Author's note: I hemmed and hawed over the rating that I should give this story. All of my other stories have been rated T, and I have had some pretty edgy violence in those. This one isn't leaps and bounds beyond what I have written before, but it is just enough to make me think that maybe it needs to be marked as borderline. (I almost rated it M but then wondered if that would mean some of my other stories needed to be rated higher...does anyone else hate how vague the fiction ratings guidelines are?) It is rated strictly for violence, not for swearing or sexual content. Nevertheless, reader discretion is advised. Also, it's a bit weird to be posting a story this dark on Christmas Eve, but…here it is anyway.

Disclaimer: Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles, all related characters, and all derived works are the intellectual property of Nickelodeon, Viacom, Eastman, and Laird. This story is for entertainment purposes and not for monetary gain. In no way should this story be taken to be anything other than a fan-based expansion of and commentary on the source material. n00btmntfan is in no way associated with the makers of TMNT.

Part I: Into the Inferno

JAPAN, 1997

Splinter sighed in content.

His bed was comfortable and warm, a place of refuge on a cold night. Tang Shen's head lay next to his, her hair cascading over the pillow like waves of blue-black silk. She was already fast asleep; she was exhausted from having gotten up to feed Miwa in the middle of the night nearly every night that week. He had offered to help numerous times, but since she insisted on strictly breastfeeding, there was, in fact, little he could do. Still, he did not just lie in bed and go back to sleep; he stood with her and the two of them sang lullabies in two-part harmony until Miwa finally drifted back into slumber.

His bed was comfortable and warm, but Shen's presence next to him made it like a piece of heaven on earth. She was his beautiful, radiant Rising Sun. Miwa lay in the space between them, tiny and perfect in every way, like a shining drop of brilliant dawn. Even though it was almost pitch dark, he could see the faintest outline of Shen's arm wrapped around Miwa. He reached over and laid his hand over his wife's hand; Miwa stirred ever so slightly, letting out a tiny high-pitched sigh before she settled back down.

Miwa. Harmony. She had taken the beautiful melody of her parents' love and added a depth and richness to it that Splinter had never imagined possible. As he listened to the faint sound of his daughter breathing, he wondered how their world had ever been complete before she came into their lives. Three months ago, he had been full of anxiety – not sure if he was truly prepared for the task of fatherhood. Now, he knew that prepared or not, he wanted nothing more than this for as long as he lived.

His beautiful, tiny little Miwa. Someday, she would walk. Someday, he would hear her say 'Tōsan' for the first time. Someday, he would teach her the ways of the shinobi. For now, however, he wanted this moment to last forever, to bask in the love and warmth of his family, the sun of his life.

He tried not to think of tomorrow, when he would have to go work; his father had passed the position of sensei on to him. Fifty students or so, most of whom were his cousins, expected Splinter to be there. Shen's oldest nephew would be there, wanting to know how his little cousin was doing. There were several children there who had no relation to the Hamatos at all, but whose parents had paid a handsome fee for the privilege of training under a grandmaster of ninjutsu.

It was, of course, this money that allowed Splinter to provide for his wife and daughter, so it was altogether necessary that he rise in the morning and go to his clan's dojo, where he himself had learned his first kata alongside his best friend.

Hamato – no, Oroku Saki. Their five-year estrangement hurt. After all, they had given each other their silly nicknames as boys, thinking that they were positively the most intimidating individuals on the planet. And when Shredder had learned of his true heritage, he had gone to join the Foot Clan – had switched sides in one of the longest standing blood feuds in Japan.

Perhaps the only reason the Foot hadn't attacked the Hamatos during this time was because Shredder still had some small amount of attachment to the family who had loved and cared for him his entire life. It was, miraculously, the longest standing peace between the clans to this day.

Nevertheless, Splinter still feared that someday he would have to, in order to defend those he loved, take the life of his dearest friend.

A man who had been his brother.

