Spar Sesh
"Alright, time to get serious."
Her knuckles wiped at her chin, spinning about the handle of her baseball bat once…twice…thrice…and pegged it into the mat below. Stretching her neck from left to right, April O'Neil tossed the enchanted weapon to the side and dusted her hands off, crouching ever so slightly and raising her hands.
"Oh, that's adorable. What, are we playing patty cake now?"
Her brows flattened, fingers curling into tight fists.
"Hang it up."
Across her path stood the mutant, leaned along the staff he often relied on for any and all ventures physical. His smugness veered as his eyes darted in confusion, lifting a brow when her head lowered darkly.
"Wait…You were serious?"
"Lose the staff, Don. Let's go."
"Ehh," his grip grew tighter on the item, twisting a dent into the mat, "Are you just mad I won the last round?"
"I am not that petty."
"'Cause the tech bo is kinda my thing—"
"I know."
His attachment remained firm.
Her shoulders lowered as she sighed, crossing her arms, "You rely way too much on that thing."
"And now you sound like—"
"Splints? Yeah. We've been talkin'."
"Oh, he spends quality time with you," the tech wiz uttered sourly, his brows flattening, "To talk about me, no less. Must be nice."
"Now who's bein' petty?"
His bitter silence filled the room, but couldn't damper the small smile she had mustered.
Relaxing her form, she approached the royal clad teen and gripped the weapon just above his fist, "C'mon, we could both use some help with hand to hand. We gotta be more than our stuff. The enemy won't cut you any slack if, whoops! You don't have this anymore!" she sang as she yanked the staff from his clench, casually spinning it in the clumsiest of ways before tossing it toward the rest of the practice weaponry.
His eyes gazed upon it longingly, feeling somewhat naked.
Hand to hand?
His least favorite of combat scenarios.
His tech bo fulfilled so many opportunities to take down an opponent while still remaining far from injury or proximity. His reflexes weren't as sharp as Mikey's, nor was his mass as lumbering as Raph's. Leo carried his athleticism which left Donnie with the highest IQ of the four combined…and in a moment of combat, that was as useful as skateboarding without a helmet.
His fists awkwardly knocked his thighs as April positioned herself back, bowing gently before lifting her head, "You ready?"
"Uh, right. Okay."
"Aaand, go!"
She lunged forward, determination burning in her eyes.
Punch, strike, strike, punch, elbow, heel, strike…pause.
Her nose scrunched sourly, "Donnie…you have to actually fight me."
Tilting upright, Donatello tapped his thumbs in thought, avoiding her scrutiny,
"Well, yeah…but you don't have any protective gear on."
"Oh, you're right. You think the enemy will let me gear up before an attack?" she asked curiously, the sarcasm dripping along the tune.
Cracking her knuckles, April pressed a fist to her hip, "The only way we're gunna get better is if we work out real scenarios. Practice is good for muscle memory, but it's gunna mean bunk if we can't apply it when we're actually being attacked. The city's crazy out there —you know that. What if you get separated from the team and your staff shuts down or breaks? Then what?"
"I've set up multiple fail safes for such a scenario."
"Well, I don't have that. Just these two." she noted, placing a kiss atop each of her fists, "And these two."
She kicked out her feet.
"And that's all I got on me at all times. You gotta work with what you got. Not what you have."
"Technically, that's the sa—"
"Aaand, go!"
"A-April!"
He darted left and right, swiping away each attack as she charged forward without mercy —defense, defense, defense…
Her fist flew past his block, mere inches from his face before cracking against something stiff and metallic, and the pain shot straight up her arm into her chest, ripping a yelp. Freezing in place, Donnie grabbed her wrist, waving away the defensive shield that had spared him from his pack.
"Ah, s-sorry, sorry! The sensor kicked on —I should've deactivated it! It's a safety feature—"
Inhaling deeply, April pressed her thumb against the mid of her forearm before bitterly eying the twisted ring finger skewing on her right hand.
Clamping it carefully, Donatello analyzed the damage, "It's dislocated. Deep breath. Shut your jaw. This is gunna hurt."
Pop!
The exhale released every inch of her lung capacity as she rested her forehead against his chest, allowing the pressure in her head to decompress. Ever so tenderly, he flexed each finger to assure their mobility, pressing down on the joint of the recently injured digit to spare the radiating soreness.
It took a minute for her to catch herself, curling her fingers a few times before shaking her palm out and rubbing her nose.
"You need to compress that before swelling kicks in—"
"C'mon. Again."
