Prerequisite
They came to him with heads lowered in respect. With hands pressed at their sides—or, at least it was so in Donatello's case; Raphael's splint kept one arm still and stationary. Came to him and left two brothers attempting to keep quiet on the other side of his door. Attempting being the key word. Before his sons had begun their needed talk, Splinter had thought idly that Leonardo and Michelangelo needed to practice their stealth—or, rather, Michelangelo. Though Leonardo's faint whispered hushes and lowered pleas for quiet could have been much less noticeable. However, all idle thought was abruptly stilled as soon as his sons clad in red and purple spoke. When they spoke, Splinter seemed to stop thinking about much else at all.
"Master Splinter…"
"We're togetha'."
"—romantically."
"An' we want yer blessing."
They were sent away without blessing and love. But also without contempt and hate. Instead, Splinter had quietly regarded them.
"You are positive of these feelings?"
"Yes, sensei."
And then sent them away.
"I will need time to think on this matter. Please, my sons. Leave me."
And so they had, obediently. With heads lowered—that time, perhaps not in respect, but something heavier. Splinter was unsure of exactly what. But he was sure he saw Donatello touch Raphael's arm as they left, and he was suddenly aware of what such an action might mean. His sons had really come to him seeking permission and approval to engage in a relationship. With each other. It was something he, in all his meditation sessions and moments where his mind went wild with possibilities, had never considered—never prepared for. That fact alone had made the subject touchy: he was not one for surprises. And the surprise itself…what was he to think of it? Splinter felt the cold coil of regret in his gut at having caused his sons unease, but he had not trusted his tongue. Such a matter was to be touched upon gently, not impulsively. And most of his reactions had been sudden and brash: impulsive.
The rat part of him: the animalistic instinct, had not minded. Animals hardly had the strict morals that humans did, and would easily engage in both incest and homosexuality. Both at once was less common, but not completely unheard of.
But the more human side of him was repulsed by the idea. He had grown up in a strict Japan, and had not been subjected to thoughts of humans conducting either taboo. Once he had come to New York, all he had to go by were biased television programs and overheard conversation, neither of which favored the idea his sons had planted in his head.
He knew he had to remember; his sons were not human. But hadn't he raised them as humans? Did their animal nature put them just out of reach of the human morals, or did their upbringing force them into the humans' chains? That, Splinter supposed, was his decision. And it was a decision—a burden—he did not wish upon himself. His sons' happiness should not have rested in Splinter's hands. But it did. He should not have hesitated to grant them happiness.
But he did.
Did that make him an unworthy master? Or, worse yet, an unfit father? The thought left an unfavorable taste in his mouth.
"I must seek guidance," he said aloud to no one, "to be sure my words hold wisdom and lack bias." And then, he took Yoshi's orb into his hands and sat down to meditate.
Yoshi regarded Splinter with a smile and a bow—and Splinter returned the gesture in kind. Then he began.
"Master Yoshi, I am faced with a difficult decision. I fear this trial of my character will prove to speak only poor things, and I am yet unaware of which choice will realize this fear. Master Yoshi, I seek your guidance. I fear my choice will hurt my sons, and this is not acceptable. However, I am unsure of which decision will cause the most damage. Sensei, in this troubling matter, do I follow my mind or my heart?"
Yoshi answered with a smile and nothing more. Splinter had not expected anything else. So he continued.
"I have taught my sons many things. I have taught them ninjutsu for protection. Honor for purpose. Family for acceptance. But have I taught them what is required for happiness? I had thought so. But now I am left unsure. I had wanted their bonds to grow; the world above is an unforgiving place. But have they grown too readily?" Splinter sighed.
"They cannot find the love Mr. Jones and Ms. O'Neil have found—at least I had not thought so—and I wonder if this 'love' Donatello and Raphael have discovered is merely born of necessity. My sons are the only of their kind. They have no hope of finding a life partner—female or otherwise. So should I encourage this coupling or urge them to leave it be?"
Yoshi nodded unhelpfully.
"I love my sons unconditionally," Splinter went on, "I want, above all things, for them to be happy. But I am afraid of what romance might do to the family bonds I have taught them. I have learned these things from watching you and Mashimi fight for a common love. Romantic love can cause rifts. Jealousy can form. Ill will can fester. And if my sons decide their love is not as it seems, will their brotherhood be strained? I have taught them the principles of family. If my sons lose platonic ties along with their romance, I fear what damage will be done." The rat sighed. "But who am I to define how they are allowed to love?"
Splinter felt old: weak and heavy beneath the weight of the world on his thin shoulders. Yoshi placed his hand upon the burdened shoulder, but instead of adding to the weight, his touch lifted all, including Splinter's head as he tipped it to gaze into his Master's eyes. Then, the human put a hand over his heart, and smiled. Splinter let out a breath, and nodded back, smiling faintly.
He should follow his heart. He could do that.
Splinter called Raphael and Donatello back into his room later that night, and kept his back to them, lighting incense, as they gathered before him, green knees pressed down on the floor respectfully. He took a breath and gathered himself, praying that his decision was the right one. That he was not leading his sons down a dark path. Then he turned to face them and smiled. Gave them words of blessing and of love, and hoped they would spread them. Together.