Chapter Text
It’s a random day in the dead of spring that Mikey’s dad takes him and his brothers into their small dojo.
“My sons, it is time to meditate,” Mikey watches Dad gather his cushion from the corner to sit upon.
Sighing, quickly catching eyes with Raph, he doesn’t even try not to be immediately uninterested. They are made to do this all the time, but what does it even do? Sitting in seiza hurts; meditation is stupid.
It’s like Leo can hear his thoughts because he nudges into his side. His older brother whispers from the corner of his mouth, “Mikey, this is important stuff for becoming a ninja. At least try not to look so bored. This is serious; you need to take this seriously.”
Instantly, a feeling of inadequacy rings through his body. He can feel his mouth twist into the fakest smile he can manage. Imagining he’s been possessed by some creepy doll, he slowly turns his head to stare into Leo’s soul, “What are you talking about, Leo? I’m taking this super seriously! Everybody knows I love meditation!” Leo sticks his tongue out.
Raph snorts loudly and Mikey just knows that he’s rolling his eyes. Whatever, he can act like Mikey’s the idiot for not throwing himself into the absolute joys of this type of training, but he knows the truth about Raph. He hates meditation time more than Mikey does! He fakes meditating all the time! And he constantly overhears Raph complaining to Donnie about it, too!
Speaking of Donnie, he always seems to understand his feelings about it all. Mikey flops into Donnie’s front shell, hugging him as tight as he can around the middle. His brother hugs back, bobbing them both back and forth. While Donnie doesn’t talk a lot, Mikey can just feel that he’s smiling and happy.
“Ugh, Mikey, stop being so annoying. Donnie likes his personal space,” Raph shoves him by his face to try and push him off Donnie.
Dad raises an eyebrow, and says, “All of you, sit correctly. After today’s meditation, I will give you the next step to your training. However, you must embody patience.”
Mikey’s hypothetical ears raise in interest at that sentence, “Ooh, a surprise?”
“What surprise?” Leo excitedly echoes.
“Sit, sit,” he chides.
They all sit on the tatami mat-covered ground; some of the turtle children are a bit more correct in their posture than others. It doesn’t matter though, as Dad ends up fixing each one of their postures (even Leo’s, Mikey notices). He then lights small tea candles, setting one in front of each of them before leaving the last by his own cushion.
“Remember, my sons, let the flame flicker without the influence of your own breath. Control your breathing,” Dad settles into position.
Has he mentioned he hates seiza? Mikey feels his legs already beginning to numb. How can anyone stand this!
He hasn’t even counted to 60 three times yet, but Mikey is so bored he feels this intense need to look around. Leo’s face is empty of any expression; Donnie has a furrow in his brow; Raph is focused. Or, at least he thinks so. Honestly, his brother might be asleep. Accidentally letting a heavy sigh escape from his nose, the flame before him violently whips side to side. He can’t help his cringe, quickly holding his breath.
Maybe he should copy Raph’s example…
—
As he dozes off, he dreams of an epic battle where his family desperately needs him.
—
Sometimes at sunset, Mikey realizes he’s been quite lonely throughout that day.
It’s not a constant feeling. Instead, it’s a sharp sudden prick of a needle where he simply remembers: ah, yes, I am alone here. He takes the time to look around, wherever he might be, to just experience it washing through him. Eyes opening after a blink, then taking a sharp inhale, everything suddenly becomes clearer to him.
In this memory, he sees Raph and Leo sparring in the dojo. They tease; they fight; they push each other to be better in ninjitsu. Splinter is calmly instructing them from close by. Every now and then, he’ll stop them and show a new move, or show how to better strike and hit. Donnie is calmly watching, but eventually he loses interest and starts to read a boring, old book about plumbing.
Usually, Mikey would take this opening to mess with one of his brothers, or maybe cry out for attention.
But right now, he is lonely. So, he takes the time to feel it, sitting in silence and watching.
