Hamato Splinter sometimes wondered how crazy he was to take in four mutated high- energy young turtles. Deep in his heart though he knew he couldn't abandon them. Fate had given them to him as a gift, and he accepeted with an open heart. They were his sons now and no matter how much trouble they got into he loved them unconditionally. But somtimes…
Leonardo was never much trouble most of the time. He usually loved doing what was told to do. He enjoyed praise from his father. He was also very particular and could point out mistakes in a heartbeat. Leonardo was truthful and kind; Splinter could already see him being a great leader someday.
Sometimes though Leonardo could also be controling. He liked doing things his way. Splinter often chided him and told him he needed to be more open minded. It was the reason why he got into fights with his brothers, especially Raphael.
Raphael was hard for Splinter to control. He was rude and didn't follow Splinter's directions. He would fight constantly with his brothers and tease the younger ones. It was a daily routine for him to throw a temper tantrum and have to be put in time out, kicking and screaming.
There were times though when he'd seen the more gentler side of Raphael. Splinter knew that deep in his son was a little boy, only wanting to help. He was often times Leonardo's partner during play time and they would get along quite well and despite how he teased the younger ones, he would often helped them with things they needed. He was always coloring with Michelangelo or helping Donatello build something it seemed.
Splinter had immediatly noticed Donatello was amazingly smart for his age. He knew how to fix things and solve problems. He was always willing to learn something new and took new imformation from his father eagerly. When his brothers needed toys fixed he would often be the one putting things back together.
Splinter knew as well that he had also been the first to talk, and talk he did. It was always "Why Daddy?" or "How Daddy?", an endless stream of questions. He was curious and that was one of his gifts and also one of his flaws. Splinter had caught him several times trying to take apart the toaster, and Splinter had scolded him. Splinter also noticed Donatello played with Michelangelo the most out of his brothers. Splinter knew there was a deeper conection between the two than with any of their other brothers. They were opposites yet some deep similairite kept them together.
Michelangelo had a catagory of his own. He was a sweet but mischivious child. Like Donatello he asked questions. Mostly about the above world but also other things. Several times he had been stumped by the questions the child asked and had scrambled for an answer. Michelangelo understood emotion so passionatly and completly for such a young age that when he asked things about what or why someone felt a certain way, Splinter felt lost. Michelangelo could tell someone's mood by how they even just stepped into a room. He understood emotion so completely yet…
There was something different about Michelangelo. Splinter wouldn't go as far to say something was wrong with him but he knew something was different. Michelangelo often had problems paying attention and was distracted easily, unlike his brothers. He was so sporadic and off the walls that Splinter always had to keep an extra eye on him. Michelangelo had problems with his self control and blurting out things that were unnecesary. Splinter had talked to him about thinking about what he said first before saying it but it hadn't done much good.
These things weren't what worried Splinter though. Splinter worried about how Michelangelo was developing. While Raphael and Leonardo were just beginging to learn how to read a few words out loud, and Donatello was already learning how to read sentences, Splinter had noticed Michelangelo was falling behind. Michelangelo had problems just puting letters together to make sounds. Splinter knew that all of them learned at different speeds, but it worried him slightly that Michelangelo wasn't keeping up with the speed that his brothers were learning at. He was quickly falling behind and Splinter had no idea what to do.
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1 year later:
Splinter handed them each a piece of paper and a pencil. Today was their first lesson in writing. He showed them how to hold It in their hand and how to write letters.
They began with the letter A. Splinter found it encouraging to see how hard each of them worked to write the letter right. Of course, their handwriting was nearly illegible.
While all three of his older sons finished quickly, Michelangelo continued to try. Splinter noticed how frustrated he was getting and how he held the utensil akwardly in his hand.
Suddenly, his son threw the pencil down. "I don't want to do it no more. I hate writing!"
"Patience Michelangelo." Splinter said. "Try again."
He tried and even Splinter saw something was wrong. The pencil just didn't want to cooperate with Michelangelo's hands. Or maybe it was just his right hand…
Splinter gently took the pencil out of his son's right hand and switched it to his left. "Try now."
Michelangelo stared at the pencil in his right hand. "That's not right. You use that hand. So do Leo and Donnie and Raphie." Michelangelo pointed to Splinter's right hand."
"It is different but it is not wrong my son." Splinter explained.
Michelangelo pondered this for a few seconds before he put the pencil to the paper.
Splinter had only one thought as he watched his son write down the letter A: Michelangelo had the best handwriting so far compared to his brothers.
1 year later:
Splinter took a deep breath. He knew today was going to be a rough day.
