The next few months passed quickly for Toshiro and Raphael.
Though Toshiro missed working at the training facility, where his duties had been taken over by a lesser teacher, he found himself intrigued by the young mutant turtle and his training. He had never had a student like Raphael before — never a student so innocent. The Foot Clan often recruited underground fighters, young runaways and others such who might crave the order and discipline of a ninja clan. Each came with their own story, their own losses, their own traumas. He had never had a student who had no emotional scars or regrettable history before.
Certainly, he thought, Raphael had no idea what his future entailed. That in itself made Toshiro uneasy. Those who joined the Foot knew what they were getting into — they knew that there would be death, battle and brutality in their lives, and they would be dedicated to the furtherance of the Foot. Raphael had made no such choice, and he knew nothing of what the Shredder had planned for him… whatever that turned out to be.
He also found it oddly gratifying to see Raphael's rapid progress in all areas. Only a week after his mutation, he was more or less speaking fluent English — although Toshiro noticed that he had developed a slight New York accent, similar to that of the gregarious Foot ninja who guarded his bedroom door at night.
When he noted this during a training bout, his remarks had confused the mutant turtle.
"He likes talkin' to me," Raphael said. "And I like talkin' to him. Is that wrong?"
"In your case, not at all," Toshiro responded with a smile. The more Raphael could learn, the better.
His linguistic skills were not the only area where he learned quickly. His martial arts skills progressed at a pace more rapid than Toshiro had ever seen before — it was as if the turtle had learned and forgotten whole swathes of different fighting styles, and Toshiro's tutelage was merely causing him to recall everything he had forgotten.
His crude punches and kicks soon gave way to more trained, precise movements, and Toshiro soon found it more difficult to predict what precisely Raphael was going to do during the sparring matches. He was still more skilled than the mutant youth, but had the feeling that — given enough time and proper training — one day that might change.
He was also unprepared for how strong the mutant was. Raphael was relatively small — a few inches shorter than Karai — but his strength exceeded that of many of the larger humans around him. On a few occasions Toshiro had told him to throw all of his strength into a strike with a bokken, only to have Raphael accidentally smash one of the practice dummies across the dojo, splintering it. He no longer told Raphael to use his full strength.
He assumed that Raphael's strength had something to do with being a mutant, though he knew too little of mutations to be sure. All he did know is that among his countless past students, he had never seen a ninja-in-training like Raphael.
Most importantly, his quick progress pleased Master Shredder. He sometimes appeared at the dojo and watched Raphael's practice sparring — and though he said nothing after most of these bouts, the fact that he did not show disapproval could be interpreted as approval.
Toshiro particularly remembered one day when Raphael had been pitted against four Foot ninja. All four were, though hardly elite in their skills, good hardy warriors who towered over the mutant turtle. Toshiro could see in their gleaming eyes that they expected him to be no trouble — he knew that the whispering among the various Foot ninja was that Raphael was little more than a pet, a novelty that Oroku Saki was intrigued by. Like a dog being trained to do tricks for its master's amusement.
The old man did not let those rumors bother him. They would see what Raphael was made of soon enough.
"Begin," Saki had rumbled.
Toshiro's eyes narrowed, and he folded his arms.
One of the men stumbled backwards almost immediately, kicked in the neck by Raphael, whose eyes were blazing like flaming amber. He pushed off the falling ninja and crashed directly into another, pummeling the man's face with only a few direct blows, sending him arcing back with blood spurting from his nose, unconscious before he hit the floor.
One of the others got behind Raphael and looped his arm around the turtle's neck, only for Raphael to suddenly fling himself backwards, crushing the man between his shell and a support beam. The unlucky ninja stumbled away and collapsed, clutching his broken ribs and wheezing pitifully.
The first ninja, the one Raphael had kicked in the throat, had finally stopped gasping and struggled back to his feet. He leaped towards the turtle while his back was turned, only to have Raphael dodge at the last second, stepping aside and driving his elbow into the back of the man's head. The ninja crashed down into the floor headfirst, hard enough to splinter the floorboards and spatter them with blood.
The fourth and final ninja was also the least aggressive, and thus the least inclined to attack the strange green creature who had just trounced three of his fellows. But he still launched himself into the fight, and Toshiro was mildly impressed that he managed to dodge Raphael's first few blows, and nearly swept his pupil's legs out from under him. But the man was too predictable, his moves too uncertain, and Raphael easily swatted him down and left him groaning and struggling.
For a moment Raphael stood in the center of the room, panting and looking towards Toshiro and Master Shredder. His eyes were uncertain, as if he weren't sure whether he was supposed to have done what he had.
Then Shredder clapped his hands, one time.
"You have made excellent progress with him, Toshiro," he said in Japanese. "Better than I expected."
"Raphael deserves the credit, not I," Toshiro said humbly, inclining his head. "He has worked hard."
"Yes, and the rewards for his hard work will be substantial, when the time comes," Saki said meditatively. "He has a fire in him that will burn the enemies of the Foot Clan."
He stepped down onto the mats, over the still body of the man whose head had been smashed into the floor. Once again Toshiro was reminded of a buyer examining a horse, as the Foot jonin surveyed the young turtle with appraising eyes.
Then, without another word, he left the room.
Raphael was still breathing hard as medics rushed in to remove the wounded ninja from the room. Toshiro came toward him and took him by the arm, leading him back towards the small room that the turtle had been given as his own.
"What'd he say?" Raphael said breathlessly. "Did I do good?"
"He was very pleased by your progress," Toshiro assured him in English.
He saw Raphael's eyes light up at the praise, and felt a flicker of pride himself in his student.