Work Text:
I don’t know how to exactly start a rant. Michelangelo, my beloved little brother, convinced me to write out how I’m feeling. Supposedly, it will help me cope… I am not 100% on board with this idea, but I’ll give it a shot. It’s the least I can do.
My brothers and I have always been close. An inseparable force, technically and metaphorically. Since we were first created, we’ve supported each other and been by one another's side, through thick and thin. Everything that’s happened, everything to come, we won't let anyone fall behind. That’s what I would have said, 15 years or so ago. But as I sit here, coddling a sleeping child. Writing my thoughts down as the world burns around me. I believe that sometimes, we have to leave people behind, for better or for worse.
My brothers grew up in a situation that I'm sure someone else can relate to. Our father, my father, was severely depressed. His life was ripped from him as it only began to blossom. His mother passed early on in his life. So his grandpa took care of him and trained him to one day fight their clan's sole enemy. Albeit, the grief over his mother led him to deny his grandpa's wishes, his clan's traditions. He saw what it did to his mother, what the consequences would be, and he rejected it. He abandoned his family's duties for his dream to become a movie star.
He soon became his alias, Lou Jitsu. He lived the Hollywood dream, putting his clan behind him. Then he was tricked with the irresistible song of love and used as a fighting machine for the sole purpose of entertainment. How he managed to go through all of it and still find the strength to raise us… I wish I told him how much I loved him. I just wish I didn’t take it all for granted.
Some days, he never got up. He’d lay in bed, crying in silence. Back then, I didn't understand why. Why couldn't he take care of us and love us like the fathers did on TV? I only understood why when we ventured into our father's mind. I only understood when his last words to me were, "I've always believed you were capable, Leonardo". It took me so long to fully understand that he always cared. He always loved me and my brothers. He just never wanted us to see him at his lowest. See him so weak, so vulnerable. He wasn’t the best father…
But he tried.
And that's all I can ask of him, even now.
Raphael was the one who raised us as young tots. While that's not to say father had no influence. It's stating the obvious. Raphael raised us while Dad was… away. Raphael did his best. He loved and cared for us. Protected us and scolded us. Like the fathers on TV. Raphael never saw it as that though. He saw it as big brother things. That's what was so amazing about him, he did it all because he loved us. He was our shoulder to lean on, to cry on.
The thing was, he never had a shoulder to lean on.
I wish I could go back and tell him that he was allowed to lean on us, that we would… I would be there for him when he needed to cry. When he needed someone to talk to. He always saw us as people he needed to protect, so it took him a while to trust we could take care of ourselves. It took longer for him to trust my younger brother. He was just scared. I could always understand that feeling, and relate to that feeling. I was the same. I only wanted to protect the ones who cared for me, and while simple in thought, the act of protecting others comes with a hefty fine.
Me and Raphael… were always at odds with each other. We both wanted what was best, but we saw the world from different lenses. He was a thinker. I was a dreamer. Being a dreamer only got you up a few steps. Being a thinker got you to the top. I learned this all too late. If I hadn’t been so stubborn, so caught up in this dream for it all to be normal, then maybe, Raph would still be standing by my side. I wish I could tell him that he was the better leader, an even better brother, better than I could ever be. I wish he knew how much I miss him.
Raph was our beacon of hope. Our light in a bleak world. Without him, I don’t believe we would still be fighting as hard as we are now. Without that toothy grin, I don’t think I would have kept going. Only now do I realise that without him around, the morale of the resistance will never be as high as it was back then. I wish… I wish I wasn’t so incautious, reckless. Maybe I could have saved him, protected him like he did me. It was my mistake that cost him his life. It was my fault we lost our beacon of hope. I wish I could go back, change the course of history, bring him back to us. I saw a poppy blooming soon after his passing. It was probably pure coincidence… but I just can't help but feel it's a sign that he's still out there, watching over us, in the form of those red petals that swayed gently in the thick wind.
As I sit here, gazing at your memorial, with melting candles and dirty photos sitting atop, I wish you were here, comforting me, like you used to.
