This story was written Round Robin style by (Terrapin Tarts) Winnychan, DeeMG, KameTerra, and Tori Angeli. It was a blast to write. It's 100% complete. I'll be posting new chapters at regular intervals, so stay tuned!
"Kneel," Splinter commanded, and his sons took their positions in front of him on the mat. It was the typical start for a group training session, taking a moment to clear their minds and focus their energies before Splinter explained the details of the day's training exercise, but the rat suspected that what he had to say now would not have the usual effect.
In fact, he planned on it.
"Before we begin our training exercises," he began, "I wish to speak with you about balance." He eyed all of them for a moment. "You know well the importance of physical balance, but it is important to strive for balance in all aspects of your lives. One of the most valuable skills in accomplishing this is the ability to recognize when you are off balance." He paused. "However, learning this skill is not the object of what I have in mind today. That is something that will take many years to learn, and will only come with practice and self-discipline. Instead, you will be given the opportunity to practice finding the balance point in an area I have selected." He looked around at them again. "Much like when you are having difficulty hitting the center of a target, it is often helpful to first become familiar with both extremes. If you never do this, how can you hope to know where the middle is?"
It was obviously a rhetorical question, and his sons remained quiet, although Michelangelo was clearly growing restless.
Foregoing any further explanation, Splinter jumped right in to the individual instructions. "Donatello," he said, choosing the name closest to the front of the alphabet to start with. The turtle's head snapped up in surprise. "For the next seven days, you are to stop consuming caffeine. It is important to allow your body to recall what it is like to function without… chemical interference."
"Fantastic," Donatello intoned flatly with a notable lack of enthusiasm. He shot a glare over his shoulder towards his brothers who were varied in their displays of amusement. Leonardo was the worst, however. Silent and decidedly smug - he had been harping on Donatello's caffeine dependency for some time. "I can't wait to hear how the rest of you are getting 'balanced'," he added tartly, which was threat enough to silence the sniggering from Michelangelo and return everyone's attention to their looming sensei.
"Indeed." The old rat cleared his throat and regarded the turtles with an even stare they all found quite intimidating. Even Leonardo, who was quite convinced of his own inner balance, swallowed nervously. "Michelangelo, in turn you are forbidden processed foods - processed sugars in particular. For seven days, you will eat nothing but whole, raw foods. Do you understand me?"
"Uh," Michelangelo tugged at his bandanna tails uncertainly. "Not exactly."
"Leonardo, you understand and will assist him in this?"
"Gladly, sensei," Leonardo agreed without hesitation.
"Man. That's way worse than no caffeine," Don commented with a grin.
"Let's see if you're saying that tomorrow morning," Raphael shot back under his breath.
"Raphael!"
"Yeah, Master Splinter?" Raphael wasn't really nervous. He didn't care so much about what he ate or drank. It was all fuel to him.
"You rely too heavily on adrenaline and physical combat. You pay little heed to the higher forms of expression."
Raphael shifted uncomfortably. "Whassat supposed to mean?"
Master Splinter cocked his head cleverly. "For seven days, instead of physical training, you will join me for lessons in painting, music, and dance."
"DANCE?" Raph was furious. "You gotta be kiddin' me!"
"I am not "kidding you". Three days of painting, two days of music, and only two days of dance, if it offends your sense of masculinity so."
"Come on, Raph," Leonardo was snickering behind one hand. "You're sure-footed, you've got stamina... I'll bet you're a lovely dancer!"
"Leonardo!"
Leonardo stopped laughing immediately. His posture went straight as a board. "Hai, sensei!"
"You work hard at your training. Perhaps you work too hard. For the next seven days, instead of physical training... you will do nothing."
Leonardo stared at his master. Silence filled the dojo.
Finally Leo's voice lifted, faltering with uncertainty. "N-nothing, sensei? I don't understa-"
"Nothing!" the rat asserted with a snap. "You will use this time to relax. You will pass the time enjoying yourself in ways that are entirely non-productive. This means no meditation. No training. The dojo is entirely forbidden to you. You may choose to read during this time-" Leonardo seemed to light up at this suggestion, but made a face as his master went on to clarify, "-but only so long as the material is fiction. Do you understand me?"
"Yes, sensei," Leonardo agreed glumly.
It was going to be a long week for all of them.
"This is such B.S.!" Raphael hissed in a near-whisper as he rummaged through the kitchen cabinets later, after morning practice. "How'm I supposed to kick butt, if I'm spendin' time doin' useless, stupid, bullshit stuff like dancing?"
"Language, Raph," Leonardo admonished reflexively. He pulled two boxes of cereal out of the cabinets and frowned at them. "Good grief, look at the amount of sugar in one serving of this! Don't we have any plain oatmeal or something actually healthy for him to eat?"
"Leo, what are you doing?" Donatello said sharply as he came around the corner and stepped into the kitchen. "I distinctly heard Master Splinter say that you were not to do anything productive for the next seven days."
"He also told me to 'help' Michelangelo eat only whole, unprocessed foods for that same amount of time," Leonardo responded tartly. "And that will require at least a minimal amount of work on my part." He sounded almost pleased by this idea.
Raphael grinned over his shoulder. "What'sa matter, Don? Feelin' that caffeine monkey on your back already?"
Donatello made a noise that sounded suspiciously like a growl.
"Come to think of it, where is Michelangelo? Isn't it his turn to make lunch?" Leonardo filed away Donatello's response as something-I-might-have-to-deal-with-later, and looked around the kitchen. "What's keeping him?"
"He's in his room, writing," Don leaned against the counter and cast dark looks at his empty coffee pot, upside down and drying in the dish drainer. "Says he's too busy writing his last will and testament, and we should eat without him, because his life is over without his 'babies'."
"Oh, for the love of..." Leonardo shoved the cereal boxes into a cabinet that he had already labeled 'Forbidden Foods for MICHELANGELO' in his best handwriting, and headed out to put a stop to his little brother's drama. As he was leaving, he tossed over his shoulder: "Donnie, eat something, you'll feel better. Raph, you, too - this isn't the worst thing that's ever happened to any of us."
He pretended he didn't hear Raphael grumble, "So says the guy who doesn't hafta dance..."