He faintly remembers a conversation (fight) between Leo, Raph and himself. For as much as Raph and Leo argue with each other every week, they weirdly took the same side against him. Yet, it’s not the fight that Mikey recalls the best, but rather the ending.
‘You have to admit it though, Mikey… you’re just not serious about being a ninja.’
Running a finger in the fractures in the wall behind him, he ponders about his life. Raph is getting more and more antsy being stuck in their home all day, every day. It’s like he’s constantly annoyed or angry. Leo is attached to their dad, and their dad is busy, like, all the time. Mikey will sometimes only have time with him when they cook together. And Donnie… he’s Donnie. His smartest brother is always working on fixing something in their home or reading.
He used to make friends with the bugs crawling in the corners of their sewer as they built homes in the cracks in the stone floors and walls. He stopped after a couple months after the very first friend he made, a very round roly poly, passed. He can only guess it was from old age.
Mikey sighs. He doesn’t think he should even really be feeling lonely.
After all, even if they don’t think he’s taking being a ninja seriously, he will always have his dad and his brothers.
—
He startles awake at a combination of Donnie’s poking and Dad’s mellow voice, “Excellent attempt at meditation, my sons.”
Raph is stretching his legs out, leaning back on both of his hands. He checks the hands of the clock in the corner of the room, “Only twenty minutes this time, Dad?”
“It’s probably because of the surprise,” Leo is standing, trying to shake his own numbed legs out.
Donnie takes turns rubbing his legs and then Mikey’s to get the blood flowing. He looks like he’s thinking deeply about life, but he always looks like that. Mikey shrugs, chiming in, “Maybe Dad’s as excited as us?”
Dad chuckles, “Yes, I suppose you could say that, Michelangelo.” It always tickles him to hear his name fall from his dad’s mouth. “I hope you all take great care of what I will now give you. Please, sit seiza once more.”
One by one they plop down.
“Close your eyes. I want it to be a true surprise.”
They all close their eyes. Mikey can hear his brothers shifting in excitement, but he can’t feel anything from Donnie even though he’s the one sitting directly next to him. It’s kinda amazing and cool that he’s so calm all the time.
“You will now hone your spirit’s inner strength.” The rustling of Dad’s clothing as he walks back over to them echoes in the small room. As quickly and quietly as a true ninja is, Mikey peeks one eye slightly open, “These will reflect your growing aptitude in ninjitsu. I hope you all put the necessary effort into them.”
Jaw dropping and eyes widening as he sees what his dad has for them all, Mikey grabs the brother closest to him, whipping Donnie back and forth by the shoulders. He shrieks, “Oh my god! We’re getting ninja weapons! Donnie! Ah!”
Raph whacks him once on the back of the head, “Stop shaking him! Donnie looks like he’s gonna throw up!” Freezing, Mikey peers up, and, yeah, whoops, his brother looks like his brain’s been thoroughly rattled.
But, even Donnie has the same starry eyes as Raph and Leo. Dad has a short table behind him with four different types of weapons; two sets are particularly sharp-looking. Both of his oldest brothers inch closer despite being on their knees.
When Dad then smiles at them, it feels like a sunbeam directly touches his heart, and Mikey can’t help the big grin that grows on his face in return. Yes, he is prepared to go to the next step in his ninja journey! Almost vibrating in place, his eyes lock on to one set of weapons in particular. Give him those big swords! It’s his destiny!
Chuckling, Dad stands in front of Leo first (of course, he’s the oldest, duh), but Mikey can only focus on when it’ll be his turn. His dad says, “Leonardo, my eldest, it has been my greatest pleasure to watch you grow throughout these short years. You show great prowess in all aspects of ninjitsu, and have found yourself through thorough discipline. It is clear that you hold great talent to be the leader amongst you and your brothers.”
With his eyes now bursting with glitter, Leo sharply inhales, “The leader?”
“The… leader,” Raph deadpans after him, like there’s a bad taste in his mouth. Mikey doesn’t need to look at his face to know he’s unhappy. Honestly, he feels a little bit of the same way, but Mikey doesn’t think that either of them (or himself) would have really done the best job. His eyes quickly flick towards Donnie before refocusing.
