Never-NeverLand – Chapter 11
When Shima caught her breath, she turned smiling to her sister. "That it from you, Cabbage?"
"Go right ahead, Shima."
"Thank you. For my question I wanted to ask, 'What are ninja?'" The girls settled back, and waited for an answer.
Leo blinked as the words splashed like water over his mind. His body dissolved into a sea of impressions, sensations, intuitions, and shadows, releasing him into a world of crystal clarity. He felt every inch of his surroundings, knew them like he knew the weight and balance of the blades on his back. He felt his brothers beside him, heard their heartbeats, and sensed that they shared his difficulty. Like a drowning man, he cast about in his mind for the words to describe the rushing intensity of the shadowy rooftops. Flying unseen, four spirits, four powers spinning through the night, limitless and flowing on a river of wind. Strong because they could kill, but chose not to. Ninja were the only ones truly alive in a sleepwalking world.
With his weapons and his brothers, Leonardo's life had purpose. They guarded the honor of an entire city, protecting it from itself. Keeping the art honed and perfect, in his body and mind was a sacred trust; using it wisely, a lifelong covenant. Splinter's teachings had granted him a living legacy, a daily inheritance. Leonardo struggled to explain his thoughts.
Ninjitsu meant 'family' for Donatello. He honored his father and fought alongside his brothers. They shared something that the humans never defined, a place the humans could not taint. The strength of his body and his mind was absolute with his brothers beside him. His mouth opened, but no words came out.
Michelangelo knew that 'ninja' meant more than adrenaline rushes and endorphin highs. He'd read something once long ago in a children's book that had echoed so deeply in his soul, that it he'd taken it away inside himself as a touchstone for when things got too miserable.
"I hate it!" Charles Wallace cried passionately. "I hate the dark thing!"…
Mrs. Whatsit nodded. "Yes, Charles dear. We all do."…
"And we're not alone, you know, children," came Mrs. Whatsit, the comforter. "All through the universe it's being fought, all through the cosmos, and my, but it's a grand and exciting battle. I know it's hard for you to understand about size, how there's very little difference in the size of the tiniest microbe and the greatest galaxy. You think about that, and maybe it won't seem strange to you that some of our very best fighters have come right from your own planet, and it's a little planet, dears, out on the edge of a little galaxy. You can be proud it's done so well."…
"Who have our fighters been?" Calvin asked.
"Oh, you must know them, dear," Mrs. Whatsit said.
Mrs. Who's spectacles shone out at them triumphantly, "And the light shineth in the darkness; and the darkness comprehended it not."
"Jesus!" Charles Wallace said.
"…Go on, Charles, love. There were others. All your great artists. They've been lights for us to see by."
"Leonardo da Vinci?" Calvin suggested tentatively. "And Michelangelo?"
"And Shakespeare," Charles Wallace called out, "and Bach! And Pasteur and Madame Curie and Einstein!"
Now Calvin's voice rang with confidence. "And Schweitzer and Ghandi and Buddha and Beethoven and Rembrandt and St. Francis!"
--A Wrinkle in Time. Madeleine L'Engle. Laurel Leaf Books, 1984. (pgs. 84-85).
As a child, Michelangelo never forgot that HIS name was listed as a fighter for good. He shook his head knowing that it would only seem stupid if he said it out loud.
Raphael only knew that he never felt hated, or freakish, or awkward, or lonely, or worthless when he escaped into the Art. Words told truths that hurt, but there was no room for words in the instinctive currents of Ninjitsu. Hurtful thoughts couldn't follow him; no one could cause him pain. In fact, the pain flowed the opposite direction. He didn't suffer, but others did… only those who deserved it, but that was just another facet. HE chose. HE was in control. Raphael would not be the victim. He stared at the passing glare of the billboards, completely unable to verbalize his feelings.
Shima sat back and unfolded her consciousness. It had been months since she last 'took it all in.' She remained anchored to her body, bobbing gently like a balloon on a string. She felt Splinter hovering over his sons' minds like a polite honeybee. Smiling, she imagined herself as a vine: a morning glory that climbed and twined and sought the sun. There were four of them, burning with emotions, but so many of their thoughts overlapped, that until she grew near, they seemed as one. She nestled herself gently among them, careful not to touch their personal spaces, and calmly absorbed the emotions they were trying to project. Pride. Strength. Security. Family. Devotion. Power. Unity. Purpose.
Splinter settled on one of her leaves and she spoke to him silently. "The humans had me learn over 30 different languages. The one thing I know for a fact is that words are irrelevant."
She felt his laughter, and realized she'd just been hypocritical? or paradoxical? or maybe self-contradictory? Her frustration with herself brought her back to her body. She could hear Splinter chuckling in the front seat. "Don't worry child, it will come in time. Don't hurry to be old."
All of half a minute had passed and Cabbage was tired of watching the guys make funny faces. "Well," she prompted, "What are ninja?"
Leonardo looked at his brothers, who shrugged. "We are."
There was a general nodding and grinning amongst the brothers. As far as they were concerned, that summed it up.
"Yeah, gimme three, bro." Mike and Leo swapped 'high threes' and went into a complicated secret handshake.
"That's it?" Cabbage looked shocked. "I'd been expecting something more… oh, I don't know… EXPLANATORY."
Shima put her hand on Cabbage's shoulder. "It's ok. It was my question, and I think I understood the answer." Her eyes sent a chill down Leonardo's spine.
'I wouldn't be surprised if she did understand.'
Pipes cleared her throat, +"Eh-HEM."+ She held the notebook, +"I want to get to Sterling's question before I forget that it's written down."+ Sterling folded her arms; Raphael studied her when she wasn't watching.
'Wonder what kinda question she's gonna ask; probably something about the number of electric sockets in the Lair.'
Pipes pitched her voice in Sterling's low tones, "Is it true that assassins do it from behind?"
In the heartbeat that followed, Sterling felt her brothers' eyes lock themselves onto her in disbelief. Her face lit up like a glowing coal, whether from embarrassment or anger, she couldn't say. 'Ok, sister or not, you life expectancy is now measured in minutes.'
"NNNNNNGGGGGG!!!" Sterling lunged across the van to snag the notebook from her sister. Mikey was rolling on the floor with laughter. Leo sat in stunned silence. Casey was cackling in the front seat. "MMMNNNGGGG!!"
+"What was that Sterling? Did you say something? Wasn't that your question?"+ Pipes threw the notebook to Shima, who immediately passed it off to Cabbage, who tore out the top five pages, balled them up and let them get batted around the van.
Donatello sat there open-mouthed until Mike stuffed one of the paper wads into it.
Raphael had his eyes shut as he clutched his sides. He was laughing so hard his shoulders shook.
Splinter's face peering around the back of his chair brought an immediate silence to the back of the van. He smiled, "No. It happen quickly and without trace." He chuckled as he faced front again. "I made another funny."