No. He would not allow Shredder to occupy his thoughts any further. He had his wife and daughter. As long as he had them, he would be happy. In perfect harmony with the universe. He had never been happier in his entire life than in this one beautiful moment. The morning would come, and he would have to leave this bed, but for now, nothing else mattered but the beautiful woman and perfect baby who lay next to him.

He closed his eyes; listening to the lullaby of the wind outside and the perfect melody and harmony of his family's breathing, he drifted into sleep.

Something jarring and discordant ripped him out of his slumber. He sat bolt upright, straining his hearing. Had there even been a sound, or had the loud screaming of his intuition woken him? Something was wrong – dreadfully and horrifically wrong.

Silent as the shadows, he rose from his bed and went to the window, peering through a tiny gap in the curtain. The waning moonlight offered little insight into the world outside.

A shadow moved, ever so slightly.

Then, at least fifty shadows shifted.

To anyone with lesser training, with a lesser intuition, it would have been imperceptible, no cause whatsoever for fear. To Splinter, it was a waking nightmare. Only his well-honed instincts prevented him from panicking.

He fled back to the bed and shook his wife. "Shen," he whispered urgently.

"Mmm?" Even her soft mumble seemed as loud to Splinter as a gunshot.

"Wake up. Get dressed. We are under attack."

"What?" Shen clambered out of bed and reached for her snow-white kimono.

"Silence." Splinter hurried to his wardrobe, drew out the tanto he kept there, and pressed it into his wife's shaky grip. "Take Miwa. Hide. There are at least fifty men outside – as soon as there is an opening, run." As he tied off his own robe, he went back over to the window and peered through the crack in the curtains again.

In plain sight, Shredder was walking to their door – it was the arrogant, overconfident approach of a man who thought he had already won.

"Hide! Now!" Splinter hissed.

Her face paler than the moon, Shen scooped up Miwa and ran to the well-disguised door that led to their safe room. Splinter ran to retrieve his katana from the wall, then silently moved out into the main room of the house. The single candle that they kept lit at their family shrine winked ever so slightly, as though a draft of air had passed through the room.

"Hamato Yoshi!" Shredder's voice ripped through the silence like a blasting cap. "You have something that belongs to me!"

Still lingering in the shadows, Splinter silently dared the Shredder to take even one tiny step further into his home.

Shredder laughed – a laugh so full of malice and hate – could it even belong to the same person that Splinter once knew? "I know you are here, Splinter. I can feel your eyes on me as I speak. I have presented you with a clear target – I should have a knife lodged in my throat by now. But you won't kill me. You are soft – soft like your father."

"Leave this place!" Splinter shouted back.

The instant the words left his mouth, he knew it was a mistake. He had fallen for the Shredder's bait. He ducked just in time to avoid a volley of shuriken, raised his katana just in time to block the Shredder's blades. Metal sparked on metal like lightning in the darkness.

"Where is Tang Shen?"

"She is not here!"

In lethal choreography, the two ninja masters circled each other.

"I know that she is here. I have had scouts watching your house all evening."

"Your scouts are wrong. Leave!"

At that precise moment, the klaxon of Miwa's wailing rang through the house.

Shredder laughed. "Indeed. Give Tang Shen to me, and maybe I will be merciful enough to let your daughter live."

"Leave this place if you wish to live."

"We both know that is an empty threat."

Splinter narrowed his eyes. The lone candle provided just enough illumination to attack; he might have had better success with more light in the room, but in his own home, darkness gave him the advantage. He charged; Shredder deflected his attack immediately.

"Do you really think you can survive this?" Shredder asked, between blows. "You are not a total fool – you know how many men I have outside."

Splinter was done with talking. Shouting, he drove the Shredder back, strike after vicious strike. Steel sparked and blades sang; Splinter gained defensive ground.

Then – too quick, Shredder performed his signature kata, sweeping Splinter's feet from beneath him. Splinter crashed into the wall next to the family shrine; he rolled to dodge a downward slash of Shredder's blades. In a matter of seconds, he was on his feet again, but was forced to duck.

