Warning:
First two chapters (Ashes to Ashes) no longer align with 2012 canon. The last two chapters (Dust to Dust) are more in line with the 2012 continuity. Read at your own discretion and take with a grain of salt in regards to canon, please.

Disclaimer:
I do not own the Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles, in any of its franchise forms, series or incarnations. They belong to Kevin Eastman and Peter Laird, formerly Mirage Studios, and now Nickelodeon.

Summary:
The Turtles and their extended family and friends grieve as one of their own is lost to the ages forever. You never truly know what you have until its gone. Farewell, Hamato Yoshi. Farewell, Splinter. You will be missed. Based on the latest 2012 TV series, set sometime after the shows grand finale. Rated PG-13 just to be on the safe side, for Mature Themes including Death, Grief, Loss, and Suffering.

It was cold today, and silent as a tomb.

The Turtles lair was lackluster in every sense of the word, and impossibly quiet. Gone were the sounds of rambunctious teenagers, of the crack and smack of hard weapons in the dojo, of the various television programs they enjoyed and geeked out over together over the years. Even the science lab was conspicuously silent, the hum of machinery absent from the background. Everyone sat quietly, speaking little, and always in hushed whispers, unwilling to break the oppressive pall hanging over their heads. Today was the day, after all.

Today was the funeral for Master Splinter.

No one had seen it coming, no one had expected it. It seemed so utterly impossible a concept to grasp. That one day their sensei, the arguably greatest martial artist and teacher of ninjutsu, could be claimed by death. It had only been a week, and everyone was still reeling from the loss.

It had caught them completely by surprise. For them, it had just been another dangerous mission out of many. The Turtles and their allies had gone into what they hoped was their final conflict with the Kraang, fully prepared to banish the world-conquering aliens back into the void between dimensions they'd come from. Splinter had remained behind in their lair. It had been a long, hard fought battle against robots and mutants and troubles of all sizes and shapes. But in the end, they'd emerged victorious as they always had. Hardly anyone had been hurt, the Kraang's plot had been foiled in spectacular fashion, and the Earth was safe again from their machinations. All in all, just another day in the life of a ninja turtle.

And then the Shredder had intervened.

He cared nothing for the fate of the world, for his Kraang allies, for even his own minions. Not even for the loss of Karai. His sole passion in life was deadly vengeance. For a slight committed against him decades ago, for a grudge that had festered like a foul poison in his black heart.

And it seemed as if the return of Miwa to the Hamato family had done nothing to abate this hateful madness. Quite the contrary, it had left Oroku Saki positively unhinged, driving him to newfound levels of rage.

While the Turtles had left with the others to thwart the latest Kraang invasion, the Shredder had entered their no longer hidden lair and confronted Splinter in his very own home. Judging from the state of things afterwards, the battle had been hard fought and bitter. Deep gouges were found in almost every surface, almost nothing had been spared. The game consoles and television were broken, Donnies lab was trashed, the kitchen was aflame, and only the dojo had seemed largely untouched by the rampaging ninjutsu masters. This was not overly surprising, as it turned out later that the Shredder had been using armor specially crafted by Baxter Stockman and been exposed to doses of mutagen-enhanced steroids just prior to the battle. He hadn't even been close to human anymore, he'd been some kind of rampaging Super Shredder.

Whatever else had happened, however, it was abundantly clear how it had ended.

In a Daburukiru. Double kill.

Splinter had impaled the Shredder on his sword with a blow so fierce it went clean through his armor and out his back, piercing through his black heart. But Oroku Saki had gotten the last laugh after all. His final blow, a solid strike with both blades through Splinter's chest, had been fatal. Punctured one of his lungs and very nearly his heart as well. Splinter had barely had the strength to crawl into the dojo and lie down beside his meditation tree. The Turtles had found him there a short while later, clinging to life by the thinnest of threads. A short while later, and despite all their best efforts, he just faded away.

Their teacher was gone.

Their father was gone.

They'd barely had time to say their initial good-byes before he'd breathed his last breath.

In the aftermath, the Turtles had moved Splinters body to rest in his room, quietly cleaning up the blood and fixing the broken furniture in the lair. A few trips to the nearby refuse dump had removed anything unsalvageable, and in less than a day it was completely clean. Even more so than it had been while their master had been alive. It almost felt unnatural, they'd been so used to Splinter being the one to tell them to clean up after their messes or fix their mistakes. Now, they would welcome a familiar yell of 'What is going on in here?' and a brutal but fair punishment for their actions or inactions.

But whether they liked it or not, he was gone. They had only his example to live by now.

And that meant they had to conduct a funeral befitting Splinter's life. Today was that day. It seemed more appropriate to be doing it on a Sunday, somehow.

