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octolingkiera · 5 months

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this one took forever, but it's also the longest one so far lol. that tiny little nightmare scene at the beginning refused to be written for over a week but i finally managed to get it done!! i will not be beaten!!

i Do have plans to write them all, no matter how long it takes me, but i use them less as a daily challenge and more of a way to get myself to write more. because these are all little oneshots, i don't have to do a ton of planning for an overarching story or anything, and i can just write out a short scene or story or situation for funsies lol

this is a part of @sariphantom's Rise August prompts

check out the fic on ao3 to get the full experience!!

Prompt: Day 4: Yokai

Summary:

The quiet, while not completely comfortable, is companionable, familiar, and Leo can almost feel himself doze off when Donnie says, “Big Mama called herself a Yōkai, didn’t she?”

“Hm?” Leo blinks a few times, trying to reboot his brain. He takes a moment to process the words, then nods. “Yeah, think so.” He tilts his head at his brother. “Any idea what that means, exactly?”

Donnie purses his lips, fingers tapping at his gauntlet. “Just that it feels a little odd that that’s what they’re called.”

“Oh?” Now that catches Leo’s interest. He hadn’t given it much thought himself and had brushed it off as a result. “Does that mean something specific?”

Words:

🐢❤️💜💙🧡🐢

He’s falling.

His ears are ringing, his stomach is swooping, his arms and legs feel numb, he’s falling, he’s falling, he’s falling, and he feels like he’ll never stop.

Where’s Raph, where’s that flash of red, where is his lifeline, his brother, where, where, where—?

Suddenly, despite the distance, he can see Raph in perfect clarity standing on the rooftop, reaching for him, face twisted in agony, mouth open in a soundless cry. He sees Baron Draxum standing over him, expression indifferent, dismissive, uncaring, as he stares at Leo down the end of his nose. He sees Draxum turn away, sees the nauseating sway of those horrible vines, sees his brother collapse on himself as he stood and watched and did nothing.

The wind rips past him, the blood is rushing to his head, his heart is pounding in his ears, his throat, he’s choking, he can’t breathe, the ground is rushing closer, closer, closer, CLOSER—

Leo jolts upright, panting heavily, one hand pressed to his plastron as the other grips the sheets, fingers digging into the fabric with white knuckled force. According to this flashing numbers of his alarm clock, he’s only been asleep for about an hour and a half, but he doesn’t feel any more rested than when he laid down. His hands are shaking when he finally moves, and he clenches them into fists to quell the trembling.

His heart is beating a staccato in his chest and his vision is swimming and blurry, and it’s not just because he hasn’t been wearing his contacts recently. He feels shaky, unsteady, off balance, like he’s still falling, even now, sitting in bed in the New York underground.

He needs a desperately needs a distraction, and hopefully, some company.

He staggers to his feet and lists to the side once he’s upright, catching himself on the wall with one hand. His stomach rolls, and he holds his other hand to his plastron, willing the nausea to please just chill out. Puking all over his floor at—he glances at the alarm clock again, leaning closer and squinting to make out the numbers at a distance—five in the morning would just make everything so much worse. He fishes out his phone, nearly blinding himself when the screen lights up in his face, and takes a deep, grounding breath.

Once he’s sure his guts are going to be staying where they should be, he stumbles out of his room into the atrium. The lair is silent and still, the only light coming from the skylight and the dim string lights they leave on so they’re not left tripping over themselves in the underground darkness. This time of night, Raph and Mikey and Dad are for sure asleep, so Leo seeks out the one member of the family that even has a chance of still being awake at this hour.

Donnie’s lab is on an upper layer, so Leo makes his way up, not bothering to sneak around. His oldest and youngest brothers are both sound enough sleepers—Raph usually being a deeper sleeper than Mikey—and Dad won’t come out of his room unless there’s screaming, so as long as he doesn’t cause a huge racket, he’s at no risk of waking them.