"April—"
"I'm fine. It's just a little sore, but I'm good to go. I'll ice it later. Let's do this."
She brushed off the top of her hand with a careless frown, matching his weary gaze.
Brows knit, Donnie tapped along his brace, deactivating the safety protocols with extreme hesitancy. That hand needed wrapping and compression, but April was unyielding…steely and stubborn. Under normal circumstances, these were qualities he often admired, but not when used against him.
Again, she readied herself.
Again, he contemplated.
Strike, strike, dodge, swipe, kick, miss, strike, strike, strike,
defense, defense, defense, defense—
"Donnie, what's with you? I know you know more offense than that! There's no way Splinter didn't cover the basics of one-on-one with you. Your whole deal can't just be defense —and I'm not gunna learn anything new if I'm not being challenged!" she huffed grumpily, crossing her arms into a tight knot.
He said nothing, arms lowering.
"Forget it…" she muttered, "I'll spar with Raph."
Donnie's eyes widened, "You can't spar with Raph —he won't hold back!"
"That's the point."
Her bitter squint left him awkwardly speechless, and quietly, he mirrored in her stance, though his arms carried themselves a bit more loosely.
It remained silent between them as April glanced at her hand and stretched it.
"Everybody has a weakness. That's what Splinter says," she murmured, crunching her fist in tight, "Doesn't matter if they're human, or mutant, or yokai…everybody has a weakness. Our job is to figure out our enemy's weakness…and acknowledge our own."
Her gaze lifted, a gentility lingering within them,
"You know why I spar with you?"
His eyes darted uncomfortably, but finally rested back as she took a step closer,
"You and me? We're not so different."
Donatello searched her face curiously, able to dictate a three page long list on definitive features alone. The world accepted those like April O'Neil.
But for mutants like him…
There was no point in sulking. The cards had been played, and who knows where he would've ended up if not mutated with the genetic code of a legendary warrior. Probably in the stomach of a higher member on the food chain.
It was his human side that focused on the irrelevant —acceptance, popularity, pride, girls…and how useful he'd be in combat without any robust form of protection.
And as his eyes matched April's, he realized…he wasn't alone.
She jerked a thumb over her shoulder, her brows curving firm,
"Your brothers have something that we don't. But I'm not gunna let that stop me from being the best version of me I can be. Everybody has a weakness, Donnie…Maybe it's time we own up to ours."
His fingers rested along his hips as the words sunk in, discomfort and tribulation looming. Perhaps overcompensating had blinded him somewhat. To be the…weakest of the four wasn't exactly a triumph to be proud of, always forced to take the extra precautions that his brothers needn't bother. To take comfort in his long range weapon and perfect it, rather than strategize a situation without it. To impose his own insecurities on those who were like him without realizing it…
We're not so different.
Perhaps, in that aspect, no.
Perhaps it's what had drawn them closer.
To understand that there was strength in numbers when there was weakness elsewhere.
Her hand rested gently on his chest, waking him from his thoughts as she greeted him with a comforting smile, "You don't want me to get hurt. I get it."
Her fingers curled into a point, prodding him lightly,
"But the Foot is not gunna hold back. Or anybody else we get on the wrong side of. We need to up our game, D. I won't be much fun if I end up KOed in a gutter."
No, that would be rather unfortunate.
But though his frown remained, Donatello took a deep breath and offered a quick nod, acknowledging her words of wisdom. If they were going to be any better, get any better, they would have to step out of their comfort zones.
Closing his eyes, he extended a short bow, slowly falling into form.
"Hah, good try, tech geek. Gear comes off." April huffed, arching a brow, "All of it."
Glancing about himself, the mutant sighed, slowly conceding.
Arm brace, disconnected.
Goggles, carefully settled.
Tech bo, still where she had left it.
Unease haunted his restless eyes as he detached the battle shell, and balanced it against the rack with all of the other weapons. His only true form of defense.
The room felt unusually cold against him.
Exposed.
Vulnerable.
Unprotected.
We're not so different.
Rubbing along his shoulder, he glanced her way, noting the eager highlight in her eyes. Determined, but patient. Firm, but moving. And desperate to tackle this journey —together. They were a team, and she wasn't going to leave him behind.
Strange thing, confidence.
It was rather contagious.
"Uhm…alright."
"No holding back?"
His eyes lifted, pushing away any unsettling doubts as he shook his limbs out and settled across,
"No holding back."
A quick nod.
A pleased smile.
Her fists flexed,
"Aaand, go!"
