Barrier

The flickering lantern from the street was the only thing lighting in the dark alley. Splinter rummaged through the garbage can, in search of something useful. Though careful not to make much noise, his mind was preoccupied with a certain matter. His four adopted sons were developing rapidly. Each one with a unique personality. So much so, that he had to make a new approach for every one of their needs. 

Leonardo was the easiest to train, feed and talk to. He even feared he may be maturing too fast for his own good. Donatello was often in his own world, tinkering with every object he could get his hands on. Though absent minded some times, he made no fuss about his lifestyle or daily tasks. That would fall into Raphael’s field. The turtle boy took even the slightest suggestions from his brother’s as “bossing around” as he put it. Still, with some time, many of his issues could be well handled. He learned from his mistakes and made visible progress once he set his mind to it. 

That left Michelangelo. He wasn’t as tempestuous as Raphael, but was still open with his emotions. He would study a certain subject if intrigued, but lost interest too fast. He didn’t make a must to break rules, but his manner was still too laid back for Splinter. Although his son was growing into a fine person, Splinter felt more as a bystander than a father. He could connect with his three boys easily, but Michelangelo proved to be very different in terms of wave length. He was a teacher to all his sons, but also a loving father. He enjoyed spending quality time with them and wished to give each one equal time of the day. Michelangelo didn’t share any hobbies, interests nor talents as Splinter. They could barely hold a mundane conversation as it is. The only times where they could exchange more than three sentences were when Michelangelo was trying out new recipes with the algae. He felt sorry for that and genuinely wished to bond with his son more.

He paused his musing momentarily, when he found a sealed box in one of the piles. Pulling it out, he took a sniff. It gave off no scent of food nor of dangerous substance. Splinter picked out a small piece of metal out of the garbage and slid a sharp part against the duck tape. The contents surprised him.

~*~*~*~*~

“Movies!” 

Splinter returned from his scavenging. His sons were thrilled to find the box filled with VHS tapes. Each one was labeled with a title. Thanks to Donatello’s knack for building and several trips for needed parts, their lair had a working television and VHS set. However, this was the first time the turtles had the luxury of finding tapes to play. The sight of their excited faces was extremely gratifying for the old master. Leonardo pulled out a random tape, choosing their first flick. The others quickly ran to the kitchen, bringing back several snacks and drinks with them. Splinter sat behind the turtles, who were already making themselves comfortable in front of the TV set. The opening scene appeared very familiar to the rat.

“This is Rashomon! A classic!”

For a moment he wondered who could have so little taste to throw away such a great movie. This was quickly replaced with joy. He hadn’t heard his native language since he moved to America. But, before he could fully enjoy the movie, his sons sat up.

“Hey, that’s not english!”

“What are they saying?”

“What’s happening?”

“Sensei, who is that?”

The movie came without subtitles and the young turtles were too impatient to try and figure things by themselves. Huffing, the rat started explaining each scene and sometimes directly translated sentences. Though tiresome at first, he got a hang of this play by play. His sons enjoyed the plot and, despite constantly asking questions, were really into the film. He noticed Michelangelo asking many language related questions. Like what the word for ‘crime’ is and what does ‘kikori’ translate to. 

After the movie ended, he instructed his sons to get ready for bed. They obediently went, rubbing their eyes and yawning along the way. Michelangelo paused, as if he wanted to ask a question, but decided against it when Splinter glanced at him.

~*~*~*~*~

The next few days passed, Splinter noticed Michelangelo replaying the movie over and over. His sons complained about him ‘hogging the TV’ and wanted to watch the other movies. One day, his youngest son approached him, the Rashomon tape in his hands.

“Master Splinter? Can you teach me this?”

It took him a moment to realise what he was asking for.

“The language?”

“Yeah, it sounds pretty cool. I wanna talk like these guys. They sound so awesome and confident!”

Several seconds passed, before Splinter agreed to teach him. While he was glad his son took interest his mother tongue, he feared he may lose interest in it as fast as his previous topics. That didn’t turn out to be the case. Michelangelo took to Japanese like a duckling to water. He wrote down several of his favourite words and phrase and sometimes dramatically exclaimed new words. He was most surprised to learn that ‘sensei’ can also be a title used for a doctor. 

“Does that mean you’re a doctor, master Splinter?”

“No.”

After several weeks of studying, he spoke Japanese fluently. While Splinter could still notice subtle mistakes in his pronunciation here and there, he didn’t voice it. He was glad to be able to speak with his son in his language. It seemed as though they could talk to each other easier in Japanese than in English. Michelangelo also seemed to approach Splinter more frequently. Less for the language lessons and more for other things. Even if it was something he could easily do without the help of his sensei, he still wanted him to be present. 

Although happy Mickey got a new hobby, his brothers were peeved at times when he would yell out random Japanese words. When asked, he said he was looking for an appropriate ‘battle call’. One day, during channel surfing, the turtles found an anime channel. And the rest was history.