Donnie is always a tossup. He can sleep through this ear-splitting music, but it’s easy to wake him up if you’re trying to. He loves having a sleep schedule and getting eight to ten hours of sleep, but only some of the time. Other times, he stays up late, sometimes later than Leo even, because he’s stuck working on a project, the hyperfocus carrying him through long nights with no regard to how long it’s been since he started. Many an all-nighter has been pulled by Donnie with nothing more than an, “Oops.” Leo himself is, most unfortunately, a light sleeper most of the time, the only exception being when he crashes after an extended bout with his insomnia.

Thankfully, it seems Donnie is still awake tonight, the glow of LEDs from the open lab casting a purple sheen to the floor outside of the room. There’s music playing, but it’s quiet, the thump of the bass tinny and muted and inaudible from a distance. Donnie must be using his speakers instead of his headphones, volume loud enough to give him noise without becoming muddled and indistinct up close, but low enough to not wake anyone.

The music is accompanied by the tapping of keys from his keyboard, and as Leo steps inside the door, he can just barely make out that the program Donnie uses to write his codes is open, the screen filled with lines of programming jargon that Leo can only faintly grasp. Donnie’s fingers fly across the keyboard as he writes up his codes, only pausing to reference one of the many other screens and the information pulled up on them. Leo just watches him for a moment, leaning against the doorway.

After a few minutes, Donnie sits back and moves to point at the chair tucked off to one side. It’s a deep, tasteful blue with a wide, rounded back, custom made to fit a domed shell like Leo and Mikey’s. “Take a seat,” Donnie says without turning around. “Stop lingering in the door.”

Leo huffs out a laugh and comes fully inside, reaching over the snag the chair as he moves closer to Donnie’s side. “What’cha working on?” he asks as he collapses into his seat.

“It is a mystery,” Donnie says, visibly biting back the rant he wants to give about his project. He looks like he wants to burst with excitement at the interest, despite his words. “I can’t tell you yet. It’s not done, and I don’t wanna say until it is.”

“Ahhh,” Leo hums, “gotcha.” Normally he’d push and push until Donnie spilled his guts, but he can tell this is a big one, so he’ll let his brother keep his secrets this once.

Donnie gives him a sidelong glance, eyes narrowed in suspicion, then huffs. He stands, stretching, then slumps back into his chair. “Are you going to be quiet and let me work?” he asks, hands hovering over the keys.

“It’ll be like I’m not even here,” Leo swears, holding one hand to the center his plastron and the other up in the air, palm out. “Continue with your nerd stuff.”

Donnie looks like he wants to argue, but he drops it as he turns back to his computer and picks back up where he left off. Leo pulls out his phone and opens some mindless puzzle game, something just stimulating enough to keep his attention, but easy enough to zone out with, and lets the sounds of Donnie’s music and clacking keys fill his mind. They chase away the heart stopping adrenaline and swooshing head-rush the dream (nightmare, memory) brought with it.

They sit there together for a good ten minutes or so, Leo blasting through half a dozen levels, before Donnie sighs heavily and stops to massage his temples. Leo looks up at him, a question on his face. “What’s wrong?”

“Oh, nothing, I’ve just miswritten this same line of code five times now, no big deal, he said sarcastically,” Donnie grumbles out, eyes squeeze shut.

“Sounds like you need a break,” Leo says, wiggling his phone back and forth at him.

Donnie glances over at it, takes in the sight of the half-finished puzzle, and shakes his head. “No, thanks, I’m good.” Despite his words, his eyes dart around the screen like he’s trying to solve it with his mind alone.

Leo takes a moment to think. If puzzles won’t work, then he’ll have to try something else. Luckily, he has just the thing. “C’mon, Dee, up and at ‘em. We’re going to the kitchen.”

“What if I don’t want to?” Donnie asks as he reluctantly pushes himself to his feet. “What if I want to wallow in my own failures for a while longer? What then?”

“Wallow in the kitchen while I make you some tea then,” Leo says, standing to lead the way out.

Donnie follows, dramatically slumped over and dragging his feet. “Make me some coffee and you got a deal.”

“You gotta sleep sometime, dude,” Leo says, glancing back at him. “I won’t even make the sleepytime tea. Just some good old vanilla, honey, chamomile. How ‘bout that?”

Donnie groans, long and drawn out. “Fine, if you insist.”