Dad ignores them both, “It is with those qualities in mind that I give you this weapon: the twin katana.” He holds out the two long swords. They are shiny and sharp. Mouth drying as Leo reverently takes the proffered weapons, there’s a twinge of some weird feeling in Mikey’s heart, but suddenly it flickers away.
“These katana were forged by the great bladesmith Masamune himself. With a long, difficult past, and with many honorable warriors as previous wielders of these blades, you have much to live up to. It may seem daunting; however, I have no fear that you will succeed those before you. You will have a long journey, and have to start with the wooden swords, bokken, before moving on,” he smiles down at his oldest. “Leonardo, you will become a great master of kenjutsu.”
Then, he steps twice to the side, “Secondly, Raphael.”
Raph straightens his spine where he sits.
Dad nods, “It is clear to me that you must receive the twin sai.” He holds out the strange, sharp, three-prong weapons; Raph strongly grasps both leather wrapped handles. Mikey’s brother looks so bright-eyed and yet weighted by something at the same time.
“These weapons are for close combat, and are particularly made for parrying, striking, and disarming your opponent. A quick trap can effectively restrain whoever you might find yourself against. They are brutal and quick offensively, but a mutant turtle that can master the art of defense will find these especially useful,” Dad says, patting Raph’s head. Turning the sai in his hands, Raph’s face hardens.
“Next–” picking up a long, wooden staff, Dad turns to Mikey’s final oldest brother, “The bo. Donatello, you will become a master of bojutsu.” Donnie is boring a hole through Dad’s face, yet Dad is meeting it head on.
Wow, his brother’s patented thinking stare is kinda freaky to look at when it’s directed at someone else in such an intense way. It kinda looks like that’s not a new thought to their dad either, because he doesn’t flinch. Which, respect, because honestly Mikey cannot handle being on the receiving end of that stare for very long.
“Many believe it to be solely a defensive weapon, however, a level of creativity proves that to be wrong. The bo staff provides the user flexibility, but only as much as they are themselves. Donatello, you must use your intelligence and combine it with your immense creativity to master the bo staff,” Donnie grabs the staff with both hands. Testing the bo’s weight and center of gravity, Donnie lightly tosses it up and down. Dad looks away first from their slightly more weird than average staredown; he picks up the pair of nunchaku off the table.
It’s weird to think, but Mikey can’t help but feel a bit… sad. It sort of seems a bit unfair only giving Donnie and him weapons that aren’t pointy. Maybe it’s pretty fair to say that he might be a little disappointed that he isn’t the sword-guy, but, he vibrates in place, ninja weapons are ninja weapons. He will be the best, most awesome nunchuck-er ever!
“And, finally, Michelangelo,” Dad levels him with a serious look. “The nunchaku require someone who can master themselves first. Like the other weapons, it comes through discipline and practice. That in itself is quite a high barrier to scale, however I believe in your abilities, my son.”
Half-listening, Mikey’s eyes are trained on the prize ahead of him: the twin glossy, wooden nunchaku. His mind is already drifting away, daydreaming about heroically defending his brothers. It’ll be a big ninja battle! Fifty– no, one hundred, enemy ninjas versus one Michelangelo! Raph and Leo and Dad are injured and sitting behind him, begging him to retreat with them! Donnie is obviously Mikey’s guy in the chair also telling him the best way to run. But, no! Michelangelo does not give up, especially when his family is at stake!
Dad lets out a small sigh, and continues, “One must be incredibly agile and deft in self defense. The nunchaku are a very close range weapon. So close range that any user is prone to self injury if they are not careful; the level of mastery is very high.”
Mikey only hears the second sentence, his brain still mentally in battle. His dad goes on to talk about… something, not that he’s paying attention. He honestly couldn’t regurgitate any of it even if it was on a test.
