Now the time had come. Not yet had they seen a human, not yet had they felt the sour anger and shame of knowing how they came to be. But it would come soon, too soon to know. The rate at which they were grown was unreal, but subtely and ironicly linked to that of growing children. Children they were, but they had something which he could not put a finger on. He knew that soon he would begin the powerful teachings of the equaly mysterious ninjitsu, it had been his masters tradition and duty, and now it was his. 'Pass on to the future what the past would find wise' he repeated the ancient phrase, not knowing weither it was mockery or a blessing. Even now the little ones were preforming the task that would be their triumph and downfall, it was both and neither. He let his chin fall to his chest, destiny hung in the air tonight. Carefully he folded his robe closer about him. He had thought for a long while, and not-thought as well. Now it was the time to do. With a gentle flick of his hand the candle next to him was lit, glowing as a mirror of his soul, a radiant light that shines in all good hearts.

He took a deep, satisfying breath an exhalled it slowly, letting his mind focus and wander on it tug on his throat. He sat straight, which ws nothing unordinary, and let humble hope and care overflow his thoughts. An old poem and blessing sprung to his mind. It was usualy chanted before warroirs set out on a quest, or the joining of a squadron before they go to war. Some mother sung it to their babies in their cribs as a lullaby, sqeaking of unknown heroes that would bring their men back home.

The past

Is a blur, that blocks out the light

The truth

Is but one, for which they will fight

The hope

That beckon, in which all life knows

The wisdom

That dwells in a heart as it grows

The duty

They face that they cannot ignore

The courage

That eats from the duty before

The innocense

That blessing that slips from their way

The fear

That forces them to hide beneath day

The honour

That swells in a heart as they learn

The joy

That lifts up their life in its burn

The peace

That any friendship ulitmatly brings

The love

That binda them, and gives life to all things.

He let his voice drift into nothingness, then peacefully let his body and soul do the same. There was a time for all things, times for tranquility and anger, hesitation and aggression, confusion and clearity, stableness and change. None was good, none was bad. To claim eaither would be to turn against life.

It was cold there. The darkness flooded the room, drowning it in oppressive black. It wasen't a large room, and the air was slightly stale and frost bitten, but the temperture was of no consequence to its ocupents. Their were four of them, this was sure, but of their shape or age there was no hint, although the ampmosphere was much like a childs thoughts; a strange excitement that came from an important act, however meaningless it may seem to others. The heart of childhood was in this place, surronding it and holding it in it's solomity. Eyes glittered to and fro, watching, waiting for someone to strat, something to start. Little did they know how much. There was danger here, but not one that an adult would notice. The dangor of trying something different, something on your own, away from the world. Something that you put in the same category as your bed time stories. In a way this place was eerie, cloaked by mystery. The lighting, the tension, the hearts of those near were all leaned toward something with great attentivness, something that you couldn't ouch or feel. The power of freindship, the thrill of the unknown.

They stood each in a corner, not far apart, but not close enough to touch. They eyed each other nervously, as though they were doing something bad, instead of their regular before bed carnival. So silent, so still. This in itself was unusual, pitting the calm against the normal romp and tussle of younger then young adults. So full of life were they normaly, so happy in the blissful confusion that was their play. But tonight, tonight all was quiet. Why were there no lights on? Did they have something to hide, to cover up? Again the unconsious quaver of apprehension and anticipation filled the room.

Like a soldier being called to attention each one stood straight, exeptant of some great event that would no doubt change their lives forever. Just another pointless game it was, but now of course it was the turning point of their lives. Slowly, as if he was waling into a lions pit, one of them stepped foreward. With trembling fingers that shook like a trees leaves in the wind, he bent and lit the pale yellow candle that was perched apon on old, scratched coffee table. He was clumsy with the match, nervous and scared by all the warnings never to play with fire. The wick took a long time to catch, and he sat there uneasily, wanting to blow it out, but not daring to under the circumstances. The darkness closed about them, making the tiny flame shimming on the wick fight a desperate battle to keep itself in existance. The figure stepped back into his origanal place, glancing around it it's siblings and grinning in triumph. It's part had been played, now it could relax.