“I do insist. I love coffee as much as the next guy, but sometimes you just need to chill out with a nice cup of tea, y’know?” Leo throws a grin over his shoulder, aiming for encouraging and innocent instead of the annoying and smarmy kind he usually gives. Although he can’t help but add, “This isn’t just for you, anyway.”

“Ah, there it is. The ulterior motive,” Donnie says, rolling his eyes. He’s trying to hide the way his mouth is curving up at the edges, but Leo’s been watching him and his expressions closely for too long to be fooled by the poor attempt.

“Oh no! You caught me! Whatever will I do?” Leo gives a theatrical sigh and holds a wrist to his forehead, palm out.

“Guess you better make this all worth it,” Donnie says, shrugging with exaggerated nonchalance. “That tea better be the best tea over made.”

“Prepare to be amazed, mi hermano!” Leo sweeps into the kitchen and beelines for the electric kettle, filling it with water and setting the temperature. As he waits for the water to heat up, he pulls out the honey and a couple mugs (color coded, of course) and sets them on the table to wait. He pulls his phone back out, checks on the kettle, then settles in to play a couple puzzles while he waits. Donnie takes a seat at the table, eyes on his wrist tech, and the next few minutes pass in silence.

Soon enough, the kettle beeps, and Leo pours the hot water into their mugs, adding the teabags and setting a timer on his phone. A few minutes later, he removes the bags and grabs a spoon, then shoves Donnie’s purple mug across the table. Leo sweetens his tea with the honey, stirring it in, then passes the spoon off to Donnie and settles down with his warm blue mug cradled between his hands.

The heat of the ceramic settles the last of the tension he’s been holding in his shoulders since his rude awakening, and as he sits with his tea, the steam swirling under this nose, he finally feels like he can relax. A good drink and good company; it’s nice. Donnie’s heavy exhale, coupled with the slouch in his posture, tells Leo he feels the same.

The quiet, while not completely comfortable, is companionable, familiar, and Leo can almost feel himself doze off when Donnie says, “Big Mama called herself a Yōkai, didn’t she?”

Donnie purses his lips, fingers tapping at his gauntlet. “Just that it feels a little odd that that’s what they’re called.”

“Oh?” Now that catches Leo’s interest. He hadn’t given it much thought himself and had brushed it off as a result. “Does that mean something specific?”

“Yōkai are Japanese spirits or entities. There’s a lot of history of to them that I won’t bother telling you about—look it up yourself if you’re actually interested—but generally they’re animal-like in appearance and many of them possess supernatural abilities.” Donnie’s eyes are scanning whatever information he’s looking at rapidly, flicking back and forth across the small screen. “Some of them have the ability to shapeshift.”

“Like the spider lady…” Leo muses, taking a sip of the tea. It scalds his tongue. He rubs it against the roof of his mouth to get the feeling back. “But wait, all those people she had working her lobby—they shapeshifted too, didn’t they?”

“Considering they all looked the same while in human form, I suspect they had some other way of cloaking. A piece of technology, maybe,” Donnie’s lip curls, “or perhaps some kind of mystic artifact.”

“Wait, but if Yōkai are a Japanese thing, why are they called that here? In New York?” Leo frowns at his cup, blowing on it intermittently to cool it down enough to drink.

“I suspect the name itself is archaic, and linked with some sort of root origin. Perhaps the first inhabitants of the Hidden City called themselves that when they founded it, or maybe they adopted the name later. There’s no real way to know without some sort of research, and I can’t exactly look up information about the Hidden City; it’s hidden for a reason.”

Leo nods slowly, taking the words in. He tries his tea again and, thankfully, it’s cool enough to drink. The sweetness of the vanilla and honey blooms over his tongue and he relishes the taste. It sure hits the spot. “How big do you think the Hidden City is?”

Donnie frowns, tilting his head and turning his eyes to the ceiling in thought. “Unclear. Perhaps it’s as big as New York, perhaps smaller, perhaps larger. Considering it’s a cavern, logic says they only have limited space to live and expand, but with mystics involved,” Donnie spits the word like it personally offended him, “I suppose anything is possible. Theoretically.”

