AN: Thanks for your feedback! You're awesome.

missNOBODY: Noooo, don't die! How will you read the next part if you do?

Maiyu194: Leo has a lot to learn. He knows next to nothing about fighting.

Sairey13: Hmm… Karai's phone has been reduced to crumbs, so it is unlikely.

Guest: Yay!

Techno Dawn: Let's see!

Phoenix Red Lion: Thank youuu! They are on the right track.

%%%%%

Long Is the Road

Leonardo's training began the following day. He had a lot to learn, but he was more than willing to do so – and he could count on his brothers' help.

Donatello, Michelangelo and Raphael made a point of honor to attend as many of Leonardo's training sessions as they could.

Although their help didn't always manifest in an explicit way.

"Is he always like that?" Leonardo groaned, sprawled on the floor, the first time Splinter demonstrated a hold with him as opponent.

"No, he's going easy on you," Raphael chuckled.

"You're enjoying this way too much."

"Maybe," Donatello acknowledged, grinning from ear to ear. "Just remember that you're not the first turtle to experience the nice feeling of kissing the dojo floor."

"Indeed, my bros," Michelangelo nodded solemnly. "I even have a favorite spot: right here."

Leonardo looked at it and saw that indeed, the carpet was thinner there. Letting out a strangled laugh, he picked himself up.

Of course, it wasn't always easy. The first time Splinter had touched him to correct his posture, it had taken all his willpower not to flinch. If Splinter had noticed it, he hadn't commented.

The ninja master was a patient teacher, which Leonardo was grateful for. When he watched him or his brothers perform perfectly executed katas with an eerie grace, he felt terribly awkward.

Splinter had warned him: it would take years for him to catch up with them.

Still, Leonardo loved his new training.

%%%%%

Leonardo's brothers took upon themselves to help him with every aspect of a ninja life they could think of.

With Splinter's help, Raphael developed a fitness plan to help Leonardo gain the strength and endurance he lacked. He rather enjoyed his new role of coach.

A few of his more personal touches weren't to his brother's taste. For example, asking Michelangelo to sit on Leonardo's shell while he was doing push-ups had been a little exaggerated.

"Seriously, guys?" Leonardo groaned, lying on his plastron. His biceps had called a strike after a few failed attempts at lifting his orange-clad brother. "Mikey, you must be eating too many pizzas, it's impossible otherwise."

Raphael grinned at him. He did it a lot these days.

"If you want, I can take Mikey's place."

Leonardo looked at the powerfully built turtle.

"No, thank you," he said sheepishly. "I'll pass."

Michelangelo jumped off his shell. He and Raphael exchanged a high-three under Leonardo's disgusted glare.

"There," Raphael added with an evil smile, delicately placing the tiny Spike on Leonardo's shell. "I hope you can lift this turtle."

Then Michelangelo stole a picture of Leonardo's face.

As for Donatello, he sketched detailed diagrams of a turtle's anatomy and made Leonardo learn them by heart – including the functioning of his nictitating membrane and the name of every single muscle.

"Despite what people might think, we mutant turtles can enjoy a great variety of movements. Our shell is both flexible and hard. You have to increase the range of moves you're familiar with. Mikey, demonstration please?"

Michelangelo nodded. Smiling at Leonardo, he twisted and bent in impossible ways until he resembled a Picasso painting.

Leonardo watched him in awe.

"See?" Donatello said, nodding. "You've got to improve your flexibility."

"I'll help you, bro," Michelangelo said, disentangling. "I know the perfect game for that! You'll see, it's easy: all you have to do is put your hands and feet on the right colors. If you win, I'll give you my pizza tonight!"

Leonardo rubbed his brother's head fondly, not fooled.

"I don't stand a chance, do I?"

Michelangelo merely grinned.

%%%%%

Ninja training involved more subjects than Leonardo had previously thought.

Donatello taught him how to pick locks and everything about their mechanisms. The genius designed more and more complex door locks so that Leonardo could train.

Leonardo already had some basic knowledge of first-aid, but Raphael made sure that he was up to date with the different ways of fixing basic injuries. Like, let's say, the sort of injuries brawls could leave on you.