Speaking of the memorial. Donatello. My unconfirmed twin. The guy who hated hugs and loved his tech. Our plan guy. He was… The other half of me. Up until the day he passed, he always was coming up with new ways to utilise everything given to him. From tin cans to alien. Kraang tech. He was always making things with whatever he could find. Without him, we would have died way earlier. Without him, I would only have one arm. Without him, this war would go nowhere.
Despite what Donatello thought, he was essential to the team. He was the tech guy, the guy who had all the emotionless passion. He only ever wanted to help. He wanted to be useful, to feel a part of the team. He always was. He was just too ignorant to understand that, I guess.
There are so many things I wish I told him. Like how we never thought he was unneeded. That we loved his brilliant mind. Maybe I would have told him before he passed… However, he was mostly cooped up in his lab after Raphael passed. Every interaction between us was sour. Horribly sour. We never saw eye to eye, it was frustrating. I can still remember, with perfect clarity, the last fond memory with him.
He had called me into his lab with more excitement than I had seen from him in a decade. He had dragged me, Michelangelo, and April to show us something. Something he said he had been working on for months. He removed the makeshift tarp from the wall, showing off an assortment of personalised weapons for each of us. How he managed to make them only added to the amazement of it. April got a laser gun with multiple modes, like ‘Angry April Mode’, ‘Sniper's Delight’, ‘BOOM!’. No joke, he named one ‘BOOM!’. Michelangelo got a stabiliser. Donatello explained that they could help Michelangelo hone his overwhelming ninpo, making it easier for him to control. And then he turned to me. A small armband in hand. I still remember what he said:
“You know how you always wanted a tech band like mine? Well, I decided to make you one. It even comes with a flamethrower.”
I don’t think I’ve ever hugged him as tightly as I did then. I’ve never seen him smile as brightly during a hug then right there, in that moment. While everyone else got such complex, amazing weapons, I think I got the best gift. I don’t know what drove him to make all this, to make such personalised gifts… Maybe it was a project to keep his mind off things. Maybe he just felt like making them…
I, however, found out the answer but a few months after his untimely death, I found a video, deep in his files. I clicked on the file, the video was called: “For Leo.”
“Salutations Leon. If you’ve found this video, I’m either dead or you somehow got into my files. If it’s the latter, screw off. …I’m leaving this here because I need to tell you something. However, I knew I’d be yelled at indefinitely for it if I said this to your face… I’ve been using the Kraang tech to modify myself… In the way of making myself into a bomb of sorts…
I plan to infiltrate Kraang's main hub, travel to the core, and explode it from the inside. I know you would not approve of such a plan, so I’m doing this all in secret. The reason for the gifts… I wanted to give you guys something before my untimely death. To see everyone smile once more… I know I’ve shut everyone out for too long, I just couldn't risk the possibility of you finding out what I’ve been doing. It's already terrifying to me, to build a bomb inside of me… But I know the odds aren’t against me. This will work. It is all worth it… Exaggerated sigh.
I wish to apologise for this. Know that I am not one for self-sacrifice, but this is the only way we can take control of this war. If my plan doesn’t work, if my efforts are all for nothing… Remember me, for what I’ve accomplished and not where I’ve failed.
I have left detailed instructions for each of the Resistance weapons, how to fix them, how to build them… There are also instructions for your prosthetic arm, what to do if it malfunctions… The only people who know this plan are me, you, and April. She is strongly against this but… She is the only person who understands what needs to be done for this war… You can’t save everyone, Leo. And I hope you learn this in due time… Donatello, signing off.”
I can’t remember what happened after that. I think I cried, sobbed for what felt like an eternity… Mikey found me eventually, I remember that much. I’ll never fully forgive Donnie for that. It was so stupid, so idiotic… and yet he was right. I hate how right he was. I can’t save everyone, but Donnie forgot how persistent I get when trying to prove him wrong. I always needed to prove him wrong. In short, I miss him. I miss our pointless squabbles, our late-night run-ins. I missed sitting next to him in silence, the silence I could never obtain again.
