6738 Miles

Halfway Point

Donatello glared at the creased, foreign paper in his hand. The consistency was interesting, slightly thicker than standard writing paper. His mind, however, was more focused on its contents. This was the sixth letter he'd received from Raphael.

The first four had come in rather rapid succession, while the last two were delayed, Raph using the excuse of being much busier. The dreaded training period was now half over. Every day, the date of Raphael's return drew closer, and the more anxious Donatello became. Every letter filled him with apprehensive dread. He feared that any day, he could open an envelope containing the message that his brother wouldn't be coming back. Like Leonardo all over again.

And Raph's letters weren't helping to assuage his doubts. He clutched tighter to the one in his hands, crumpling it a little.

Ya know, Don, the city's always been such a big part of me. I used to think I couldn't survive anywhere else, but now, I have to say, I really am getting used to it up here. And it's really nice...to go out and bask in the sunshine. Reminds me of the farmhouse, but more remote, even fewer people around. There are no passersby or anything like that to worry about. I feel so...free.

He did know. He had felt the same freedom his brother spoke of during their time at the farmhouse. They still went out there, on occasion. Raphael always seemed to enjoy their visits even more than the rest of them. He spent hours wandering in the woods and basking on the back porch. And he always the most reluctant to leave. Deep down, Donnie had always suspected that Raph would spend months on the farm if it were possible. That's why he'd been so perturbed by Raph's letters of late. They were so light-hearted and content. It scared him.

Would Raph really want to come back?

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Bodies fell to the ground with muted thuds. The cloaked figure standing above them tilted his head to one side and cracked his knuckles. He nudged one of the unconscious lowlifes with his foot to get a better look at the face. He snorted and drew back.

"I hate hired thugs."

Fingers tightly gripping the edge of his cloak, he made to leave, but was stopped by a gentle tug. He whirled around, his sai ominously protruding from the shadowy folds. His addressor barely flinched.

"You would not harm an old wanderer, good spirit." An elderly voice stated evenly in Japanese.

He returned his sai to his belt, keeping a decent amount of distance between himself and the human. "You're right, I would not."

"Were it in my power, spirit, I would reward you kindly, but I fear I have precious little to give."

"You don't need to—"

"You have saved my daughter's life tonight, great spirit."

Raph leaned forward, confused. "I-I don't understand."

The old man held out a bag of money. "This money will help pay for my sick daughter's operation. If it isn't done, my daughter will die. I'm sure that these thugs were sent to rob me."

The story, combined with the revelation of what this old man might have lost had he not been there, stirred Raphael's protective instincts. "Where are you taking the money?"

"It is not far, just a few more streets from here."

"Go." He said softly. The old man looked at him, wonderingly. Bowing his head, Raph reassured, "I will see you there safely before I depart."

Relief flooded the old man and he bowed gratefully. "Thank you, gracious spirit. How will I ever repay the service you have done me this night?"

"You do not need to. Supporting your daughter through her recovery will be enough."