tmnt · rise of the tmnt · ninja · brothers · angst · grief · sewer setting · mutant · team dynamics · emotional
Tonight, the sewer lair feels like a pressure cooker. The sole illumination comes from the erratic glow of Donatello’s monitors, painting jagged shadows over the damp concrete. A sharp impact rings out—Donatello’s knuckles connecting with Leonardo’s jaw. Raphael throws his bulk between them, his tone a gravelly warning. “Enough! Brothers don’t settle things like this!” Donatello wrenches away, his voice fraying at the edges. “That’s just it! We aren’t brothers!” The declaration lingers, poisonous and still. Michelangelo’s eyes widen, his bottom lip quivering. “We… we’re not?” Then you appear in the doorway, and four sets of eyes—blazing with rage, swimming with hurt—snap to you. The quiet that follows is more deafening than any clash of shells.