Tuning back in to hear the very last question, Dad asks, “Shall we begin our first weapons practice?”
Mikey and his brothers erupt simultaneously into wild cheers.
—
To say the least, by the end of practice, it’s all a disaster.
Donnie gets tired of holding his heavy bo after ten minutes, stretching and shaking his wrists. He goes back to thoroughly reviewing his martial forms in the corner where he is far away from potential shenanigans. Honestly, that was probably what Mikey should have done, too.
But, Mikey, Raph, and even Leo are way too excited to pay attention to any instruction. Their dad’s wariness is split between all of them, trying to prevent accidents before they happen. Yet, it’s not long before Raph does something that makes Leo mad, or maybe it was Leo that did something to annoy Raph. Either way it doesn’t matter, Mikey knows the end result would still be the same: fight time.
Whipping one of the nunchaku in a circle, Mikey pretends like he’s blocking the bullets from the hoard of ninjas staring him down. Putting himself between them and his family, he’s the last one standing, the last one available to protect them!
“Wah! Wah! Hiyah!” He jumps, twists, and kicks the open air only to be caught in a one-handed grab by the neck of his shell.
Neck cracking as his head swings around as fast as a speeding car, he gasps, “Dad!”
Dad narrows his furry eyebrows, “Michelangelo, my precious son, what do you think you’re doing? I asked you to wait patiently while I assisted your older brothers with their forms.”
“Uh,” Mikey puts on his best smile, hoping the nerves don’t show through, “Saving your life from one hundred– no, a thousand evil ninjas? They were about to get us all, Dad!”
His dad’s eyes look a little bit heavier after hearing that. He nods solemnly like he understands the great, looming danger their family is in inside Mikey’s imagination, “Hm, the situation seems dire indeed.”
Perking up, Mikey agrees with him “Right? Well, don’t lose hope; Michelangelo is here! Hiyah!” He double kicks the air in front of him, still dangling helplessly above the ground.
Dad closes his eyes and thoughtfully places a finger on his chin, “However, I do wonder if you can protect us all without having undergone the proper weapon training. If you don’t pay attention now, then how will you expertly defeat hundreds of trained enemy ninja in the future?”
“Um,” Mikey thinks and thinks, but a good enough reason doesn’t come to mind. Man, it sucks that patience and practice are actually important things to do. This moment reminds him of when Donnie would say to him, ‘Practice makes perfect.’
Breaking out into a smile, placing Mikey back on two feet, Dad pats his head, “It’s good to be eager to learn, however if that comes at the cost of actually learning then–”
But Mikey is staring down at what's happening between Raph and Leo in the other corner to completely listen.
“Don’t touch me, Raph!”
“I’m not even touching you! Look!” His hotheaded brother pushes both his hands into Leo’s face without placing them on his skin. “Is our new leader scared of a little touching?” Raph mocks.
Although he’s not technically touching Leo, Mikey does know that it’s way too far into his ‘personal’ space. Donnie once talked to them about that concept, how it’s like an invisible bubble just around your own body that people need permission to pass through. Mikey understands that while Donnie really likes his own personal space, Leo is more on the fence.
Even then, Raph should know about crossing personal space, especially in a fight.
“Ugh!” Leo screams like he’s a side character in a horror movie, “Get away from me! Dad!”
Mikey rolls his eyes. There’s a reason he usually doesn’t listen to Raph… or Leo for that matter. How can he be called un-serious when they aren’t even serious themselves?
He groans; Dad does not look happy anymore. Now they’re probably all going to be forced to do push-ups or something as some sort of group punishment.
What a great way to start the morning.
—
It takes probably two weeks before Mikey learns that he’s just not that good at being a nunchuck-er.
And it sucks.
In addition to their daily scheduled meditation and hand-to-hand martial arts training, there’s now weapons training just before bed. It’s become Mikey’s least favorite part of the day, somehow beating out meditation for last place. Raph and Leo keep either egging him on, or messing with each other, but it doesn’t even matter if they’re too busy fighting to bother him because he literally sucks at using the nunchaku.