He had talked to his sons the day before about the practice of Ninjitsu. He had mentioned it before but they were all six years of age now and Splinter believed they were ready to learn. Today was their first day of training.
They began class with a meditation session, Splinter told them how to position their bodies and how to breathe deeply. They couldn't sit still for five minutes though, esspecially Michelangelo.
Soon Splinter moved onto some of the moves in their first kata they would learn. Leonardo and Raphael were doing well. Their ability level was similar but Raphael to work on balance. Donatello and Michelangelo were the ones having problems. Surprisingly Donatello was learning slower than the others, contrary to other things.
While Donatello made mistakes constantly as they were learning, Michelangelo was the opposite. Splinter was in awe with the way Michelangelo preformed. His stances, kicks, and punches were immaculate. Donatello learned at a steady pace, Leonardo and Raphael had much talent, but Michelangelo was in a completly different catagory.
In every sense Michelangelo physically was made for the practice of Ninjitsu. His motions were quick and fluid. Though his brothers had to practice each move several times to preform it correctly, the maximum Michelangelo had to go through each move was twice. He was a natural even at the young age of six.
Oh but his focus! Splinter couldn't belive, even a child so young, could be so distracted. Everytime Splinter turned around to teach Michelangelo the next move, he would be sitting on the floor, or wandering over to one of his brothers, or something else. He would never be holding his position as he was told to do.
"Hold your arm higher." Splinter told Donatello, straightening out his arm. Splinter then turned to Michelangelo to see how he was doing. He almost face palmed when he saw his son standing next to the wall across the room looking up at it. He walked over quietly.
"What are you doing Michelangelo?": Splinter asked.
He turned to look at his father. "Why can't I go up walls?"
Splinter was caught of gaurd by this question. He sighed. "Please go back to your spot my son."
"Yes, Master Splinter." Michelangelo ran back to his place. Then he turned to his Master. "Can I go color now?"
Splinter smiled slightly. "Let's finish our lesson first. Then you can."
5 years later:
"Now we will move onto Liturature." Splinter closed the Mathematics book and reached for the novel that his sons were reading for "school".
His sons groaned as he opened the book, but he ignored them. "We left off on chapter five, did we not?" Splinter asked.
"Yes Master Splinter." Donatello spoke up. "Can I read first?"
Splinter smiled. Donatello was always voulenteering to read. He was the most fluent reader of his brothers, and he took pride in that. Splinter shook his head though.
"Why don't we give your brothers a chance." Splinter said looking at his other sons. "How about Michelangelo?"
Michelangelo jerked into focus when his name was said. "What?"
Splinter smiled slightly while his other sons groaned again. He ignored them. "Would you like to read Michelangelo?"
Michelangelo seemed to pale. He couldn't say no to his Sensei though. He looked down passively. "Umm…sure."
Splinter handed it to him and he took it with shaking hands. He looked down at the words or the page that started chapter five and gulped.
"A-at first each d-day which passed…by for…Mary Lennox was ex…exac… exactly like the others." Mikey read slowly and his words were choppy and not fluent.
Raph groaned in the backround. "Why does Mikey have to read?" He muttered. "He's so slow."
Mikey frowned, but cointinued, "E-every morning she …a-awoke in her… in her… " Mikey stared at the next word the letters swimming on the page. What did it say?
"Sound it out." Splinter said carefully.
He watched as his son's face contort into frustration. Splinter felt guilt twinge in his chest. His youngest son always had the most trouble reading, but Michelangelo still had to learn how to read. There was no doubt about that.
"What is the first letter Michelangelo?" Splinter asked patiently.
Michelangelo tightened his grip on the book. "T… then A…" he trailed off.
"What's next?" Splinter asked.
Michelangelo shifted nervously. "Umm…a Q… I think…maybe…"
Raphael snorted. "He can't even read letters." he mumbled.
Seeing hurt enter Michelangelo's eyes, Splinter glared at Raphael. "Silence Raphael!" He told him warningly.
Raphael ducked his head in shame. "Yes Sensei."
Splinter turned back to Michelangelo. "Please continue Michelangelo."
Michelangelo looked down at the book and searched the page. "Umm…"
Splinter saw the hurt in his eyes deepen and frustrated tears filled his eyes. The room was silent as they waited for him to cointinue.
Suddenly, Michelangelo stood, throwing the book to the ground. Anger and frustration laced his voice as he yelled.
"I quit!"
Michelangelo ran out of the room, leaving his stunned father and brothers behind.
That was when Splinter couldn't ignore what was happening anymore.
Something was wrong.