“My sons, I wish for you to use this time wisely. The weapon you choose must reflect your own style; it is not merely a tool to aid you in battle, it must be an extension of your self.”

His four sons bowed respectfully, sharing an excited look before turning to run for the weapons table. They had been looking forward to this day for weeks.

All of them had been given basic weapons training with wooden practice swords and staffs, but today they got to start training with the real thing.

Master Splinter had shown them demonstrations of some of the more complex weapons, but they had never been able to practice them themselves. Until today.

Raphael pushed his way in front of his brothers to snatch up the weapon he’d been eyeing up for weeks, an intricately engraved Chisa sword. He grinned widely as he clutched it to his chest, before running back out into the middle of the training room.

Leonardo stepped forward next, his younger brothers still looking over the small collection in front of them. Like Raph, he’d already picked out his favourite: a black-handled Katana sword, which he spun around his hand a few times as he made his way towards Raphael to practice.

Donatello chose next. He thought back to all their training with the practice weapons, he was good with a staff but he was starting to get better with a sword. Choosing a new weapon meant adapting his current style of fighting; there was only one logical choice for him to make. His talent had always been with a staff, so the Bo staff on the table was perfect for him.

Michelangelo was finding the choice the hardest. He knew it wasn’t their final choice of weapons, but none of the weapons appealed to him. He turned his back to the table to watch his brothers.

Master Splinter watched each of his sons carefully. He knew the dangers of allowing them to ‘play’ with such dangerous weapons, but he was confident enough in their training to trust that they would be cautious.

Donatello had chosen the Bo staff, the wisest choice in Splinter’s opinion. Out of all of his sons Donatello was the least violent, he always seemed out of place with a sword. He looked completely at ease as he wielded the staff in a complicated Kata that his brothers could not yet master.

His oldest son, Leonardo, was easily the most advanced swordsman of the group. It came of no surprise that he had chosen the Katana. What did surprise him was that the Katana was designed to be used with both hands, but Leonardo often wielded it with only one.

Raphael’s choice of weapon was slightly surprising; he tended to prefer close contact fighting. Although the Chisa sword was shorter than the traditional Katana, it was still longer than some of the other choices he’d been given, and he seemed to be struggling slightly as it clashed with his fighting style.

Splinter was about to step in and suggest that Raphael change his weapon, when he noticed that his youngest son had not yet chosen.

Catching his sensei’s eye, Michelangelo quickly turned back to the table, eyes darting between all of his options. He wasn’t very good with a sword; he could just about manage the more basic moves. He was quite clumsy with the staff as well; he still had bruises on his plastron that he’d gained during his last training session with the practice staff.

Ignoring the swords and staffs, he focused on the less familiar weapons. He quite liked the knives and daggers but he didn’t like to fight in close enough range to effectively wield them.
	
His eyes landed on a battered set of nunchucks, his hand hovered over them for a second before pulling it away, hearing Master Splinter approaching from behind.

“My son, I sense confusion in you.”

“Master Splinter… I’m not good with weapons, can’t I learn something else?” Mikey looked up at his sensei, hoping he’d understand.

“You will always be safe in the sewers, Michelangelo. But your brothers have revealed your intentions of visiting the surface world in the years to come.” Mikey flinched slightly at his father’s words; he knew they were forbidden from leaving the sewers.

“I would not allow you to make such dangerous trips, without the protection of your weapons.”

Mikey’s eyes widened. “We can leave the sewer?”

“Not without the protection of your training.” The wise master smiled, seeing the excitement on his young son’s face. He hadn’t informed the rest of his sons that he intended on letting them out of the sewers once they had mastered their weapon of choice.

Mikey eyes suddenly dropped to the floor, a frown replacing his excited smile. “I’m not any good with weapons.”

“Perhaps the weapons we have been using are not the right ones for you.” He smiled, placing a hand on Michelangelo’s shoulder as he reached across the table to the nunchucks he’d almost chosen earlier.

Mikey noticed the weapon his father had chosen and shook his head sadly. “You said they were an advanced weapon, that they were dangerous.”

“A weapon is only dangerous in untrained hands.” He explained, kneeling down in front of his wary pupil. “My son. Do you know the meaning of this symbol?”

Carved on the ends of the nunchuck was an ancient symbol. Two leaves of corn curled around, in an almost complete circle, the point where they met was joined by a crown underneath a halo.

Mikey shook his head, tracing the pattern with his finger.

“It is the symbol of Arata Honda.” His master supplied, kneeling down and gesturing for his son to sit before him as he prepared to tell the story.

“The nunchuck is a very complex weapon. It is often misunderstood by people who assume based on appearances.” He began, placing the weapon on the floor between himself and his son. “Nowadays it is seen as a dangerous and advanced weapon, wielded only by immensely skilled warriors, but that was not always the case.

