Chapter Text
Hamato Raphael. My son.
When I chose to raise these turtles as my own after losing my entire life to one man who I used to consider a brother, I simply wanted to give them as much of myself that was left in the fallout. I soon found that in giving myself, what remained was only the pain and anger for that man.
Oroku Saki was someone I once loved dearly, but he had ripped my heart to shreds when he took my loves from me. And so when a father's worries for the safety of his sons extended to the elder siblings, I reacted.
Leonardo was always checking to make sure that his brothers were accounted for and happy. Even at the age of five, he loved following rules to keep me happy too. Raphael did not. Raphael loved me dearly too, but he seemed to copete for my love by going against my very wishes in favour of achieving other goals. Goals like bringing joy to his genius brother when he'd drag in a broken lightbulb for their brother to fix with a buck tooth smile on his face–all while I held back my sons from cutting their scales on the glass. In truth, the joy that Raphael had brought Donatello as he had given this family light to read storybooks in was a joy that I could not ever hate, but the worry at each risk my ambitious son took was overwhelming. I was at my limit when Michelangelo was taken out of the lair. My littlest son.
That first strike meant so much to me. It achieved its purpose in pushing Raphael to discipline himself further in protecting his brothers, but there was so much meaning hidden under layers with each action he took. Given time, I understood each and every choice my son made, but that was given time. The emotions that festered up as my anxieties of my sons being taken away swirled together with the anger at the man who had done just that to my wife and daughter. Raphael's deep emotional intellect was obvious to my equally emotional self, which was why I allowed my raw feelings to show more with him. It had just escalated so much over the years.
The day that Raphael had asked me how to earn my love was the day where I truly began to disconnect Raphael as one of my loved ones. There was not a single day where Raphael stopped being my son, but my love transmutated with each strike and each word spoken to the young turtle.
This anger is a beast which I have only been able to tame with the help of my son. I worry that my own anger mismanagement has ultimately caused his, but I seem unable to stop. I have seen my son fight fiercely in training, in sparring, and on the battlefield. He is an honourable, passionate warrior. So when I see his strikes withheld, his eyes resigned, and his pain locked inside, I cannot help the thought that this helps him too. Our anger burns brighter than my eldest son's spark, my third son's bright mind, and my fourth son's shining spirit, and he knows this too. He himself has found that releasing this uncontrollable beast through physical movement is the only way to continue on with the flow of life. My son is honourable beyond my teachings and willingly shoulders the burden. So strong. Like I taught him.
When I grow angry, it is simply a necessary means of coping. When the rage leaves my muscles, I see a pillar of strength below my fists. Contrary to my other sons' beliefs, strength is not a measurement of one's ability to avoid harm–rather it is a test of how much harm can be endured before giving up or rising to face it. Raphael has stared my pain in the eyes for no less than a decade.
"Splinter's in the dojo. I yelled at him and told him to get out, then I did this to myself as punishment."
It was this time of year when I lost myself the most. Raphael's immeasurable honour never left my mind, and during a time when Saki's dishonour clouded my judgement, the two thoughts complimented each other so perfectly. I know that I am harming my son, and that any line that should have been set was crossed miles ago, but his honour reminds me that there is hope. When I had first feared Raphael's potential to endanger the life of my loved ones, my teachings and shared moments with Raphael helped to reassure me that a man like the Shredder would never be one of my own sons. Saki never would have held this burden for so long. Saki never would have lied in an attempt to continue shouldering this weight alone.
It does bother me that I am not the only one to bring pain to Raphael's body; his self-inflicted wounds demonstrated my failures as a father and successes as a sensei. After all, seppuku is an honourable act. Whatever the love had transformed into between me and my son, it is numb to the pride I feel in my student. He has found an outlet to focus his anger in much like I have, and both methods of coping are in the best interest of the other turtles' protection.
"Did you hurt Raph!? DID YOU!?" And then my most intelligent son proved why my connection with Raphael was integral to their family's connection. I never wanted to bring pain to my beloved son.
But when had Raphael lost that very same label?
"Stay away from my brothers!" My youngest. My most fragile of the four now held his brother, cradling the face I had just slapped.
"You are no sensei of ours, and you are no fathe-"
"NO!" My red saviour. "He loves you, Leo! He's your father!" I do. I love them so much.
"I'll take it, Splinter. Hurt me however you want, but don't hurt them. You're the father they need. I know you don't love me, but don't take it out on them." Once again, Raphael has our situation comprehended far beyond my own capabilities. Do I love Raphael?
Alone in the dojo, I meditate. The more my thoughts rise and fall like the tide of an ocean current, the more memories that keep surfacing above the waves. The first injury–his chipped plastron; the incident which first singled him out as a strong protector even in infancy. The first shoulder dislocation by my hand–a night where he had endured pain by my hand for both my own benefit and his. The first black eye. The first blood drawn. The first of so many actions that had beaten down the soft and caring rebel son I had been gifted by the universe.
With each remembered strike, I could feel it. Not only had I been releasing emotion through my fingertips, but I had also been allowing love and responsibility to flow off my back and onto his shoulders. When I truly felt the love that harboured so deeply within me for my son, each hit reflected back his pain to me. It was easier to relieve my responsibility once in a while and allow my heart to cool and prolong this act of dishonourable coping. It was never right to bestow such a responsibility on a son who just wanted to give all of himself to his family. I have taken so much of him, and I fear that he will never have it back. I have allowed him to break off pieces of himself to spare his brothers. I have allowed myself and my son to disregard his self for far too long.
I love you, Raphael. I want you to be able to feel such love, but I do not know if you are capable of it after accepting my actions. I love you, but I fear my need for you is unacceptable. You deserve a life of peace and nurture much like the farmers your weapons originate from. I will leave your acreages to regrow in peace, my son.