The next morning, Raphael was comforted by his typical routine. He rose early, brushed his teeth, drank a glass of milk, and hit the dojo a little early to warm up. Leo was already there, of course - goodie two shoes. But it was still nice and quiet, and they politely ignored each other as they stretched, and ran a few katas to limber up. They both appreciated quiet in the morning, and didn't feel the need to fill the empty spaces.
Donnie joined them soon, however, and he and Leo struck up a friendly conversation about their wonderful new arts-and-crafts projects which Raph was determined to tune out. Splinter swept in not long after, followed immediately by Michelangelo, scrambling noisily into the dojo and bobbing a hasty, sloppy bow.
"I'm not late, I'm not late! I'm here! I - "
"Michelangelo. When I arrived in the dojo this morning, were you waiting patiently for me, warmed up and prepared to train?"
"Nooooo sensei," Mikey pouted.
"Then you are late. And you owe me ten flips, once you have warmed up."
"Haaaaaaai, sensei."
So much for peace and quiet.
Practice went well, at least. Raph reveled in doing something physical - when his body was at work, his mind was finally still, focused…a hard work-out was one of the only times he felt at peace, when the unpleasant background noise of his thoughts and feelings dropped away, drowned out by the more pressing demands of the present moment.
He even managed to beat Leo when it was time to spar, which always made the morning a little more cheerful. He smirked, as he reached a hand down to help Leo up off the mat. Leo, scowling, ignored it and got up on his own, like he always did.
"Nice one," he admitted, and Raph knew the words tasted sour in his mouth, because he himself had said them before, picking himself up when Leo managed to knock him to the mat, but he wasn't the one saying them today, and it felt pretty damn good.
Unfortunately, all good things had to end, and after a shower, it was time to drag his feet over to the kitchen table to start their school day.
Today was multiplying and dividing fractions, which pretty much blew Raph's mind. He couldn't conceive of any situation ever, in the real world, which would require someone to do such a thing. Three fourths divided by five eighths? Three fourths of what?! And why on earth would you divide it by five eights? He tried to think of it practically…three fourths of a pizza, divided by…what? Five eighths of a turtle?! Wouldn't you just divide by five, then? Then each eighth-of-a-turtle could have one of the five pieces of the…of the three quarters of…
Damnit.
It all just seemed purposefully designed to be frustrating and pointless, so of course Donnie was perfect at it.
After Math it was time for History, which was actually not too horribly boring, except there was always the residual anxiety of knowing he'd be tested on it at some nebulous point in the future. Raph always found the stories interesting, but could never seem to remember the names, dates, and places come test time. When the question said, "Who shot Abraham Lincoln," or "In what year was President Lincoln assassinated?" you couldn't just be like "John Something Something in eighteen-something."
I mean, he remembered it was in a theater, and that the play was "My American Cousin," or "Our American Cousin," something like that…and that John Something Something jumped off the balcony onto the stage after he did it, and broke his leg, but he still shouted "Sic Semper Tyrannis!" before he ran away, which meant "Thus Always to Tyrants!" - which Raph figured was actually a pretty badass thing to shout if you were assassinatin' the President. And he had to give the guy props for running away on a broken leg. John Something Something actually seemed like a pretty cool dude, y'know - for an assassin…ator…ist.
But remembering the whole story apparently didn't count, because you had to say John Something Something in eighteen-something…which is stupid because "remembering the story" is pretty much the whole point of history, if you asked Raph, which no one ever did -
"…from which the American idiom 'his name is Mud' is derived. Now. Any questions?"
They all sat mutely, hoping this meant lunch.
"Very well. Since my pupils are so silent, I will assumed you are prepared to be tested on this subject tomorrow."
Mike let out a groan, and Raphael slouched resentfully in his seat. Guess he better memorize who John Something Something was pretty fast.
After lunch, Raphael was kind of hoping Splinter had forgotten all about his arts and crafts kick from yesterday, but sure enough, as soon as the table was cleared, out came Mikey's drawing supplies, out came Leo's brush-making supplies and the glue, and off Donnie went to his lab to write his creepy robot songs or whatever. Sure enough, the red notebook labeled "Math" was placed into Raphael's hands, a pencil tucked into the metal spiral, waiting for him.
Mikey gave him a sympathetic, pitying look.
Poor, stupid, talentless Raph has to sit and do more boring homework.
Scowling in reply, Raph stomped sulkily over to the sofa, and flipped the notebook open as the others set to work.
He was surprised to see another haiku beneath his, written in his sensei's steady hand:
This IS a haiku
But next time, I wish that you
would dig a bit deeper.
Raphael scowled. Dig a bit deeper? What's that supposed to mean? And wait, how many?…
Frowning, he tapped his thumb, toggling between his two fingers, his lips moving as he counted the syllables.
"Sensei?" he blurted, "I think you - "
He looked up, and was startled to see Leo, Mikey, and Master Splinter all staring back at him in surprise. Leo and Splinter had been in the middle of assembling his brush together, and Raph hadn't even bothered raising his hand, just barged in and interrupted mid-sentence - a habit sensei had cured them all of ages ago.