The form at his right mved hesitantly forward, looking also to the others for support. They're young faces smiled encouragingly, eager for him to be comfortable. Disscreetly he cleared his throat, masking his unease with practised pateince. The silence was broken abruptly, making all of them jump guility, but after the enestial shock was over, the thin, fluid voice became strangly hpynotic. His eyes shut closed with consentration, working to get each note correct and vibrant, but flow with a smooth effortless motion. In one form of speaking he succended.

Come and sing before my fire

Let your gentle music sound

I'll acompany on the lire

You will dance the world around

When we stop we'll tell old tales

Of the days long past and gone

Of our triumphs, and our fails

We'll speak of them til the dawn

And when the night is almost over

And the lingering stars have fade

I will turn again the rover

And you to will not dare to stay

For in this forest, on this hill

It is not so quiet in day

The ones who are so quick to kill

Fill the path that goes this way

So beware your pack my brother

Or should I be careful with mine?

For if we look deep in each other

A theif is what we each may find.

He paused and raised his head, smiling baxhfully at the others awed expressions. He slipped back to his place, grateful that his contributation was over. The form to his right took a shaky step forward. This one was obviously excited, for his eyes held a certain wild eagerness, a veil over the apprehension that sheltered all of them. He set a book apon the small table. Whispering to the others, although obviously there was no need.

"I brought it. Splinter said I could borrow it for tonight, but he needed it for some meditation exercises in the morning." The fourth one, who had not yet done anything except stand quietly, cocked his head curiously.

"Meda-what?" The one who had sang turned grave eyes toward him.

"He chains the dead to their graves by-"

"No it isn't." the one with the book slapped the singer with it. "It's medicine for Master Splinters insanity, if he sleeps sitting up gurgling for-"The one who had lit the candle shushed them.

"Keep quiet, will ya? Lets get on with things. As long as the books here it doesn't really matter, does it?" There was a calm silence were they grinned at each other and their anxciety. The il-literate one held up four thin lengths of cloth cheekily.

"Guesse what I brought?" After they had guessed to his satisfaction he told them. "Master Splinter made them for us, he said something about ninjello or soemthin', an' he told me we could pick our own." The one with the book plucked them from his hand and laid them on the table.

"Fine. Everybody snap it." The four of them retreated to their corners, restless enchantment hanging over them once again. The one with the book opened it to the right page. He concentrated hard on pronoucing the words, stumbling over the longer ones, but their master had taught them to read well, and it was easy to pick out the main idea. "We call the seasons in times of need, we call the seasons for one to suceed, we call the seasons to right things gone wrong, we call the seasons to hear the justice song. Birth to a warroir, birth to a way, brith to the four, that hold evil at sway." He squinted at the next words, confused by their structure. A jumble of letters and accents rose to his eyes, something he couldn't try to understand. Neither did he want to disrupt the 'ceremony', so he skipped over the japenese and on to the next section. Acting confident that he had read it all, he let his eyes fall to the next part. Silence and easy tranquility filled the room. They had begun.

"I stand for the season of autum. Autum is the season of loyalty and understanding. I am a beckon of knowledge and detremination as I prepare for winter. I am a ime of preperation and disipline. I lend my faith and endurance to the other three seasons." he let his eyes rise slowly from the page, secretly wondering if he'd pronounced everything right. Wih fake dignity he carefully picked his way toward the table. His eyes flicked from one color to the next, but there was little debate over which one was meant for him. With adrenalin pumping through his viens like fire he took the red cloth and tied it securly about his face, moving and repositioning it so the eye holes weren't over his ears. The others looked knowingly at each other. This wasen't much of a surprise. Still, their brother looked different, masked and hid behind the red. The one who lit the candle moved forward and took the book from him, fumbling it awkwardly. His skill as a reader was less then perfect, he had to admit. And everyone was taking this so seriouly! He picked up where his brother had left off, strangly relaxed for all the tension.

