EPILOGUE

Violently shoving her way past her aides, Pimiko stalked into the guarded room at the end of the main hall. Alone in her plain personal quarters, she slammed the door behind her and tore off her mask.

Her father had waged his war on the Turtles, then committed seppuku, the ritual suicide. The surviving Shredder Elite that watched the conflict confirmed this.

It was the path her father had chosen, and she would have to honor that. But first she had to accept it.

Without warning, she did something she had never done in her life of never-ending hardship.

Pimiko cried.

It was a quarter to midnight by the time Yoichi Minya decided it was time to return to her apartment in the Bronx. Setting her coat and shopping bags by the door, she sat herself down on the couch.

On the stand beside the couch, the answering machine’s red light was flickering, indicating messages. Half-heartedly reaching out to play them, she listened as the single message began to play.

A terse, familiar female voice stated "Oroku Saki is dead," and then hung up. It sounded like her daughter.

Minya’s finger was already on top of the answering machine, keying it off. In another keystroke she erased all messages.

She had convinced herself it had been easier believing him dead for the past couple of years; easier than knowing he was out there, while she was still alone. Last night he had reached out to her, but she had spurned him. She should have have stayed at his side, helped him, done what she could. They had been childhood friends—best friends—before they became lovers. In Japan there was nothing they could not tell each other, and they had always been there for one another. Did she owe him anything less?

Minya felt only dead inside.

Oroku Heitchi playfully ruffled the hair of his twelve year-old son before letting him head out the door for school. Walking back to the dining table, he sat back down to finish his breakfast. The smile he had forced for his son vanished.

His wife of nineteen years, Marin, took a sip of her morning koohii and said, "Something troubles you, Heitchi."

"It’s nothing."

"It must be something, Heitchi."

"I-I was just thinking about my brother."

"Saki...?"

Heitchi nodded. "I don’t know why."

"You really do hate him, don’t you?"

He turned a glance after a pause. "Hate Saki?" He scoffed, as if pretending he did not know what his wife was talking about. After a moment of reflection, Heitchi knew he could tell her. "Hate… I wanted to believe I do. But…"

Marin leaned closer. "But what?"

What he would next say was perhaps the hardest thing he had ever, but he knew he had to. "But he is my brother, and I love him."

It was sunrise in most parts of the Eastern Hemisphere by the time the Turtles had crossed the entirety of the Pacific Ocean. While the others had caught some much deserved sleep, Donatello piloted their borrowed aircar over the shores of Japan.

Passing Yokohama City, they found Mount Fuji-san towering in the midst of central Honshu. Like some great watchtower, the magnificent green mountain pierced the clouds, sending a beacon to those who traversed the skies.

His brothers looking at him with solemn approval, Leo took the urn and leaned precariously over the side. As they passed over the mountain crest of Fuji-san he opened it and let the ashes within scatter to the winds.

Oroku Saki had come home at last.

FIN

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