Bruises have formed on his forearms and biceps from accidently smacking the hard wooden handles on them, even reaching his face at some points. He can’t seem to control his strikes, or do any complicated set of moves without hitting himself over and over. He can’t seem to follow any direction from his dad either. It’s hard.
He kinda wants to ask his dad if he can have another type of ninja weapon; he kinda wants to cry; he kinda wants to give up.
Taking a deep breath in, he holds back tears of frustration. He can’t help but glance at what exercises his brothers are completing, and, unfortunately, they look like they are actually practicing against targets by this point. Ugh, is it bad to be jealous of Leo, Raph, and Donnie all at the same time?
He drags his gaze to his dad, seeing that he’s helping Leo with the beginning bokken swing. Something just completely stops Mikey from asking for help. He stays silent for a moment, and just feels his swirling emotions. The center of the hurricane is a visceral embarrassment that he’s falling behind and sharp loneliness.
Maybe it’s true– he’s not a serious ninja.
Eventually, the old wooden clock chimes quietly, signalling the end of their training for the day and the start of Mikey reaching his breaking point.
—
It takes him two more days to decide to quit. He doesn’t even want to do meditation, so he doesn’t move from under his covers when morning comes.
Of course, the rest of his family comes looking one-by-one.
It begins with Raph tugging a blanket off his head, “C’mon, Mikey, let’s go eat. Whoever gets to the table last is chicken!”
His brother watches impatiently as Mikey buries his face back into his orange pillow. After no answer, he groans, calling out, “Are you sick or something?”
“Yeah, I don’t feel so good…” he mutters.
“Whatever, I’m telling Dad that you’re hiding in here.” In a huff, Raph leaves.
Mikey goes back to going in and out of dozing; his brain keeps settling on images of Leo being perfect at practice and Raph teasing him for sucking at being a ninja. Curling up more, he presses his palms into his eye sockets.
Standing by the entrance to their shared bedroom, Leo, after breakfast time comes and goes without him, asks, “Are you okay, Mikey? Raph said you were maybe sick?”
He simultaneously doesn’t want to respond and the words to say that he’s okay clog his throat. So, he stays silent. Leo shuffles a little more inside, “Mikey? It’s almost time for meditation…”
Ugh, Mikey really, really doesn't want to go. Stomach already queasy, just the thought of looking at everybody else succeeding sets a deep pit in his chest. When he closes his eyes for more than a second, he can vividly see the disappointed face of his dad as he looks at Mikey failing again.
Through a small hole in the blankets, his eyes train on Leo’s worried face. He half-lies, “Raph’s right. I don’t feel good.”
“Oh,” he shuffles a bit closer, “Do you want me to get Dad? Maybe he has some medicine. Or do you need some tea?”
Tensing, Mikey bites out, “I’m good. I just want to rest right now.”
“Oh, okay,” Leo frowns, stepping back. “If you need anything, I’ll get it for you.”
“Or you can just tell Dad, y’know.”
He straightens his back, “I’m the leader now, I should be taking care of my brothers more.”
Mikey just lets out a long, heavy sigh after his older brother leaves, thankful to finally be alone.
—
Alone. Mikey doesn’t think he’s ever actually been left alone by himself for a long time.
The word leaves a weird, lingering taste in his mouth, but it also leaves a constricting feeling in his heart. It’s not something that’s necessarily painful, just tight. He messes with a loose thread from the edge of one of his covers. If he doesn’t think too hard about it all, the feeling slowly fades into the background.
Mikey doesn’t know how long it’s been since Leo and Raph tried to see what was up with him. Surely morning practice has ended now, right? His stomach grumbles; it definitely feels like hours have passed. Ugh.
Uncovering his face from the oven that is his pile of blankets, he moves his tongue around his mouth, trying to not make it feel dry anymore, and wipes the crusties out of the corner of his eyes.
Then he rolls over.