Shredder's blades missed him and crashed into the shrine, slicing the lone candle in half. It landed on the rug; tongues of flame leapt up, casting shadows onto the ceiling like spirits rising from the dead. Splinter made to stamp the fire out, but Shredder interposed, driving Splinter further back into what had once been the sanctuary of his home.

The fire leapt higher, scattering disorienting shadows across his field of vision. Shredder was a backlit black mass, striking like a snake intent upon its prey. Only a few rooms away, Miwa was squalling in fear and confusion. Only a few rooms away, Tang Shen was waiting for an opportunity to flee. With the men still outside, that opportunity might not come.

Shredder had not brought his men to help take the house; he had brought them as an insurance policy. As long as he kept Splinter trapped in the house, he kept Shen trapped too.

Splinter had no more options. For years, he had known that this day would come – the day he would have to kill his childhood friend. His best friend. The only way he could save his family and extinguish the growing fire would be to bathe the floor with Shredder's blood. Then – only then – could he provide a way of escape for his wife and daughter.

All hesitation was gone. Roaring as loudly as the flames, Splinter sprang forward to kill his enemy.

But as the light grew, he only saw a man he had once loved.

Hesitation was gone; remorse was not.

His sorrow was of little consequence; Shredder deflected the strike and sent Splinter sailing back several feet. Flames found the curtains and raced up to the ceiling. Waves of heat and smoke distorted the world. "Saki! We were brothers!"

"You dare address me as if I am your friend?" Shredder snarled. He spun into a roundhouse. "Your equal?"

Splinter dodged the kick. "All those years, Saki! Did they mean nothing?"

They locked blades, struggling against each other's force, their faces inches apart.

"No," hissed Shredder, baring his teeth. "They meant everything. Everything. They taught me the true meaning of betrayal. And now, you will learn it too – just like your father and mother."

Splinter choked on smoke and dread. "What do you mean?"

"Do you really think yours will be the first Hamato blood my blades have tasted tonight?"

Splinter was too shocked to reply. His grip became shaky; his katana yielded slightly against Shredder's blades.

"I slew your parents in bed where they lay. Your father never even opened his eyes."

"You lie!" Splinter's katana slid along Shredder's blades an inch more.

"Your mother woke with my blades buried in her abdomen, whimpering like a pathetic dog. She asked me why. Do you know what I said?"

Splinter's arms began to waver; he could not press back against their blade-lock for much longer.

"I said Hamato Yoshi as I ripped out her entrails!"

Bellowing with rage as hot as the flames around them, Splinter redoubled his force. Shredder's blades flew back and Splinter's foot landed squarely on Shredder's chest, knocking him to the ground. Splinter leapt forward in a vicious finishing kata, his katana poised to split his enemy's skull.

At the last second, Shredder kicked his feet up and caught Splinter on the abdomen; Splinter spun from his trajectory and crashed to the floor. His katana flew from his grasp and disappeared into the growing inferno. He rolled away and Shredder's right-hand blades sank into the floorboards where Splinter had lain mere instants ago.

Shredder's blades were stuck; as he strained to remove them, Splinter attacked Shredder from behind, one hand grabbing the back of Shredder's head on the other latching onto his chin.

But Shredder's left hand was still free.

Before Splinter could apply to right torque to snap Shredder's neck, the dual blades swept up, slicing into the flesh of Splinter's forearm. An instant later, Shredder's right hand was free; he swiveled at just the right angle to pull his head safely out of Splinter's now-weakened grasp and wheeled to face him.

Splinter was forced to leap back to avoid the blow, but with a low spinning kick, he knocked Shredder flat on the floor again. Rapid strikes to Shredder's pressure points left him temporarily immobilized.

Splinter did not need a katana. His hands were lethal weapons on their own. A single well-placed chop to the trachea would be enough.

As he raised his arm for the final blow, Shredder seemingly transformed before Splinter's eyes.

Saki-bo. His best friend.

He would be killing his brother.

He had no choice.