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Donatello couldn’t sleep. Well, maybe he could. But he wouldn’t allow himself to. Not until he had made at least some progress.
As usual, the other turtles begged him to take a break from his project and go to bed. Normally, he would listen. But this was more important than his usual projects. Not just for him, but for his sensei. For Master Splinter, it was a matter of life or death.
Cancer.
Donatello’s heart had sunk, and he could barely get the word out.
It’s not that he was surprised. Splinter was getting old, and Donatello knew that rats were prone to developing tumors.
The lack of shock didn’t make the situation any less sad. The Turtles were all very close to Splinter and had spent their whole lives with him. He wasn’t just a teacher. He was their father.
Donatello regretted not calling him “Father” sooner. Especially since Splinter had called him and the others “son” a few times already.
His brothers were calling for him. He had passed out from exhaustion again.
It was morning, and they wanted to know if he’d like to play basketball. No. It wouldn’t have been fun anyways. Last time they tried, they were all too worried about Splinter to focus on the game.
It was better for him to stay here, working on the medicine. He had to keep trying. No matter how many dead rats it took. They had passed away from experimental injections. Donatello had once said that he’d never hurt another animal, but that was in the past. He’d unlocked a darker version of himself, and there was no going back to the old Donatello who was gentle and calm.
But if he could find a cure, it would all be worth it in the end… wouldn’t it?