“D’you think there’s more than one, maybe?” Leo asks, leaning over his mug closer to Donnie. “Like, do you think there’s a Hidden City in other big cities? Or even worldwide?”

“I wouldn��t be surprised,” Donnie says, shrugging. “It doesn’t make sense for an entire species, especially one so diverse as Yōkai, to be centralized in only one location, even one such as this. I know we haven’t seen much of what the Hidden City has to offer yet, but from what we have seen, I don’t think we’ve seen many—or potentially any—that were the same species as another.”

“Yeah, plus, like,” Leo rotates a wrist in a circle as he tries to generate the words to voice his thoughts, “if Yōkai is a Japanese term, it would just make sense for, y’know, Japan to have its own Yōkai population, at the very least.”

“Exactly.” At that, Donnie finally takes a long drink of his tea, seemingly unconcerned with the temperature. The way he breathes widely through his mouth when he lowers the mug shows he isn’t as unaffected by it as he’s like to be.

Leo snickers and takes another sip of his own tea. “So, if these Yōkai are a whole species, and they’ve been around for who knows how long, that means they’re not mutants. Right?”

“Unless ‘mutant’ is synonymous with ‘Yōkai,’ which it obviously isn’t, then no, they’re very clearly different,” Donnie says, rolling his eyes.

“That means Sheepman is a Yōkai, too, then,” Leo continues, heroically ignoring Donnie’s jab. Leo clasps his hands together and presses them against his mouth, staring into the middle distance. Donnie doesn’t say anything, which Leo is grateful for. It gives him a moment to gather his thoughts. “Does that mean we’re gonna have to fight other Yōkai? And not just humans—or mutants?”

Donnie frowns, considering. “Maybe? I mean, they’ve been around much longer than we have, and as far as we know, have yet to cause any trouble that we would have to fix. All of our enemies so far have been mutants, with the exceptions of Draxum and Big Mama. I won’t say that we’ll never fight any other Yōkai, because there are tremendous odds saying that it’s entirely possible, but I will say that said chances are fairly low, at least for now. I’ll need to reevaluate the statistics in the future, once we know more about them.”

“So, short answer, maybe, but not yet.” Leo sighs, cradling his mug in his hands. “I can’t believe all this stuff was out there all this time and we just didn’t know.”

“To be fair,” Donnie cuts in before Leo can spiral too far, “we’re ignorant of a lot of things, as much as it pains me to admit. Yes, we’ve had unrestricted internet access since we were children, but we still grew up here in the sewers. We’ve met very few people, and almost all of them have tried to kill us or hate us for existing. How could we have known? Again, it’s hidden. That’s kind of the point.”

Leo grumbles as he takes another sip, accepting the logic. Donnie’s right, as much as Leo hates to admit it. There’s no way they could have known about any of this until they stumbled across Mayhem. Then a thought strikes him like lightning. “Wait.” He pauses and blinks as the building blocks come together in his head. “Then how did Pops have that little doohickey that we used to get into the Hidden City?”

Donnie sits up straight, face going blank as he looks at Leo. They sit there for a moment, just watching each other, minds racing. “That’s… a good question.”

“Sheepman said he made us. This Yōkai guy made us, probably in that lab that blew up, and somehow along the way, Dad got us and raised us here in the New York sewers,” Leo outlines their story as he knows it. “If we’re all mutants, Dad included, does that mean he was made in that lab, too? Or did something else happen?”

“Dad used to be human, though,” Donnie counters, brow furrowed as he worked through his thoughts. “He doesn’t talk about it much, but he’s definitely mentioned it before.”

“Then how did a human get into the Hidden City, where Yōkai live, and get turned into a rat by a mad scientist?” Leo asks, drumming his fingers on the table. “Assuming Draxum is, in fact, the one that turned Dad into a rat.”

“Who else could have done it?” Donnie asks, raising a brow. “He’s the one that made those oozesquitos that have been, may I remind you, mutating people.”

The words give Leo an idea. “Wait, pause, timeout,” he says, making a T shape with his hands. “We’ll circle back to that. But first—if Dad was human first, and all the mutants we’re fighting now were humans before, does that mean we were humans first?” He gasps and covers his mouth with his hands. “Did Draxum kidnap all of us and mutate us all together?”

