The more they spoke, the more suspicious April became of her new friend Harmony. She couldn’t put it into words. This girl she’d just met seemed to want to know an awful lot about her personal life and her friends.

Something isn’t right, April noted.

The girl would have to crack eventually. Right?

“So, what brings you to New York?” April asked.

“I’m with my dad. He’s here trying to close an old deal,” Harmony answered with hesitation.

“Oh, what does he do?” April asked, covering her nerves by prepping her chopsticks casually.

Harmony paused, taking a moment to word her answer. “He’s in kitchen utensils. Knives, mostly.”

April logged another mental note: Father works with knives.

Before April could ask another question, Murakami delivered their dishes, a trail of steam following the meals all the way from the kitchen.

Harmony gave Murakami a traditional Japanese bow and said, “Idatakimasu,” which meant “Let’s eat!”

Mental note number three, April thought, this girl was raised in a traditional Japanese household.

April noticed that Murakami was also impressed by Harmony’s traditional ways. This girl knew her Japanese customs.

Out of respect, April mimicked her friend and paid respect to Mr. Murakami with a bow and an “Idatakimasu” of her own.

Harmony eyed April’s dish with a strong curiosity. Pizza gyoza? They looked like normal dumplings to her. “All right! Let’s see what these pizza pot stickers are all about.” She scooped one off of April’s plate and polished it off in one bite. “Best. Dumpling. EVER!”

“I know, right?” April said.

“Now you try mine.”

Harmony slid her bowl over. It was a thick, murky liquid with something barely visible at the bottom. Is that meat? April wondered.

April scooped up some of the soupy broth.

It smelled salty. It smelled gross. It smelled familiar.

“What is it?” April asked.

“Soupon nabe,” Harmony said. After a moment, she translated. “Turtle soup.”

April’s eyes grew wide as she put it all together. She knew exactly who this was. Her name wasn’t Harmony. It was …

“Karai!” April gasped.

“In person,” Karai grinned.

Panic hit April. Her heart was pounding. She had no time to lose. “Uh, I gotta go,” she stuttered. She tried to make her way to the door, but Karai grabbed her skillfully with one swift move.

“I was thinking you’d come with me, April O’Neil. My father would love to meet you!”

April struggled to break free. “Let go of me!” she cried.

Hearing the commotion, and sensing his friend was in danger, Murakami took action. He grabbed a pot of boiling hot soup from the stove and threw it. The steaming liquid went airborne and splashed all over Karai!

“I am so sorry!” Murakami said, pretending it was an accident. He blocked Karai’s path, which allowed April enough time to break free and head for the street.

April crossed to the opposite corner and took out her T-Phone to dial the Turtles.