Splinter was pleased. He had found a small, mat version of what his stories called a py-ano. When he pressed the small button on the right a small note had come out of a speaker. His sons would definitely enjoy this!
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Donatello had quickly fallen in love with the py-ano. He continuously tried to play music, becoming frustrated when it didn't work. His stubbornness was unyielding.
Michelangelo had loved banging on the piano, liking the 'PLONK' of the keys.
Leonardo had simply dismissed it as a regular toy.
And his son, Raphael.
Raphael had been indifferent the whole time. Or so Splinter thought.
The small, fast notes he heard outside his room a month later proved otherwise.
There was his temperamental son. Playing the py-ano with fast, nimble fingers, his hands moving over each key with grace.
His son, so sharp yet so defensive. His hands, so graceful and quick.
With mind and body, his son himself was built for wielding the sai.
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I was toying with the idea of big, bad Raphie playing Church hymns on a keyboard in secret…