Chapter 3 – Connections (parallel timeline to "Revelations" [aka while Donnie and April geddidawn])
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"You guys treat me like I'm a big goofball all the time! ...You guys never take me seriously!"
Michelangelo, "Mikey Gets Shellacne"
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Under Raphael's heel, Michelangelo' face was crushed into the dojo carpet for the twelfth time that afternoon. The youngest of the four Ninja Turtles dry-heaved against the ripe pong of his brother's sweat-soaked foot wraps.
Raph feigned boredom even as he worked his toes further into Mikey's nostrils.
"Raphael!"
"Hai, Master Splinter!", Raph called back, his eyes never leaving Mikey's skwushed face.
"Do you not think your brother has suffered enough defeats today, that you must rub your victory so literally into his face?"
"UUHHHHNN", groaned Mikey from the floor. "Thur agurnee urv de-feet."
"Nah, Sensei. I'm just showin' him a nicer version of what would happen if the Foot Clan kicked his butt."
"Yame, Raphael. Michelangelo is your brother, and your ally in battle. You must show him respect."
The ninja Master lifted a slender index finger, letting it hover in mid-air as if gauging a phantom breeze. Sensing their father and teacher warm into a lecture, the three teen Turtles were not left waiting long:
"My sons – one must respect one's opponent. To belittle the enemy is to expose one's own weakness. Reflect on this question:
If you cannot, and do not, respect others, then how can you recognize how to properly respect yourself? Respect is the way of the ninja; not childish taunting."
"Yeuah, Rurph", Mikey slurred from under Raph's foot before blowing him a wet, lopsided raspberry.
Ever since the Turtles were little kids Raphael and their now-captain, Leonardo, had been the most skilled fighters. Raph, because he was built like a small tank, behaved in kind, and liked it that way; Leo, because he was an impeccably detail-oriented, tireless over-achiever driven by a relentless need to please Sensei. Which – sidebar – pissed Raph off no end.
Donatello and Michelangelo brought their own unique strengths to the foursome but these skills were, respectively, more intellectual and…well, other. Mikey and Donnie were polar opposites in that one brother thought too much, while the other, not much at all. Or so Mikey's brothers always assumed.
In truth, it wasn't that Mikey didn't think, so much as what and how he thought that perplexed his family. Perplexed most everyone, really.
In Michelangelo's brain, logic was a foreign language in a foreign land, operating without a compass. Maybe because of this, Mikey had the exceptional ability to see through other people's carefully crafted facades, to read them like open books, understand their emotions and drives even when they themselves were oblivious.
Because Mikey's heart was wide open, he could bulls-eye the true essence of anyone: human, mutant, alien or, sometimes, furniture. To Mikey, being emotionally available signaled strength, not vulnerability. Which – sidebar – pissed Raph off no end.
This strength was how Mikey knew in a breeze that Raph was really, deeply concerned that Donatello had not shown up for training that afternoon and was still in absentia. Leo, on the other hand, had been texting Donnie vociferously for the past three hours; it was pretty obvious to even the tree in the dojo that Leo was, if at first annoyed, now very worried.
In any given training session, Raph and Leo made a leisure pursuit of wailing on Mikey and Donnie. Today, with Donnie AWOL, and his brothers concerned, Mikey was not only the sole target but also had been thrashed more than twice as vehemently. Raph had deployed brute force, an approach so obvious that Mikey understood perfectly well how he got licked. Leo, on the other hand, had inexplicably outmanoeuvered Mikey repeatedly, making a game of leading his younger brother by the nose only to let him fall – as always – on his adorable green face.
Beating up on Mikey was a stress-release thing for his brothers. Mikey got it. Didn't mean he liked it.
Huffing in response to his father's command, Raphael lifted his foot away from his brother's cheek, admiring the cheesecloth topography his foot wraps had splayed across Mikey's freckles. Straightening up, the red-banded Turtle retracted his sais and bowed stiffly to Splinter. Then, irritably, he spun on his heel and left the dojo.
With a deferential but distracted "arigato", Leonardo also bowed to his Sensei and exited the room, flipping on his T-phone as he went.
Ignoring the abrupt end to this training session, Master Splinter sighed. He, too, was deeply concerned that Donatello – his most responsible son second to Leonardo – had mysteriously failed to appear at their regular and mandatory practice. But unlike the two sons who had just left, Splinter suspected that Donatello's disappearance was not due to nefarious intervention; unless one considered a red-headed teenage girl nefarious. This, for the father of a teenage boy, was highly tempting. Splinter was not at all sure how he would handle things if his unspoken theory proved correct.
