“I see your misunderstanding,” Splinter interrupted. “However, it does not excuse your disobedience.”

“H-hai, Sensei,” he replied.

Splinter sighed. “Remember this, my sons: I once had a child that I was related to by blood, one that I held at birth, and I love each of you just as much as I loved her. You are all my children.” He gestured for them all to get up on the couch and hug him, and they did without any second bidding.

For several minutes, the whole family sat silently.

“Daddy?” Mikey finally piped up.

“Yes, my son?”

He held up his forearm to his father's face. “You forgot to kiss my booboo.”

Splinter chuckled and pressed his lips to the bandaged arm and then the little one's cheek.