"Oh," he said, blushing, "Sorry."
"It is fine, Raphael," Master Splinter said, surprisingly lenient, "You had a question about your math homework?"
"Yeah," Raph said, "It can wait."
"Why don't you go to the dojo and wait for me?" Splinter said, calmly, "That way we will not disturb the others while we work."
Raphael nodded, took his notebook, and went to wait in the dojo, ignoring the way his neck heated under Leo's surprised, curious stare.
Raph looked over the poem, and counted over and over again, wanting to make sure he was correct - nope - there was definitely an extra syllable at the end, there. It didn't seem like sensei to make such an obvious error.
"Ah. I see you found my response to your first haiku."
Raph looked up, and Master Splinter sank to the floor, sitting cross-legged, next to Raphael.
"I think…sensei, I think maybe you made a mistake," Raph said, his stomach doing a little flip at actually saying it out loud, "The last line here, it has six syllables instead of five."
"Ah, you are correct, Raphael," Master Splinter said, with a smile, "But art is different from other disciplines, like Mathematics or Science. Sometimes, what is flawed in it is what makes it special."
Raph scowled doubtfully.
"There is a practice in Japanese pottery called kintsukuroi," Master Splinter continued, "Once broken, the piece of pottery is repaired using gold or silver lacquer to fuse the cracks…It is understood to be more beautiful, then, because of its flaws…in fact, can only reach the height of beauty once it has been broken open."
"Huh." Raph wrinkled his nose, unconvinced.
"When Michelangelo - the sculptor Michelangelo - finished his seated Moses, it was agreed upon by all that it was his most life-like creation to date. According to legend, upon its completion he struck it on the knee with his hammer, and cried, 'Now, speak!' There is a scar on the right knee of the statue to this day."
"Huh."
"Does that not make the statue more interesting? Should that scar be buffed away?"
Raph nodded slowly.
"I think I get it. Like…the crack in the Liberty Bell?"
"Yes, exactly, my son," Splinter beamed, "Or the crack in your plastron, for that matter."
He traced a claw over the old mark as he spoke, and Raph looked down at it. He kind of wasn't sure how he felt about that crack - sometimes he liked it, because it made him look tough, like he'd been in a fight (even though it had happened when he was a baby and he didn't even remember it.) Other times, though, it just reminded him that his brothers were pretty much perfect, and he pretty much wasn't.
"That crack makes me smile when I see it," Splinter said.
"Why?"
"Because it is unique to you," Splinter smiled warmly, "And I like you."
Raph grinned sheepishly. "Nuh-uh. Leo's the uchideshi."
"Raphael," Splinter said, sternly, "Leonardo is an excellent student. But that does not change how I feel about you."
He placed a peck on Raphael's head. "You are still my favorite son."
Raph's eyes went round in shock. To hear it said so baldly, like that…he thought it would make him happy to hear it, thought that's exactly what he wanted to hear, but instead it just made him feel guilty and uncomfortable. The idea the sensei really did play favorites was way more frightening than it was reassuring.
"But," he stammered, "But what about Leo?"
"Hmm," Splinter said, nodding thoughtfully, "You make a good point. Yes. I would have to say, Leonardo is my favorite son."
Raph's eyes narrowed slyly, starting to catch on, "And Mikey and Donnie?"
"Of course," Splinter nodded, smirking slightly, "Yes, they are definitely my favorite sons."
Raph rolled his eyes. "We can't all be your favorite," he grumbled.
"Raphael," Splinter said, his exasperation beginning to show, "Do you think Donatello and Michelangelo are very similar?"
"Um. No, not really."
"Mm. And do you think I would love Donatello more if he suddenly started acting more like Michelangelo?"
Raphael tried to picture Donatello running around goofing off, making lame jokes, blowing off his homework, bursting into song and dance to annoy Leo, and the image actually made him snort.
"No. No, I guess not."
"Of course not," Splinter said, with a teasing grin, "And do you think I would love Michelangelo more if he suddenly started acting more like you?"
Raph's face fell as he pictured it - Mikey stomping around, scowling…being stubborn and reclusive, fighting with Leo all the time and never knowing the right thing to say…all that joy and light and playfulness extinguished.
"No," Raphael said, sadly, "You wouldn't love him at all."
Splinter leaned back and regarded Raphael in shock. Raph knew immediately he had said the wrong thing.
"Of course I would," Splinter said, sternly. He gripped Raphael by the shell and actually shook him slightly. "Of course I would!"
Raph's neck shrank a few inches into his shell involuntarily. "Hai, sensei."
Splinter sighed wearily, and shaking his head, pulled Raphael into his arms.
"Raphael - I love you very much, exactly as you are. I do not want you to be like Leonardo, or Donatello, or Michelangelo. Raphael is exactly who I would like you to be. Hai?"
"Hai," Raph muttered. His throat felt kind of painful when he swallowed, and his eyes were sort of hot, so he didn't say anything else for a while. Splinter didn't seem to be in a hurry, though. Raph looked down at the haiku Splinter had written him, and pointed at the final line.
"So…does this mean I can just…break the rules, then?"
