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itzzaira · 4 months

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Withering Butterflies || future Michelangelo story

TW: Spirits, main character is dying and is aware of this. Mention of passed loved ones (who are also confirmed to be just fine and here)

When a mystic warrior is close to death, no matter the cause or reason of their passing- there are signs.

Signs their mystic magic sends out because it can sense that death is near, that it won't be long before it's time to leave the mortal realm, that their clock is almost done ticking. Such signs could be exhaustion, illness, a following sense of doom, weakened mystic magic, losing control of said magic, mystic aging, increase in visions-

Seeing spirits.

Not like his ancestors whom he tried to talk with on purpose. No, in his everyday life.

This is what they would call Mystic Sickness.

It didn't matter what you died off- it could be because of mystic magic, an attack, it didn't matter. Your mystic energies would sense it. It will let you know. It will make sure you know.

Michelangelo had ignored the signs for as much as he could- the mystic aging was because of the overuse of his ninpo, the exhaustion and loss of appetite was because of said aging, the sense of doom that followed him everywhere was normal they lived in the apocolypse-

He really had ignored it, for as long as he could.

Until the first butterfly had landed on his snout.

The white, glowing butterfly.

Butterflies had gone instinct years ago.

As soon as Michelangelo had seen that first butterfly... he knew he couldn't ignore it anymore.

He was dying.

Hamato Michelangelo was not afraid of death.

He knew he would die much younger than everyone else- he had always known. He was the only mystic warrior the resistance had, the only one who could cure those corrupted by Krang, the only one who could heal, the strongest out of them- which resulted in the overuse of his ninpo. He had assumed it would be his mystic powers that killed him.

He was right.

But no one needed to know that.

Instead of going to Leonardo, like he probably should, Mikey had ignored it. He had ignored how sick he felt, he ignored his hair that fell off in chunks, he ignored the sense of doom that seemed to get worse, he ignored the butterflies that only he could see that followed him everywhere.

...Butterflies that seemed to get more each and each day. The amount of spirits that seemed to be more, much more, following him around-

Until he had sensed the first spirit in Donnie's lab.

"...It is sad to see you sensing me so soon, Michelangelo."

Mikey had just smiled, gently closed the door behind him, and opened his eyes. "Good to see you again, Bary."

"Is it?" The sheep yokai crossed his arms, that same annoyed yet worried scowl on his face that Mikey had missed so much. His body was glowing cyan and his pupils were gone, just like every other spirit he had met until now- did that mean he was Hamato? He wasn't sure, the man didn't have the Hamato symbol- "-because I had hoped to see you hit your forties before you joined us."

Mikey smiled. "Heh... h-hah... hic..."

His smile fell.

He covered his mouth and allowed himself this moment of weakness- letting the orange-glowing tears drip down his cheeks as he slid onto the floor- his legs were too weak to hold him up. Part of the reason he had started floating everywhere. His legs were too weak to stand on.

The butterflies that had been surrounding him went down with him, landing all over his shoulders and head, trying to drink his tears. Michelangelo didn't know what was worse- the fact he was crying like a child... or the fact that the spirits seemed to think they were on the same plane of existence.

"...Oh, child." Draxum bent down next to him- he didn't have any of the old scars he had gotten, Mikey noted. The spirit winced at the orange tears, knowing full well they shouldn't be that color, but didn't comment on it. "You look so tired, Michelangelo."

"I am." The turtle wept, wincing when his tears burned his fingers. He shivered at the sensation of ghostly fingers touching his cheek- it felt cold. So cold.

As cold as he had been feeling, for the past couple of weeks.

Hamato Michelangelo was not afraid of death.

He knew his passing would be painful- probably by his magic ripping him into a thousand tiny pieces, or maybe he would get stabbed or something by Krang- he didn't know. He didn't care.

He foresaw all possible futures, all the possible outcomes, all the possible ways he would wither away. Made sure to be prepared, made sure to fight alone so no one would see him perish. Yet, he was worried.

Worried because until now, he hadn't been able to communicate with any of his family. "Where are my-"

"With your brother." Draxum pulled away, sat down properly, and folded his hands in his lap. "They didn't want to leave, but Leonardo seemed to be having a hard time."

...

"...They're... here?" Mikey could have cried with that knowledge if he hadn't been crying already, but didn't know if that was because of relief or hurt. They had been here? Here? All this time? When he had been searching for his brother's spirits... they had been he here? He... they never left?

They never left them alone.

They hadn't been resting like he'd hoped.

"...Cassandra is here as well," Draxum muttered, recognizing that his adoptive son was getting stuck in his own head again. "She wanted to make sure that Leonardo didn't raise her son to be a, and I quote, 'whimp'."

Mikey snorted. He couldn't help the giggles, covering his mouth with both hands. That sounded like Cassandra alright. She had seen him grow up after all? It... wasn't the best way, but- it was something.

"...Would you like to speak with your father?"

His head snapped up. Mikey looked at the spirit with disbelief, bloodshot eyes blown wide. "...Dad is here too?"

"He never left."

"..." The turtle curled up and winced once his legs ached at the movement. With a flick of his hand, his mystic magic lifted his legs and curled them to his chest. Mikey thought, for a moment... and then shook his head.

"...I doubt I could see him anyway." He mumbled. A butterfly got close to his cheek when a single tear slipped down.

"...I know." Draxum sighed. "I assume I'm the first spirit you're seeing?"

He nodded.