Sometimes, when I look at my tech band, I still expect to see his icon pop up. Still expect to hear that stupid theme song play as he calls. It’s all fruitless expectations. He’s gone. Donnie is gone. I still can’t come to terms with it. My brother, my twin, he’s gone. He’d say he’s like ‘truant’ or some fancy word for gone. …I stared at a picture of Donnie last year on his birthday… our birthday, for hours. I don’t think I had ever stared at something for so long. Another year of mourning under my belt, how swell.
I should move on from that topic, I’m getting emotional. I don’t want to wake CJ with some sappy tears. He’s so fussy when he wakes up. Besides, April would yell at me if I woke him up, so next topic.
Ah yes, Michelangelo. My youngest brother. That orange-cladded mystic warrior. He’s still kicking, kicking ass, and life. He and I are the last of the Hamato bloodline. Michelangelo has been working hard to keep everyone's spirits up when I can’t. He’s the best little brother I could ever ask for. He always knows what to say, when to say it… Without him, I might have spiralled. Which is no good for the leader of a resistance, is it? He is our emotional backbone, the therapist of our family. Which is a lot for the youngest brother. I’m always concerned for him, but he says he’s fine… for the most part.
He’s also a mystic warrior, the strongest guy around, even I can’t compare to that raw power. It’s astounding really, how much power that little guy can hold. When we were teens, he always looked up to me. Now, he’s the one I look up to, how the roles have reversed. We are always so competitive with each other. Y’know, now that I think about it, I haven't seen him cry in a while. He's been the one comforting me, while I shed tears of grief. God this family is broken. It has been for a while but, I’m finally putting two and two together. Mikey wanted us to stay together, and be a happy family. He didn’t want us to fight, he wanted us to be civil and talk it all out. And yet, it always had this small crack, hidden behind smiles and all.
We were all going through our own issues. Our own mental states were always scattered and broken. Together we put that behind us, forgetting we were suffering. None of us wanted to burden anyone else, but it ultimately ended up affecting our relationships. First Dad's death, then Raphs, then Donnie's. Raph's death was hardest on all of us. Donnie locked himself away, I was distant, and Mikey was left alone… to suffer in silence. When he needed me most, I left him to rot. I didn't mean to, I didn't, I swear I was just… I was just stuck in my own mind.
Mikey never gave up on me, even after everything I’ve done, and everything we’ve been through. He’s been by my side, supporting me through all of it. Without him, I may have never made it this far. He always loved me, always saw me as the guy he wanted to be… and yet I've let him down. I'm his big brother. I'm his family and yet sometimes we act like nothing but roommates, acquaintances. He tells me I must be more open about my feelings, but he doesn't know I'm scared of them. I'm scared of my feelings, my emotions. I have to be strong for everyone. I'm the mentor now. I'm the beacon of hope now. I'm the plan guy now. I have to shoulder these things. I have to be the one to lead this resistance and keep their hopes abloom. I'm doing this all for Mikey, for CJ, for April, for Dad, for Raph and Donnie… I'm doing it for them. I'm suffering in this silence for them. I need to be brave and strong for them.
I love my family. I'd do anything to keep them safe. And yet, I've failed them. My one goal, to protect my family, I've failed.
I'm not perfect. No one is. I've made bad decisions and idiotic mistakes countless times. And yes, mistakes make you human. You learn and grow from them. But I can't accept any mistake on my part, especially when people's lives are on the line. I'm adaptable, that's true, I can turn a situation around in an instant. But war is unpredictable. War took my family from me. It took others' families too. War is unforgiving and cruel. I learned that the hard way.
If I could change just one thing in my life. It would be that grave mistake I made on that fateful day. The day where I started this apocalypse. This dreadful, never-ending apocalypse. I would go back and smack some sense into my younger self. He wouldn't listen otherwise.
Maybe I was wrong. Maybe this whole writing down my thoughts thing actually worked. Huh.
Well, if you're reading this. Congratulations, you pried into the private thoughts of a 30-something-year-old man.
