…No Matter Who Looks, It's Not?
Soft-shelled turtles belong to the Trionychidae family of reptiles.
In contrast, the fat-tailed gerbil is a rodent from the Gerbillinae subfamily.
Their methods of regulating body temperature, reproduction, habitats, and behaviors—not to mention the fundamental differences in skin covered with fur versus scales, and even their breathing—create an unbridgeable gap from the inside out.
"What kind of nonsense is that? Mistaking a fat-tailed gerbil for a turtle?"
—Sigh. That was... to protect the children—Leonardo, Raphael, Donatello, and Michelangelo.
Splinter, perched on the back of my hand, let out a deep, earth-shaking sigh before continuing.
—You may be shocked, but I must be frank now. Surprisingly, I was not a wild animal but one raised by human hands. Then, several years ago, I was abandoned in Cheonggyecheon Stream.
"Yeah. I know."
—Indeed, it must be shocking... Wait, what? You knew I was raised by humans?!
"Yep."
Of course I knew.
Native to places like Morocco, Algeria, Tunisia, Libya, Egypt, Mauritania, Niger, Chad, and Sudan—near the Sahara Desert—there was no way a fat-tailed gerbil could naturally live in Cheonggyecheon Stream.
"There's a simple way to tell. Want to keep explaining first?"
—Very well. My origins aren't the point. A few years ago, on an early summer day—not too cold, not too hot.
Splinter nodded along as he spoke in a matter-of-fact tone.
—That day, I was abandoned in Cheonggyecheon. My female owner doted on me, but the male owner found my plump tail repulsive. Said it looked like a sea cucumber...
"...So you were dumped because he thought you were gross?"
—It's been years, but I still can't forget the emotions I felt then.
Splinter's tiny shoulders slumped.
—The noise I'd never heard indoors, the cold, the hunger. But above all, the shock of being abandoned—it kept me frozen in place for a full day.
"...Must've been tough."
—Hoho, that's all in the past. Anyway, a full day after I was abandoned, the dirt by the bushes started wriggling.
Splinter's lips curved into a faint smile, as if reliving a fond memory.
—I snapped to attention and dug frantically, thinking it was mealworms. But it wasn't worms—it was baby turtles hatching from their shells.
"So that's when you decided to look after them?"
Anticipating a long story, Splinter plopped down fully on my palm and shook his head.
—Hoho, not at first. Freshly evicted myself, struggling to survive—how could I care for others? But then a major threat loomed before these newborns could even open their eyes, and that's how our bond began.
"What threat?"
—It was...
Splinter's beady eyes closed briefly, as if reliving that first encounter.
Splinter's front paws paused in the dirt.
He'd been digging relentlessly to fill his starving belly.
—Hmm? One, two, three, four... What bird hides its eggs in the soil? Baffling.
Expecting worms or bugs, what emerged from the wriggling dirt were pristine white, rice-cake-like orbs.
Splinter stroked his chin with a tiny paw, gazing intently at the eggs.
—I don't know how this happened, but no law says I have to starve. Are these bird eggs? They're round like marbles, not elongated.
As he pondered, Splinter picked up the nearest egg.
Why were bird eggs buried? Why was the ground heaving? Questions swirled.
But first, silence his rumbling stomach.
He lifted the ping-pong-ball-sized egg toward his mouth—
—Ah... darn.
Splinter's paw froze.
He suddenly recalled the canary couple, raised alongside him, then chased out to the freezing winter balcony for being "noisy."
—I only thought of myself while they were discarded first... This punishment is only fair.
A surge of guilt crushed him; he couldn't bring himself to eat the egg.
Just then—
Crack—split!
—Wha—no!?
A crack spiderwebbed across the egg in his paw.
Then, with a soft crunch, a green face poked out.
—Gasp... What in the world?
A low exclamation escaped Splinter.
This green-faced creature was unlike anything he'd seen.
—...What kind of being is this? Even a hatchling shouldn't be furless. Come on, push a bit more. That's it, keep going.