“Nunchucks were originally a simple weapon, used mainly by farmers. They were easy to make and could cause damage with very little skill. The handles, when tied together, were easily mistaken for farming tools, giving the illusion that they were unarmed.

“Arata Honda is a legendary warrior; his heroic death has been retold for centuries. But his life, my son, was not as respected as his death.

“Arata Honda started life as a simple farmhand; he was the youngest of his family and with his brother gone, the only one able to tend to the farm.

 “One day the elite guard was passing his farm. The weather had taken a nasty turn, and so the young man offered them shelter.

“But with the bad weather came bad tidings. The farm was attacked by the enemies of the elite, and young Arata helped defend his farm, taking down a large number of enemies using only his crudely-made nunchucks.

“In thanks for his hospitality, and in light of the raw skill and talent he had shown in battle, the elite offered to take and train the young man.

“Arata was honoured to be given the opportunity, and quickly packed the few items he couldn’t bear to be without: a battered journal, a small portrait of his family and his beloved nunchucks.

“He excelled in his training, but would not advance due to his reluctance in mastering any weapons other than the nunchucks – a weapon that was not taken seriously enough to be used in protection of the emperor.”

“But why wouldn’t he change weapons, Sensei?”

Master Splinter smiled, noticing for the first time that his other sons had gathered around to hear the tale. Raphael was the one to speak, the nunchucks in his hands as he looked over the weapon.

“It don’t look like nothing special.”

“It doesn’t look like nothing special.” Donnie corrected him.

Master Splinter smiled at his son’s failure to pick up on the double negative, but said nothing about it.

“As I said before, my son, judging the nunchucks - or their wielder - on appearances, is a common error.”

“Like Raphael, the other warriors did not understand Arata Honda’s attachment to the lowly weapon; many of them teased and bullied him, believing that he did not belong as a warrior because of his lowly background.

“You see, Arata Honda was a humble man. Inheriting his nunchuck skills from his father, who learnt from his father, he refused to discard his humble past for the glory of nobility. He was not ashamed of his weapons or of his past.

“Some years later, there was a terrible raid against the Emperor’s palace. The elite guards were struggling to hold back the enemy.

“Arata Honda made his way to the Emperor’s throne, seeking only to protect him from harm. But because he had not advanced in his weaponry training, he was forbidden to enter the throne room.

“Instead he joined the fight outside, prepared to defend the Emperor or die trying. He watched people he had come to know as friends, fall before the enemy’s strength. The enemy did not see him as a threat, because of his lowly weapon, and greatly underestimated his power.

“He could hear the elite guards falling inside the throne room, and broke all of the rules of his grade to help them. Once inside, he saw that only a few good men had survived the fight, with a handful of enemies left to go and more on the way.

“The guards were tired, their swords were powerful but heavy and slowed them down. They paid little attention to Arata Honda, who used his agility and their surprise to his advantage.

 “Soon only one of the elite remained, Hayato Yamauchi. He and Arata were the only survivors left to protect the Emperor, who had been knocked unconscious by a stray attack. He saw how many enemies the lowly warrior had defeated, and - seeking only the glory for protecting the emperor - he attacked the young warrior.

“What Hayato did not realise, was that one of the enemy fighters had survived, and was preparing to strike him from behind.

“Despite the fact that Hayato was willing to take his life, Arata could not let him be struck down with such dishonour. He dodged around Hayato to take out his would-be assassin.

“The assassin fell fast, but not before he drove his sword deep within Arata Honda. The young warrior felt himself pierced with twin blades as Hayato Yamauchi, unaware that he was in any danger, sliced through the young nunchuck wielder.

“Seeing the still form of the assassin, Hayato realised his mistake, swearing to Arata Honda that he would be remembered for this heroic deed.

“In honour of Arata Honda, the nunchucks became a respectable weapon - despite their humble beginnings. It takes little skill to use the nunchucks, but a great warrior to master them. They may seem simple, but given time they could become the greatest of all.”

“Like Mikey.” Leo grinned, hugging his brother tightly from behind.

“Whoa, Mikey. You’re choosing the Nunchucks?” Donnie’s eyes were awe-stuck as he looked at his baby brother.

“Not if I get ‘em first.” Raph grinned, grabbing the nunchucks from the centre of the group and dodging around his brothers as he ran back into the middle of the dojo.

“Raph!” Leo shot after the hot-head, katana in hand to continue their spar. The nunchucks turning into a prize for winning the fight as Raphael tucked the weapon into his belt, drawing his Chisa sword.