So they'd sent out the invites to all their friends and allies, bringing them all to the lair. At first, Raphael had protested, saying they were violating the protective sanctity of their home, which Splinter had always maintained. Leonardo reminded him that it was their home now, and their decision what to do with it. Reluctantly at first, Raphael had agreed with this reasoning. Given how many already knew of their homes location anyway, it seemed silly in hindsight to protest such.

Lots of things looked wholly different in hindsight. Things left unsaid that should've been... but no longer could be.

Almost everyone they knew was coming to pay their final respects. April O'Neil, Casey Jones and Irma Langinstein. Leatherhead and Slash. Mr O'Neil, Marikawa-san, and Mr Kurtzman. Miwa. Sir Malachi. They hadn't been able to get a hold of some of their more elusive allies like Pigeon Pete and the Napoleon Bonafrog, but there was only so much they could do in such a short period of time. It was truly a testament to Splinter's legacy that so many from such varied backgrounds were all coming to bid him farewell. If not out of love for the ninjutsu master himself, then out of respect for his students and his children.

In sharp contrast, when the terrible Shredder had finally fallen, he'd fallen alone. His desire for vengeance had utterly robbed him of anything resembling friends or family. His own Foot Clan had not come to aid him or look for him. And at the very end, even what remained of his humanity had been a price paid in vain.

Raphael and Casey had therefore taken a certain sick delight in dropping off the Shredder's body in a compactor at the city dump, crushing it and a ton of garbage into a cube scarcely a meter in diameter. But whatever satisfaction they'd had in getting rid of their hated foe had faded soon enough. It hadn't brought back their master, after all.

The kitchen clock began to chime as most of their guests arrived, and the four turtle brothers shared a glance and a nod. Without words, they agreed it was time to go. Metalhead 5.0 started up his flamethrower limb and passed out lit torches to everyone as they followed Leonardo out of the lair and down a connecting junction to where the body was waiting.

It was time to say their farewells.

At first, none of them had quite known what to do.

Even Leonardo, who'd found Splinter's final will in his room, could not find any instructions for his remains. Evidently he'd trusted his four sons to think of something. At first, they'd toyed with the idea of burying him at the park near Times Square, where Hamato Yoshi had sometimes found solace and sanctuary on long walks before his mutation, but somehow it did not sit right. Neither did Miwa's suggestion they return him to Japan. Yoshi was from Japan, while Splinter had made his home in New York. In the end, it had been Raphael who'd come up with the best idea for the funeral.

So Splinter's body lay on a small boat barely bigger than a canoe, filled with dry straw. One appropriated from the docks by a most neglectful and inattentive owner. His hands were clasped in front of him, holding his familiar jade walking stick to his chest, while at his feet was the horned helmet of his enemy. The one whom he'd finally managed to defeat, after so long locked in perpetual conflict.

It was going to be a Viking funeral.

Eminently suitable for one who'd lived a life of conflict and died so far from his original homeland. There was also the wisdom of destroying the body. Even a single cell from a mutant would be valuable to the Kraang, or less scrupulous humans like Doctor Falco. It was better to remove such temptation from the world. Raphael could not have picked a better send off for their master.

The small boat was tied to the side of the drain pipe, for the current was stronger than usual today. It was raining up on the surface, and the walls of the sewers were slick with moisture. The gloomy day above was reflected in the darker sewer tunnels below. Torchlight reflected off the walls in odd and eerie patterns as the Turtles and the other mourners gathered along the ramp, which seemed barely large enough to hold them all. Leatherhead made room by climbing halfway into the water, which also lowered him down to their height. Though he did take a moment to set his record player aside before doing so, ensuring it kept dry. Everyone was speaking in quiet, hushed whispers.

"Just can't believe he's gone..." said Michelangelo, gazing at the body with uncharacteristic solemnness.

"Yeah," agreed Donatello. "I always thought he'd just... keep on going, ya know? Live forever. I mean, that's scientifically impossible, I know, but..."

He trailed off as April took his three-fingered hand in hers, giving a soft squeeze.

"Sorry... guess I'm rambling," he said with a sheepish smile. "Again."

"We all miss him, Donnie," she said gently. "It's gonna be okay."

And some of them were evidently taking this loss better than others. Raphael had managed to keep a tight lid on his emotions up until now, but seeing his father's body lying on the funeral pyre, seeing the ugly helmet of the Shredder resting at his feet, was making him feel tense. He had never wanted to hit someone... anyone... so badly in his entire life. He wanted to just rush over there and shake Splinter until he woke up, knowing full well it wouldn't work.

"We should've been there," said Raphael, his hands clenching into tight fists. "Fighting right alongside him. He'd've done the same for us."

Leonardo placed a hand lightly on his brothers shoulder. "We had our own mission. He knew that."

