Day 25: Your TMNT Pet Peeve – mary sues
Leonardo: Thought I'm only good with a blade? Wrong again.
Splinter sat as if meditating, staring into the candle flame. Relaxed, head down, eyes shut, he breathed steadily as if nothing bothered him. As if his mind was clear and the world was at rest, without any anxiety clouding his thoughts.
Leonardo knew better, and still he opened the book and began to read.
Couched in metaphor, the hidden techniques of the Foot clan slowly opened to him. The title, Wasuremono, Things Left Behind, camouflaged the contents in a poetic veneer that only lifted if the reader understood the clues. The first chapter spoke of the value of silence, politely letting everyone else speak, listening to what was said. The casual reader saw an odd chapter on etiquette. The burgeoning ninja saw that the book never gave any reason to speak, not even in pain. Do not cry out in vulgar fashion, but continue to breathe and clamp down on the wound so that the blood does not disturb the gathering.
"This is a book for spies," Leonardo murmured.
"More than spies," Splinter said, knowing what page he'd paused at. "In the houses of lords, a low ceiling often hid the empty space of the wood rafters above. Assassins could find an easy hiding spot there."
"Then how did the lords keep away thieves?" Leonardo asked.
"Their servants were armed with spears," Splinter said. "For thrusting up into the ceiling. A ninja might have to suffer a wound in silence."
Leonardo considered that, then returned to the book. Accompanied by a woodblock print of the lord's court watching birds on the palace grounds, the next chapter dealt with the fineries of bird watching, focusing on the movements of the heron. In perfect stillness, the heron stood on one slim leg, then deliberately, slowly, set the second foot down on the grass. The heron eased forward, its upper body completely still as it leaned straight, beginning to raise its back leg. Moving only a fraction of its body, it covered half the distance of the field...then spread its wings and lifted into the air.
Straightening his fingers, turning his hand out, Leonardo mimicked the bird, then glanced back at the picture of the gathered court. Fine ladies sat in colorful kimono while the lord sat above them on a raised dais, one hand out as if directing their attention to a particular bird. Leonardo's gaze slipped up toward the rafters above the pavilion...and he breathed in.
There, neatly balanced on one of the slender beams, stood a white heron. It matched the pale wood of the pavilion, blending in so that no one saw its long, thin beak aimed at the lord. The meaning was obvious.
"It's out in the open," he said, "but no one sees it."
"Ninja more often employ disguise," Splinter said, "than dress all in black. People will ignore what they think is simply background."
Leonardo nodded once. He already knew that from hiding amongst Karai's ninja.
Several chapters followed, each of them short and focused on a certain aspect of court life. Cuisine disguised a manual on what poisons could be masked with certain ingredients. Fashion disguised the need to keep a disguise accurate, especially concerning the common tools of gardeners, soldiers and courtesans. A devotion to Buddhism was really a screed on cutting ties from the world, from belongings, from emotion, even from a sense of self.
A woman carried water out of a well and found the reflection of the moon on the water's surface. Then her bucket fell apart and the water spilled to nothing, and the moon vanished into the grass. Thus she attained enlightenment.
Leonardo stared at the picture of the woman, the moon and the water on the ground. He didn't spot any ninja or symbolic meaning in the woodblock. It was simply an illustration of the short paragraph at the end.
"A Zen koan," Splinter said suddenly, startling him. "I do not think you have studied the Zen branch of Buddhism."
Shaking his head, Leonardo sighed and figured that he wouldn't understand the picture until he'd studied the religion. He had some understanding of it—Splinter's teaching and their meditation had seen to that—but its meaning eluded him.
The final chapter was simply titled Self. He frowned and turned the page only to find the back cover. When he turned back, the title hovered over a large blank page. Had a picture been forgotten? He glanced at his master.
"That is indeed the final page," Splinter said. "If you wish to read it further, you may take it to your room. I will need your help in caring for your brothers, but after dinner, you are free to continue studying."
Did his father sound rushed? Leonardo nodded once and carried the book away, tucking it safely under his pillow before returning to his siblings. Donatello needed hot soup and tea, and Raphael's poultice required changing. Michelangelo's sprained shoulder needed another ice pack. And all of them needed to have new books or new games or have the batteries changed in the remote. As Leonardo visited each one, he felt Splinter's gaze constantly at his back, always watching.
When Leonardo finally crawled into bed, pushing aside the book so he could rest, his mind returned to the picture of the woman at the well. The image stuck in his mind, and as he hovered at the edge of waking and sleep, he imagined the bucket holding a reflection of the moon. And then the water spilled and the moon vanished, even if it was still in the sky.
In his mind, there were two moons, one surrounded by clouds, one in the water. And then the water rippled and disturbed the moon.
The moon had left itself behind.
tbc...