Selfishly, Michelangelo had hoped to find Donatello today, once he sensed the spirit in the lab. But thats okay. He would see him soon enough.

"I'm dying."

Not a question. A statement.

"But you already knew that, didn't you?"

Instead of answering, Michelangelo held out his hand. Another butterfly landed on his finger. Draxum sighed, muttered under his breath, and shook his head. "If you had stopped using mystic magic when I told you to you wouldn't be."

"I was needed." He watched the tiny creature's wings- so fragile, so small- so beautiful. No wonder it hadn't survived this world. "I didn't have a choice, Barry."

"Your magic is destroying you as we speak." Another grumble. "Your future visions are getting out of hand."

The turtle couldn't help it- he cracked a smile. "...You know about those?"

"You wake up floating in the air surrounded by mystic particles and many spirits all around you." The man crossed his arms. "I'm surprised Leonardo hasn't noticed yet."

"I don't want him to know." Mikey cringed when he felt some hair slip down his cloak when he shifted his position to sit more comfortably, then winced when his legs ached. He sighed, defeated. And with the flick of his hand, mystic magic lifted up his legs and crossed them.

Another butterfly settled on his knee.

"...Do you know how you're going to..."

"No." He didn't know if that was good or bad. Michelangelo knew it was important to stay prepared... but he didn’t exactly want to predict his own death. That was just how his visions worked. They were set in stone.

...Which brought up another issue.

"...I can't die yet, Draxum." A single tear slipped down his cheek, which immediately caused a swarm of butterflies to get closer to his face. "I'm needed here."

"You've destroyed yourself doing too much." Blunt, without sugar-coating it- yep, that was Draxum alright. "Your body can't hang on anymore. I'm sorry, Michelangelo."

If he had the energy, the turtle would fight it.

He would get up, say something about how you needed to do more to take this turtle down, then either get S.H.E.L.L.D.O.N. to scan him or attempt to heal himself, fail, find some books, a cure- something.

But he was just so tired.

Hamato Michelangelo was not afraid of death.

He knew what death was. He knew what it felt like. Cold, lonely, dark. At least. That was what death used to be. These days, death seemed warm. Peaceful. Lovely. And even though he couldn't sense their spirits yet, knowing the rest of his family was near and waiting, made it look so so much better. Heck, even the spirits with him right now- they felt cool, sure. But not freezing. This was a nice cool he used to feel when there used to be Summer breezes, offering relief amongst all the heat and allowing him to breathe.

But just as death had changed... so had life.

Life, which used to be joyful and warm and happy and bright, had turned dark and cold and full of grief. Never full, never well rested, always on the move, always dirty, always cold. Being cold bothered him the most, for some reason. Probably because instinct kept screaming at him to brumate but the turtle couldn't let himself.

Life had changed. So had death. And the other, brighter side didn't seem as bad anymore.

But...

"What about Leo?"

Draxum turned his head back so quickly, looking shocked and... something else. "...You are the one dying. Let me repeat that. Dying. And you worry about your brother?"

"I can't leave him, Barry..."

"He has April and Casey."

"It's not the same."

When their father had been... lost. The four had been together. They had grieved, they buried him somewhere worthy, they prayed.

When Raph had... left. The three had been there. They had been there the moment the building collapsed on top of him, had been with him as he moved from one plane of existence to the other, unwilling to let go and holding onto each other instead.

When Donnie...

...

"What will happen to them when I'm gone, Barry?" His breath hitched in ways it hadn't done for what felt like eons. His shoulders started shaking as he tried to curl up- but the pain that shot up his legs made him freeze instead, which just. Did it.

He couldn't move his legs. He knew damn well why.

Draxum's expression softened as he watched the turtle fall apart, watched the butterflies land all over his face to try and lap up his tears- it was fine. He could be weak. Just this once.

Hamato Michelangelo was not afraid of death.

Heck, he even longed for the warmth and love on the other side.

But...

Magic lifted his legs so he could curl up as he wanted to, and pulled up his cloak so his head was hidden, ignoring the hair that fell at the action alone. He buried his head in his knees, hugged himself, and- apologized.

How selfish.

To leave this cold, horrible world... when he was still needed here.

Needed by April, who needed her little brother to try and light up others- the only positive thing left.

Needed by Casey, who had lost his mother at such a young age, lost half his uncles, and shouldn't be losing another...

Needed by Leo.

Leo, who still blamed himself for something that wasn't his fault every single day. Leo, who started leading the resistance at such a young age to make up for said thing. Leo, who kept trying to give his portions of food because the younger brother just looked so sickly.

How selfish would he be to leave?

He couldn't do that to Leo. Not to Leo.

"They'll find ways to go on." The yokai mumbled, getting closer and letting a ghostly hand rest on Mikey's shell. It felt cold. A nice cold. But still, the mutant flinched away. No. "They've got each other."

"Leo won't survive, Barry." Mikey cried, looking up- okay the tears were starting to burn. It hurt. But at least that meant he was alive. "He barely did after Donnie. He can't. He won't... Barry. I can't leave yet."

"..." Draxum let a butterfly land on his finger. Looked at the insect, lost in thoughts. "...I'm afraid you do not have a choice."

He knew that. He had known for quite a while, even when the turtle tried to lie to himself and make up excuses for all of his symptoms.

But this...

He couldn't lie to himself anymore. Not for this. There was no other explanation as to why he was seeing spirits.

Hamato Michelangelo was not afraid of death.

He was afraid of what would happen to Leonardo after.