So this is a little oneshot I wrote. It's about a Japanese folktale, "The Stonecutter". I tweaked a few things from the folktale to make it fit in with the story a bit better. I hope you guys enjoy it! Please leave a review if you like it. :)
I don't own TMNT.
As a single father, and a Sensei as well, Splinter hardly had a moment to himself. Between raising four boys who could never leave 'the house', and now acting as their teacher, what little moments he had alone were few and far between. If he was not training them, they were begging him to play with them, or to fix something, or to tell off their other brothers.
It was of course, not nearly so bad as when they were younger - now at the age of nine, they were not near so needy as they had been before. Most of the time it was Michelangelo, the baby of the family, who drew his attention away from any personal time he might be allowed. The small freckled child was in constant need of entertainment, and had been maturing the slowest of his boys. Then there was Donatello, who was smart as a whip and surprisingly insightful for a boy of only nine.
The two seemed opposites, but it hadn't prevented their friendship. Mikey - as he had been nicknamed - trailed behind Donatello like a puppy. He was always watching Donatello tamper with his electronics and asking him questions a mile a minute about why he moved that wire, or what that part of the thing did. Donatello was delighted to find a student, and so the two could always be found working together on the weekly schoolwork assignments Splinter conjured up for them or tinkering in the lab. (though Michelangelo more often than not got bored before he could finish anything)
Mikey was not the sort of child to value time alone or entertain himself. Splinter could hardly think of a moment the baby-faced turtle had been without one of his brothers. So when Mikey entered the dojo that morning, the fact that he was alone was enough to tell Splinter something was wrong.
"Dad, Donnie's being mean," Mikey whined, coming over with his stuffed bear clutched tightly to his chest. "He won't let me play with him."
"Michelangelo, Donatello is not always in want of your company," Splinter sighed, his ear twitching a bit as he bent over to pick up a few stray leaves on the dojo floor. "Sometimes your brother would like to work alone, and you must find something else to do."
"I know!" Mikey protested with a pout. "But this is different. He's being mean."
"What do you mean?" Splinter questioned, his brow furrowing. Donatello, while he had his snappish moments, was not particularly mean to any of his brothers.
"He was yellin' at me to go away, and he was knocking things over like Raphie does when he's mad," Mikey sat down next to the tree with a soft plunk. "And then he wouldn't fix my bear." Mikey held up the bear to show Splinter. It's arm was hanging off, only attached by a few threads.
"Hmm. Unusual behavior for Donatello indeed," Splinter pondered, stroking his beard. "Here, I will fix your bear. I think that I will go see if Donatello has any explanation for his behavior." Mikey sullenly handed over the bear.
"Daddy, are you gonna punish him?" Mikey asked, clutching to Splinter's robes to prevent him from leaving. His big blue eyes were pleading. "Don't punish him daddy, he didn't do anything wrong and I don't want him to be mad at me for telling on him!"
Splinter smiled and put one paw on Michelangelo's head. "Mikey-chan, I assure you that I do not intend to punish your brother. Only see why he's upset," Splinter placed a soft kiss on his son's forehead. "Now go play with your other brothers." Mikey reluctantly left the dojo. As soon as his son's back was turned to him, Splinter allowed himself to frown. Donatello hadn't thrown a fit since...well, Splinter couldn't even recall the last time Donatello had thrown a fit, that's how long it had been. The ninja master wasn't really sure where he went right with the genius child, but he figured that Donatello would have to be very upset to throw a fit like Mikey was describing.
It didn't take long for Splinter to discover how true his prediction was.
Splinter left the dojo and headed for the area that had been dubbed 'the lab'. As he neared, he could hear things hitting the floor and the angry shouts of Donatello from within. Splinter's ears flattened against his head and he set himself at a brisker pace, nearly running by the time he reached the lab doors. Panic rose up and made his throat constrict as he pushed open the heavy doors.
"Donatello!" Splinter said starkly upon entering, whereupon he found said turtle grabbing at anything within reach and sending it to the floor for its untimely end. He was relieved to see that Donnie wasn't throwing any of the carefully arranged glass beakers in the back of the room - instead there were tools, papers, bits of wire and books scattered all around. Donatello didn't even look up at his father's shout, only grabbed a radio he had been tinkering with and sent it to the tile with a mighty crash.
"Donatello, stop!" Splinter said sternly. The rat, seeing no other way to end this chaos, went forward and grabbed the nine-year-old, holding him in a tight lock. Donatello screamed as soon as he was compromised from his reign of destruction.
