I barely had time to tighten my grip on the dagger before the first turtle struck.
"Leon the Tyrant!" roared the katana-wielder, his blade flashing downward like a silver waterfall. The strike carried enough force to split boulders—and my arms nearly buckled as I barely deflected it. The impact sent me skidding backward, boots screeching against stone.
Before I could steady myself, a wooden staff cracked against my ribs.
"Dono the Peacekeeper!" announced the second turtle, twirling his bo staff with infuriating ease. Pain exploded through my side, and I wheezed, stumbling—
Twin nunchaku lashed out like striking vipers, smashing the backs of my hands. My palms screamed, bones vibrating as if shattered.
The dagger clattered to the ground.
"Mike the Jestblade!" chirped the third turtle, his voice echoing in my skull like a bad hangover.
Gasping, I looked up just in time to see a green foot fill my vision.
The kick lifted me off my feet before slamming me onto my back. Before I could even groan, a sai plunged into the stone beside my face, its tip quivering.
A fourth face loomed over me, grinning like a lunatic.
"Ralph the Reaper!" he said, tipping an imaginary hat. "Pleasure to meet ya, brother!"
I blankly looked at him, having no strength to reply.
Then, from the sidelines, Virion's delighted cackling.
"Jie jie~! Wonderful teamwork, boys! Now, do it again but slower this time! Let our poor friend learn this time!"
Leon sighed. "Master Virion, if we go slower, he might actually survive."
Mike cracked his knuckles. "Yeah, where's the fun in that?"
I lay there, staring at the ceiling, my entire body one giant bruise.
…I've made a terrible mistake.
I reallly did make a mistake.
Because the 'lesson' lasted for six hours this time.
Well, five and a half, if you counted the merciful thirty-minute break where I lay facedown on the floor, whimpering into a bowl of suspiciously glowing broth Virion called "recovery soup." (It tasted like bitter milk and boiled tree bark.)
The turtle brothers were… thorough teachers.
Every time I thought I'd learned something—how to brace against Leon's strikes, how to sidestep Dono's staff, how to not drop my dagger when Mike's nunchaku came flying—they'd switch tactics, adjust speed, or just flat-out cheat.
"Your stance is still garbage," Leon remarked, casually parrying my desperate slash before kneeing me in the gut.
"Elbow in, idiot," Dono sighed, whacking my arm with his staff to "correct" my form.
"Wow, you block like my blind grandma!" Mike cheered, his nunchaku somehow hitting me behind my guard.
Ralph just laughed and hit harder.
Slowly. Painfully slowly.
Not in leaps, not in bounds, but in millimeters. A fraction better at absorbing impacts. A half-second faster at raising my dagger. A slightly less terrible understanding of how not to die.
Leon lunged. I twisted. Dono's staff whiffed past my ear. Mike's nunchaku clacked against my dagger instead of my face. For one glorious, shining moment—
And that's when Ralph dropkicked me from behind.
"REAPER'S SPECIAL DELIVERY!"
Now, five minutes later, I lay sprawled on the battlefield, staring at the ceiling with the blank serenity of a man who'd accepted his fate.
Why… why did I think this was a good idea?
Virion's face swam into view, upside-down and grinning. "Jie jie~! You lasted three seconds that time! Good work!"
I made a noise that was half-groan, half-sob.
The turtles gathered around me, nodding approvingly.
"Not completely hopeless," Leon admitted.
"You still suck, though," Mike added cheerfully.
"Cut it our you all, he needs a rest." Dono chimed in.
Ralph poked me with his sai. "Same time tomorrow, brother?"
And I lost consiousness.
The four turtle brothers gathered around Amaniel's unconscious form, poking at his bruised face with varying degrees of curiosity.
"Is he out?" Mike asked, flicking Aman's forehead.
"Yeah, look, he's not reacting at all!" Ralph grinned, poking harder with the tip of his sai.
"Cut it out," Dono sighed, smacking Ralph's hand away with his staff. "Wasn't all that enough?"
"Ah, sorry," Ralph chuckled, rubbing his head. "Couldn't help it."
A small shadow dropped from above - Virion, now in his small form, landing neatly on Aman's chest. His emerald aura pulsed, tendrils of green energy seeping into the boy's battered body, stitching together the worst of the damage.
The brothers fell silent, watching as the bruises faded slightly, Aman's breathing steadying.
"Well?" Virion finally asked, tilting his head. "How was it?"
"It was fun!" Ralph cheered, only to yelp as Dono's staff bonked him on the head.
"Ouch, what was that for?!"
"He's asking about the boy, idiot," Dono corrected with a disappointed sigh.
The turtles exchanged glances before launching into their assessments.
"Pathetic," Leon declared bluntly. "His footwork is trash, his grip is amateurish, and his reflexes? Laughable." He crossed his arms.
"Is that all?" Virion squinted its pupils.
"...Ok, he didn't at least cry. I'll give him that." Leon added after a pause.
"Hehe, hear me out now. He's helly funny kid - he blocks like a drunkard stumbling into walls," Mike added, twirling his nunchaku. "But hey, at least he tries to adapt and learn. That's more than most meatheads we've encountered before."
"His pain tolerance is decent," Dono picked on. "And he listens to our words, well, when he's not too busy getting kicked in the face."
"Me! Me!" Ralph raised his hand like an eager child.
Virion turned its gaze to him.
"Um.... H-He's really fun to play with! Yeah, he's like..." Ralph pondered as if searching for the right word. "Like a squeaky toy that doesn't break immediately."
Virion's tail flicked, amused. "Jie jie~ So, teachable?"
Leon snorted. "Barely."
"But yes," Dono conceded.
"If he survives the week," Mike added cheerfully.
"As long as he plays with us!" Ralph put an end line.
Virion's grin widened as he coiled tighter atop Aman's chest. "Good. Then we'll continue tomorrow."
Aman, still unconscious, let out a faint, despairing whimper.
The turtles nodded in unison.
Somewhere, in the depths of his exhaustion-addled mind, Aman swore he could hear the universe laughing at him.