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(no subject)

Who:

thesevencodes
What: Training. For real.
When: Mike gets sent home. Don does some really unimpressive solo training, spends a night guarding Polka, and eventually gets his head back together. Then this happens.
Where: Starting outside C6, and probably ending up elsewhere.
Summary: Don apologizes to Raph for being a jerk in the best way he knows how: by giving Raph permission to abuse him until he becomes an acceptably competent ninja again.
Rating: PG-13
Where has Don been for the past week? Why, making a new bo staff. Crafting the simple weapon doesn't involve slaving for hours over a hot forge in the smithy - rather, he's been out in the woods, using the peace and quiet, the meditative carving of wood, to get his head back together.

He needs to train. He's been doing some work this week, out in the woods, and he's managed to bring himself back to a level that wouldn't make his father cry in embarrassment. (Shake his head sadly, yes - but at least he wouldn't be asking the ancestors how he got such lazy, undisciplined sons.)

Now, though, he needs help. He needs someone on a higher level, who can beat him back into shape, and then beat him into a better shape than he's ever been in before.

Fortunately, he knows such a person. And he knows that the individual in question will be all too willing to do it.

He prods the journal open with his toe. "Raph - come meet me behind the building. ... And don't panic. It's good news."

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His answer first comes through the journal. "Good news? Ha."

The reply is just dripping with bitterness, but it's easy to tell that Raph is in a better mood than he's been in a while. Since Casey's return, he's been coming home to sleep in his own bed at night, and has spent all of those days one-hundred-percent sober. Small miracles.

Despite his cynical retort, he closes the journal and heads outside, searching out back for his brother.

"What took you so long?" Don asks, as soon as Raph is in easy talking range. He tosses him the second bo staff. "Let's go."

He turns and starts walking into the woods.

Raph catches the staff with a confused expression. Ugh, he hates when Donnie does the whole 'don't ask questions, just follow me' shtick. Gets under his skin like, well, everything does.

He grumbles a little, twirling the staff experimentally, and follows anyways.

"What're we doin'?"

"What do you think we're doing?" He says it cheerfully. He's in a good mood, because he knows at least one of them is going to enjoy this, even if that person isn't likely to be himself.

He snorts a laugh. It has a dark, menacing tone. "You sound pretty happy for a guy who's gonna get his ass beat."

His experimental twirls turn instantly into something more lethal. "You're lucky I haven't used a bo in a while."

But if that's true, it definitely doesn't show. Donnie, you might be a genius when it comes to most things, but put a weapon in your brother's hands, and you've got art in motion.

Yeah, sorry Donnie. This's probably gonna hurt. A lot.

Oh, Raph. You are so much smarter than you ever let on.

Don had been planning to walk to the clearing in the woods he has lately claimed as his own, and draw his own weapon there, but something tells him he had better start defending himself now.

He turns, already sliding into a block...

The minute Don slides into stance, Raph cracks a wicked smile and takes it as an invitation. It is on, little brother. You just bought a one-way ticket to Hurty Town.

He told you you need to do more training. He offered to help, but no, you had to be an ass about it. So now he's gonna so graciously remind you of exactly what he was talking about.

"Don't say I didn't warn ya."

Raph lunges forward and brings his own staff down hard onto Don's, moving to knock it out of his hands, then spins the bo to connect with the inside of his brother's thigh. It's followed by a hard kick to the plastron, and if Don finds himself sprawled out on the ground, Raph will be standing, towering over him with the butt of his staff angled at his brother's throat.

"Yield!"

Practically the first thing they ever learned in the dojo. When someone says yield, you stop.

Raph draws back, and Don rolls to his feet. That was even more embarrassing than he had been expecting. He bends to retrieve his bo, where it was launched to clatter against a tree.

"Okay. Point proven."

He comes back, takes his stance, and reaches out to tap Raph's weapon with his own. "Come again."

The clearing is nice, but, well, this place works too.

Okay that was too much fun. Raph nods with a crooked smile, and for the icing on his proverbial cake of revenge, is going to attempt to do the exact same combination of moves again.