She lunged forward —predictable. April had never been afraid to throw herself into the mix, swift and controlled chaos powering her every move. Her punches were quick, sturdy, and guided by credence with the lessons of a master, powered with practice of her swinging arm.
He dodged most attacks, analyzing her form, her timing, her grit. But he hadn't forgotten the lessons he had endured as a child, before technology had intruded on his physical growth. Like clockwork, his reflexes kicked in, taking him to a time before the tech, before the bo, before April…simply trying to survive in a band of brothers who found roughhousing a sport.
Her fist jolted forward, and with a twist, he wrenched at her wrist, spinning her arm into a lock and striking his elbow into her ribs. The air squeezed from her lungs, providing a decent diversion as he aimed to knock her from her feet, but perhaps he, too, had been predictable as she also anticipated his motions, breaking free from his range to spare herself the fall.
Her shuffle allowed her minimal recovery as his fists swung out, forcing her to block, and block, and block —no time to think. Only react.
His height had provided an advantage she hadn't quite accounted for, dodging back as he came rather close to knocking her down. Flinging out a kick, April tucked and rolled, slamming herself straight into his back.
He froze for a moment, processing the attack before shaking his attention free.
If this had been a real attack…he'd have zero time to recover.
He had to focus.
The enemy would have taken advantage.
The enemy would have taken him down.
Never turn your back on the enemy.
Closing his eyes tightly, Donnie dropped a knee and kicked his heel forward, returning the slam into the soul behind him. April hadn't expected that.
It was reckless. It was impulsive. It mindless.
But the stun was enough for her feet to get kicked out from underneath, slamming her flat to the ground.
Crouching forward, Donatello took the victory in stride, wiping along his chin as he panted.
April remained on the mat, rubbing along her nose.
"…So, it's gunna be like that, huh?"
With a weary smirk, he filled his lungs proudly and extended a hand,
"We did agree on it."
Her palm clasped his, and with a gentle yank, he lifted her to her feet.
Brushing herself off, she clenched about her forearms, certain to bear bruising sooner than later. Her finger still showed signs of swelling, but this, too, she ignored, taking a short moment to shake herself loose and dust off her hands,
"Alright. Gloves are off, pal."
Rubbing along his wrists, Donnie arched a brow, "Y'know, you really should get that properly treated…"
"And let you walk away with the W?" her hands lifted, a determined smirk pulled along her lips, "I don't think so."
She was a stubborn one.
It pulled a smile from him.
She was determined.
He admired that.
Round two.
Her sideswipe caught him by surprise, ducking his head into his shell.
He could feel her clamp onto his back and lift herself up, threatening to pull him down with her own weight, and quickly he poked his head free, pinning each of her legs down to his sides before she could attempt the move.
But this did not deter.
The adrenaline was too strong.
She slammed her palms atop his shoulders and lifted herself higher,
peering down at his anticipating gaze,
tenacity persevering,
determination unwavering,
competition fierce,
and with zero hesitation, she kissed the bump of his nose.
"H-Huh?"
April flipped forward at the sudden advantage, stealing the opportunity to spin her heel and strike him fiercely in the gut, launching him into the weapons rack.
"You got distracted—! April O'Neil!"
The room echoed with the clap of her hands.
Now, they were tied.
Her triumphant grin fell curious as the mutant remained completely shut within his shell, the scattered practice weapons littered about him.
"…Donnie?"
Her head tilted in concern, taking a step closer, but he remained still.
Had she injured him?
Did he knock his head on the rack?
Or was he simply rattled that she had outwitted him?
"Hey, Donnie? You okay?" she huffed, scrambling over to check his status.
With one fell swoop, her legs flew out from under her, ears pounding.
His forearm had pressed dangerously close to her throat as he towered over her, his weight pinning her with minimal options to break. "Submission." he staggered, brows knitting tightly.
April blinked for a moment.
Wasn't that for jujitsu?
Sourly rolling her eyes, her hand tapped the mat twice.
"Hahah! Two out of three, victory!"
Rolling him off, April leaned up, pressing along her right hand,
"I see you…using my compassion against me. That's cold, D."
Donnie crossed his arms over his knees with a deep breath, settling his back against hers, "Me? You started it."
"Caught you off guard, though."
His brows flattened at the smugness in her voice, quietly burying his chin within his arms. Yes…she certainly had.
"…Anything goes in the Wild West, I suppose."
Rubbing along her shoulder, April closed her eyes,
"No holding back."
