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It’s nearly midnight and yet the air still feels warm and clammy against his skin as the blue-masked turtle chases the wind, jumping from rooftop to rooftop on his way home. Summer just doesn’t seem to let up.
Leonardo slows and then stops in his tracks a few blocks from the Foot Tower when he picks up on the faint sound of someone playing the...piano? He frowns. That’s the last thing he would expect to hear in this area of the city.
Cautious of any stray Foot ninja and general security, the turtle follows the source of sound. It becomes more distinct and vivid the closer he gets - whoever is playing, they do so with the force of a hurricane, the wind carrying the tune loud and clear. Leonardo raises his head and his eyes zero in on the terrace that stands out on one of the high levels of the tower.
His senses tell him to turn around and leave but for once curiosity gets the better of him. Bypassing several security points unseen, he uses a grappling hook to climb the walls of the tower as if pulled up by the music itself.
The turtle reaches the spacious terrace overlooking the city. The doors leading inside are thrown wide open with just a thin veil of silk curtain separating the two spaces. Leonardo can pick out the silhouette of a woman sitting at a concert piano just behind the near-transparent fabric.
He has no doubts as to who these chambers belong to.
Staying in the shadows, Leonardo silently creeps closer and peaks inside - sure enough, he spots no other than Karai, sitting at a glorious black Steinway grand piano. The instrument’s lid is lifted at an angle to let the hammers cry out their crescendo over the strings; the walls all but vibrate with the ferocity of the sound traveling through them.
Karai herself is a mesmerizing sight to behold: wearing a simple but elegant dark blue evening gown, she’s rocking back and forth on the piano bench, putting not just her wrists but her entire body into the force she unleashes over the black and white keys. Her lithe form dances with the rhythm she creates, fingers running at a speed that’s impossible to follow with the pedal going up and down under her right foot. The melody is like a thunderstorm; like so many arrows raining down from the sky. Her expression is focused, eyes nearly closed. She knows this tune by heart.
Leonardo smiles to himself - this piece is exactly like Karai: a force to reckon with.
The turtle moves back and crouches with his carapace against the terrace wall. He tilts his head and listens as the melody washes over him, the energy making his fingers twitch.
Is this her outlet when she allows herself the luxury? To bang the frustration and whatever else she’s feeling into the keys of the instrument when physical exercise is not an option?
Leonardo can see why.
Karai puts the same passion and devotion into her music as she does into the art of bushido. There is elegance and precision in the tune - the kind of precision Leonardo has seen from the woman when she wields her katana in battle.
The ebb and flow of melody continues before the final, epic run up the keys - the end sudden and abrupt. Leonardo’s ears ring with the echo of the performance and it takes him a moment to register that it’s over.
The silence stretches on for a good two minutes before the turtle chances another careful glance inside.
Karai is still sitting on the piano bench but the fallboard is closed over the keys and she’s leaning over it. Elbows perched on top, she’s resting her forehead against her laced fingers, her hair a black curtain over her profile. She looks exhausted and weary.
Leonardo frowns. The dress Karai is wearing indicates that she’s been out at a public event, probably a banquet organized for the mayor of the city or some other important figures. It is her duty as heir to the Shredder to keep a good public profile for the Foot but that doesn’t mean she enjoys the pointless banter and fake smiles.
Leonardo catches the tiniest bit of movement as Karai suddenly freezes, her head tilted ever so slightly in the direction of the terrace. Eyes still closed, a flash of a smile comes and goes over those red lips in the span of half a second, leaving the turtle unsure if he’d only imagined it.
Suddenly Leonardo feels ashamed, like he’s intruding on a private moment. A moment Karai has for herself alone and no one else. He stands slowly with the intent of slipping away but then he hears the fallboard of the piano clunk against the case. Before he can will himself to move, another tune starts up.
A quiet, gentle melody. A sound so rich, yet so lonely.
There is vulnerability in the way Karai plays; a hidden part of her soul coming undone, the walls crumbling into dust around her as she sits there, playing her heart out. No pretenses, no guards up. No orders to follow or roles to play. Free of burden, just for those precious few moments as she becomes one with the instrument.
The shy tune soon transforms into something else: desperation and longing.
Passion.
The piano sings and Leonardo can’t move, staring into the New York City night sky with unseeing eyes. There is a story here, behind the near-perfect dance of her fingers.
Suddenly, an image unfolds in his mind.
A little Asian girl is playing on an upright piano, her short legs dangling from the bench that lifts her to the proper height to reach the keys. Her piano instructor - an unpleasant-looking woman in her fifties - hits her wrist with a switch every time the girl plays the wrong chord. Eyes welling up with tears and cheeks puffed in frustration, the girl keeps repeating the same passage, again and again, not stopping despite the pain. Her hands shake but her shoulders are set, eyebrows furrowed with resolve.
Again. Wrong key. Whip. Again. Wrong chord. Whip. Repeat.
[“You have no talent.”]
The scenery dissolves and a new one appears.
A different piano; the same girl sits on the bench but she looks older now, her legs long enough to reach the pedal. There is a serious, focused look on her face as her fingers run up and down the keys, the movement looking almost effortless. The piano instructor stands behind her nodding, sometimes making a comment. The switch gone.
The young girl’s performance is near-perfect.
Another shift in scenery.
The girl is a woman now, her identity unmistakable: Karai, playing the grand piano in the privacy of her chambers. She’s rocking with the melody, her eyes closed - a sensual dance of body and soul.
Karai behind the piano… Karai behind her katana; Karai clashing against him in battle; Karai looking at him with guarded eyes full of intent.
[“Please...You have to understand…”]
Leonardo blinks as if suddenly woken from a dream and remembers where he is. Karai has stopped playing, the murmur of the city rising all around them to fill the silence.
The turtle takes a deep breath, the tails of his mask dancing in the warm summer breeze. He looks thoughtful, the secret he’s learnt tonight weighing on his mind. Karai has bared part of her soul and he was lucky enough to witness it. Leonardo carries that thought with him as he silently jumps down from the terrace to start on his way home over the rooftops, unaware of the pair of dark eyes following his retreating form.
The wind picks up as Leonardo gains speed and he can’t help but smile: the night has never felt more alive.