Yelping and shooting into a sitting position, Mikey’s heart leaps in his chest as he meets Donnie’s concerned eyes, “What the shell, man!” How did he not hear him come in?
Standing ominously over his bed, his brother tuts, wagging a finger, “No cursing.”
He blinks, “I thought you said to Raph that using ‘shell’ didn’t count as cursing?”
“A replacement for cursing is still cursing,” Donnie plops down on the mattress.
“But you do it all the time!” Mikey whines, scooting over so his brother can more comfortably settle. “It’s not fair!”
He just rolls his eyes at that; Mikey wants to see the day they actually roll out of Donnie’s sockets completely, “You’re a shelling child. Nothing ever seems fair to you.”
“Hey!” Mikey (like an adult) cries out, “You’re a child, too!”
Smiling like he’s hiding a secret, he laughs, “Sure. Whatever floats your boat. As long as I’m not a boomer like our dad.”
Mikey pokes him in his arm hard in retaliation, only for his brother to flick him back on the forehead. Donnie says the weirdest things sometimes. He pouts and rubs his head.
Crossing his legs, he says nonchalantly, “Huh, you sure have a lot of energy for an ill turtle child. Weirdly enough, somehow I don’t get the feeling you’re actually sick, Mikey.”
“Uh, I don’t know what you’re talking about. I really am sick!,” he purposely coughs twice into his elbow.
Donnie’s patented thinking stare drills into his soul, “Uh huh. What are your symptoms?”
Mikey avoids all eye contact, but still feels the effects of the stare, “My… head, yeah, it’s my head that hurts. And my stomach. They both hurt. At the same time.”
“That’s it?”
“Yep, that’s totally it!”
“Why did you just cough then?” A bead of sweat drips down the side of Mikey’s neck.
“Uh. I felt like it?” He has no good answer for that question.
“You’re full of shell,” Donnie rolls his eyes even harder than before, “What’s the real reason you didn’t want to go to practice today?”
He gnaws on his bottom lip, but Donnie just stares him down. It’s like he knows that Mikey gives up easily or something. Or maybe he’s already doing something to him psychically! Maybe he’s made a gadget to read his mind! This is his smartest brother, after all.
“Okay! Fine, I’ll spill!” Waving his hands out in front of himself in self-defense, he squeals, “Please stop looking at me like you can read my mind! You’re freaking me the shell out!”
“No cursing,” Donnie chides again, smugly smiling. “So, why no practice?”
Without his permission, heat blooms on his cheeks and, for a second, he thinks about lying. But if there’s one thing Mikey knows about his brother it’s that he is almost insanely determined about anything he sets his eyes on. It’s just unfortunate that it happens to be Mikey this time.
All of that still doesn’t curb the deep embarrassment, and it does hurt to say aloud, “I just… being a ninja isn’t for me. I’m not good at it, y’know?” He scratches his forearm, looking away from his brother. Swallowing a rock, Mikey's lower lip quivers a fraction, but he can’t prevent the way his heart cracks and swells.
Then it all tumbles out before he can stop the emotional dam from breaking, “I’m, like, really bad at the nunchaku. I can’t even do a figure eight without somehow smacking myself in the head. It hurts; it sucks! You're constantly getting better, and so are Leo and Raph. But I feel like I’m stuck behind a big wall while you guys run ahead! I’m just alone at the back of our team… like I’m not a serious ninja.” His voice cracks at the end.
“Hey, Mikey,” a hand carefully rests on his shoulder. “It’s okay not to be good at something right away. Being a ninja is hard.”
“Yeah, I know that,” he sniffles a little. “But you guys are already so good. Why can’t I be good?”
Mikey glances up. Donnie’s eyes are wide like the moon, and he has a certain tilt in the corner of his mouth, “Hm. So, let me try to clarify. You’re having a tough time learning with the nunchaku, and because of this you feel like you’re stuck watching us get better while you have no progress. Does that sound right?”
“Yeah! I’m the only one struggling!” He balls a fist in his sheets.