"Let me go! Let me go!" Donnie kicked at the air angrily. They stayed like this for a while, Splinter holding his son tightly to his chest and Donatello screaming something incomprehensive.
"Donatello, please, calm down!" Splinter commanded, but it only served to make him more upset. Donatello began to try to pry his father's hands off of him, although his strength was nothing compared to Splinter's.
"Donatello," Splinter spun him around and forced his son to look at him. Donnie's huge brown eyes were laden with tears and he struggled against Splinter's iron grip on his shoulders. Splinter lowered himself onto a kneel to be at eye level with the turtle. "Donatello, look at me." Donatello pointedly turned his head away, causing Splinter to furrow his brow slightly in annoyance.
"Donatello, you are being very immature," Splinter snapped.
"I don't care!" Donnie burst out, "It's not fair, it's not fair!" Splinter let out a deep breath, knowing that if he fanned at the flame of his anger, things would quickly get out of control.
"What isn't fair?" Splinter asked in a forced calm tone. Donatello sniffed slightly and reached up to wipe at his eyes. Seeing that the storm had passed, Splinter released his grip on Donatello's shoulders and allowed his arms to fall back to his sides.
"I wish I was normal," Donatello choked, fiercely rubbing away tears. "I hate this place! I hate being different! I hate it! If I was a human, then I could go to school, and I could be a scientist, or an engineer, or something important!" Something stirred inside Splinter at his words - an unpleasant, dreadful sort of feeling.
"Are you...unhappy with our weekly lessons?" Splinter grimaced. "I'm sorry that I cannot offer you more-"
"N-no!" Donatello stammered, suddenly feeling very ashamed. "No, you're a good teacher Sensei, that wasn't what I was trying to, uh, imply. And I can read the textbooks you bring me, and those teach me lots of stuff. I just...I don't like living down here and being a mutant."
"Hmm," Splinter replied, his mouth set in a tight line. "I see. You aren't satisfied with what you are?"
"Uh, yeah, I guess," Donatello wrung his hands nervously. "I mean, when you put it like that…"
"I understand," Splinter sat down on the floor, neatly folding his legs beneath him and motioning for Donnie to sit across from him. Donnie kneeled down and placed his hands on his knees, casting his eyes downwards. The anger was losing it's edge now.
"I think...that a story would be appropriate right now," Splinter said, nodding to himself. Donatello looked up incredulously.
"A story? I'm a little old for those now Sensei…" Donatello squirmed uncomfortably.
"One is never too old for a story," Splinter said shortly. "Have you ever heard the story of the stonecutter?"
"No, and I'm not sure I want to," Donatello muttered. Splinter hummed in disapproval, but didn't elaborate further on the subject of Donatello's lacking manners.
"Once upon a time there lived a stonecutter, who went every day to the mountainside to carve out stones for houses. He was a good craftsman and had many customers. Though his work was hard and his pay little, the stonecutter was content with what he had," Splinter began. "One day while he worked, the stonecutter saw a rich prince go by, in a carriage with an umbrella held over his head. The prince held many fine things that the stonecutter had not even dreamed of. Seeing this, the stonecutter began to grow weary of his own tiresome work of cutting stones."
"I see where this is going," Donatello interrupted. "The stonecutter is going to become a prince but he still won't be happy, right?"
"Donatello, perhaps you should leave your commentary until the end," Splinter scolded. "Now, where was I...ah yes, the stonecutter was weary. And so he said to himself 'Oh if only I were a rich prince with an umbrella held over my head, then I should be very happy!' The spirit in the mountain heard his wish, and decided that he should grant this man's wish. And so a voice replied 'Your wish is heard; a rich prince you shall be!'"
Splinter didn't even need to see Donatello to know that the terrapin was rolling his eyes. Donatello had always been rather skeptical about the existence of spirits, though it was something Splinter ardently believed in. Splinter cleared his throat.
"Ahem. And so, the stonecutter looked around for the source of the voice, but there was none in sight. The stonecutter, feeling tired, retired earlier than he usually did. When he came home however, he found that his house had been replaced with a mansion! He had attendants and umbrellas and riches all about him. The stonecutter was delighted and his old life was forgotten in the indulgences of his new life.
