“Hmm? Oh, sure, we can spar!”

He looked at you with that smile—calm, confident, and maybe just a little teasing. It threw you off. Weren’t you supposed to be facing off against a serious, no-nonsense warrior? Why was he always so nice? Like, disarmingly nice? It made your heart skip in a way you didn’t expect.

He led the way into the sparring room—a wide, open space with mats lining the floor and weapons racks against the walls. You followed closely, heart pounding, nerves flickering between excitement and caution.

Leo was the first to hear the word “spar.” He practically burst in, eyes bright with curiosity and competitive fire. He wanted to see this—wanted to witness firsthand how you’d hold up. Donnie came in next, sighing but smiling knowingly. “This should be interesting,” he muttered. “I know you’re tough, so this’ll be fun to watch.”

Mikey happened to stroll by, searching for you to show him one of his latest doodles. Spotting you and Raph gearing up, he plopped down nearby, carefully setting his sketchpad beside him. “Ohhh, this is gonna be good,” he said with a mischievous grin, already entertained.

Raph, surprisingly, held a kind smile on his face. His tonfas were ready in his hands, fingers relaxed but poised to strike. There was something about the way he carried himself—steady, calm, and confident. No matter what, he was ready. You tightened your grip on your weapons, feeling the familiar weight grounding you. Was this really going to be a fight? Or maybe… a test? A dance of skill and trust?

Your eyes met Raph’s.

“Ready?” he asked, voice low but steady. You nodded. This wasn’t just a sparring match. It was a conversation spoken in strikes and blocks, in movement and timing. And you were ready to say your piece.