Raphael didn't respond, but he did seem to relax marginally under his brothers touch.

"He had a good death," added Slash from Raphael's other side. "A warriors death. He didn't curl over and croak of old age, he died on his feet, fighting. That has to count for something, right?"

Ordinarily, Raphael would've agreed that was the much better way to go, if not the only way to go. But right now, he'd have vastly preferred if Splinter had lived to be a thousand year old, and then died quietly and peacefully in his sleep when he'd had more silver fur than brown.

"I guess," he finally replied, non-committedly.

Casey seemed to feel the same as he wiped his eyes with the back of his wrist, wishing he still had his mask on so he could hide. He'd only been little when he'd lost his mom after all, he had really remembered it. But he'd known Splinter for a while now, ever since his first meeting with the Turtles. He'd started out downright terrified of him, and not just because he could break him with his pinkie finger. But in the end, he hadn't even thought of Splinter as a rat. He was just Splinter. He'd almost been like a second father to the misguided youth. And now he was gone. Casey stubbornly tried to keep from crying, but try as he might, he could feel waterworks coming on.

At his side, Irma produced a handkerchief and offered it to him, and Casey blew his nose with it, loudly breaking the oppressive pall.

"Ehehe... sorry," he said, offering the soaked handkerchief back to Irma. She took one look at it and immediately declined.

Seeing everyone had gathered and were waiting, Leonardo glanced over at his sister Miwa, hoping she'd say something. But the young blonde woman looked positively numb with grief, her gaze unfocussed and eyes puffy from crying the night before. Her dark funeral kimono stood out in sharp contrast to her pale skin, which was cold and clammy, and her eyes were dark from sleepless nights. She almost looked ready to follow her father into the afterlife.

"Miwa?" he asked gently, startling her out of her reverie. "Didn't you want to... say something?"

"I did but... I can't... I can't seem to remember what I was going to say," Miwa whispered, her voice so soft he could barely hear it. The broken look she gave reminded him that although she was older by about a year, he was still the big brother of the family.

"You should... you knew him much better than I ever did," she added morosely.

Grimly, he shouldered the responsibility as he always did. Long practice had made the unbearable weight somewhat easier to manage. Leonardo stepped in front of the assembled mourners and thought a moment, trying to come up with something, then simply spoke directly from the heart.

"I... I don't really know what I can say about Master Splinter," Leonardo began, nervously fiddling with his fingers. "I mean, he found us... saved us... taught us... he raised us up all the way from little babies, my brothers and me. Trained us to be ninjas. Kept us out of too much trouble, though I'm pretty sure we didn't make that easy for him. It's... hard... to imagine what life is going to be without him around. I mean, we always go out, we fool around but... we always came home, and he was always there for us. We will never forget Splinter... Hamato Yoshi. He was our sensei... our master... and most importantly of all, he was our father."

Michelangelo sniffed, dabbing at the corners of his eyes with a handkerchief, and most of the others were in similar states. Miwa was positively trembling, her hand shook so much that April was about to reach over and take her torch from her before she dropped it. Shockingly, Leatherhead beat her to it, claiming it with a surprisingly gentle touch for one so big and holding it aloft with his own.

"A truly... touching statement... Leonardo..." hissed the great reptilian beast.

Hesitantly April stepped forward, and softly cleared her throat, drawing all eyes to her. "Splinter was a great man. He raised four great boys under very difficult circumstances. And when my dad couldn't be there for me... he was."

Here her eyes turned to her father, and Kirby O'Neil looked very solemn indeed, his great big eyes conveying more than mere words ever could, layered feelings of regret, pride, sadness and sorrow, all mixed together. April brushed back some of her hair, not wishing to linger on unpleasant memories, and continued to speak.

"Splinter was a warrior. A ninja master. And in many ways, a hero. But first and foremost, I like to think he was a teacher at heart. He taught us how to fight and what to fight for. And if he taught me nothing else, he taught me something so much more important than fighting. He taught me to hope again."

The red-haired kunoichi turned to the casket, flanked by Casey and Irma. Each of them carried a white lily, purchased in a flower store above, which they set in the boat alongside Splinter's body. Donatello also added to the boat the broken TCRI container that had been the original source of both Splinters and their own mutations. Michelangelo sniffed as the Turtles 'Mother' was added to the funeral ship.

"He once..." Michelangelo started to say, then cleared his throat and started again.

"Go ahead, Mikey," said Leonardo. "We're all here."

Nodding, the youngest turtle continued on, "He once said the can of ooze gave birth to us all. So... here's hoping it gives birth to Splinter again. In some new life. Not as a zombie though... that... that wouldn't be cool... like, at all..." he trailed off, his voice getting weaker as he choked on his own words.