"Listen to him," Michelangelo whispered in Leonardo's ear. "It's first-hand knowledge."

Unfortunately for the orange-clad turtle, Raphael heard that and Leonardo's instruction had to be momentarily interrupted.

And Leonardo wasn't sure how exactly video games were going to help him, but Michelangelo had an impressive collection and it would have been a shame not to enjoy it.

"It's excellent for your reflexes and coordination," Donatello told him, sticking his tongue out slightly while his car took a hairpin bend.

"You cheated!" Michelangelo protested loudly when the genius won the race. "You had almost no penalty! Have you added secret cheat codes in the game again?"

Raphael saw Leonardo grimace at the noise level.

"Relax, Leo," he said, putting his hand on Leonardo's arm. "No neighbors in the sewers, remember?"

Leonardo nodded sheepishly. An entire childhood keeping as quiet as possible left traces and he wasn't at ease with shouting as a regular way of expressing yourself.

But the most unexpected lesson they offered him was the one about lying.

In the middle of a skateboarding session in the sewers, and safely out of any adults' ears, Michelangelo, Raphael and Donatello tried to improve their brother's poor skills at that delicate art.

"Leo, you've got to learn how to lie." Michelangelo began. "You've got so many tells, it's not even funny."

Leonardo crossed his arms, embarrassed.

"I've been raised to be an honest turtle," he retorted.

"And that's a good thing, Leo," Donatello soothed him. "But ninja use deception. Think about it as another skill."

"I'll show you how it's done," Michelangelo generously offered. "Repeat after me: I'm a gorgeous blonde."

Leonardo blinked. Michelangelo's expression and his voice had stayed the same. No twitching, no twisting, no hidden smile.

"That's kind of scaring, you know."

"Thanks. Now say it!"

"I'm a gorgeous blonde," Leonardo repeated. He felt totally stupid.

"No, you're blushing! Try again."

Leonardo rolled his eyes.

"I'm a gorgeous blonde!"

"Not really," Raphael whispered behind him, unable to keep quiet any longer.

"You're not helping, Raph," Leonardo moaned.

"That was a little better, but nobody would believe it," Michelangelo went on. "The key is to be convinced of what you're saying. Try again!"

"How am I supposed to be convinced that I'm a gorgeous blonde?"

"Yeah, you've got a point," Raphael interjected, grinning. "It's easy for Mikey, because he really is a gorgeous blonde. Inside."

"Thanks, Ra… hey!" Michelangelo protested, launching himself at Raphael and pinning him to the floor.

"Maybe you should try another sentence, Leo," Raphael said, twisting to put Michelangelo in a headlock. "I suggest this one: I'll deshell you, Mikey!"

Leonardo gulped. Raphael was convincing.

"I'm not so sure about it, Raph," he protested. "Besides, I don't think I'll ever need to pretend I'm a gorgeous blonde or I want to deshell my brother… What do you think, Donnie?"

The purple-clad turtle didn't answer.

"Donnie?" Leonardo repeated, turning to his third brother.

Donatello was doubling over in silent laughter.

"Thanks for the support," Leonardo said, throwing up his arms.

"Sorry, Leo," Donatello chuckled. "But you know, I've never been so good at lying myself, and… Hey!"

Michelangelo and Raphael had begun rolling on the floor, and Donatello was soon caught in their fight.

Leonardo rolled his eyes.

A hand extracted itself from the tangle and grasped his ankle, making him stumble.

"Time to review your wrestling," Raphael stated.

Hours later, a bunch of very tired turtles entered the lair.

"What took you so long?" April asked from the couch, where she was watching a movie with Casey. "We arrived later than we intended, and you still weren't here."

Leonardo glanced at his brothers, then sent her a deadpan look.

"I broke a heel. Because, you know, I'm a gorgeous blonde."

April and Casey both blinked at him and Donatello had another uncontrollable fit of laughter.

As Leonardo headed for the bathroom, Michelangelo congratulated him happily.

"See? That was much better!"

%%%%%

Sitting cross-legged in the dojo, Splinter was thinking about his newest pupil.

So far, Leonardo was learning more slowly than his brothers had. He often asked Splinter to demonstrate the moves several times and he chose to perform his katas at a slow pace.