Donnie scoffs and rolls his eyes. “Scoff. Don’t be ridiculous. We were all born, hatched, if you will, as normal turtles.” He shakes his head. “As for mutating us all together, it feels unlikely. After all, why would Dad be a rat if we’re all turtles? If Draxum’s claim that he created us specifically means anything, we must’ve been created with a purpose in mind. Why else would he choose four turtles, all of different species? He must’ve had a reason for it. I fail to see where the rat part factors into the equation.”

“Maybe Dad was an accident. Or a prototype, or something,” Leo suggests, shrugging.

“I’m surprised you know the meaning of the word,” Donnie snarks, then yelps as Leo kicks him in the shin. “Rude.” He frowns and reaches down to rub his leg.

“I guess the question now is why did he make us? Why did he start with turtles and turn them semi-human if he planned to mutate humans to be… more animal-like?” Leo gazes off to the side as he speaks, talking through the thought. It feels like the wrong thing to say, rude even, but every mutant they’ve run into so far has resembled an animal of some sort. But that sense of wrongness leads him to, “Is he trying to make humans more like Yōkai maybe? And he used us to see if it would work?”

“But then why start with turtles if that’s the plan? Why not start with humans if the goal was human oriented all along?” Donnie shakes his head. “Doesn’t make sense to me. If you’re testing a formula, like the mutagen, then you set the other conditions for the experiment the same each time to eliminate extraneous variables. If he was using us to test his mutagen and found it worked, there’s nothing to say it would work the same with humans, or even other animals. There has to be some other goal in mind.”

Leo sighs and rubs his forehead, eyes slipping closed. His head is starting to hurt from both this discussion and a critical lack of sleep. In flash he remembers Draxum’s face as he let Leo go, the way he shrugged with apathy and sounded so nonchalant as he agreed to drop him. Leo shivers and hopes Donnie is too caught up in his own mind to notice. “Whatever reason he made us for, he doesn’t seem to care very much what happens to us.”

Donnie watches him cautiously for a moment, expression carefully blank save for the slight furrow in his brow that he doesn’t quite manage to smother. It’s about as concerned as Donnie’s willing to look right now, here between the two of them at nearly six in the morning. “Does it really matter what he thinks about us?”

Leo scoffs and scrunches his face up in disgust. “God, no. It’s just… I dunno, a little fucked up? That he’s so willing to kill us.” He squeezes his mug to keep his hands still. “He doesn’t mean anything to me, to any of us, but he still…” He trails off, shoulders slouching. “And we don’t know what he’s capable of, really. We barely fought him that first time, and Big Mama fought him in her office more than we did on that roof.” He swallows and sets his jaw. “This guy’s the real deal. And if this is what Yōkai are capable of…”

“You’re worried we’re in over our heads,” Donnie reasons out, exhaling slowly.

Leo gives a tentative nod, then shakes his head, just as slowly. “Yes, no, maybe. Sorta.” He leans forward to lay his head on the table. “I dunno what I’m feeling. Emotions are stupid.”

“Hear, hear,” Donnie agrees, downing the rest of his tea. He sets the mug down with a loud thunk, then stands. “Well, that’s enough for one night, I believe.” He hesitates, then reaches over and pats Leo’s head a few times, a lot gentler and fonder than his uncertain body language implies. “Should you fail in your endeavors towards getting more rest, and you desire my company once again, my door shall be open. Until then, I bid thee farewell, dear Leon.” With these last words, Donnie sweeps out of the room.

Chuckling at his brother’s antics, Leo shakes his head. As he pushes himself to his feet to clean up after their mugs, he can’t help but think that he and his brothers have a long, hard road in front of them. This hero thing is turning out to be a lot more involved that he thought it would be.

He just hopes they have what it takes.

#rise of the tmnt #rottmnt #rottmnt fanfiction #rise august art challenge #rise august #kiera writes fics #disaster twins #fun facts:#donnie is working on coding shelldon #and leo is playing mahjong #these things aren't said in the fic #but that's what i had in mind when i wrote it lol

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