Her elbow gently nudged him, offering a casual fist, and glancing to the side, Donatello fought the smile coming through, bumping it lightly, "No holding back."
It was quiet as they were left with their thoughts. Recovering. Recuperating. Redeeming.
April was the first to break.
"We better straighten this place out."
She hoisted herself to her feet, starting to collect the mess they had made before finally acknowledging that the aches in her arms required long overdue care. Clamping her wrist close, she grinned, "We did good! I'd like to try a one-on-one with the other guys someday."
Hooking the last wooden sword onto the rack, Donatello gripped his goggles and settled them back on his head,
"Perhaps after a bit of planning. Preparation is key to expecting the unexpected."
"Yeah," she agreed slyly, "Yours could use a little work."
His hand froze as he made for his pack, a sour gaze greeting her over his shoulder.
"Until then," he noted bitterly, hooking it on, but took a moment to analyze her injury once more, pressing his thumb along her wrist as he slowly rotated it side to side, "I think you need a different tactic. Preferably one that causes pain —for Leo. Especially for Leo."
The pressure continued toward her palm as he quietly worked, noting the swelling had set in. Stubborn, this one. If she would've listened…
Well…he supposed he wouldn't have learned anything new this day.
Overcoming weakness.
Acknowledging his own.
"Please. You adore Leo—"
His face screwed up in contempt.
"And you admire Raph,"
His brows flattened with a hefty sigh, eyes darting off, "Ugh, can we not—"
"And you'd do anything for Mikey—"
The grumpiness on his face lingered as she smiled, her eyes softening for one who singlehandedly did his best to improve their daily lives, not because it was required of him, but because doing so pleased him on a deeper level. And perhaps such small actions made up for what he lacked elsewhere…providing comfort when they needed it most. No, it wasn't a physical advantage in a fight, per se, but it was worth more than the strongest punch could muster.
He sighed heavily at the accusations, knowing not a lie had been told —but still. Things were often better observed…at a distance.
It took a special exception to be handled otherwise.
His hazel eyes lifted with a rare gentility, curving his hand protectively over hers, and the frown he carried spoke more volumes than he'd dare to admit,
"Can we please get this iced now? Guilt makes me uncomfortable."
April cradled her arm back, searching for the soul that did its best to hide itself from everyone. Silently overprotective, and quietly prideful. Quick to blockade anything that struck too deep, and certain to feel more than he ever let on.
"Maybe weakness is the wrong word." April noted reflectively with a tender smile, pulling confusion from the mutant as she glanced about in thought, "…Maybe…it's a soft spot. Everyone has a soft spot."
Brows flattening, Donnie flicked his fingers, "Again, technically that's the same thing."
Lifting her good arm, April playfully tapped his nose with a coy smile, "No, Donnie…I don't think it is."
His arms crossed tensely as his gaze darted, unwilling to say much else on the matter.
"Anyway," she noted lightly, "I should probably get this fixed up."
"…That would be for the best."
"I could probably use some help."
"Considering you currently have a balloon for a hand, I'd have to agree."
"I could also use a second set of eyes on my programming homework—"
"Done."
A grin began to form as they made their way to exit the dojo, her head tilting in jest, "Oh, I like this —how far down the rabbit hole does the guilt go?"
Swiping his bo and locking it down for easier travel, Donatello sighed, arching a brow, "Don't abuse it. There's only so much soft spotty weakness I'm willing to own up to. Baby steps, April. Baby steps."
The flat of her arm playfully bumped along his as they headed toward the medical bay, prying his attention away from his building thoughts. Her gaze held a tranquil patience, one that caught him off guard as if she were trying to relay a quiet message he simply wasn't understanding. Either that, or he was purposefully disregarding it, but she couldn't imagine him doing so. When she spoke, he listened. And she made use of her words,
"…It's not about how hard they hit you, Donnie." she uttered softly, a tiny smile lingering, "…It's where."
She continued on toward the familiar nook, leaving him paused only a few steps behind.
His gaze followed her with an awkward discomfort, the vertigo of the tunnel growing unsettlingly constricted.
His dopey brothers…his rigorous father…and the sweet, gentle smile of his most treasured friend…
His brows knit tensely before shaking out the tingle from his wrists, noting it had most certainly reached the tip of his nose before roughly rubbing it away. "…I know…" he murmured, though it was more self assurance than anything before he followed her in.
AN: I keep getting all these scenarios in my head and I'm trying my hardest to write them all out like I'm racing against the clock. Just popping these out between my chaptered stories~