Splinter was wondering why. Maybe it was harder for him because he was so much older than they had been?

Anyways, it wasn't worrying him. Leonardo would learn at his own pace. And he was eager to train.

To be honest, it had surprised Splinter. None of his other sons had displayed such an interest for staying hours in the dojo in addition to normal training sessions.

It was obvious that Leonardo loved training.

He loved it so much, in fact, that Splinter was facing a problem he would never have expected.

The boy didn't know when to stop.

Only a few days ago, he had surprised his son training with Donatello when Leonardo had already spent hours in the dojo with Splinter, then with Raphael, and then racing in the sewers with Michelangelo.

So Splinter had taken him aside to explain to him that too much physical exercise when his body wasn't used to it could be hurtful.

Since then, Leonardo had slowed down. Splinter almost didn't see him in the dojo by himself anymore.

Maybe he slowed down a little too much, Splinter mused. I'll tell him that he can train alone – he just has to be careful not to overdo it.

Leonardo wasn't in the living room, so Splinter headed for the bedrooms.

They had turned the storage room into a fourth chamber, that Murakami was now occupying, and Leonardo shared Donatello's room. Donatello didn't mind. He had spare room – all his stuff was in his lab - and Splinter suspected that he slept in there more often than not these days.

Suspicious noises coming from Donatello and Leonardo's room made him frown. He suddenly burst the door open.

Raphael was in there, reading a book on Leonardo's bed.

"Raphael. Why aren't you in your room?" Splinter asked sternly.

Raphael coughed.

"Spike wanted to go for a walk," he pretended. "Then I saw this awesome book about…" Raphael looked at the title and grimaced. "Hydrodynamics, and I thought I would read it on the spot."

Splinter lifted an eyebrow. Instead of calling his son a liar, he focused on the rest of the room, moving swiftly.

He knew what he had heard. Raphael wasn't reading a few seconds before, and he certainly wasn't alone.

There. Someone was moving behind him.

Splinter knew it more thanks to his ninja master's instinct than because he had heard or seen it.

Impressive, he thought.

He had postponed stealth training until later on, when Leonardo would have learned the basics, but obviously his son was already well-advanced in that particular department.

But he still disobeyed me.

Turning abruptly, Splinter extended his hand and pressed his finger against a particular spot of Leonardo's neck. The turtle collapsed on the floor with a surprised cry.

"Leonardo," Splinter said sternly. "Although your stealth skills are remarkable, I thought you would have known better than hiding to train."

Leonardo coughed and picked himself up.

"Sorry, Master Splinter," he said sheepishly, although he really didn't seem to be.

Splinter frowned at his son. Time to teach him that discipline was an important part of a ninja life.

%%%%%

Leonardo groaned as he slumped on the couch. His whole body hurt after Splinter had insisted to have a little randori session with him. "Because you want to train so much," he had said.

I should have been more suspicious when I saw Raph's face.

Master Splinter was a lot stricter than Murakami.

Lesson learned, Leonardo grimaced, massaging his sore legs. And arms. And neck. Going behind Splinter's back is a bad idea.

"Hey Leo, do you want to help us cook? I've had an awesome idea and…"

Michelangelo stopped in the kitchen doorway when he saw his brother.

"Uh, Leo, what happened? You look like you've just run a marathon."

"Nothing," Leonardo blushed. "I just learned an important lesson today."

"And that would be?" Michelangelo tilted his head.

"Don't cross a ninja master," Leonardo answered sheepishly.

"Aaaah! So that's it! I was wondering when it would happen."

Michelangelo waved the ladle he had in hand.

"Don't worry, we've all been there. Now do you want to help?"

Leonardo nodded. He enjoyed cooking with Murakami and Michelangelo.

And unlike me, Mikey has an inner gift for this art, he thought. It's a pleasure to work with them both.

"Why not? I don't think I'm going to train tonight."

%%%%%

At dinner, when everyone savored the dish Michelangelo and Murakami had invented – pizza gyoza, they called it – and Splinter didn't seem to be mad at him anymore, Leonardo couldn't help feeling that his life was so much more interesting and fulfilling than before.

Except for one thing.

Weeks after his father had been kidnapped, he still had no news from Karai.