Master Splinter laughed abruptly, and finally released him. "No."
"Hrm," Raphael grunted.
"Learn the rules first, my son," Splinter smiled, "Then you can choose when to break them."
He stood, and straightened his yukata.
"For today's haiku, perhaps you could meditate on the subject of flaws."
"Mine, you mean?" Raph asked, dejectedly.
"Any. Yours, your brothers, mine."
Raph snorted. "You don't have any."
Master Splinter sighed heavily, and his gaze got that glazed, far away look he sometimes got.
"That is clearly not true. But then, we are all intimately acquainted with our own flaws - after all, we have an insider's perspective. The flaws of others may be harder to see at first. But I assure you, everyone has them. Now. Write. I must return to your brothers."
Raphael sighed, nodded, and began tapping his pencil on the page, leaving little black dots.
Inspiration was slow to come. His thoughts were a kind of churning mess, and he wasn't sure how to take all that and put it on the paper in such a short, compact way. He still didn't have anything by the time sensei told them to finish up and clear away their things.
Relieved, Raphael closed his notebook. He'd try again later. Mike was late to practice this morning - that was sort of a flaw, he guessed. Maybe he could make that into a haiku somehow.
Leonardo was testing out his new brush when he emerged from the dojo…his brow furrowed in concentration, and a sliver of pink tongue was poking out of his mouth slightly as he dragged the brush across the paper. He must have been pleased with what he was doing, because with a big smile, he made his final stroke, leaned back, and beamed at the page.
Still gazing proudly at his work, he went to replace the brush in the cup of water…and snagged the brush on the lip, promptly spilling it everywhere. The cup rolled lazily off the edge of the table and smashed on the kitchen floor below.
"No! No, no, no, no!" he howled, "Towels! Newspaper! MIKEY, HELP!"
But it was far too late. His careful brush strokes were already bleeding and leeching into the paper in a blurry, inky mess.
Raph smirked, and almost laughed, but Leo's face looked so miserable and deflated, that the impulse died almost as quickly as it came. Instead, he tossed his notebook onto the sofa, walked over, and started picking up the broken pieces of ceramic off the floor, as Mikey tried to helpfully blot the paper above.
"It's not so bad," Mikey said encouragingly, patting Leo's painting with newspaper and kind of smudging it up even worse, "You can still sorta tell what it -
"It's ruined," Leo pouted, "Just leave it."
"Nothing lasts forever, Leonardo," Master Splinter said, patting him on the head comfortingly, "The point is, it was well done."
"But it's so unfair!" Leo sulked, "I wanted it to be perfect!"
"And so it was," Master Splinter said, "In Buddhist temples, they spend many days creating beautiful mandalas out of colored sand. Then, in a moment, they sweep them away, destroying them forever. Nothing in this world is permanent, my sons. The point is to do our best with what we have in the time we are given. Hai?"
"Haaaai," Leo sighed, and Raph caught just the teeniest, tiniest glimpse of an eye roll that almost made him like Leo a bit more.
"Just leave it," Leo told him, standing up, "I'll go get the broom."
"Maybe," Raph started, glancing up at Master Splinter uncertainly, "Maybe we can fix it?"
Master Splinter smiled indulgently.
"I am afraid we will have to make do with Elmer's glue…but yes - I think, perhaps, we should try to fix it."
Raphael smiled. Leo looked at him like he was crazy.
"Okay, but…it probably won't hold water anymore."
"You may keep your brushes in it, then," Master Splinter said, serenely, "Now, while you were talking, Michelangelo has cleaned your mess for you."
"Sorry. Thanks, Mikey," Leo said, taking the wad of wet, inky newspaper out of Michelangelo's hands, and throwing it in the garbage.
"No worries, bro," Mikey said, "Sorry 'bout your picture."
Leo sighed. "It's okay. I can always make another one I guess."
They had free time after that, which Leo and Mikey used to play video games together. Donnie still hadn't emerged from his lab, but that was par for the course when he was involved in a project.
Instead of playing video games, Raphael decided to ply his best efforts to the shattered mug, carefully determining which pieces fit together and gluing them in place. Leo was right - it would never hold water again without leaking, but…on the other hand, sensei was kind of right, too. The pattern of cracks in the ceramic were kinda interesting. And now it was like the mug had its own story that made it special.
When he was finished, Raphael set the mug on the counter to finish drying, and grabbed his notebook from the sofa.
"More homework?" Leo asked, "Somebody's studying hard lately."
Raph shrugged defensively. "Yeah, so what?"
"So nothing," Leo said, tapping buttons distractedly, "Good for you."
Something about Leo's praise rankled Raph, like it always did. He didn't do things for Leo's approval. Whenever Leo paid him a compliment, he always heard the polar opposite of that compliment in his head, like a photo's negative. "It's good that you're studying" (because you really need it, stupid.) "Thanks for cleaning up," (because you're usually such a slob.)
Raph just shook his head and stomped off to write.
#2
I have many flaws
But trying to be perfect,
Leo broke the cup
This is very true.
We ALL make mistakes sometimes.
Kindness. Patience. Glue.