Donnie hums, “Dad did say your weapon would need a lot of practice to be good at.”
Blinking bewilderedly, Mikey asks, “He did?”
“Well, he said something along those lines with a more advanced vocabulary than is needed for a seven year old. Whatever,” Donnie waves a hand. “That part doesn’t matter. What does matter is this: do you remember when we learned our first stances in jujitsu?”
“You mean the day when we started to copy his movements instead of watching him? That was forever ago, Donnie! We were like babies!”
“Yeah, that’s right. Do you remember being really bad at it?”
“No, I think I was pretty alright.” But he hesitates at Donnie’s raised eyebrow, hedging. “Or maybe not?”
“You were rolling on the ground. You literally somehow spun in a circle on your first attempt at the front snap punch,” he deadpans.
“Woah, you have a good memory.”
Donnie rolls his eyes once more before resting a hand over his face. He then whispers under his breath, “Damnit, remember your adult-brain, Donatello.”
“What?”
“Nevermind,” he takes Mikey by both shoulders. “The thing is that you and Leo and Raph all at one point sucked real bad at jujitsu. Now, you’re pretty good, right?”
“Yeah! Honestly, it’s the best part about training,” he agrees.
“How do you think you got to be good at it?”
“I don’t know, I kinda was forced to do it, like, everyday…”
“Exactly!” Donnie grins, white teeth peeking through his smile, “When you do something a lot, it gets easier and you get better. But you have to do it everyday, even if it’s just a little bit. Leo and Raph did the same thing whether they realized it or not. Besides, you’ve only been at this nunchaku business for, like, two weeks. How can you expect to be an expert so quickly?”
Wow, it’s been a long time since Donnie talked this much. He must be really trying to help him. Heart blooming, some piece clicks into place in his brain, and he finds a newfound determination. Donnie’s right, as per usual.
Mikey bobs his head, “Oh, I see. So, I have to suck at something before I’m good at it? That sounds boring.”
“Dude, sucking is the very first step to being good. Trust me, bro. I was once horrible at the Rubik’s cube. Now, I’m the cube-god!” He trips over some of his words in excitement, throwing a fist-bump to his brother.
Smiling, Mikey bumps back, “That’s so true– you really are! Hey, Don, do you think I’ll one day be a god at the nunchaku?”
“Are you going to practice?”
He sighs theatrically, “If I have to. Can I give you a hug?”
“Of course,” Donnie pulls him in. After two heartbeats, they separate. “Well, I guess is there anything else on your mind? Speak now or forever hold your peace!”
Blinking, Mikey takes a few seconds to think hard.
A million thoughts immediately rush through. He could ask how Donnie even started the journey to becoming a Rubik’s cube master. How does a turtle find the power inside to stick through something that’ll take years or a whole life to seriously master? How does a turtle find it in themselves to keep going even if he’s behind? How does a turtle not feel alone when he’s with his family? How does he become a serious ninja?
Or, he could talk about what he’s going to make for dinner with Dad. Or, or, they could play–
“We could also just talk another time,” Donnie cuts through his train of thought. “It’s whatever you want really.”
Somewhere during the day he hit his plateau for sleeping, not being able to lay down any longer. But, in the same vein, he somehow doesn’t want to keep talking either. Mikey hums, leaning back on his hands, “I think… I want to talk later.”
His brother slips off his bed, “Cool.”
“Cool,” Mikey stretches his arms out, just as his stomach chooses to loudly groan.
Donnie laughs, “Hungry much?”
In the most sarcastic tone he can, Mikey deadpans, “Nah, you don’t say!” His brother rolls his eyes for the third time today at that.
Really though, how have his eyes not sprung out of his skull?
“Let’s eat and then do some stretches before weapons practice?”
What is he saying– it’s Donnie! Of course he would have figured out how to most effectively roll eyes without them running away! He’s crazy smart!
Body feeling as light as his heart does, Mikey jumps off his bed, breaking out into a sprint, “I’ll race you there!”