A/N: Yes, I know I should be working on sequels, however, this could not be left alone. This fic came about due to inuficcrzy's "Splinter's Rules for the Lair", which if you haven't read, dear God, you should. I pretty much tried to describe the rules I used and their corresponding numbers, so if you HAVE read it, you can see which I've used. However, I've also mentioned which rules are used either in the chapter or at the beginning of the chapter.
These are drabble like one-shots, so they aren't very long. They hope to explain how some of these 'rules' came about.
DISCLAIMER: TMNT and all related characters are now property of Nickelodeon (surprising), with original rights going to Eastman and Laird, as well as Mirage Studios. The fic, "Splinter's Rules for the Lair" is property of author inuficcrzy and all related items from this fic are used with permission.
Rhyme & Reason
Master Hamato Splinter was a very knowledgable individual, despite being a mutated rat. He had lived a most interesting life, most of it of course centering on his transformation from regular rat to mutated sensei. Being born and partially 'raised' in Japan, Splinter had come to the United States as part of a new life, with his master Hamato Yoshi, after the betrayal of Yoshi's friend and the murder of his beloved. However, tragedy followed them even to this new country, leading to the death of his master and to the aged master's new life.
A little over twenty years ago, Master Splinter had seen an accident take place in his new adopted home of Manhattan, New York; a blind man had walked across the street and was nearly hit by a large truck. This accident had caused a young man to dart out and safe the blind man's life, though he would ultimately bump into a young boy who held a glass jar with four baby turtles held inside. Something in Splinter told him to rescue these small beings as they tumbled down into the sewer. His only thought was to see if they were alright or nurse them to health if they had been injured.
At the time, he did not think he would ever see these four again.
In the twenty years that he had not only watched, but loved and cared for these four, the ninja master had discovered that parenthood was a journey that most dared not to tread; however, for every misstep or heartache, there were times of joy and times of…perplexing hilarity. It was the latter times that had him sitting akimbo on his bedroom floor, at his desk with a pen and piece of paper. One would think, that with the training he had given his sons and at their age, he would not need to be doing what he was. But here he indeed was, sitting at his small desk, writing out a list.
A list of rules for the lair.
The amazing and…odd thing about this was the fact that these weren't ordinary list items. No where on his list did he state that chores needed to be done on time or that one can not and should not change said chore with another unless permission had been given. No, no; this list was unlike anything he had ever written before or since.
As a teacher and father, Splinter did his best to not only guide and nurture his sons and students, but he also allowed them to make their own decisions. Usually, this was met with the standard decisions that come to every teenager and young adult, but as this current list demonstrated, some decisions certainly were not standard. In the first hour he had sat down, Splinter had already listed one hundred things his sons (or their friends) could not do while in or around the lair.
Picking up his list, he read over some of the items he had listed. He shook his head in disbelief. He had always known that he and his sons were…different, unique. Their mutation alone was something of a scientific discovery, but that alone wasn't what he thought of his family. Each of his sons had unique abilities that, if they had been human, would have them in special schools or learning environments. That was certainly true for his third son, Donatello, who had shown his aptitude at all things learning. Looking at the list again, the aged rat realized that about a fourth of the items were attributed to his intelligent son.
A little over half pointed to the youngest, Michelangelo. While his child-like manner could brighten a room, there were some things that went on that turtle's brain that escaped even Splinter. Looking at number twenty-five seemed to signify that…