Forgetting his earlier intent to eat it, Splinter helped peel back the shell so the green creature could emerge fully.
Once the tiny green thing was free, Splinter gasped again.
A pot-lid shell on its back instead of wings, not a single feather—clearly no bird.
...Wait, is this even a bird? No wings, even as a baby?
Only then did it hit him: four-legged crawlers weren't birds.
Awe at this unknown life held Splinter rapt—
Crack—crackle—
The other eggs behind the first hatchling began splitting too.
—Haha, impressive. Hurry and break free.
Was it the shock of abandonment sapping his will to live?
Despite hunger gnawing at him like skin to spine, Splinter felt no urge to eat these little greens.
Captured by the miracle of sudden life, he watched in a daze.
—Smells tasty. Turtle hatchlings, huh?
—?!
But only Splinter thought that.
A eagle owl's orange eyes gleamed from behind him.
—What's that? Some weird rat pup? Eh, probably tastes the same once swallowed.
The owl twisted its head grotesquely, eyes flashing like fluorescents as it smacked its beak.
Normal Splinter would've fled in terror.
He didn't know it was an eagle owl, but facing a massive raptor inspired pure dread.
Yet—
Crunch—crunch—
Instead of hiding in the brush, Splinter spread his arms wide, stepping forward boldly.
—From the fishy reek on your breath, you've hunted plenty. Why not stop here?
—Amusing. Prey begging not to live, but to die.
Undaunted by the owl's savage hoot and cruel glare, Splinter puffed out his chest.
—No need for more killing, right? These are newborns. Mercy would...
—Make them tastier.
Splinter's earnest plea fell on deaf ears.
—Nothing beats fresh hatchlings. Tender-shelled turtle babies? A delicacy. Plus my favorite rat meat—can't pass up a feast like this, full belly or not.
As the owl licked its chops again, Splinter snapped a thin twig from the underbrush.
...Turtles. That's their name.
He aimed the sharp end at the owl.
—Refuse a toast, demand a fine? Don't blame me. I'm no ordinary gerbil.
—Special flavor? Even better.
—Come at me. Cornered gerbils bite birds too!
—Hoot!
"...So, to protect the newborn turtles, you fought an eagle owl? And drove it off?"
—Yes.
"With a single stick?"
—Precisely.
"......"
I wanted to believe him, but this seemed like too tall a tale.
An eagle owl—king of the night sky, devouring mice, rabbits, squirrels, and small birds?
—Hoho. That look says you doubt me. See these glorious scars?
"No, it's not that. But the size difference..."
—And Raphael's scar on his snout? That's from my epic battle with the owl...
Hard to buy, but that wasn't the point now.
What mattered was why this fat-tailed gerbil had hidden his identity.
"Fine. So why lie to the turtles and say you're one of them?"
—That was...
Splinter sighed deeply before continuing.
—Even after the fierce fight, I thought they hadn't opened their eyes yet. But they'd witnessed my desperate sacrifice.
"And?"
—They followed me as their savior, but my different appearance unnerved them. And I was uneasy too.
"Why?"
—Think: if they encountered another like me in Cheonggyecheon, and that gerbil was aggressive? They'd fear their own kind. So I used transformation magic to disguise myself as a turtle.
I couldn't help clicking my tongue.
"...Transformation magic? You're awfully good at lying."
—Sometimes a white lie is needed to raise children. With kids of your own, you'd understand.
'Hmm. Fair point.'
Splinter's glance at Ssal-i nearly had me nodding, but I held back with heroic restraint.
Ssal-i was glaring daggers.
"Well, every guardian has their style. Not my place to judge."
—Grateful for your understanding.
"Still, better tell them the truth before parting."
—Parting? What do you mean?
My offhand remark made Splinter's jaw drop; I winced inwardly.
"Ah... I didn't mention. The turtles..."
—What happened to my children?!
"It's not bad, just... they won't live in Cheonggyecheon anymore."
—Wh-what?!