C'mon, Don. You can't fall for the same trick twice. Right? It's a pretty basic attack.

Aw, geez. Don blocks, but that only works for about a second before Raph's strength overpowers him. The same blindingly-fast flip to disarm him, and then Raph is striking at his leg again. Don handsprings out of the way, but then all he can do is stand there awkwardly, weaponless, while Raph delivers a coup de grace at his leisure.

He's gonna go easy on you bro - okay, relatively easy - and go for a right temple strike that doesn't connect. His eyes meet Don's as he holds the pose, carrying a message that reads 'You're dead'.

But Don gets a second chance as he flips the bo to sweep his legs out from under him. The attack is supposed to give him time to evade, and if he winds up knocking Don onto the ground again, Raph will be gravely disappointed.

If you've got any skill left in you, lazy-shell, you'll take the opportunity to go pick up your weapon.

Edited 2010-04-16 22:39 (UTC)

Don stands very still, and holds Raph's gaze, secure in the knowledge that his brother would never actually brain him with a heavy staff.

But, knowing his brother as well as he does, he should have expected that sweep. His reaction is a second late, his dodge sloppy. He redeems himself on the next move, though: he tracks Raph's follow-through, leaps onto the down-angled bo, and uses it as a springboard to reach his own dropped weapon.

Raph snorts at his brother's acrobatics. "You can still do that, but you can't block a friggin' disarm?"

He widens his stance into a defensive position and motions with his head for an attack. "C'mon, I'm gettin' bored already."

"Raph, do you realize how much bigger you are than me?" He adjusts his stance, double-checking what used to be automatic. "No, I can't block your disarm."

Okay. Time to see what he can manage on the offensive.

He rushes forward. As soon as he's in bo-range, he drops to one knee to execute a broad sweep across Raph's calves. If that fails, which it probably will, he'll strike upwards at Raph's chest, to knock him off balance.

Raph easily flips over his brother's crouched form when he tries for the sweep, using his shell to push off for the handspring. Good luck even trying that second strike, Raph's behind you, kicking you forward in the back of the shell.

Raph's kick misses.

Because Don is already on the ground.

He picks himself up, wiping dirt from his face. "Good lord, Raph. How much do you weigh?"

The blood rushes to Raph's face in an instant, a mixture of embarrassment and anger. "Excuse me?"

Sigh. Time to have this out in the open. Don gets up and returns his bo to its place in his belt, a sign that the sparring is now on hold.

"A factual question, Raph. How much. Do. You weigh."

"The hell's that got to do with sparring!?"

He readjusts his stance in a vicious way despite Don's sheathed weapon. He is so not done here.

"You're joking, right? It has everything to do with sparring. How long is your reach? How fast can you dodge? How high can you jump? How much do you weigh?"

"Fine." He puts down the bo with a sigh, looking more annoyed than defeated. "If ya really care that much, I weighed myself at the clinic a few days ago. Two-oh-one."

He flips the bo around distractedly. "Happy?"

Edited 2010-04-17 02:13 (UTC)

"Are you sure?" Fortunately, he realizes very quickly how that's going to get misinterpreted. "Because if I can't carry two-oh-one, I'm more out of shape than I thought."

He uncrosses his arms, and shakes them out. "Come over here."

That's met with a sardonic look. "You can't be serious."

He's not coming over to you by his own free will. But if you come to him, he'll just roll his eyes and hate every minute of it.

"Can't we just get a weight set for this? I ain't your freakin' dumbbell."

He's been really wanting one anyways. Why don't they have one yet?

"Raph, this is important. I need to know if I could have carried you home when you were hurt."

It's the only standard he's ever used. Numbers on barbells are meaningless. When would he ever be rescuing a metal rod?

"Yeah, yeah." He huffs a sigh and walks over. Why can't he resist you when you're all logical and guilt-tripping him to death? Seriously.

"You are so needy sometimes. You know that?" But despite the grumbling, he's gonna fold. Just for you. "Okay, do your worst."

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