His brothers gently started to shush him, seeing he was already upsetting himself as much as the others present, but the youngest brother was already shut himself up and remained silent for the rest of the proceedings.

"Has... anyone else anything to say?" asked Leonardo.

Emboldened by the words said by the others, Miwa finally stepped forward with her own words. Composing herself with great dignity, the daughter of Hamato Yoshi spoke.

"For the longest time, I never knew my father. He was stolen from me... and I was stolen from him. When we first met, I even tried to..." she trailed off, unable to speak. Steeling herself, she drew in a deep breath and exhaled, then continued.

"I saw real, true courage that day. I didn't realize it at first, but it was there. No matter how hard things got, no matter how much I hated him, my father never failed to do the right thing. I can't even begin to imagine that sort of courage. I thought I had a hard life, but I can't fathom the sort of things he had endured not only because of me, but for me. And for all of you, his family. I wish I could ask him for some of his courage now. I've lost him for a second time. This time, however... this time I know he loved me. Loved all of us," she added with a glance at her mutant siblings.

Splinters daughter turned to the funeral ship and gently laid a hand over her fathers, fingertips brushing against the dark rat fur covering the back of his hands.

"Arigatou gozaimasu," she whispered, so softly it was almost inaudible. "Sayonara, Tousan."

A single tear graced her pale cheek before falling earthwards, and she gently wiped it away before retaking her place with the other mourners, head bowed low.

Surprisingly, Jack Kurtzman then stepped forward, still holding his hat in hand. Leonardo stepped aside to give him room.

"I admit I never knew this Hamato Yoshi," he began. "But I have heard nothing but great things, which tells me enough. More than that I've seen firsthand just what he's done with his students. I don't have much to say, just a quote I'm familiar with. Something I thought would be appropriate for this occasion," Jack cleared his throat. "The hour of departure has arrived, and we go our separate ways. I go to die..." he indicated the fallen ninjutsu master. "And we to live," he added, turning back to the assembled mourners. "Which of these two is better only God truly knows."

Donatello nodded thoughtfully. "Socrates," he identified.

The older man smiled at the recognition, and nodded, stepping back amongst the others. No one else ventured forward, if there were any last words they had for Splinter they kept them within, letting his spirit hear them alone. The living had said their peace for the departed.

After a long moment of silence broken only by the rushing waters, Leonardo gently tried to move things along. "If no one else has anything to say or last respects to pay... well... it's time."

Apparently no one did, for not a one of them moved or said a thing. Leonardo turned to his brother.

"Raph? If you would?"

The shorter turtle nodded, and without a word unsheathed his sai and snapped the line holding the tiny boat in place, letting the current claim it. Leatherhead reached over and, with a delicate touch, turned on the record player at his side, setting the needle in place on the spinning disk and letting music be coaxed forth from it.

A solemn piano song began to play, the musical notes reflecting off the sewer walls to distort oddly, creating an eerie, otherworldly sort of melancholy as those gathered watched Splinter's body slowly drift down the river. As it passed, each of them gently tossed their lit torches into the boat, setting it alight. Flames licked at the sides of the ancient ninjutsu master as he drifted down the spillway.

Leonardo put his fist in his palm and bowed low out of respect to their departed father. The others began to mimic him, as Kurtzman and Marikawa held their hats over their hearts, and Casey Jones offered a two-finger military-esque salute. Sir Malachi lowered his hood, looking unusually solemn.

The flames rose higher, licking the sewer ceiling, as the funeral boat floated down the sewer tunnel. Soon little more than a silhouette of Splinter's body was visible in the conflagration as everyone watched with a sort of horrified fascination. His casket drifted out of sight around the bend, and in a short while would be little more than ash at the bottom of the reservoir up ahead.

Ashes to ashes, dust to dust.

Authors Notes:
Obviously a lot of stuff occurred off-screen as backstory, notably the inclusion of an Irma into the Turtles fold of close friends, Fishface upgrading to Tokka the same way Dogpound did to Rahzar, and Karai becoming Miwa again, as well as taking control of the Foot. All based on guesswork as to where the current cartoon incarnation is heading, though its liable to be proven wrong soon enough. I also delibertly left out the description of Kirby O'Neil so as to sidestep the question of whether or not he'll ever be un-mutated from Wingnut, though my previous guess was not so much. Shows what I know, eh?

Influences from the TMNT movies were obviously borrowed for the Shredder's final fate, including his mutated 'Super' form and his body being crushed in a garbage compactor. May he rest in cube.

The speech Leonardo makes at the Funeral is slightly paraphrased from 'The Death of Splinter, TMNT Volume 4 #10 through #11 (Mirage Comics). The discovery of which was partially responsible for the creation of this story in the first place.

Miwa's Japanese words translates in English as a "Thank you (Formal Version)" and "Farewell, Father."