Raphael listened bitterly as Splinter praised Leonardo's hard work during training. Not that Raphael was surprised, as Leonardo was always praised for the most basic things he did. When the rat was finished with Leonardo, he moved to Michelangelo, this time praising the wild-spirited turtle for his focus. That, unlike Leonardo's praise, was a surprise; Michelangelo had been all over the place, doing his usual teasing and prodding Raphael into getting angry. Next, Donatello was praised for definite improvements to his forms. Like it was for Leonardo, the red masked turtle wasn't surprised. He'd seen Donatello training extra hard beforehand. Raphael braced himself as his father stopped in front of him, readying himself for the worst. He wasn't disappointed, or rather, he wasn't wrong.
"You need to learn to control your temper. You almost hurt Michelangelo again, and it was only supposed to be a simple spar." Raphael said nothing; he'd learned long ago that it would do no good. Splinter sighed at his red-masked son's silence. "You are dismissed."
Raphael was out of the dojo before his brothers, and he quickly went up the stairs and into his room. He pulled out a carefully wrapped, rectangular item from a secret compartment in the wall, and, after putting on his trench coat, stashed it deep in a hidden inner pocket. When he knew it was hidden well enough, he walked into the living room.
"I'm gonna go see a couple movies," Raphael muttered.
"Don't be seen," Leonardo replied.
"I know that!" Raphael grumbled in irritation as he left the lair.
The sai-wielding ninja quickly walked through the maze of the sewers, following a route that only he knew. He finally reached a blank wall and climbed up a well hidden ladder that was obviously very old. He came up at the very edge of the city and, after shutting the manhole cover, ran away from it as fast as he could. When he entered a forest, he couldn't help but smile, letting the tranquility of nature wash over his agitated mind.
Raphael emerged into the familiar clearing, a cool, clear stream running on the far left. The clearing was far enough away from the city that he didn't have to be worried about being spied on, and it was difficult to find for anybody who didn't know the way. After stripping off his coat and hat, Raphael carefully removed the sheet-wrapped package from his coat and gently set it on the ground.
He glanced around to make sure nobody had followed him and, when he found the coast all clear, unwrapped it. He smiled as the biggest secret he'd ever kept from his family was revealed. Lying on the sheet was an ancient book of magic. Raphael knew that if any of his family found out about the book and him using it, he was going to be in more trouble than he ever had been before.
Splinter had forbidden any of his sons to use magic and had told them that for every spell performed and every potion made, they would receive ten swats, no matter how old they were. The mere thought of a spanking from his father made Raphael shiver. Every turtle had felt the sting of Splinter's hand only once, but once was definitely enough. That one time was still burned deeply into Raphael's memory. He shook his head, trying to clear away the sensory memory that sprang up.
"Let's see what I'll do today." He knew nobody else was there, but it was comforting to hear a voice.
As Raphael opened he book to the first page, he paused and looked over his information. The first page held three lines. On the first line was Raphael's name, written in blood. The second and third lines held numbers; the second held the number of spells he'd performed from the book, and the third held the number of potions he'd made.
Still with the thought of punishment in mind, Raphael added the numbers up and multiplied by ten. The resultant number made him shudder in horror. Thirty-two potions and eighty-seven spells, which, when multiplied by ten, was a frightening total of 1,190. Raphael quickly flipped through the pages to get his mind off the thought of that many swats, and to calm the anger and resentment from Splinter's words. He paused on a spell that depicted how to bring about rain.
"Well...rain would be nice..." Raphael said thoughtfully.
Raphael moved around, drawing water to his fingertips, and he looked down at the book. As he moved, he felt the tension and anger in his body melt away, replaced by a sense of peace and power, and Raphael knew that he could never stop performing magic.
Raphael had stumbled across the book by accident. It had been in part of the sewer that the turtles didn't really travel to. He hadn't been able to read the book when he'd found it; the characters were in a strange language. He'd flipped back to the first page to see three blank lines and one of those feather pens that you had to dip in ink. He thought it was called a quill, but he wasn't sure, and at that point it didn't matter. The strangest urge to write his name on that first line, not the second or third, but the first, had him picking up the quill and spelling out his name. Even though there was no ink, his name came out in bright crimson letters.
As soon as he lifted the quill from the page, it disappeared with a pop. Raphael had jerked his hand back and noticed that the middle of his palm was bleeding from a scratch. For some strange reason, he flipped back through the book only to find that he could actually understand some of what was written, and what he'd read scared him. He'd hidden it from his family, afraid of their reactions if they found out about it.
The red-masked ninja had performed his first spell on the day they had come home from a fight and Leonardo had yelled at him for half an hour for his mistake. To top that off, Splinter had also lectured him on the importance of 'keeping his temper,' like he didn't get that speech at least once a month. In his anger and hurt, he'd grabbed the book from its hiding place and ran to the forest. He found the clearing and flipped through the pages, trying to find something to humiliate the ones who'd hurt him. He'd found a delightful spell that would make both his brother and his master pay for their insults.
He'd performed the spell eagerly and the next morning was rewarded. His older brother had wet his bed that night and Splinter had lost some of his fur. Raphael had gone calmly into his room while Michelangelo and Donatello had helped them and laughed his ass off. He was so giddy about it. The spell had actually worked! He'd been so happy with the results that he'd started performing them whenever he was upset, but he didn't always direct it on those who'd upset him. He'd put them into nature and other things, more constructive things like helping with the growing of crops and other things that the humans needed help with. Performing magic, no matter what the focus, helped calm him and let him get his emotions in check.
Raphael finished moving and thunder sounded in the now darkened sky and droplets started to fall. He smiled and lay back, letting the results of his spell rain down over him. He couldn't help the sigh of delight that escaped his lips as the rain soaked him thoroughly. After an hour of just lying in the shower, Raphael sighed again, this time in grudging disappointment. He didn't want to leave, but if he didn't get home soon, he'd get in trouble, and he really didn't think he could listen to another lecture from Leonardo or Splinter, and most certainly not both.
Raphael sat up and shook off his hands as he reached for the still open book. He couldn't help but shiver as he picked it up; the book was completely dry, despite the pouring rain, and it dried his hands a second before he picked it up and closed it. It was disconcerting the way the book could do things like that, even though Raphael knew there were protective spells on it. He sighed and quickly picked up his coat and hat and hurried back to the city. He dropped down into the sewers without being spotted and quickly made his way back home. He paused in front of the door and shoved the book into the pile of his coat and hat, knowing that whichever part of them touched the book would be dried instantly. When he was sure it was well hidden, he walked in the door. Thankfully he was left alone. Michelangelo was playing a video game and Donatello was tinkering with one of his scientific devices. Leonardo was nowhere in sight.
"Where's Leo?" Raphael asked.
"He's in talking with Master Splinter, dude. Something about you, I think," Michelangelo said absently.
Raphael sighed and hurried up the stairs to his room. He quickly hid the book then flopped down on his bed. Working spells always made him tired, so he decided to take a nap. As he closed his eyes, he couldn't help but wish that he could make his father proud. Or even just love him.