Yet it was not enough. He looked about and saw that despite the water he poured upon the grass, it still dried in the sun, and despite the umbrella held over his head, his face grew tanned. 'To only be the brilliant sun!' he cried. 'Then I would surely be happy!'
'Your wish is heard!' the voice boomed once again. 'The sun you shall be!'
And the sun he was - his rays dried grass and burnt the faces of all men. All about the earth he displayed his radiance. But did not feel wholly happy as the sun, and discontent filled his heart. When a cloud covered his face, he cried out, 'The cloud holds captive my rays - if only I were a cloud, so that I too could hold at bay the sun!'
'Your wish is heard; a cloud you shall be!' the spirit shouted, and the stonecutter became a cloud. He hid the sun's light and the grass grew back green once again. But he was soon discontented with being a cloud, and for days he poured forth such rains that towns and villages were destroyed, and the plants of the earth were drowned out. The only thing that did not yield to his torrents was the immovable mountain.
'The mountain is strong and steadfast, unlike me, the fleeting cloud! Oh if only I were the mountain I should be very content!' the stonecutter cried.
'Your wish is heard; a mountain you shall be!' the spirit proclaimed, and the stonecutter became a mountain. The stonecutter stood tall and proud as a mountain.
'This is best of all!' he said to himself. 'Surely I shall be happy as a mountain.' He began to grow weary and lonely however, and longed to be something else, though he knew not what. One day he heard a strange noise and looked below to find another stonecutter, driving his tools into the mountain. The stonecutter below took off a great slab of stone from the mountain.
'A stonecutter, though he may be weak and poor, can best the immovable mountain!' he sighed. 'If only I were once again a stonecutter.' At his request, the spirit of the mountain smiled.
'Your wish is heard; a stonecutter you shall be,' the spirit proclaimed, and a stonecutter he was. His wages were poor and his recognition small, but he was content. The stonecutter never again heard the mountain spirit, and lived the rest of his days in his cabin, cutting stone."
Splinter finished his tale and there was a brief pause where the ending was allowed to sink in. Donatello's brow creased and he frowned.
"I don't get it...what did that have to do with me?" Donatello asked.
"Like the stonecutter, you are not happy with what you are," Splinter explained, placing a hand on his son's shoulder. "But what happened to the stonecutter?" Donatello frowned in thought for a moment.
"No matter what he was, he wasn't happy," Donnie said slowly, realization dawning on him. "He only was happy when he became a stonecutter again."
"Exactly my son," Splinter smiled and rubbed Donatello's shoulder gently. "The stonecutter could not find happiness in becoming another person. He only found his happiness by accepting what he was. You too, must find acceptance."
"Hai, Sensei," Donatello sighed, giving his Sensei a slight bow. "I'm sorry that I made this mess. I was having problems fixing the radio and it just started to feel pointless...I'll clean it up." Splinter's eyes darted over to the door, where three pairs of curious eyes were peeping through the crack.
"You may have a bit of help," Splinter replied slyly, motioning for them to come in. Mikey burst in, needing no other invitation, while Raph and Leo came in a bit more slowly, Leo blushing at being caught spying.
"Donnie!" Mikey shouted, running for his brother and hugging him tightly. "I'll help you clean up, don't worry! You're not mad at me for telling Sensei you were angry, are you?" Donnie smiled and affectionately rubbed Mikey's head.
"Nah," Donnie said. "I'm glad you did." Mikey beamed at that, and detaching himself from the hug, the youngest turtle rushed to begin to help clean up.
"You have three very kind brothers Donatello," Splinter said, watching as the three turtles began to pick up the remains from his tantrum. "Do not forget that."
"Hai. Thank you sensei…" Donatello hesitated for a moment, then rushed forwards into Splinters chest, wrapping his father up in a warm embrace. Splinter was taken aback for a moment, but quickly returned the hug with just as much warmth.
"I promise I'll try to be more like the stonecutter," Donatello whispered in his ear. Splinter only smiled and squeezed Donatello tighter, confident that his son would live up to his word.
Years later, up in a farmhouse near Northhampton, Donatello and his brothers would begin a spirit quest. Donatello chose to focus his personal quest on finding self-acceptance. Each turtle would forge new armor for themselves. It was not a coincidence that Donatello's kanji was the mountain. Nor was it pure chance that he crafted himself a stone mask for his spiritual journey. Donatello would remember the story of the stonecutter and quietly recite it to himself every night of their quest. Deep in the woods, Donatello would find acceptance and peace. Just like the stonecutter.