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Leonardo never thought that there would be a time when he hated his katanas.
Ever since he first recieved the swords – since he first held them, since he got to know how it feels to wield a tool of both destruction and salvation – he depended on them. They made him feel powerful, they were what kept enemies away from his family. When he wielded the katanas, he felt unyielding, strong, felt like they were a part of his very soul. He was in charge, the weapon of a leader in his own hands.
For Leonardo, his swords were more than mere weapons. They were a symbol of hope and future, of worthiness to be the leader, of certainty and stability.
And now, everything they represented, every single quality they held, now it was all gone.
Because Karai run his own katana through his chest, the blade barely missing his heart, the sharpness of it chipping off a part of his shell.
The very same weapon that he used to protect his family was what brought him down. A wound caused by his own katana rendered him incapable of fighting, left him completely useless. Beaten. Weak. Defeated. A state his opponents always ended in, while he stood victoriously.
Leonardo hated the irony of that.
Because now, every time he held the swords, he couldn’t stop his hands from shaking. His breath always sped up, his heart racing, his fingers trembling. The grip he had on the hilts was unsteady, the swords a dead weight in his hands, and he had to let go of them as if they had burnt him.
It wasn’t his first time getting injured in a fight, not by a long shot. He had been beaten, shot at, cut, stabbed – but never by his own weapon. Never by the tool that kept him safe.
And somehow, that made everything different. Worse.
Not only did he fail to protect his brothers and father, to fulfil his role as the leader, to came up with a plan and get them all to safety – not only did he fail to win, but now he couldn’t even lift his own katanas in fear of memories rushing in front of his vision, in fear of his body violently shaking and his lungs not getting enough air.
Leonardo couldn’t bear the mere thought of wielding his swords, and apart from hating himself for being so weak, that made him feel so… angry.
That probably surprised him the most. Never in his life had he felt such anger within him. It was different than the times he got into arguments with Raphael. What he felt towards himself – that kind of anger – that was something no words could possibly describe.
Frustration combined with utter hatred and colossal fury. He was hyperaware of every single mistake he’d made during the fight, and every single one that came after. Of everything he had and hadn’t done. With every second, his thoughts got darker and darker, his mind constantly reminding him that he should have been better.
If anything, he had every right to be angry with himself, especially when no one else seemed to blame him for their near deaths, even if they should. After all, it was he who lead them that night, it was he whose strategy backfired on the team. It was Leonardo who failed them all.
No one else.
And now he couldn’t even pick up his own weapon.
If anyone saw him now, they would laugh at him. Gone was the fearless leader, the golden eldest brother, the one who never gave up and fought no matter what. Instead, there was a wreck, with scars all over his soul and mind a place so dark even demons feared to interfere with.
He was close to breaking, to falling apart, and what the already created cracks were filled by hate and anger.
Oh, how the mighty warrior fell.
Leonardo didn’t register when he become a creature of aggression, but when he realized, it was too late for him to come back from the path.
He needed to be in control again. Needed to know that his swords were his, his tool, his weapon, his force, and no one else’s.
Pick up the damned katanas, Leonardo.
He did. He forced himself to wield them, didn’t allow himself to release them. The more his hands shook, the more they fueled the rage. The longer he clutched onto the katanas, the more intensely he remembered the pain the blade caused him.
Control.
He needed to focus. He needed to be in control. He needed the stability the Shredder and Karai took away from him.
Control.
In moments like this, when memories took over, he promised to make his enemies feel the same pain he did. No more mercy, no more seeking good in people on the other side.
No more hesitation. No more second chances.
Because that night, they nearly didn’t get a second chance. Leonardo couldn’t allow it to happen ever again.
So he wielded his katanas, hoping that he could reshape the hatred into liking, like he used to feel about his weapons before.
He needed to do so, for the sake of his family. He wouldn’t be able to fight, using a weapon that he didn’t like, and not using his katanas after years of training with them was far too risky.
Do it. Be better. Be in control. Show them that you can lead. That you won’t let them down again.
Taking a deep breath, Leonardo pushed all his emotions aside, and gripped the swords.