In the meantime, he had another teenage son to Father. Splinter moved to Mikey as he collected himself into a kneeling position and re-tied his signature tangerine-coloured mask around his head.
Seeing his typically buoyant son uncharacteristically dejected, concern flowed from the Rat's ochre eyes.
"My son: are you alright?"
His own bright baby blue eyes downturned, Mikey chewed on his lower lip. Something about this training session had really gotten to him – in part because he was also beginning to worry about Donnie: was he ever gonna come back with pizza?
"Sensei, I know that Raph's stronger than me. An' he sees through my moves, even if they are totally rad…
But, Leo - why can't I see any of what Leo does to put me down, every time?! Around Leo, I feel like a tool – a complete tool, not a partial one, not like Donnie's measuring pipette-thing that I used to hammer those metal picture-hooks into the bathroom cupboard doors...
I'm constantly out-strat-eh-juh-sized, Sensei: by my bros, by the Foot, the Kraang, the delivery dude who slipped me Canadian change for the pizza last week…I'm really done with this!", Mikey finished in exasperation, his shoulders slumped towards his toes.
Michelangelo rarely got upset. When he did, Splinter knew that his boy was truly in despair.
The Master thought carefully about what advice to give his Pupil. It was always hardest with Michelangelo. Splinter, like most everyone, had the toughest time putting himself into the boy's inimitable headspace. A family memory came to him:
"Michelangelo, do you remember when you were younger and liked to play that game of vertical tic-tac-toe? The one with red and yellow discs that Donatello scavenged when you were but children…"
Mikey looked to the side, deep in recall.
"Oh, yeah… Kinekt Force?"
"That is the one", Splinter confirmed. "Do you recall how frustrated you became with it, losing game after game?"
"I think I once got so mad that I ate a coupla' pieces, didn't I?"
"Yee-esss, Michelangelo: as we all observed about one day later in the toilet. Of course, eating the pieces - which were forever lost because no one in their right mind was going to recover them - did not help you to overthrow your opponents; particularly not Leonardo or Donatello. Do you know why they continued to win?"
"Because they're smarter than me", Mikey replied very glumly and no less resolutely.
"Well, you make a good case, my son; but that is not the real reason. When you played, you focused only on what you were doing – not on what your opponent was doing. Much as you did during training today.
Truthfully, Michelangelo, I remain surprised by this self-defeating habit of yours. You are gifted with a rare, and deep, awareness of others' states of mind and heart. If you were to tap into this ability during battle, you would not be so easily outmaneuvered. I have no doubt that you would anticipate your adversary's thoughts and emotions, and hence subsequent actions, towards your own victory."
Michelangelo reflected on this.
It took a while.
Patiently, Splinter meditated on the sound of his son's brain-gears churning.
Finally, Mikey spoke his thoughts aloud:
"Sooooo…Sensei – if that's true, if I do have this ability; then…are you also thinking that Donnie missed practice this afternoon 'cos he was with April?"
Splinter jerked back in shock, golden eyes saucer-wide: Did Michelangelo know of this affair? Or had his son truly been so sensitive as to observe, as had he, the intensifying exchanges, the heat, the tension building between his scientifically-minded son and the young, fierce kunoichi who now very clearly returned his affections?
"Yyy-yes, Michelangelo. What do you know of this?"
"Nuthin', Sensei. Just that they've been really disgustingly googly-eyed over each other for the past few weeks. And April's seemed especially fidgety lately. If they've finally snuck out for pizza all by themselves, then they totally owe the rest of us, big time."
Mikey was interrupted by Hero Turtle Leo shouting from the lair's common area:
"Mikey! We're going out to find Donnie! We're leaving NOW – Come on!"
Michelangelo signed and shrugged his shoulders. After checking to make sure his nunchaku were in place, he bowed to Master Splinter, and then hugged him.
"Thanks, Sensei. If we find Donnie at Antonio's, we'll bring some pie home for you."
"Pizza may be the least of our worries right now, my son."
Mikey stared at Splinter for a slow heartbeat, eye ridges lifted and mouth agape in incredulity. Then, shaking his head, he turned and sprinted to join his brothers. The three Ninja Turtles vaulted over the lair's turnstiles and into the underworld of NYC to search for Donatello.
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A/N: "Kinekt Force" is of course a thinly-veiled reference to the classic real-life game of a similar name. The game will come up again in future chapters, hopefully in ways that amuse, Dear Reader. As ever, I'd be delighted to know what you think so far!