Master Splinter stood watch with his younger sons, as his two eldest prepared to fight, neither preventing the fight nor encouraging it. 

“Hand ’em over, Raph!” Leo held his sword out in front of him, the two brothers circled each other, daring the other to make the first move.

“You want 'em, bro?” Raph challenged him, his eyes shining in anticipation for the first blow. “Come get 'em!”

Almost as soon as the words left his lips, he had to dodge the sudden attack, the two of them easily falling into the familiar routines of their fights.

Raph’s blade connected with his brother's, using the impact to help push him backwards, as Leo made a grab for the nunchucks.

Leo didn’t miss a beat as he charged forwards, jumping over Raph’s legs as he tried to trip him up. He turned and swung his katana, accidently catching the blade underneath the hand guard of his brother’s weapon and sending it spinning into the air, catching it in his free hand by pure reflex.

For a few moments no one moved, three pairs of eyes locked onto Leo and his stolen weapon in awe. Leo stared at the stolen sword with a confused expression on his face, wondering how exactly he’d managed to do that.

Master Splinter beamed with pride at his son’s natural ability with the sword, confident that Leonardo had chosen the right weapon for him.

Leo caught the look of pride on his father’s face out of the corner of his eye and turned back to Raph with a smirk, twirling both swords in his hands before holding the stolen weapon out for his brother to take.

Raph’s eyes narrowed, taking Leo by surprise as he knocked the offered weapon aside and lunged at him.
Leo was sent backwards, barely managing to stay on his feet as Raph started his attack. Raphael was always better at hand-to-hand combat than fighting with an actual weapon, and they’d all been taught how to fight unarmed against an armed enemy.

Leo was careful not to hurt his brother as the fight continued, using the hilt of his sword whenever he could.

Feinting a strike to the right, Leo waited for Raph to dodge left only to fall to the floor and sweep his leg in an arc, effectively making the hothead trip up and fall back onto his shell. Instantly Leo was looming above him, gently pushing down on his plastron with his foot to keep him down while he slipped the tip of his sword into the chain of the nunchuck.

“Mikey, go long!” Leo called out, flicking his sword upwards and sending the coveted weapon flying across the dojo.

Mikey grinned, taking a running jump to grab the nunchuck and landed in a forwards roll, grinning widely.

“Show-off.” Don accused good naturedly, spinning his Bo staff into an attack position as he ran forward to start sparring again.

“Hey!” Mikey pouted, sidestepping the attack and sending Donnie’s attack into Leo.

Leo was knocked backwards and tripped over Raph, turning at the last second to fall forwards onto his empty hand and knees.

“Leo, I’m sorry I… Aargh!” Donnie quickly ducked to avoid Leo’s swing, bringing his staff up to deflect the sword.

Raph started rocking himself from side to side to build up enough momentum to roll off of his shell, grunting as he managed to flip himself onto his front. He scowled at the discarded Chisa sword as he got to his feet, kicking it away from him as he made his way back over to the weapons table.

Raph was so annoyed over being beaten that he didn’t even look to see which weapon he grabbed, taking the first thing that he could snatch from the table so that he could join his brothers. 

He was too distracted by his defeat to notice his father pushing a pair of Sai to the end of the table, just before he grabbed them to take into battle.

Master Splinter beamed proudly as he watched his sons; knowing that he’d made the right decision in allowing them to choose their weapons.

Donatello wielded his Bo staff with fluid and precise movements, working like a machine, as if he already knew the moves that his brothers were going to make.

Michelangelo occasionally hit himself during his attacks, but showed a natural talent with the nunchucks, hitting hard and dancing out of the way; making the weapon work perfectly with his playful fighting style.

Raphael was fighting a lot better with the Sais. Incorporating the short weapons into the style that he used for unarmed fights, which he was much more comfortable with, he made the most out of the Sais’ short range by getting close to his brothers.

Leonardo had somehow picked up the Chisa sword and was using it simultaneously with his Katana, easily wielding the weapon that he’d been taught to use with both hands with just one instead. His style was the closest to that of their Sensei, each movement executed exactly as he’d been taught, with a focus that seemed alien to his brothers.

Splinter was sure that his sons could handle themselves in a fight, especially if they worked together. He knew that they were growing up, and that he couldn’t protect them forever - he could only teach them to protect themselves and each other. 

He had promised that they could visit the surface world once they learned to defend themselves, and with a heavy heart he realised that the time had come. He couldn’t force them to stay in the safety of the sewers.

He would tell them the news tomorrow; once he made sure they knew of the dangers of the surface world.

But for now, at least, he was content just to enjoy the moment and observe the prowess of his sons as they mock-battled in the dojo, together and safe from harm. Hopefully, with all that he had taught them, they would stay that way forever.