"I stand for the season of winter. Winter is the seaon of peace and hibernation. I am a shrine of the need for solitude and perserverance. I hide within me a deep strength for justice, but the tranquility of forgivness. I lend my self purity and patience to the other three seasons." He stopped abrubtly, that was a little derastic to say the least! He thought to himself. Hurridly handing the book to the one who sang he stood infront of the table. Unlike the first, he had no idea which one to pick. Closing his eyes discreetly, he reached out a hand and grabbed the first one it touched. Purple. How odd. Not questioning the irony, he tyed a slip knot and pulled it over his head, tightening it. Grinning sheepishly he clambered back to his spot. All the heavy destiny in this room was freaking him out. When had he agreed to do this? It wasen't that he didn't like the medival protector junk, but… The one who had sang was ready and solid. There wasen't the waver that had been in the last ones voice to read out of the book. An old japenese ritual, that was all this was. A game, pretending to be heroes.

"I stand for the season of spring. Spring is the season of promise and searching. I am a reminder that there are many births to one life, each within their proper turn. I hold within me all the hopes of the cycle of life and death. I lend my releif and wisdom to the other three seasons.""He took a long step forward to the table. Ah, a blue one, his favorite color! Smiling with satisfaction he picked it up and flung it over his head, deftly tying a knot at the back. Hmm, he might need a pair of sicers before he had any hope for sight. Oops! Quickly he took it off and put it on the right way. Idiot! Say, he might need those sicoers after all, how small did Splinet think his eyes were, marbles? The only one left grinned ecstacly to itself. The orange one was for him! Now, did his brothers know how to read his mind, or was this destiny or what? Gleefully he flipped the book to his part, his eyes sparkling with laughter. This was the best game ever! He glanced at the candle-lighter, winking heroicly. Hee hee! Whoops! Reading, right.

"I stand for the season of summer. Summer is the season of honour and appreciation. I am a holder of growth and a sharer of intensity and focus. Ha, that's me to a tee, huh guys?" he giggled. A sharp look from the others and he continued bashfully. "I am the teacher that the true spirit of life is happiness and contentment. I lend my honesty and power to the other three seasons." He flexed his puny arms for good measure. "Well, someday I will." he concluded, his face split in excitement. Bouncing to the table he sweeped the orange mask off it and whirled it magesticly into place. After some confusion, he turned to the singer so he could tie it, ignoring the others sniggers.

Soon they were sitting around the candle, now resting on the floor, and rubbing at the unfamilair masks. Fulfillment made up for the situation and happy releif flowed around them.

"We've gotta tell Master Splinter." The singer said, smiling easily with the others.

"What would want to do if you were a super hero, Don?" The purple chewed his lip.

"I dunno, really. I guesse I'd make a telescope that would take me back to the dinosaurs. We're kinda like them, you know."

"No we're not. They don't got shells."

"Close enough, I'd say." Suddenly the blue perked.

"Wait, what was that?"Three eyes looked at him uneasily.

"What?" The blue got up, creeping to the doorway.

"That noise. It was outside…" The purple stood up and scranbled over to the blue, peering fearfully out into the tunnel.

"Maybe it was Splinter."The blue began to shake his head, but stopped.

"We should go back." The red shushed the oranges whining and nodded.

"Good idea, we'll come back tomorrow." he watched the blue's anxious face nervously, then took his hand and stepped out into the passage. The purple followed quickly, eager not to be left behind. They moved as quietly as possible, maybe it was from the seriousness of the past events, but more likely it was from the blue frightned eyes. The orange lagged behind, staying a few meters behind the others. He kicked a loose stone in bordom. They were right, it was past bedtime anyways- Suddenly he whiped around, what was that? Tilting his head and straining his eyes and ears he backed towards the wall. There it was again! Something moved! It was a tall shape, drifting restlessly in the shadows. Before he could move a muscle the object stepped abrubtly into the zigzag light of the grated manhole, it's face a snarl of repulsed curiousty. It was looking right at him! His eyes turned into saucers, his hands flew up to cover his face and he screamed. Turning with the agility of a mouse that had been spotted by an owl, he scrambled for the dark, his breath coming in ragged gasps, what if it caught him and ate him for supper?! Hysteria and helpless terror made him run smack into the reds shell. With a mumble he slid the floor, feeling his brothers arms catche him under the arms.

"Geez, Mikey, whats wrong?"

"Where you attacked by the boogie man?" The orange took a mineute to calm down, but when he did he was too quiet and withdrawn to be normal either.

"It saw me." he whispered fearfully to the others.

"Who?" all three chorused together. The orange paused.

"A human." It took a second for this to sink in. The purple shuddered and hugged the orange tight.

"I want Splinter."